Better Licking through ChemistryPosted on : 2012-01-27 21:32:57.15771
Oral sex is fine, Chris thinks, as long as he is the one getting. He definitely does not believe that it is more blessed to give than to receive.
He's always been that way, even before we were married-even when we were having raucous, no-holds-barred sex (well, obviously, almost no holds barred sex). Chris has always been up (so to speak) for any kind of sex, straight or kinky, except licking my clitoris. In fairness to him, he did sort of try it once or twice, half-heartedly and only for a few seconds. Then he dismissed it as "not his thing". (It wasn't his thing I was worried about; it was my thing.)
As our lives together progressed-he, finishing an MBA and I, a pharmacy degree-we had a pretty good life together. Even the sex was pretty good most of the time-except for that one little thing that was being neglected. But that one little thing (the issue, not my clitoris) got bigger and bigger. Things came to a head (again, I guess I should say, "so to speak") when I began refusing to suck his cock. I thought what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander. Chris didn't see it that way.
For the first time in our relationship, he forced himself on me. He tried to act like it was a playful forcing, but I wouldn't go along with it. When we were lying in bed one night, he began hinting that I give should give him a blowjob. I ignored the hints-pretending not to get them. When he was explicit, I mocked him by saying that oral sex "wasn't my thing." I guess he didn't like the mocking-or maybe he was just hell-bent on getting his cock sucked. He pushed me down by the shoulders and, the more I resisted, the harder he pushed-and the more serious the whole situation became.
Chris is a lot bigger than I am. At 180 pounds, he has a good 75 pounds on me and none of it is fat. When he put his hands on the sides of my head, I couldn't control my head at all. He forced me down to his crotch and pressed my face against his cock. Still, he couldn't make me open my mouth. And I resolutely kept my jaw locked.
He started demanding that I open my mouth and suck him. When I didn't respond, he began twisting my ears and digging his fingers into the sides of my head. I told him in no uncertain terms that I didn't want to do this and that if he forced me to do it, he would be sorry. I told him I wasn't kidding. He said he didn't care and he doubted that he would be sorry. He was pretty sure that it would feel great.
When the pain on my ears and head were too much to bear, finally, with tears running down my cheeks, I opened and let him enter my mouth. Never had I given him a more indifferent blowjob. In fact, all I did was let him use my mouth. He didn't care-the pig. He fucked my mouth for several minutes, progressing slowly, but inevitably, toward an orgasm. All the while, I was finding refuge in the certainty that somehow I would make him pay for this. Finally, he exploded in my mouth, filling me with his cum.
His hands dropped to his side as he entered his post-orgasmic stupor. For the first time, I didn't even try to swallow his cum. I opened my mouth and let it run out over his cock-spitting out the last of it. He was too expended to stop me or even to complain. I rushed to the bathroom and gargled with mouthwash far longer than necessary to clean my mouth. But that wasn't the point, really. The point was to show him how much I detested what he had done.
As with many abusers, he was deeply, profusely apologetic later. He swore that nothing like that would ever happen again-that he would never force me to do anything that I didn't want to do and that if I didn't want to have oral sex with him, that's just the way it would be. But I'm not a particularly forgiving person. Anyway, I knew that the cycle of abuse, apology and further abuse was the most likely course unless I took control of the situation. Chris was certainly right about one thing, though: nothing like what had happened that night would ever happen again-to me.
I'm a planner and, so, I set about to formulate my plan-not just for revenge, but for control. I already knew what my goals were, so the first practical step was analyzing my strengths in this situation to determine how I could achieve those goals. Chris is much bigger and stronger than I am, so physical power wouldn't help me at all. He's also plenty bright enough that I couldn't control him simply by outstripping him in the smarts department. I resolved to bring my professional expertise to bear on the problem and to use a little psychological judo.
Judo, of course, is a technique in which you use your opponent's strength against him: he lunges at you and, with minimal effort, you re-direct his force at himself. Chris was dominating both physically and sexually, and he was quite proud of this. But his pride would be his undoing-with a little help from modern pharmacology.
It's not hard to find drugs that interfere with a man's ability to get an erection. This is a side effect-typically considered to be an unfortunate one-of several common drugs. The trick is to find a drug that will produce erectile dysfunction without producing other effects that, for my purposes, would be side effects-chief among these would be any loss of sexual appetite. I didn't want Chris impotent and sexually indifferent-what I wanted was him seething with desire but completely unable to perform. Another requirement made my homework assignment tricky. Ideally, I wanted something that could be counteracted quickly and very temporarily.
So, I had to do my research carefully. But I'm a good student and it didn't take me very long to find something you can think of as anti-Viagra. Viagra works by relaxing a certain type of blood vessel so that the penis can engorge more quickly. My discovery was that there was a class of drugs, available to a pharmacist, that were known to constrict exactly these vessels. I picked the most benign form of anti-Viagra and figured out a dose that should be effective on someone Chris's size, but shouldn't produce many noticeable side effects.
I decided to keep Chris on a sufficient dose of anti-Viagra so that he was completely unable to get an erection at any time of the day. This required giving him the anti-Viagra two to three times a day. Here, again, I would engage in some psychological judo-using his own psychology against him. For years, Chris-vane man that he is-had been taking a special mixture of vitamins and minerals that I mixed up for him and put in capsules. He thought it would keep him young and, no doubt, potent. Alas, for the poor dear, these pills would soon have just the opposite effect on his potency.
So, less than a week after he raped my mouth, I had the poor dear on an impotency cocktail that meant that his cock wouldn't be getting any tail unless I said so. And, I could say so very selectively. Viagra can be combined with a carrier that is absorbed directly into the skin, which results in very fast, temporary reversal of the chemically induced impotence. Chris was my puppet; I controlled him, not with strings, but with I controlled him nonetheless for that.
Once, several years ago, when Chris was really drunk, he tried to perform and fizzled. It rattled him until he had rebuilt a solid track record. This time, though, there would be no excuses for him, and there was to be no reestablishing of a track record.
It is Friday morning when I start him on his anti-Viagra regimen. I'm home early making a special dinner. With few exceptions, I've been cold and distant to him. This is Chris's "everything's okay now" dinner. I hear the door open and he walks into the kitchen, where I'm almost finished with dinner.
"What's the occasion?" he asks hopefully.
"No occasion," I reply. "I just thought it was time we buried the hatchet."
"How about if we just sank the spear?"
Clever guy! "You won't be sinking you spear anytime soon," I think. But I just smile.
Dinner goes fine. We make small talk; he touches my foot underneath the table. After dinner, we clean up and he leads me to the bedroom for an early bedtime. He grabs me masterfully and kisses me deeply. He has no hint that the evening isn't going to go as he hopes. But it won't.
I let him go through the ordinary preliminaries, trying not to act differently than usual. After he has most of my clothes off, he starts taking off his clothes between kissing and fondling me. Poor, dear. I still don't think he has a clue that anything will go wrong.
When he has us both undressed and I'm giving a first class show of wanton horniness, he begins stroking my clitoris. I realize that I'm really excited. In a way, it's a shame things aren't going to work as Chris is planning tonight, but maybe part of what is making me so excited is knowing that the entire evening is going according to my script. He is just a puppet in my plan. And, I'm going to cut one of his very crucial strings tonight.
He is running his hand through my lips, spreading my wetness around in preparation for entering me-or so he thinks. I'm pulling his mouth to mine and opening my lips to draw his tongue into my mouth, putting a big "welcome mat" out for him. Judging from the confident way he rolls on top of me, I still don't think he has the slightest concern about his ability to perform. But once he is on top of me, I see that he realizes something is wrong. His cock, which is usually hard and throbbing between my thighs by now, lies limp and withered on my crotch. The thrusting of his hips does nothing but roll around a useless lump of soft flesh.
He rolls off to my side again and begins stroking himself-trying to do it casually, as if I won't know what he is doing. But it's not working, and the harder he tries, the softer he gets. He is now in a downward spiral. What the anti-Viagra didn't do directly, it is doing indirectly by completely undermining his confidence. Now, he is not just limp, he is tiny and shrivelled.
I move my hand down to touch him, but he moves my hand away. Maybe he doesn't want me to know there is something wrong. If so, this strategy doesn't last for long. He apparently decides that he might be able to get it up with a little help from my mouth. Certainly, that's never failed in the past. Part of me wants to go along with him, because for him to fail when I'm sucking him would be the ultimate failure for him. Maybe I'll do that sometime in the future. But for now I have to punish him for forcing himself on me before.
When I resist, he is torn. He has promised he will never force me again-and, of course, I wouldn't let him, anyway. But, he really wants to get hard and fuck me, and he thinks that this might be the only way.
Finally, the gentleman in him wins and he rolls over, frustrated, and sputtering apologies. There is nothing better to do at this point, I figure, than to pretend-but not too convincingly-that I think it might be my fault. I suggest that I was putting too much pressure on him by making the romantic dinner and making it obvious that I wanted us to have sex. He contests this whole line of thinking, and I defer to him, but in a tone that makes it clear that I now believe his manhood to be fragile.
We lie in bed drifting off. After a while, I reach over and slide my hand down to his crotch. He doesn't stop me-maybe he's hoping against hope that this will work. I stroke his floppy little dick for a while, trying to appear helpful and optimistic. The anti-Viagra is working quite well, though. He remains completely flaccid despite my stroking. I hold him for a second between my first finger and my thumb. Somehow this makes me feel like I'm making him feel very small.
Through out all of this, he has remained silent. Maybe he is planning to pretend that he is asleep if it doesn't work. I know he's awake though so, as I pull my hand away from his cock, I give a barely audible, disappointed sigh. Then, after a while, when it is clear he is pretending to be asleep, I reach down and begin touching myself. I'm doing it forcefully enough that he is sure to hear it but gently and quietly enough that he can think I'm trying not to wake him.
He just lies there, listening to me as I stroke myself to a very satisfying climax. I might have gotten a little noisy just when I came, but I wanted him to be sure I was satisfied. I drift off to a peaceful sleep.
Later, he accidentally wakes me as he is getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. I know he isn't just going to take a piss. He wants some physical relief, too. After I hear him finish pissing and flush the toilet, he's in there a good 15 minutes. Judging from his exasperated sigh when he gets back in bed, I figure he had about as much luck with his hand as he did with me. Good! He deserves it.
The next few days, we don't talk about this at all. In fact, we don't talk much about anything. I keep him on his dosage of anti-Viagra so I'm pretty sure that, if he is trying to whack off, he's getting a confidence deflator every time. Still, I figure he will need a couple more failures with me before he is completely crushed.
I continue to play the devoted, supportive spouse throughout his troubles. I pressure him by making a show of refusing to apply any pressure. Finally, a week after his first failure, he decides it's time to take a try again. Maybe he'll have more luck now. After all, he's never had any serious problem before. Surely, he must be thinking, this is just a passing phase.
Of course, this time doesn't go any better than the last. But this time, I decide to do everything I can to be supportive. This time, I'll even suck his cock to get him hard. When he has no luck getting hard by fondling me and rubbing against me, I start to go down on him without any prompting. He is surprised at first and puts his hand on my head-maybe to stop me. If so, he thinks better of it and lets me move my head down to his crotch.
I don't take him in my mouth right at first. I look as his small, limp dick first and hold it between my fingers. I figure that this reinforces for him his impotence and my awareness of it, but he can hardly complain because I'm just about to suck his dick. When I take him in my mouth, I make a big show of sucking passionately. Anyone would think, and Chris surely does, that I am encouraging him in every way I can. Indeed, I might even seem a little desperate. This, I figure is good. Let him think that I am a little desperate. It will just put more pressure on him.
It's odd to suck his cock when it is limp. I've done it before, of course, but only for a few seconds as he was hardening. He doesn't harden now. He remains limp and tiny. He can tell that there is no reaction and he tries to stop me at one point. I persist. It looks more supportive-and more desperate-if I keep trying. Like a surgeon over the operating table of a dead patient, I won't give up. As if my will alone can bring Chris's cock back to life, I fight on. But, of course, it is no use. When I finally give up, I am the dejected, but valiant fighter. There is no hope. The patient is lost.
I cuddle with Chris and tell him, unconvincingly, that it is okay-that it doesn't matter. I tell him this with an intensity that shows how much it does matter. I make all of the excuses for him-he's tired, he's under a lot of pressure, and all that. None of it reassures him, of course. None of it is really true. He has no excuse for his impotence-none I'm going to offer him, anyway.
Before I really put my plan in action, I decide to wait for him to make another attempt and have another failure. Weeks go by and I almost give up on the plan to have a "three strikes you're out" approach. But finally, after over three weeks, he decides to try again. This time, I guess he thinks that a little alcohol will loosen him up. It does make him go at it with more self-confidence, but the self-confidence turns out to be entirely unjustified. His once proud cock, lies between his legs-a useless flap of flesh.
This time, when we talk afterwards, I try to get him to talk about what we can do to fix the situation. He mentions Viagra, but I tell him that there are things we can try first. Over the next several months, we try negligee, role-playing, light bondage (both ways) and porn. Nothing works, alas, and Chris grows increasingly insecure and self-condemning. My frequent resorts to self-pleasuring leave him feeling inadequate. Finally, under the pressures of not being able to satisfy his wife any other way, Chris tries, clumsily, to go down on me. I let him kiss his way down to my pubic area, but then pull him up. He asks what's wrong and I tell him that it just doesn't feel right. He never wanted to do that before and for him to do it now just underscores the fact that he is impotent and can't satisfy me any other way.
I think this is a good way to say it. I'm sacrificing the pleasure I could get from his tongue and lips. That makes me good. In so doing, I highlight the fact that he is inadequate without ever criticizing him for his inadequacy.
When he asks me about Viagra again, I tell him that it is very successful for some men-especially if there is a medical cause of the impotence. He needs, of course, to get a physical and a battery of tests to make sure that it is okay. He wants me to just grab a few pills from the pharmacy, but I tell him I can't do that. He has to go to the doctor because I can't be sure that Viagra is safe for him.
Going to his doctor isn't safe, either. For years Chris has gone to a family friend for all his medical check-ups. It was primarily a cost saving decision since our friend, Hal, didn't charge Chris. Now, I insisted, he had to go back to Hal because Hal had Chris's medical history.
It took Chris weeks and another failure in bed with me (and no telling how many failures with his hand) before he was willing to do that. But finally Chris went to our friend Hal and spilled out his story of sudden and complete impotence. Hal was understanding, of course and ordered all of the appropriate tests. At Chris's next visit, Hal prescribed Viagra for Chris and Chris promptly asked me to fill the prescription.
Now, Viagra is a wonderful drug for many men. And, Viagra, in large enough doses, would certainly counteract the effect of my anti-Viagra drug. However, the placebos I filled Chris's prescription wouldn't have helped a rock stay hard. Chris was set up for more failure-but he didn't know that yet.
Hal told Chris to start with 50 mg. of Viagra first. Not wanting to take chances, Chris takes 100 mg. for his first trial. He's optimistic and ready to test himself with his new-found crutch. Alas, the crutch doesn't even begin to work and Chris limps back to his side of the bed-despondent and desperate. I tell him again that it doesn't matter. He isn't convinced of course. His belief that it does matter to me is reinforced when I quietly masturbate to a very nice orgasm while he is pretending to be asleep. Alas, for his confidence, just as my orgasm breaks, I quietly, but passionately moan, "Oh, God, yes!...Oh, fuck me hard!" Chris can't and he is beginning to believe that there will never be a time when he can.
Chris tried the "Viagra" again once, but only half-heartedly. He didn't believe it would work, but he didn't want to risk missing a cure by rejecting it too early. It didn't work, of course, and with that failure we stopped even trying to have sex.
Over the next few weeks, I began talking to Chris more as I would to a girlfriend. I started with little things: touching him in ways I would touch a girlfriend, telling him things I would not normally have told him. Little by little I begin talking about men with him-a new pharmacist at work, an old boy friend I ran into at the store, and so forth. Defeated as he was, he just listened without protest or the slightest show of territoriality.
When my old college boy friend, Rod (yeah, that's really his name), came into the store, it presented me with a terrific opportunity-one I decided to exploit. I ran into him a few days later and made a date with him for the next Friday night. ("Ran into" may not be the right words for an encounter that I hadn't left to chance.) When I told Chris about the plans, I modifed it so that the whole idea was Rod's. It was to be, of course, an innocent get together to talk about what we had been doing for the last five years, since we'd lost touch with each other. I reassured Chris that Rod was married and all he wants to do with me is talk. I tried to leave a little hint in my voice that I wouldn't mind if Rod wanted to do a little more.
Friday morning, I casually mentioned that when Rod called me on Thursday to tell me the restaurant to meet him at, he mentioned that he had been separated from his wife for months now and they were in the process of getting a divorce. I told Chris that I had no idea that Rod was separated, but I felt funny backing out of the date (and I called it a date). When Chris asked me, just as was going out the door, what made Rod and his wife split, I told him that I understood Rod is quite a playboy and has trouble keeping his zipper up around beautiful women. I let that sink in and then told him not to worry-I'm a married woman. I didn't say "happily" and Chris knew I wasn't satisfied.
I get home well before Chris and do the whole nine yards getting ready. I shower and shave my legs all the way up, including trimming my pubic hairs to a small triangle above my slit. I do my hair up in a kind of casual bun that Chris thinks is sexy. Then, I dress in the clothes Chris picks out when he wants me to look my sexiest: a black skirt and a purple silk blouse. The skirt is just above knee length, but it has a healthy slit up the left leg that shows the bottom of the print on my thigh-high stockings. I undo the blouse buttons until I can see that the blouse falls open pretty wide when I lean forward.
Chris gets home as I'm finishing dressing and putzes around down stairs for a while. He's in the living room watching the news as I come down the stairs. I enjoy his reaction: a double-take followed by a poignant gaze. I could almost feel his heart pounding from across the room.
"Are you going out looking like that?" he asks accusatorily.
"What's wrong with this?" I ask innocently but with an overtone of defensiveness. "These are fine for the restaurant."
"You look cheap," he says, with bitterness in his voice.
"You never thought that when I wore this outfit before."
"You're going out with another man!" Finally, we get to the nub of it.
"Oh, don't get weird. Rod's an old friend." I know he isn't going to let this one go. I don't want him to.
"A bit more than a friend, I'd say."
"That was years ago."
His worries aren't assuaged, or course. I don't want them to be. But he doesn't know what to say so he just sits there looking awkward.
"Don't worry. I won't be late," I tell him, knowing even now it is a lie.
Rod is more than attentive at dinner and it is clear that, though I had set the ball in motion, he will take the initiative. I like that. I haven't been courted-seduced-in years. I plan to be as coy as will be believable in a woman of my age who is dressed like this to go on a date she arranged. I'm guessing Rod might like the game, too, especially knowing that he will certainly score in the end.
We laugh through dinner and I pull the appropriate tricks: a casual touch of his hand while we joke-a touch that lingers ambiguously long; a little seductive play with the finger-food appetizers; and, the tiny motions with my lips as I gaze into his eyes with a "you're so terrific, Rod" look (which I don't have to feign, actually). Perhaps I go a bit over the top when I cross my legs and dangle, then drop, my shoe. It makes a quiet clunk on the floor-but not loud enough that I'm certain Rod hears it. I'm sure, though, that he feels my foot start at his ankle and work up his leg, under his trousers.
So, he's not really risking a bruised ego when he asks me if I want to go over to his place for a drink. I decline, of course. I promised Chris I would be home early and ...oh, gosh!...it's already 10:30. He insists, of course, and tells me it can be a short drink and it's almost on the way home for me.
As we walk to the cars, his arm is around me and I do my best to sort of melt into his body. As it turns out, his car is right next to mine and we wind up standing between the two cars, kissing and groping like we did in high school. He's feeling my ass and, after holding back for a while, I slip my hand down between us to feel his crotch. His pants are kind of loose and I feel his cock-not hard yet, but solid. It reminds me how big he is and I feel a tingling in my loins and a gush in my crotch.
I open my mouth to him as I stroke his cock gently. He is kneading my ass (and, I suppose, needing my ass, too) and his cock is hardening. When he's completely hard and his cock is pressing up against the bottom of his belt, I push back from him gently.
"Yes...yes...I guess I will follow you to your place for a drink."
The time apart driving to his place allows me to recover a bit of my veneer of virture. He's had plenty of encouragement. Now, he can play the caveman.
I start with the "I don't know what I'm doing here...I really should go home...I'm a married woman" routine. He realizes that ground has been lost on the drive home and retrenches to suggest that I just have a quick drink and he'll show me around. I relent and we both have Kahluas. He has a nice place and a fantastic stereo he turns on for me. It's no coincidence, of course, that the CD that's set to play is the Roberta Flak album we used to listen to when we made love years ago.
He wraps his arm around me and sweeps me up in dance. I melt into his arms like I did years ago but, when he tries to kiss me again, I pull away. He backs off and we just dance for a while. I can feel that the playing hard to get isn't cooling him off. His cock is bulging into my abdomen. I try to move my hips in such a way as to stimulate him without making it obvious that's what I'm doing.
"Killing me Softly with His Kiss" is just ending and he takes the opportunity to try to kiss me again. I let him this time. But I only allow a sweet kiss-no tongue yet. There'd be time enough for that later.
He begins kissing my neck, something he knows used to drive me crazy. It still does, and I let it have full rein, but don't do anything aggressive myself for a few moments. Then, as if I've forgotten myself-lost in memory and passion, I put my hand back to his cock and I begin stroking him through his pants. Just the same as years ago, he is hard almost right away and, as I trace the extension of his cock, I kind of shiver and say, "Magnificent!"
He's a little startled and jokes that's it's pretty much the same as it's always been when I'm around.
"Well, then, it's still magnificent." Let him wonder for a while at my fascination with his hard cock. He would know the reason for it soon enough.
I continue to stroke him almost roughly-showing a desire that he is supposed to think overcomes my better judgment. The passion is real-I have to fake the "better judgment." Feeling my need to feel him, he unzips his pants, being careful not to stop kissing my neck. (He doesn't want me to have a cool moment now.) I reach in hungrily and am surprised by how much pleasure I feel as I stroke his hot, smooth cock in my small hand.
"It's been a long time," I say breathlessly.
"Yeah," he says, thinking he knows what I mean.
"No...that's not what I ..." I cut myself off. Keep him wondering for now.
It's all I can do now to keep from falling to my knees and taking his beautiful cock in my mouth. I want him so much. But, even more, I want the seduction to continue for now.
I tip my face up to his and kiss him deeply, openly. He sweeps me off my feet, literally, and whisks me into the bedroom where he sets me gently, lovingly on his big bed. As he stands up, I see his cock sticking out proudly, anxiously.
I sort of writhe on the bed suggestively (though I'm pretty sure that if I read the phone book right now, Rod would find it suggestive). He kicks off his shoes, tears off his shirt and lies down on top of me for a second. I love the weight of him on me and the passion I can feel in him. He doesn't realize that he doesn't have to keep me revved up, so he begins kissing me on the neck again. That's fine with me.
When he rolls off to my side, he begins unbuttoning my blouse. I don't help him, but I don't stop him either. He finds immediately that my bra is a front clasp style and almost as quickly has it unhooked. When he touches my breast-when he wraps his huge warm hand around it-I do feel like I'm a school girl being undressed for the first time. It's thrilling.
He unzips my skirt and pushes it down. Now I'm just in my panties and they are so sheer and wet with my juices that I feel naked. His hand brushes against my crotch as he moves to take off my panties and I feel a surge of electricity through my body. When he gets my panties off, he teases me by dragging his fingers up the insides of my thighs but just missing my throbbing clitoris. I shudder with pleasure and frustration.
Then, Rod moves down till his lips are millimeters from my trembling twat. I can feel his breath on my wet clitoris. Suddenly, I'm quivering from the pleasure of his tongue flicking over my clitoris. Thank God, I think, that oral sex that way is Rod's thing. I get a wonderful licking and have an enormous orgasm-one I suspect could be heard a block away-before Rod enters me. And, then, he is so skilled in working from a gentle rhythm while I'm still recovering from my orgasm to a wild thrusting as he's building to his own, that by the time he comes, I'm coming too.
We lie in the secure bubble of post-coital bliss for a long time.
I sigh and say, "Oh, God, that felt good." He gives some sound of agreement and I continue, "You don't know how long it's been." Still not understanding, he says that's it's been just as long for him.
Then the whole story of Chris's affliction comes out. I tell Rod how long it's been since I've been fucked or felt a cock harden in my hand. He asks questions with a concern that is intended to hide his glee. It doesn't. I guess he figures he hit a gold mine. And he's right.
I tell him about some of the things we've tried to help Chris. All the time, he's stroking my body in a way that traces the border between compassion and passion. He suggests that I try waking Chris up with a blow job. This should work, if anything will, Rod thinks. As I explain to him that we've tried every conceivable type of blow job, I feel his cock start to stir against my hip. I suspect he brought this up only to get me talking about giving blow jobs.
I'm sure he would like to steer things in that direction-which is to say, I'm sure he is a man. But I'll let him worry about whether things are going that direction for a few minutes. (I don't want him to think I'm easy.)
"Anyway, that's why it felt so especially good to feel your cock harden in my hand-to feel you inside of me, thrusting and filling me up." And I snuggle against him in a way that could foreshadow innocent cuddling.
He starts fondling me more aggressively now and he turns my face up to his to kiss me deeply. I feel his tongue thrust between my lips proprietarily. I suck his tongue and moan gently before beginning to move down his body to give him what he is asking for. I'll let him think this was his idea.
As my lips reach his waistline, I grab his cock in one hand and find that it is hard again-not just sort of firm, but really hard. I like this guy. He makes me feel very powerful.
I wait with my lips just millimeters from his straining cock. I'm breathing warmly on his cock and he can feel how close I am. He wants me closer and arches his back to thrust his cock to my lips. But I stay just out of reach for a second, stroking his hard cock gently to encourage him at the same time.
Finally I take him into my mouth. He is covered with our drying juices, but I don't mind. I didn't do this with Chris. I never liked tasting myself on his cock. But this is different. Tonight is all about cock worship and it isn't all show for Rod's sake. I realize that making Chris impotent has taken a toll on me. I want Rod's cock in my mouth. I want to feel its hardness, its size, its heat, its need.
For several minutes I suck him and lick him while I fondle his balls and stroke his cock. His hands are on my head, encouraging me and I hear him give a satisfying moan as he feels my mouth and tongue making love to his cock. I'm not really trying to work him toward an orgasm now. I just want him really hard for a second round of fucking-something it is clear he is quite capable of.
"You know what I really want?" I ask between sucks. I'm pretty sure he was focused more on what he wanted, and that what he wanted was for this to go on without there being any between sucks. But Rod's a nice guy and he asks me what I really want.
"All this time Chris has been having trouble, I've been fantasizing about being on my hands and knees and being fucked really hard like a bitch in heat." I pause for the image to sink in and then ask, innocently, "Can we do that?" As if that's a real question!
But it is a real desire of mine and one that I'm going to have satisfied soon. Rod pulls me up to my hands and knees at the edge of the bed. He stands behind me by the bed and grabs my hips. Rod's hands hold me tightly as he thrusts into me. After a few minutes of simple thrusting, he begins to pull his cock completely out of me on every back stroke, sometimes pausing for a second of anticipation, then he plunges into me so fast and deep that it takes my breath away. I am completely lost in the moment of animalistic coupling. God, it feels great to just be fucked really hard by a really hard cock.
When we finish, he collapses on top of me, still inside of me. I love the weight of him on me and the rhythm of his breathing. His cock, quickly softening, is still pulsing in my cunt and I think about how full of his cum I must be. I am very satisfied and would love to just fall asleep in his bed and wake up in his arms and do it all again.
But I have to get home. I see by the alarm clock that it's after 1:30. This is certainly late enough to provoke in Chris all the images and fears I want to provoke in him. And, though I know he will be trying to stay up for me, I'm afraid that if he is drinking-a definite possibility-he might pass out before I get home.
I make my apologies and, reluctantly, get up out of our warm bed to get dressed. Rod gets up and pulls his pants on, too. I guess he is planning to see me to the door. But I have a better idea. I ask him to drive me home. I make no excuses about being drunk. We'd only had one drink since we got to his apartment. I just want don't want to be alone yet.
There is almost complete silence on the way to my house. But it is a completely comfortable silence. I hold his hand for a while and then reach over to feel his cock. He hadn't put on underpants, so I could get a nice feel through his trousers. As I stroke him gently, he begins to stir. He's not hard, exactly, but he's reacting.
We pull up in front of my house and I see from the light trickling around the curtain that Chris has the TV on. Probably he's still awake. Without putting Chris out of my mind, I turn to Rod. He has shut off the engine and turned slightly toward me. He looks great and, not coincidentally, he looks like he thinks I look great.
I pat his cock and tell him that I seem to have created a problem here.
"I wouldn't want to send you home horny. Don't you guys get blueballs or something if a girl gets you all hot and doesn't take care of you?" He knows I'm joking, of course. I kind of like the reminder of high school. This does feel like he is returning me from a date.
"I don't know," he plays along. "I haven't had anyone get me this hot for a very long time."
"So some girl got you this hot before?"
"Yeah. One did," referring, sweetly, to me.
"And did she leave you hot and bothered?"
"Well, what if you were in a car, like this. What if there was no bed around? What would she do to take care of you?"
It's nice to hear him talk about the way we ended many of our dates.
"She'd unzip my pants and take out my cock with her soft, delicate hands."
No sooner said than done.
"Then, she'd stroke me and kiss me."
Again, I follow the script.
"Then, she'd take my cock in her beautiful mouth and suck me until I exploded in her mouth."
I'm on his cock in a flash, and now he is hard again. God, this guy's good! I don't tease him now. Now, I'm working his cock hard with my lips, my tongue and my hand. I don't care that he's already had two orgasms tonight, I'm determined to have him spewing in minutes. He's encouraging me with strings of "Oh, migods!" and lots of nonverbal cues. I can feel his thighs tighten as he strains to shoot another load. Suddenly, with my hand tight around the base of his cock, I feel his cum shoot up his cock into my mouth. It spurts strongly into the back of my mouth and I swallow the first spurt as it spurts again. His third shot clears him out and his cock is so sensitive that he actually stops me from working his cock as it softens. I just gently hold it in my mouth and swallow. After a few seconds, I ask him if that took care of the problem. He said it did.
I gently placed his cock back in his pants and zipped him up before giving him a peck on the cheek and reminding him that I'd call him tomorrow (meaning, of course, later today) about getting my car.
Then I leave and he watches me as I walk slowly up to the door, my heels in my hands and my hips swaying happily. I hear his car drive off as I close the door.
The house is silent and, down the hall, I see there is no light in the bedroom. Excellent! Chris had been watching TV. He must have heard Rod's car coming and turned it off. Maybe he watched through the window-not that he could see exactly what was happening at that distance and with the car windows fogged as they were, but he would know that Rod drove me home and that I didn't just jump out of the car. Chris knew how long I'd been out there and he knew it wasn't talking about old times.
He'd turned off the TV and was, I suspected, pretending to be asleep. I tiptoe down the hall and slip off my clothes for the second time tonight. I crawl straight into bed-not washing up or even brushing my teeth. I want Chris to smell Rod on me.
Chris is lying silently-in two senses, really. I know he is awake, but he gives no sign. Maybe he doesn't know how to react. Frankly, I don't know what to expect from him, either. I've planned for lots of reactions. If he asks questions, I'll just put him off with the excuse of being too tired to talk now. If he is aggressive, challenging me about being late, I'll still use the "too tired" line, but it will be with an edge that says "don't get ballsy with me you impotent wimp."
But, in fact, he says nothing. He rolls over against me, still maintaining the ambiguity about his state of wakefulness. Before long, he begins to caress me. He can feel that I'm still clammy from sweating. His hand moves to my crotch and I push him away. He caresses me more and then moves his hand to my crotch again. This time, I let him touch me.
My pubic hair is crusty with dried semen and my own fluids and the lips of my cunt are swollen and slick with juices. He confirms at once that I've been well fucked. I'm sure he is churning with emotions. He's just been openly cuckolded by my old lover. I'm obviously well satisfied in a way Chris can't satisfy me anymore. He doesn't know exactly how to respond.
He kisses me and then stops suddenly. I'm sure he smells the alcohol on me but I suspect that he tastes Rod's cum-I hope he does. This is part of his punishment.
Chris does nothing for a while. He seems almost to go limp-I mean his whole body. Then, tentatively, he kisses me again. I feel his tongue pressing against my lips and I offer him no resistance. Gingerly, then eagerly, he explores my mouth with his tongue. He's gotten himself into such a lather that I reach down to see if he is getting hard-quite a feat given the dosage of anti-Viagra he is on. As it turns out, he's as limp as cooked spaghetti, but by every other standard, he is very hot.
He breaks from my mouth and begins kissing my neck and breasts. I wonder how far he will go with this. When his lips hit my pubic hair, I stop him with my hand and pull him away. When he tries again, I say, "You don't have to do this." But he pushes past my hand and begins licking my clitoris. By now he is positioned between my legs and he spreads my lips wide to lick deep into my cunt. I can feel Rod's cum starting to flow. In the dim light coming in from through the curtain, I doubt that Chris can see it, but he must feel it running out. He must taste the distinctive, salty taste of cum.
He doesn't stop, though. He licks me like a madman. Maybe this is a primitive form of sperm competition. Maybe he is "reclaiming his territory" like a dog covering another dog's scent. But Chris can't actually cover Rod's scent. The best he can do is lick it out.
I thought that this would give me abstract psychological pleasure from the revenge I was taking. I expected that this would give me ordinary physical pleasure. (Who doesn't like her clitoris and cunt licked.) But I had no idea how incredibly exciting I would find it. With every touch of his tongue, I imagine him licking Rod's cum into his mouth and swallowing it. I try to push more out. I want to fill his mouth with Rod's cum. It has little to do with revenge now. It has everything to do with cuckoldry-open, unapologetic cuckoldry. I love the power I hold. I love the insatiable desire I feel in Chris to try to satisfy me. He wants to reclaim his manhood by satisfying me more fully than any other man is able to.
I learn a lesson in the pleasures of cuckoldry. It isn't just having two lovers. And it isn't the secrecy-though I suppose that can be exciting. The real pleasures come when your husband knows of your lover and can't do anything to stop it. Indeed, the cuckoldry drives him to be more submissive, more compliant, more attentive to your wishes. As Chris tries futily to reclaim his respect and manhood-ironically, by licking another man's cum from my cunt-he is so completely mine. Because I have tried everything to help him overcome his inadequacy, he can't blame me. The blame is all his, he thinks, and he does ablution by licking my satisfied cunt of all of my lover's cum.
The more I think of it, the hotter I get. Soon, my head is filled of images from tonight: stroking Rod's cock in the parking lot, not being able to wait long enough for his cock to completely undress, being fucked hard from behind, sucking his cock in the car. All of these thoughts mingled with images of Chris sucking Rod's cum from my cunt. Chris moves back to my clitoris, excited himself by the level of excitement he sees in me. His tongue flicking across my clitoris sends me to a crashing orgasm-maybe the most intense I've ever had. I tone down my outward response, though. I don't want him to know how excited he has gotten me.
When I finish, Chris crawls up next to me. I immediately reach down for his cock-good wife that I am, trying to encourage him to fuck me. I was surprised to find that, though his cock was nowhere near hard enough to give any kind of decent fucking, it was less limp than usual. I made a mental note of this: first, I noted that he is sexually excited by licking another man's cum from my swollen cunt; second, I noted that I needed to up his dose of anti-Viagra a bit.
When I touch him, Chris knows that he isn't hard enough to fuck me. Even if he could slip it in because of how wet my cunt now is, he couldn't give me any kind of fucking. I'm sure he doesn't want any comparisons made. He mutters that he is sorry. And, sensitive wife that I am, I tell him, "It's okay. I'm really sore anyway."
He rolls over without replying and we drift off to sleep. We both have much to think about, but I'm betting my thoughts are a lot more pleasant to me than his are to him.
I slept in very late in the morning. When I got up, Chris had clearly been up for some time. There was the alluring aroma of coffee in the air but I decided to get a shower first. In the shower, I washed slowly, with a renewed appreciation of my body derived from Rod's interest. I held the personal shower between my legs for a long time, enjoying the feeling of the warm water tingling my sensitive skin. I wondered for a minute whether there is still some of Rod's cum running out my cunt or whether Chris had gotten it all last night.
After I finished shampooing my hair and shaving my legs and underarms, I wrapped in a towel and headed for the kitchen for some coffee. Chris was there with the newspaper. At first, he said nothing-didn't even look up from the paper. Then, he said, quietly, "Do you want to talk about last night?"
I let the moment linger for a long time before saying simply, "No". Then, when he didn't press the issue, when he just looked hurt, I added, "What's the point?"
He didn't have a good answer for that, and we drank our coffee in silence for a minute. I told him that I had to go over to Rod's to get my car, but assured him that he didn't have to take me; I could take a cab. Of course, he wanted to take me. That way he thought he would have more control over when I returned. That was fine with me. I wanted him to take me.
Chris followed me back to the bedroom. Before doing anything else, I picked up the phone and called Rod. I knew the number and this probably didn't escape Chris's notice. Rod answered, not knowing that Chris was there of course. When I said 'hi' he began to tell me how wonderful last night was. Chris pretended (though not too well) not to be listening so I tried to communicate the same to him in word and tone while simultaneously sounding like I was being considerate of Chris. I didn't say anything explicit, but my tone and a slight giggle here and there made the conversation with Rod very intimate.
As I talked with Rod, I unwrapped my towel slowly and rubbed my body sensuously-somewhat suggestively-with it, though I wasn't wet anymore (at least nowhere but between my legs and rubbing there might be more than suggestive). I dropped my towel on the floor and continued to talk with Rob. This had to drive Chris crazy. Not only was I speaking intimately to the man I made love with last night, but I was stripping to do it naked. Chris didn't say anything, though.
Since the conversation with Rod was going on for a while, I started rummaging through my underwear drawer for panties. I pulled out some plain white cotton panties and held them in my hand absent-mindedly while I finish the conversation.
When I got off the phone, I started to pull on my panties, but stopped and took a second to wipe my crotch. I tossed the towel in the hamper and then pulled on my panties. I dressed quickly in a simple summer dress and sandals. I didn't really need a bra under this dress. You can tell I'm not wearing one, but it looks more innocent than slutty.
The ride over was tense. Finally, Chris asked if I had to talk to Rod naked. I told him it's not like Rod could see me over the phone and that I thought he (Chris) just wanted to get this over as soon as possible so I was hurrying. Plausible deniability. Chris was silent for the rest of the trip.
When we got to Rod's place, Chris pulled in next to my car. I thought he was hoping that I would just get in my car and go. When I got out, I told him it would take me a few minutes and he shouldn't wait for me. He questioned me about why I had to go in. Now the plausible story was that when I drove over last night, I still had my keys in my hand when I went into Rod's apartment and I left them there when Rod drove me home. Fortunately, Chris wasn't bold enough to ask to see in my purse. I wouldn't have let him, anyway.
I fairly bounced up the staircase to Rod's apartment door. My hair was still a little wet and the uncombed curls were, I hoped, extremely sexy. I noticed that Chris wasn't driving away. As I suspected, he was waiting for me despite my recommendation.
Rod opens the door and reaches out to me. I'm not sure whether Chris can see, but I move in quickly and close the door behind me. Rod is all over me immediately and I'm open to him. He pulls me to him and kisses me deeply while groping me with his hands. When he runs his hands up my short dress and feels my crotch, I'm quite wet again. He presses the crotch of y panties deep into my cunt and I can feel the wetness soak the panties. Meanwhile, I'm stroking his beautiful hard cock through his pants.
I get his zipper down and sink to my knees, taking him in my mouth as I go down. He moans and encourages me with more "ohmigods!" I'm happy sucking him but I really want to get fucked-my cunt is itching for his cock.
I get up, pull up my dress so I can slide my panties down to my ankles. I kick them off my feet and let him press his fingers deep into my hot cunt while we kiss again.
"You want some of this?" I ask him innocently. He starts to pick me up to take me back to the bedroom like last night but I stop him.
"Chris is waiting outside. Let's be quick." With that, I turn around stretching myself over the kitchen bar. They call this 'presentation' in animals. The female presents herself for mounting. If she is attractive to a male, the male will mount her and fuck her. I'm feeling very animalistic and, apparently, Rod finds me attractive. He doesn't even wait for me to wiggle my ass. He's got his pants off and his shirt pulled up and he's lining up his cock with my waiting cunt.
He's in a frenzy himself, but he has enough control to tease me a little. He just touches my hungry lips with his cock and holds there. I try to push pack on to him, but now his strong hands are holding my hips away from him. He waits until he hears me kind of whimper and beg "please." Then, with a ferocity that stuns me, he thrusts into me all the way in a single forceful stroke. If I weren't so wet, it would have hurt. As it was, it felt absolutely wonderful.
I urge him to keep fucking me hard and he pounds into me over and over. I'm in ecstasy and I know he is building quickly to an orgasm. I want to cum with him so I start rubbing my clitoris faster and faster. All the time, I'm trying to tighten my cunt in rhythm with his thrusting. The combination of being fucked really hard and playing with myself, unabashedly, like this is bringing me to an orgasm quickly. But the thought that takes me over the edge is the image of Chris, waiting impatiently in the car-fearing the worst and being exactly right. That sends me over the top and I have a crashing orgasm. And my orgasm seems to trigger Rod's. I enjoy feeling his final spasmodic thrusts as he fills me with his cream.
We wait, panting hard, for only a few minutes. When he pulls out of me, I stand up my dress falls in place. The only way you could tell from looking at me now that I was just given a great fucking is by the glow on my face. Rod is another story. His pants are off and his shirt doesn't cover his still semi-erect member. It is still sticking out, shiny with our fluids and there is a drop of cum forming on its tip. Gently, trying not to lose the cum in my cunt, I sink to my knees once again and clean him off with my tongue, using my fingers to squeeze out any cum that might remain.
Then, I stand up quickly and head for the door. Rod spots my panties on the floor and picks them up.
"You need these," he says, throwing them to me.
I catch them and in one fluid movement, throw them back telling him to keep them to remember me by when I'm not here. He smiles and holds them up to his face, inhaling deeply.
I leave and as I close the door behind me, I straighten my dress and then my hair. Neither really needs it, but I'm sure Chris will be watching.
When I get to the car, he opens the window and asks what took me so long.
"You won't believe this. We looked everywhere in the apartment for them and, as it turned out, you were right. They were in my purse all along," I reply with cruel innocence. "I'm sorry you had to wait so long. You should have just dropped me off."
I get in my car and back out without looking back at Chris. As I head out of the parking lot, I see Rod looking out of his window and I wave at him out my open window. A quick look in the rearview mirror confirms that Chris saw.
I pull into our driveway before Chris and quickly get out of the car and head into the house. He pulls in as I'm closing the front door and I hear him open it behind me just as I'm going into the bedroom. I quickly pull another pair of panties out of my drawer-they're blue, but they will do fine. Chris is rounding the corner into the room as I'm starting to pull them up.
"You fucked him again, didn't you? While I was waiting there for you, you fucked him!"
I let him know that I don't appreciate his tone. I guess he doesn't like my calm, condescending reply. He grabs me by both arms and throws me on my back on the bed. I haven't finished pulling my panties up and the bottom of my dress flies up as I hit the bed. My cunt is exposed to him. He has violence in his eyes, but he's not a hitter. I wonder what he is going to do with all his rage.
He pulls off my panties forcefully and spreads my legs.
"Look at you! You whore! You go over to pick up your car, make an excuse about your keys so you can go up and get a quicky. Is he paying you? He should be. You're his fucking whore!" He's on a roll, now. "Then you leave your fucking underpants there. Does he pay you extra for your dirty panties? God! I can't believe this. You're a fucking whore."
Now he's shot his verbal wad. He stands there silently-looking at me sprawled on the bed with my unfaithful cunt exposed.
I fear he may turn and walk out so I answer him.
"Okay. Call me whatever dirty names you want. Maybe I am his fucking whore. All I know is that I need Rod. I need to feel a cock harden in my hand-to feel a rigid cock in my mouth and fucking my cunt." He was silent, crushed. I could afford to soften my line. "I'm sorry! I know this is difficult for you: your impotence, Rod and everything. But I've tried everything I know to help you. I'm not going to live my life like a nun."
Now, he starts to walk away, but in pain, not in anger. I grab him by the hand and pull him down to me. He puts his head on my chest and cries, I think. At least, it feels like he is. After a long minute of consolation, I gently push his head down past my breasts. He doesn't resist. I push him down until his mouth is over my clitoris.
"There," I say. "Lick me like you did last night. Lick out all of his cum. Make me clean again. Make me yours again. Make me cum like I did last night."
For a moment, I don't know if this is working. Maybe I'm wrong about what I thought was motivating him last night. Maybe he is revolted by this.
Probably he is, but if so, something overcomes his revulsion. I feel his tongue gently touching my clitoris. Then, tentatively at first, he begins probing my cunt with his tongue. At the angle he is lying at, he can't get very good access so he slides off the bed onto his knees and positions himself between my legs. Now, in the harsh light of day, he can see everything. He can see my red, swollen lips protruding from my wet mound. And, as I press lightly, he can see Rod's cum oozing from my cunt.
He pauses for a moment, no doubt torn by conflicting emotions. Then, he spreads my lips wide and plunges his tongue into my sloppy cunt.
"Oh, yes," I encourage him. "Lick my cunt. Get all of that cum out. Clean me completely. Don't leave any of Rod's cum in your wife." This all sounds very corny to me, but Chris is licking me as deeply as his tongue will reach.
When he slows down I tell him to take my clitoris. "Lick it like you did last night. I want to feel the same crashing orgasm I did then."
He services me as long as it takes and I have a wonderful orgasm. When he is done, I lie with him for a while. I regain my breath and then I slip down to take his dick in my mouth. He tries to stop me but I tell him not to be silly. I tell him just to let me do this and maybe it will feel good.
I suck his shriveled pecker gently, trying to make it feel good, without getting him aroused. I'm not too concerned about him getting hard. But he could have an orgasm even if he isn't hard. I don't want that or he would want me sucking his limp dick all the time.
There are ways of sucking a dick, I learn, that are humiliating to the man as they are pleasurable. If you hold the penis between your thumb and finger like you are picking up a soft noodle with chopsticks, it doesn't matter how good it feels to the man when you wrap your lips around it. He'll still hate the way it makes him feel to be touched that way.
After a few minutes of sucking his little dick-with no response-he pulls me up and asks me to stop. I apologize, assuring him I was just trying to make him feel good. I am very much the loving wife.
I drift off into an early nap. It's not surprising that I'm tired. I've been a busy beaver. I don't know what Chris does for most of the day.
That night, though, he wanted to talk. I agreed, but subject to the condition that he not abuse me verbally. "We can't solve this problem if you make me out to be the bad guy here," I told him.
Surprisingly, he was understanding. He didn't want to attack me or condemn me. He wanted us to try some more things to help him and he wanted me to cool it with Rod while we did that. I told him that I was willing to help him anyway I could, but I wasn't sure about not seeing Rod. He didn't insist. I guess he knew he couldn't. I told him that if I did see Rod, I'd keep it secret so he didn't have to deal with it, but he didn't like that solution. I guess it would feel like an additional infidelity if I were to be sneaking around.
Over the next few weeks, we tried more of the same things we'd tried before and a few new things. Often, we rented some explicit porno movie and see if it would get Chris going. During this time-at least when I wasn't getting reamed by Rod or working on Chris's problem with him-I was formulating a way to exercise a finer level of control over Chris's sexual response.
Viagra is usually ingested in pill form. But I learned that there is no reason it can't be applied in a transdermal lotion. It was easy enough for me to mix up a batch of Viagra in a lotion that I could rub into Chris's cock as I stimulated him. I also mixed up an identical looking batch of anti-Viagra. Now, I kept Chris on his regular dosage of oral anti-Viagra but I could counteract the effect quickly by rubbing some of the Viagra lotion on his cock (or anywhere, really) and, if I wanted, I could also quickly counteract the Viagra by rubbing some of the anti-Viagra lotion into his skin.
This would all take a little experimentation. I knew I was in uncharted territory. There were no studies on this. But I was confident that with a little practice I would control everything about his sexuality. I would control the horizontal; I would control the vertical; I would control Chris.
Not surprisingly, we found that straight movies didn't do much for Chris. Movies of straight fucking, beautiful women sucking lots of cocks, gang bangs all seemed to have no effect. We explored more exotic realms. Male dominance of women seemed to leave Chris cold, as did images where men force women to have sex with them. (I was careful to make sure he was well dosed with the anti-Viagra for these movies.) Lesbian scenes didn't rev his engine, either. It seemed that nothing would work. Then, I found a great little title, "The Country Cuckold." I took the time to preview it before we watched it together. It had great scenes and I just knew it was going to make Chris hard-the movie, together with a little transdermal Viagra.
We planned a session for a Friday night and I told him I'd pick out the movie on my way home. I already had the movie, but this gave me a chance to stop by Rod's place for a quick fill-up. As it turned out, Rod was really horny (and, of course, so was I) so I wound up staying later than I should have and getting two good fuckings-one in the ass, which had become a favorite playground for us. Chris was a little put out by how late I got home. (It seemed a bit ungrateful since I was getting ready for him-though he didn't know that.) I put him off by saying that we're going to have a great party tonight. He was anxious enough that he quickly forgot and forgave my lateness.
When the movie starts, Chris seems skeptical-maybe a little embarrassed. As it goes on, though, he becomes interested. I undress him and stroke him through the opening scenes, which include some hot sex between a woman and her husband and the same woman and her lover. I even suck Chris's cock while the woman is doing her lover. Nothing.
But, then, when the woman in the video begins openly cuckolding her husband I just sit next to Chris and stroke him lightly with some nice slick lotion. He begins to react and I can tell that he is very pleasantly surprised by this. I'm not-surprised, that is. I know how much Viagra I put in the lotion. If he hadn't reacted, I'd have checked to be sure he still had a pulse.
While the woman in the video is telling her husband how much better her lover is, Chris's cock is rising. When the husband comes home and finds the woman in their bed with her lover-obviously just fucked, Chris is getting almost hard. After the lover leaves and the woman taunts her husband into going down on her to lick out her lover's cum, Chris is rigid. I begin stroking him furiously and can see that he is riveted to the video. As he watches the man lick his wife's lover's cum from her cunt, I stroke him to an orgasm. It's the first orgasm he's had in many months and he can't control himself. He is screaming as he cums and he spurts semen all over his chest and abdomen.
I kiss him gently and encouragingly.
"Oh, honey. Look! You got really hard and you came. Look at all this cum. You really made a mess." This is all said in a condescending tone but one that can pass as sympathetic and supportive.
I get a rag to clean Chris up and just before I finish with the rag, I take a little of his cum on my finger and say, "Oh, God. Look at this. It's so nice." Maybe he's thinking I'm going to eat it; I don't know. But he's clearly surprised when I bring my finger to his lips and wipe his cum into his mouth.
I finish cleaning him up and ask him what he wants to do now. He opts for just watching the rest of the movie. There is another scene where the man is licking his wife's lover's cum and this time I begin to push Chris down to my crotch, knowing it is still sticky with Rod's cum. When Chris gets between my legs I'm sure he has a good enough look at my cunt to see that he's living the video.
"Oh, yes, honey. Lick my cunt. Clean me out." He licks me, deeply and vigorously and again I feel the overwhelming excitement I felt before. I suspect that he may be getting hard again, too. The transdermal Viagra should counteract the anti-Viagra for several hours. After he gets my cunt clean, he's surprised when I push him down farther to lick my asshole
I'm not sure if I'm leaking cum from my ass-I'm so wet down there I can't really tell. But Chris knows the significance of my forcing him down to lick my asshole. He's never done it before-no one has ever done that for me. It feels incredible. My ass is so sensitive from Rod's fucking that Chris's tongue feels terrific.
After he's licked my ass clean, I guide him to my clitoris and let him lick me to an orgasm. When I'm finished, I quickly reach down for his cock. It's almost hard again. I remark on it and tell him how well this is working. I ask him if he wants to try fucking and, of course, he does. Finally, he sees the opportunity to cover Rod's scent.
Since he's not completely hard, I suggest that we rewind the movie to what was a hot point for him and that I stroke him again with the lotion. As the man in the video is licking cum from his wife's cunt, I stroke Chris with the lotion; unfortunately for him, it is the anti-Viagra lotion. All the while, I tell him how good it is going to feel to him when he fucks me and how much I want him to fuck me. I don't want him to associate his failure with what is going on in the video.
Just when I feel the anti-Viagra beginning to overwhelm his erection, I try to pull him on me to fuck me. But the drug is working fast and by the time he tries to line up with my cunt his cock wilts like an old flower. His confidence goes the same way as his erection. Like a good wife, I console him telling him that it doesn't matter and encouraging him about getting hard twice and having an orgasm. I leave him to consider the fact that he only got hard when he was thinking about a man cleaning his wife's cunt of her lover's cum (and doing it himself). He can figure out what that means.
With the combination of the Viagra and the anti-Viagra lotion, I kept conditioning Chris. I always gave him some Viagra when he was about to lick Rod's cum from my cunt. Sometimes I'd stroke him with the Viagra lotion and talk to him about my fucking Rod. When he was getting hot and bothered-and hard-I'd switch to the anti-Viagra lotion and let him fall on his face when he tried to fuck me. Within weeks, he had learned, quite unconsciously, that he had two choices: he could accept his role of subservient cuckold and get hard and sometimes cum while he was sucking another man's cream from my cunt, or he could try to be the man in the relationship and fail.
Our relationship changed dramatically when Rod got a promotion that took him overseas for six months. Initially, this was devastating to me. We had been fucking three or four times a week for months now. Sometimes we would sneak off to his apartment or to my house at lunch time. Sometimes we would have a long date and I'd spend the night. One weekend, I'd gone away with him for the entire weekend, leaving a list of chores for Chris to do while I was gone. But now Rob was going away for a long time.
Chris viewed it with joy. I viewed it with alarm. It presented the occasion for a wonderful weekend before he went off, though. Rod and I planned this weekend openly sometimes talking on the phone in front of Chris. I packed my bags in front of Chris, with no shame or embarrassment. He watched me put in a teddy, my thong underwear, and other sexy lingerie. He didn't say anything, probably because he saw it as the end of having to deal with all of this.
I had Chris drive me to the airport and Rod was already there, waiting for me. I was sure Chris saw me run to Rod's arms before he drove off. I wondered what he'd do for the weekend. I knew Rod and I would have a wonderful weekend in Aruba. And we did.
When we returned, Rod had the cab go to his apartment so we could have one last quicky before he took me home. In front of my house, we had a steamy session in the car-fogged windows, rumpled clothes and all. I kissed him goodbye and walked up to the house, looking back at him longingly.
When I went in the house, Chris didn't say anything. I told him I was very tired-that I hadn't gotten much sleep over the weekend-and I was going to bed to lie down. I invited him to join me if he wanted. He didn't come back to the bedroom right away, but before long he came back and lay down next to me in bed. I pulled his head onto my breast and told him I loved him. And then, with the slightest pressure, I invited him to go down on me. Without resistance, he did. Maybe he could tell that I'd been fucked repeatedly over the weekend. Certainly he could tell that I had been freshly fucked. And, as was becoming his practice, he started to clean me of Rob's cum. But I stopped him. I told him I didn't want him to lick out Rod's cum. I wanted it to stay there. All I wanted him to do was to lick my clitoris. Now, I had humiliated him by not letting him lick Rod's cum from me. I'm good!
After Rod left, I began to adjust to life without him. It was difficult without Rod. I had even begun thinking about letting Chris off his anti-Viagra regimen so that I could get some good cock once in a while. Then I remembered: there are lots of other men around and, really, most of them seemed interested in me.
There was a new clerk working at the pharmacy: Steve. He was ten years younger than me, but he was legal. And, he was black. I had never been with a black guy and the thought intrigued me. I also liked the image of Chris being cuckolded by Steve. Chris was almost 15 years older than Steve, and lived in a very different world-a much higher-class world with more refined sensibilities. It would be fun to have Chris clean Steve's cum from my cunt.
Seducing Steve was a snap. Eighteen year old guys aren't hard to get, and they're always hard. Steve worked the evening shift, up until closing. The store was always looking for pharmacists to work that shift. As long as Rod was around, I didn't want to work then. I never knew when he would have an evening free for fucking. But it was easy to get the evening shift and I started working evenings just two weeks after Rod left. To make sure Chris didn't get into trouble, I always left him a list of chores to do in the evenings. Often they were just household chores, sometimes they were more personal: I'd sometimes have him wash my bras and panties or iron an outfit for me. It was good to keep up his domestic skills.
Once I was on the same schedule as Steve, a schedule that had us working during the slowest time of the day and required us to close up the store, I had plenty of time to flirt with him. I didn't want to come off as desperate or too hot-to-trot so I waited a few weeks before doing anything really obvious. I spent these weeks just being sure that he would have some fantasies about being with an older woman.
Finally, I decide that the Friday night after we'd been working together for two weeks would be the beginning of the serious seduction. I come in, as usual, around 2:00 in the afternoon. Today, though, I've paid even more attention to what I wear than I've been doing the last two weeks. When I'm working, I wear a white lab coat over my clothes, but I sometimes leave it open in the front so it matters what I'm wearing.
Today, I'm wearing a short skirt, with a provocative slit up the left thigh. As always, I check to make sure that the tops of my thigh-highs are just barely visible in the slit. I'm wearing a silk shell that I know falls away from me when I bend over, giving a well-placed observer full view of my chest. So, under the shell, I wear a push-up bra that doesn't cover the tops of my breasts at all.
The pharmacist isn't really in charge of the clerk, but since I am older, have a more responsible position and have worked for the store longer, I am functionally Steve's superior. I have him doing little things for me all evening. I find it necessary to rearrange and restock the pharmacy. Of course I have to take charge of this. This means that I'm the one up on the step ladder but I have Steve picking the boxes up off the floor and unpacking them to hand me the individual bottles. I'm up a few steps, not enough for him to look up my skirt, but enough for his eyes to be level with my crotch when he is standing up. This should give him something to think about.
When he is bending down getting another box, I take a look at him and realize that he has found a way to look up my skirt after all. He just sneaks a peak when he is bending down. Well, I can help him with that, I realize, so I stand provocatively with one foot a step higher than the other. That should give him a good shot at my beaver.
Steve has to go back to the counter to help a customer and I take a break and take off my white coat. When I see him coming back, I carefully time my picking up of some boxes off the floor so that he can get a look down my blouse if he wants to. I see out of the tops of my eyes that he's taken advantage of the situation. I linger over the boxes for a few minutes, apparently reading the labels carefully. He just stands there watching me and I can see that he has placed himself well.
Okay, if he likes that, let's see what he thinks of a view of my ass. I stand up and look the other way for a minute. "Now where the hell is that?" I mutter as if to myself. "I can't find it!" And I bend over at the waist the other way, giving him a great view of the shape of my ass. My little dialog is just designed to provoke in Steve the silent response, "I think I found what I want!" or thoughts to that effect.
I get so horny playing this teasing game. I can feel how wet I am and I'm pretty sure that Steve is in the equivalent state for a male. I can hardly wait for the store to close.
After Steve locks the doors and clears out the cash register, I ask him to come back to the pharmacy again. I just have a few more things I need him for. Guess what? He doesn't mind staying a little late to help me out.
When he gets back to the pharmacy, I'm up on the step ladder again and reaching precariously up on the top shelf. "Would you hold the step ladder so it doesn't wiggle?" I ask innocently. Unfortunately, he is quite innocent in the way he complies. He only holds the ladder. I was hoping he would brace me by holding my leg. He offers to get on the ladder and do the stocking, which I think is very sweet and generous since it means losing his view.
I decide to take him up on it, for a few minutes because I realize that I can take a good gander at his basket and give him a hint about how to stabilize someone on a ladder. Then, I'll make an excuse to get back up on the ladder again and we'll see where it goes from there.
When he climbs up the ladder, I give him a task that will keep him distracted for a while: check all of the dates and organize about two dozen bottles from the oldest to the newest. Then, I take the opportunity to study his ass and his crotch close up. He's got that body type that has really pronounced buttocks. I like that. And, though he is wearing rather baggy pants, I can see that he has a full basket in front. I like that even more. I wonder what he will feel like in my mouth and in my cunt. I'm looking forward to finding out.
When I ask him to reach some bottles way over to one side, he has to stretch over me to get to them. With safety in mind (at least as a cover story), I reach up to steady him by holding his inner thigh. I don't fondle him...yet. I do get a good feel of his hard thigh muscles. As he reaches down to hand me a bottle I ask for, I carelessly let my hand slide up the inside of his thigh. I bump his cock, which is hanging surprisingly low. I move my hand back without comment. I'm not sure I could say "I'm sorry" and make it believable. I notice though that my touch has had an effect. The front of his pants are pressed out a bit more than they were just a moment ago.
I have to go up to check something and I ask him if he could steady me while I'm up on the ladder. Smart boy, he understands what I mean this time. His hand begins just above my knee. But, as I move around, I feel his hand sliding up my thigh. I feel it touch the elastic top of my thigh-highs. And then, with an almost magical feeling, his fingers are on my bare thigh, just inches from my steamy cunt.
"Oh, that's good," I say, as if it is about my ability to reach what I want (when it's really Steve's ability to reach what I want him to reach). "Just a little higher." He knows I'm talking about his hand and slides it up to press against my crotch.
"Why, Steve, what are you doing?" I ask him.
He thinks I'm seriously challenging him. He pulls his hand away and gets defensive. "Look, lady, he says, avoiding my name. You've been coming on to me all night-flashing me your ass and your tits. Don't act surprised."
"Do you think I want you?" I want to know.
"Well, I don't know why else you would be doing what you've been doing tonight."
I climb down the ladder and stand in front of him-just inches from him. He's against a counter so he isn't going anywhere. My breasts are almost touching him now and I look him right in the eye.
"I'm ten years older than you. What makes you think that I'd be interested in you?"
"I dunno. I just thought you were."
"Would I be interested in this hard, tight ass of yours?" I say as I grab one cheek in each hand. No answer. "Would I be interested in your young cock?" I grab his crotch with one hand, pulling him closer to me with the other. "Would I want to feel it in my mouth? Would I want to feel a young stud like you fucking me really hard?"
He's still being quiet, though his breathing is getting harder, as is his cock. When I draw his mouth to mine, he is all over me: kneading my breasts, groping my ass, trying to get his fingers up my cunt. I'd say I got this guy pretty hot tonight.
I want to be in charge, though. Not quite a Mrs. Robinson thing-Steve's no shy, awkward Dustin Hoffman. Still, this is one where I'll control the tempo.
I push him away and see the desire in his eyes. I like this a lot. I bring my hand to his crotch for a more thorough check of his equipment. His cock is getting pretty hard now and it hardens more as I fondle it.
"This is feeling pretty tight in here. Should we set it free?" He agrees and I start unzipping his pants. I'm all in the moment right now. This will be my first time with a black guy and I want to experience everything. I find myself experiencing a mental collage of images of Steve's cock thrusting into my mouth, my cunt, my ass. I find every image irresistibly erotic.
Steve's cock is, even though not fully hard yet, bigger than Chris's, or even Rod's. I know this fits a stereotype. I can't speak to the stereotype. This is the first black cock I've held-or even seen in person. But I'm pleased that Steve fits the stereotype. I worry a little, though, about him fitting me.
My hand can't close around his cock. As it hardens in my hand, it forces my hand further apart. I bring it slowly to my lips-savoring the scent as much as the feel and look of his tool. It is as black as it is big. It is relatively smooth, but the head is very pronounced. And the scent it intoxicating: clean, but musky and very male.
I touch it to my lips gingerly and then, on a whim, rub it on my cheek instead of taking it into my mouth. I move my lips to his groin and kiss him around the base of his impressive cock. His coarse, curly pubic hair is new to me. I savor the feel of it against my lips. He is moaning with pleasure and clearly wants more, but he is too timid to force my mouth around his cock.
I slide my tongue under his cock and slowly-excruciatingly slowly to him, I imagine-run my tongue from the base of his cock up toward the tip. When I hit the sensitive part just below the head, he shudders with pleasure.
I stop and, holding his heavy, black cock up in my tiny white hand, look up at him. He is looking down at me now that I've stopped. I wait for a second, running my thumb softly on the sensitive spot I just licked. I ask him if he likes that. He does. I ask him if he wants me to suck his cock in my mouth. Surprise! He does. I tell him that he is so big, I don't know how much of him I can take in my mouth, but I want to take him all the way in.
Then, I slip my mouth over his rigid pole. The head is well defined and I feel the ridge as it passes my lips. My jaw is forced open to an extent that I hadn't anticipated. I know that I can't do this for very long-my jaw muscles will give out. But I want to feel him completely fill my mouth and slide in and out as long as I can.
It feels marvelous. I wrap both hands around the base of his massive cock, trying to cover his whole length with my hands and my mouth. Also, by having both hands there, I can control his thrusting so he doesn't force his cock down my throat. That, I fear, would kill me. But the thrusting he is doing, controlled by my hands, is marvelous. Again and again, my mouth fills with his hot, smooth cock and then empties as he pulls out-only to thrust in again.
As wonderful as this feels-and I hear myself moaning with pleasure-I'm tiring quickly. The ache in my jaw is overwhelming now and, reluctantly, I pull off his cock. As I stand up, I can see the desire in his eyes. I wonder, for a second, what he would do now if I stopped him and told him I didn't want to do anything more. Would he rape me? I guess that he would. He wouldn't even think about the fact that I had provoked it. He would just take what he had to have.
But I'm not going to do that to him. This isn't primarily based on compassion for him. Maybe if this were going to be a one-time thing, I would do that. It would be an interesting experience. But I didn't plan for this to be a one-time thing and I hadn't thought through the implications of having our relationship start out with a rape. Maybe it would be good. Maybe I could control him with his guilt or his fear. But I hadn't thought it through and I don't want to take chances.
Still stroking his cock with my hand, I look him in the eyes closely and ask him if he wants to fuck me. He does, of course, but he doesn't take the initiative. So I turn around, pulling my panties off and bend down over the counter. Then, I feel his hands on my hips and his strong cock-wet with my saliva-press against my cunt lips.
He's not subtle, or even gentle, but I'm really wet so his cock, despite its size, begins slipping into my cunt easily. But then it all changes. There is no friction; my cunt is as slippery as it could be. But his cock is stretching me now. The resistance is provided by the tightness of my cunt. This is a sensation I haven't felt since I was a teenager-when I was first getting fucked. I like the feeling. I like having to be stretched to take him in.
He is thrusting in to me pretty quickly, I think, but it is all in slow motion to me. I feel every inch of his cock. Each stroke takes him deeper into my hungry cunt. I realize that, even when he is bottoming out in my cunt, he still isn't completely in me. Slowly, my cunt stretches to accommodate him. At last, I can feel his pubic hair, then his pubic bone, pressing against my cheeks.
Now it's getting easier and he settles into a regular, insistent rhythm. I enjoy this and begin urging him along. He seems fine with the dirty talk: "Oh, god, yes. Fuck me with your big hard cock...Give it all to me...Let me feel your cock." He seems to like it especially when I tell him (truthfully) I've never felt such a big cock. Well, what 18-year old wouldn't?
I reach back, between my legs and feel his rod as it pistons into me. I push my fingers against the underside of his cock, knowing that this will drive him to a wild orgasm. It does. Soon he is pumping his load into my eager cunt. I don't have an orgasm, but I'm as satisfied as I can be without having one. God it feels good! I squeeze on his cock with my cunt muscles, trying to milk every drop of his cum.
When he pulls out of me, there an audible "plop". I turn around and sink to my knees to take him in my mouth. This isn't normal for me. Usually I don't like to take a guy's cock in my mouth after it is all slick with my juices. But this is different. I don't know whether it is because I haven't cum and am still horny or because I just can't let go of this beautiful black cock. But I take him in my mouth and clean him completely.
It feels very different to have his cock in my mouth when he isn't hard. He's still heavy and thick, but his cock doesn't thrust into me anymore. Now, I'm sucking him, kind of gently actually. It feels nice.
I'm not really trying to get him off again-or even get him hard. But when his cock starts to fill again, I'm excited. Feeling him harden in my mouth is marvelous. His swelling cock pushes my jaws apart and he begins thrusting in and out again. Ahh, youth! It can't be more than ten minutes since he exploded in my cunt. Now he's hard again and ready to blow his load in my mouth. It's a terrific feeling and I start working aggressively on his cock.
Both my hands are wrapped around his cock, just as when I was first sucking him. But now, I'm pumping him vigorously. When I can feel that he is beginning to be ready to cum, I pull off him long enough to look up at him. He is looking at me-lust distorting his face. I beg him to cum in my mouth-to fill me with his seed.
Now, for the first time, he takes my head in his hands. He forces his cock back into my mouth. And he starts thrusting wildly. I have my hands on the base of his cock mainly to keep him from impaling me with it. He lets out a groan and begins spewing cum in my mouth. It feels like a flood. Spurt after spurt fills my mouth and I swallow again and again. I'm amazed that he has so much cum in him so soon after filling my cunt.
I take his last shots on my face. It feels really naughty. Here I am a married woman; I've seduced a black boy, had him fuck me hard and now I'm on my knees before his beautiful black tool, taking his second load in my mouth and all over my face.
When he is finished, I lick his cock of the remaining drops of cum and wipe my face clean-making a show of licking the rest of his creamy semen from my fingers. I look forward to putting his cock back into his pants, but when I'm finished licking my fingers, he has already put his cock away.
I get up, picking up my panties. Instead of putting them on, I put them in my purse. Let him wonder about the meaning of that, I figure. I kiss him, for the second time. I leave him to lock up, telling him that I hope to see more of him tomorrow night. I want him to know that I do not consider this a one night stand.
When I get home, Chris is asleep in bed-or faking it. I drop my clothes on the floor, which he should by now take as a sign that I've just had a good fucking. Again, I don't wash up or even brush my teeth. If Chris can smell Steve on me-especially his cum on my breath-so much the better. It's time he learned that Rod was just the first. There will be many more.
Chris doesn't rouse, or even move. Maybe he's just faking. I don't care. I didn't have an orgasm with Steve and, up until now, I didn't feel frustrated. But now I'm feeling deprived. Chris should be good for something.
I rub up against him, almost sweetly. He is facing away from me and I reach around him, putting my hand on his chest. When he still doesn't respond, I slide my hand down to his cock and stroke it for a minute. I'm stunned by the contrast. Even when Chris was able to get hard, he was small compared to Steve. But now his small, floppy dick doesn't even feel like the same sort of organ as Steve's huge, hard cock. I stroke him just long enough to know that he has felt it and then let him go-rolling over with a frustrated sigh.
He rises to the bait. Rolling over, he starts to touch me. First it is gentle caressing, then he is openly examining me with his hands. Fine, let him feel the crustiness on my pubic hair; let him feel my slick, swollen lips. I'm betting that once he is confronted with the undeniable evidence that I have just been fucked, he'll be overwhelmed by his pathetic need to reclaim his territory. Since we both know he can't do it by fucking me himself, I'm betting I'll have him licking my sloppy cunt in a matter of minutes.
When his fingers slip over my wet mound, he pleads with me. "Do you have to do this?" he asks.
I explain that I have needs that haven't been satisfied since Rod left and, yes, I have to.
I guess I misunderstood his question. He clarifies: "Do you have to come home like this? Can't you clean up first?"
I could say so many things. I could defend myself, or dismiss his feelings, or promise (falsely) not to do it again. I realize, though, that I don't need to say anything. I just wait a minute and then press gently on his head, pushing him down to my crotch. He knows what I want and he knows he wants to do it. For all his rational mind tells him he would rather have me clean up before I come home, that's not what he really wants. Some more primitive part of him needs to see me this way-to clean me up, to satisfy me with his tongue while he drinks down my lovers' cum.
He is becoming a terrific cunt licker. He'll lick me anytime I want and do it however I want, as long as I want, until I'm completely satisfied. What a dramatic change from when licking my cunt "wasn't his thing." What I want from Chris now is for him to lick Steve's cum from my cunt while I replay the scene with Steve in my mind, climaxing when I get to the part where he cums in my mouth and all over my face.
I got exactly what I wanted-something that had been happening almost all the time by then. Chris seemed to have adjusted to the situation. From time to time, there was the plaintive, "Do you have to do this?" or something like that, but in the end he always accepted his new role. It was the best he could do to make himself feel like a man. A man satisfies a woman. Most men do it differently, but this was the best Chris could do. And, I must say that I loved it. Not only did he try his hardest to drive me over the top, but the thought of him humiliating himself by lapping up my lovers' cum in order to do it thrilled me no end.
During this period of time, I started Chris on a new regimen. I decided that I liked the way he licked my cunt after my escapades with Steve so much that I wanted to reinforce that behavior. So, one time when I came home quite messy and in need of his tongue, I suggested something different. He was still dressed and, sweet thing, ready to dive between my legs and clean me up. But I suggested that he take off his clothes and stroke his cock while he licked me. He seemed reluctant, but I reminded him of the time we watched the movie and he got hard during a scene like that. Also, since we wouldn't even be trying to fuck (I was much too sore, I told him), there would be no pressure on him. If he got hard, that was fine. If he didn't, that was fine, too.
The mere hope, even though completely unsupported, of him getting hard led him to do it. Unknown to him, of course, I'd switched the lubricant in the nightstand for one with the transdermal Viagra in it. A few minutes stroking with this stuff and his cock will be bursting.
He strips his clothes off. God, his penis looks small to me now. But I try to look at him appreciatively. I hand him the tube of lubricant from the nightstand and he squeezes a big glob onto his hand. Then he slathers it over his shriveled dick. I have to get him down doing his job quickly. It wouldn't do for him to start getting hard before he was licking Steve's cum from me.
"Now, lick me Chris," I urge. "Make me feel like no one else can." This is true enough-or, at least it is true that no one else does do this to me. I scootch down to the bottom of the bed, with my legs on the floor, so he can kneel at foot of the bed and have good access to my cunt (and Steve's cum). Before long, I can tell from the way his tongue is bobbing on my cunt that he is stroking himself furiously. This must mean that he is hard. When he's tried to stroke himself without being hard-at least when I've seen him-he strokes gently and slowly.
Suddenly, he stops and gets up. I realize that he is planning to enter me. I hadn't anticipated this. I'm tempted; it would feel nice knowing that his cock was sloshing around in Steve's cum. But I don't want to risk it. I have to act quickly.
"No. Don't try that now, honey. If you try and it doesn't work, it will just be that much harder for you to regain your confidence. Besides," I remind him, "I'm really sore right now."
With this, I push his head down between my legs again. "Just lick me for now. Give me a wonderful orgasm. And stroke yourself. Maybe you'll have an orgasm, too. Maybe I can help you."
He goes back to my plan. And my way of helping him is to talk dirty to him.
"Oh, God, your tongue feels so good to me."
"Suck his cum from my cunt. Lick it clean. Don't leave a bit of his spunk in me." He's licking furiously now and, I imagine, pounding his pud just as hard.
"Oh, it feels so good to me for you to lick his cum from my cunt." I pause. "It feels good to you, too. Doesn't it? You like licking me clean. You like the feeling of driving me crazy by sucking another man's cum from my cunt. You're hard, aren't you? This excites you, doesn't it? Oh, God, yes. Keep licking me. Keep stroking yourself. You can feel yourself starting to cum, can't you? You can feel your balls boiling. Doesn't it feel good?"
He's in a complete lather now. For the first time in months, he's hard and ready to spurt.
I say, again as if supporting him, "It doesn't matter if you can't fuck me. You drive me crazy with your tongue. And it gets you off, too. Do you like thinking about me fucking another guy? Do you like imagining his huge, hard cock thrusting in and out of my hungry cunt? Do you like imagining his hands all over my body? His mouth around my breasts? Do you imagine me sucking him until his magnificent tool is ready to take me-to make me his?"
All this time, I'm monitoring him-appraising his response. He is so happy to be hard and nearing an orgasm, I can say anything I want. He's not going to stop. I can tell he's getting close, so I start pushing him toward a finale.
"Oh, yes. Cum for me. Shoot your cum all over the floor. Explode for me while you suck his cum from me." With this, Chris stops licking me (which is too bad because I'm pretty hot myself, but still shy of an orgasm). He throws his head back and contorts his face as he spews his load on the floor.
When he's finished, he collapses on me-his head on my stomach. I pet him in a very condescending way, but one I hope he will interpret as supportive. I tell him he's a good boy. I tell him I hope he can come like that a lot more. I tell him I'll help him as much as I can. I don't know if he understands that I hope he can come exactly like that-and that's what I'll help him do.
It's clear he would like to crawl up and go to sleep. But I haven't had an orgasm yet. So, I push his head down to my clitoris again and get him started licking. I imagine his knees are in his own cum on the floor. I don't care. I want an orgasm and I get what I want.
When we are finished, I tell him to clean up the floor before it dries and I drift off to sleep before he's back in bed.
Over the next few months, Steve and I fucked and sucked every night that we worked together. On a couple of occasions, we sneaked to the back while the store was still open-leaving the register to the new girl who worked part of the evenings. We would get a quicky: I would suck him or he would give me a fast fucking. The extra thrill was sneaking off and having to return as if nothing had happened. As often as possible, though, I made sure that we would fuck just before we left the store. That way, I would be "fresh" for Chris. And then I could reinforce Chris's training-or, as he saw it, help him get off.
After a few weeks of having these encounters at work only, I decided I knew Steve well enough to invite him into our home-into our marital bed to be exact. Steve was taking classes at the local junior college. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays, all of his classes were in the morning. He had three hours between his last class and when he had to go to the pharmacy. Chris was, of course, hard at work through this time. So, I invited Steve to come over one Tuesday for "lunch."
It's a great time. As soon as Steve gets here, I take him back to our bedroom. I'm wearing only a negligee. I undress him slowly in front of the mirrored closet doors. This is delicious. I can take my time and enjoy uncovering Steve's hard young body.
He's hard from my undressing him, but I just tease him with my fingertips-and never on his cock. When he is completely naked, I slip out of my negligee and invite him out to the master bedroom's private deck. We eat a snack and have some wine in the hot tub. I'm sure it's the first time Steve has had fruit, cheese and wine for lunch-certainly in a hot tub. It's thrillingly naughty to be in this hot tub that Chris and I use-naked with this beautiful black stud. I love how he looks at me, with the intensity of youthful lust. I love it that his cock, even relaxed by the hot water, is thick and full. I love the way it responds to my slightest touch.
We don't stay in the tub for long. When we get out, I wrap him in Chris's robe. It's too small for Steve, of course, but I like the symbolism. We go into the bedroom and have the sweetest, most passionate love-making session we have ever had. As he lies on top of me, my eyes drink in his image. His muscles are hard and well defined. His shoulders are massive and his arms show his strength even as he caresses me gently.
I get the fucking of my life-cuming several times-and so does Steve. When it's time to go, he starts to clean up the bedroom. It's a mess with the sheets and pillows scattered and it reeks of sex. I tell him to leave things as they are-that Chris will clean up later. I've left Chris a list of things to do when he gets home and cleaning up the master bedroom is one of them. Chris will be surprised when he sees the list; the bedroom was clean when he went to work this morning. But when he sees the bedroom, he'll understand. (I specifically tell him not to wash the sheets, though. I'm looking forward to sleeping on them tonight.)
Steve can't believe that Chris will do this. Steve doesn't understand what you can do with a man after you've completely emasculated him. I do.
I ride to work with Steve. I've wanted to do this for a while. It means that he will take me home. I remember the night I returned to Chris with Rod's cum in my mouth and I want to do this with Steve's cum.
Steve and I don't do anything at work except flirt and grope a little. Chris calls me wanting to express his manly outrage about my inviting my lovers into his bedroom. I tell him we'll discuss it when I get home and hang up. I'll see how manly he feels when he's reduced to drinking Steve's cum from my mouth.
As Steve drives me home, I stroke his cock the entire way-first through his pants then, after wrestling the monster out, directly. By the time we are getting into my neighborhood, I've got him in my mouth and he's having trouble concentrating on his driving. While I was sucking Steve toward an orgasm, I had such a strong desire to fuck him that I almost switched plans. But I reminded myself how much fun it would be to feed Steve's cum from my mouth to Chris's.
As soon as Steve begins cumming, I realize that there never was any chance that I could hold his entire load in my mouth. He just cums too much for that. But I am able to hold the last few spurts in my mouth. I just nod good-bye to him; he knows what I'm doing and, by this time, he likes the idea of Chris cleaning up his unfaithful wife of her lovers' cum.
I run in. It's hard not to swallow with something in your mouth. It's especially hard, I realize now, to hold a mouthful of cum. I wonder why that is. I can't figure it out. But it doesn't matter. It's worth doing, and I do it.
Chris, as usual, is pretending to be asleep. I strip down very quickly and climb into bed next to him naked. He gives up the pretense. He rolls over and starts to talk to me, very sincerely, about my having my lovers in our bedroom. I don't say anything (of course). I just pull his face to mine and kiss him-closed-mouth at first, but slowly opening to give him my creamy surprise. He struggles but I have one hand down on his limp penis now and he is reminded of his inabilities to satisfy me the way a man should.
He takes what is left of Steve's load without complaint. When we break the kiss, he doesn't bring up the bedroom issue again. He's being such a good boy about this, I decide to take him in my mouth as a reward. I know this feels good to him even though he can't get hard and he won't cum. I reward him with my mouth for a few minutes and then drop his limp dick trying to make it clear that I am trying as hard as I can to hide my disappointment. I crawl up and roll away from him.
He can't leave things there so he goes down on me. That's fine. I haven't had an orgasm since the two I had with Steve early this afternoon. Another one would feel good now. And it does. Chris jacks off as he licks me. He doesn't have the Viagra cream so it doesn't quite work. That's perfect. When we talk about this later, I can subtly suggest that it didn't work because he wasn't licking cum from my cunt.
Days later, after Steve and I had been in the bedroom again, Chris brought the issue up in a very oblique, noncritical way. I assured him I understood how he felt and reminded him that I had been very supportive-trying everything I knew to help him with his problem. I told him that I brought my current lover here because this is where I was comfortable. Then, on a lark, I added a point that seemed ridiculous to me. I told him that I felt somehow that by having my lover here I was involving Chris in my lovemaking. The fact that he didn't laugh in my face showed how far gone he was by this time.
Not only did he not laugh in my face. He thought that part of the reason he was having so much difficulty adjusting to the situation was that he didn't know who my lovers were. He fantasized and imagined the worst (he thought). I wondered how much worse he could have been imagining than what I was doing. And, for God's sake, he was completely impotent and sucking strangers' cum from his wife's cunt-wasn't that a situation that he should "have trouble adjusting to."
We talked about how he might be able to deal with it better. He didn't even suggest that I quit fucking other men. Surprisingly, he didn't raise the issue of my fucking them in our marriage bed. Maybe he had accepted that, too. Instead-and here was his great idea-he wanted to pick my partners. Wow! Talk about a surprise. My husband wanted to pick my lovers.
I told him that I wouldn't stop seeing the guy I was already seeing. I liked him and he satisfied me. And I told him that I didn't think my lover wanted to meet Chris or for Chris to know who he was. (I didn't really know what Steve would think about this. But I liked the idea of Chris not knowing for sure who was fucking me. Maybe it was someone he worked with-maybe a friend. He could never be sure.) If Chris wanted to pick some other guys, I would think about fucking them too and see how it goes.
Sheeze! He agreed. Go figure! What would he get out of this except more men's cum to lick from my well-used pussy? I realized how far I had broken him down. I had a momentary flash of guilt but mainly I had a feeling disgust mixed with an incredible rush of a sense of power.
The timing of this new program was going to work out well. Steve was starting basketball practice and he had less free time now. We still played around at the drug store and, sometimes, at home, but I couldn't count on him to be free as much as I wanted him to be.
About a week later, Chris told me that he had met a guy and begun talking to him about the possibility of fucking me. This fascinated me and I pressed him for details. It turned out that on some of the nights that I had been working late, Chris had time to do the chores I leave for him and still get off to a small, seedy bar near our neighborhood. It wasn't someplace that he would run in to anyone we knew, and I assumed that's why he had picked it.
Chris had met this guy-pretty cute guy, he insisted-and talked to him some about Chris's problem. Amazed, I asked what he had revealed. As it turns out, Chris hadn't been completely open about the situation, but he did tell someone who was almost a stranger that his wife was sleeping around because he couldn't satisfy her. Anyway, Chris said he wanted to ask this guy to come to the house on Friday night. I would get off early this Friday (and, I suspected, later, too) so I was kind of interested. But I didn't want Chris to think that it was a done deal.
"You can have him come over. But I decide how far things go. If I don't like him, nothing happens. I'll fuck who I want, you know. Do you understand?"
He did. So we agreed that Chris would bring Jim over about 8:00 this Friday. We'd have a drink together-all three of us-and I'd decide where it goes from there.
Friday, Steve doesn't come in to work at all-something about a tournament he is in-so I'm really ready for the evening. And, besides, the whole idea of Chris bringing home lovers for me is so weird and kinky that I'm hot just thinking about it. I spend some time deciding how to dress for this scene. I figure I don't have to be too obvious; everybody knows what the score is. On the other hand, I want Chris to know that I'm up for fucking Jim. Finally, I decide on an outfit that is ambiguous enough at a glance that I can pass for respectable. My black skirt is not skin-tight and it reaches nearly to my knees. My shoes are simple pumps with about two-and-a-half inch heels. My midnight blue silk blouse is loose and flowing; buttoned up as it is now, not even the tops of my breasts can be seen. On closer inspection, though, one would find that I'm wearing a wonder bra that accentuates my bust line rather dramatically, no panties and thigh high black stockings. My blouse looks equally good buttoned up, as it is now, or unbuttoned another button. If I unbutton it, Chris and Jim will catch glimpses of my breasts as I turn or bend over.
A few minutes after eight, Chris ushers Jim in. He makes an awkward introduction. I guess he's kind of nervous. I ask Jim if he wants something-leaving it like that long enough for him to stammer a little and then indicate that I meant something to drink. Then I send Chris off to get us both drinks. When Chris comes back, Jim and I are on the couch just chatting pleasantly. But progress has been made. Since Jim is, as Chris promised, kind of cute and interesting, I've discretely unbuttoned the top button of my blouse and I'm sitting on the couch with my legs crossed so that just the bottoms of the top band of my thigh-highs are visible.
Chris sits in the chair to the side of the couch and the three of us talk. Well, really, Jim and I talk and Chris sometimes chimes in with a word or two. I'm doing all the standard tricks-mostly for Chris's benefit. It's not like I really have to seduce Jim, obviously. Still, tracing my fingers around the top of my glass, licking my lips at appropriate times, running my fingers and thumb up and down the stem of my wine glass and so forth-trite as these things might be-has an obvious, and very different, effect on each of the men. Jim is hooked. He stares at me with obvious interest. Chris's look is a combination of pain and fascination.
The conversation is meaningless. But I note with interest that Jim is missing a ring that obviously usually resides on the third finger of his left hand. "So," I think, "he's cheating on his wife." Well, that's okay with me. But, I realize that this information will give me a bit of power over Jim, too.
When Chris goes to freshen up our glasses, I make an excuse to go to the kitchen, too.
"So, what do you think of Jim?" he asks-as if he is in control of the situation.
I tell Chris that I'm going to invite Jim back to our bedroom. He can take my comment as a reply, if he wants, but it wasn't intended as one. And I tell him exactly what I'm going to say to Jim. Chris gives me the drinks and says he is going to stay in the kitchen, but I won't hear of it. I tell him that this is his plan and his choice of men for me and he's going to sit right there while I whisper my invitation to Jim. I want Chris to be there and know exactly what I'm saying to Jim-even though he won't be able to hear.
When we're back in the living room, I don't try to be subtle. I just lean forward toward Jim-giving him a view down my blouse, I'm sure-so that my lips are just a fraction of an inch from his ear. It would be more natural, if you are whispering a secret, to lean to the side away from Chris, but I go to the side where I can see Chris while I whisper to Jim.
"I want to take you back to our bedroom and suck your cock and then have you give me the fucking of my life. Will you do that?" I whisper.
Jim doesn't know that all this time, I'm watching Chris closely. Chris knows exactly what I'm saying and I see his poignant expression. When I pull back, I see the shock on Jim's face. But that shock is overwhelmed by his excitement. His dumbfounded look being an obvious "yes," I get up and pull him after me. We walk down the hall, away from Chris, and I put my arm around Jim, kind of melting into his side, laughing lightly as we go.
Foreplay with Jim is pretty good. He's very attentive to my needs. He's one of these guys who gets off by making sure that I have a great time. So, while I do make good on my promise to suck his cock, mostly he is kissing me and licking me. He gives me a great tongue job and, by the time he's ready to enter me, I'm sopping wet.
He fucks pretty good, too. But, truth be told, some of the moaning and screaming I'm doing is for effect-Chris's more than Jim's. At moments, I wonder how he is doing knowing that I'm in our bedroom being fucked by the guy of his choice. But, mostly, I forget about Chris and just enjoy being fucked by a new man. God I like this situation. I like the feel of a new man exploring my body. I like the excitement I can see in his eyes and feel in his touch.
Jim fucks me about every way you can before he tries to build to his orgasm. It's as if he isn't sure he will get another chance so he wants to be sure to fuck me in every possible position this time. Or, maybe he is trying to find a position that will be best for me. I find all of them pretty good and have several pleasant orgasms. I figure I'll try for a big one when he is about to cum. If not, I'll fake it for his sake, and Chris's.
He starts working toward his orgasm when he has me on my back, with my legs up over his shoulders. This way he can really penetrate deeply. Also, I see that he enjoys watching my breasts slide up and down my chest as he is pounding away on me. I start talking dirty to him-egging him on. I don't know whether Chris can hear-for all I know, he is right outside the door listening to every word, every moan, every gasp. But in with 'OH, YES' and 'Ohmigod' and 'Fuck me', I throw a few references to my husband. Jim seems to like this. "Let my husband hear you make me cum," seems to push him over the top and I feel him shoot his seed in my cunt.
He collapses on top of me and my encouragements change to quiet praise. He seems content to lie here, panting heavily. But I am anxious for him to leave. I want Chris to come in and do his job and I'm not sure Chris is ready to do this in front of my lovers. In fact, I'm not ready for him to do this. I have a little more work with him before I let this happen.
It's easy enough to get Jim moving. Not that he's anxious to go. I'm pretty sure he would be happy to just fall asleep on me without a thought to Chris. I'm more considerate. I manage to get Jim moving happily and look the concerned wife while I do it. I tell Jim that he was terrific and that I can't wait until next time. (That makes him happy.) If, I add, his wife will let him go again. (That startled him!) But, I tell him, I'm worried about Chris and I think he and I needed to spend some time alone together. I don't tell him what Chris will be doing to me.
Jim understands completely-at least he thinks he does. When he finishes dressing, I ask him, on his way out, to tell Chris I need him. I hear them exchange some comments as they pass, but I can't understand what they are saying. Soon the front door closes and Chris comes back to our room. I've been careful not to move. I'm a sweaty mess, reeking of sex and filled with Jim's cum.
Chris knows the drill. He's already crawling between my legs to clean me up. I want to reinforce this, of course, so I suggest that he get the lubricant and stroke his cock while he licks me. After he begins to lick me and stroke his dick, I tell him in detail about sex with Jim. I tell how it felt to have Jim touch me, kiss me, suck my breasts. I tell him how Jim's cock felt in my hand, in my mouth, and in my cunt. I stretch out the description of how it felt when Jim pumped his load into me. I emphasize how much cum Jim shot into me, just as Chris is shooting his wad on to the floor. This time, I'm right with him. I have a great orgasm.
After he cleans up the floor, he climbs into bed with me and I tell him that tonight was great. I loved it. How was it for him? He says it was okay. He was very agitated while he was listening to Jim and me fucking in the bedroom. But he thinks that just made his orgasm more intense. This is just where I want him to be.
For several months, things proceeded in this fashion. I entertained Steve in our bedroom when I could, or grabbed a quickie with him at work or in the car outside our house when he drove me home. Whether Steve's cum was fresh or not, Chris cleaned me up and shot his wad on the floor while I told him about fucking or sucking Steve. Then, Chris cleaned up and came to bed.
Chris arranged a few more "dates" for me-a couple of times with Jim and several times with other guys. I really liked the variety. When you are fucking lots of guys during the same time period, you become quite sensitive to the individual differences in how they touch you, how forceful they are, what they like about your body and more. I'm eclectic, myself. I find something I like about every man I'm with. So did Chris, I guess. He always got his rocks off when he was cleaning me up. And that was the only time he got his rocks off. (I always replaced the Viagra-laced lubricant with anti-Viagra laced lubricant when we were finished. I didn't want Chris getting his kicks any other way.)
One night, when Chris had arranged a date with a new guy he met at the bar, things went quite differently. And my relationship with Chris changed, as his repertoire of (demeaning) sexual practices expanded.
Things start out very much as they have every other time he's brought men home for me. He and his "friend" get home about eight o'clock and we have a drink together. I flirt with the guy-his name is Cliff. At some point, I lean over and invite him back to the bedroom. We leave Chris in the living room and head down the hallway. As we walk down the hallway, still in sight of Chris, Cliff grabs my ass with his hand. This is bolder than anything other men have done, and I kind of like it. I giggle approvingly and Cliff obviously likes the response.
When we get into the bedroom, Cliff continues to act differently than other men Chris has brought home. Most men have acted like little boys who have just found out that mom left the cookie jar down where they could reach it. They wanted to take whatever they could before the jar got moved up where they couldn't reach it. And, they always acted as if they were getting more than they expected or deserved. Cliff is acting as if he is entitled to my body. I like his self-assurance, but I feel underappreciated.
When we get serious, he continues to just take me as he wants and, sometime, to give me instructions. But he is a pretty good fuck so I don't mind much. Before long, he has me on the side of the bed on my hands and knees while he stands by the bed fucking the bejesus out of me doggy style. This is fine-more than fine, really-until he draws his hard, slick cock completely out of my cunt and plunges it toward my asshole.
I stop him short, pulling away and turning over on the bed.
"What's the matter?" he asks-though it is more of a demand than a question. "Never had it in the ass before?"
"Listen, buddy," I say in my most commanding tone, "I'll decide what we do and when we do it."
"No, whore," he says with contempt, "you'll take it up the ass and then clean me off with your tongue!"
That floors me. I have never had a man talk to me like that. I pull the sheets up over my body and shriek at him, "Get the hell out of here right now!"
He looks at me with surprise. Surprise! What he says then, completely floors me: "Listen, whore, I paid two hundred bucks for you to take it up the ass and then clean me off with your tongue, and that's what you're going to do. If you don't like doing it, don't have your pimp husband advertising it."
So, Chris was whoring me! I couldn't believe it. I was stunned. Later, reflecting on it, I admitted a grudging admiration. Not just openly cuckolded but completely humiliated as he was, he still had the balls to sell his wife to strangers for sex without her knowledge. He was trying to take control of the situation. But this grudging admiration wasn't to come until later and, even when it did, it didn't make me willing to go along.
I got Cliff out. He never got his chance to fuck my ass and have me clean him off. And then I read the riot act to Chris. He knew he was in deep trouble-trouble that lasted for weeks-when I wouldn't let him lick the cum of my lovers out of me. He was cut off from the only sexual act he was allowed to get off on; and the Viagra cream didn't come out of its hiding place for a long time. The final punishment I imposed on him before allowing him to rehabilitate himself was as cruel for him as it was pleasant for me-and for Steve.
Steve's basketball team had won the regional tournament and he had done especially well. I wanted to find a special reward for him. I knew the reward was going to be me, but was undecided about how to serve me up. And then I figured out how I could reward Steve and punish Chris at the same time.
After hinting that he could get out of my bad graces for his reprehensible act of whoring me, I sent Chris out one night with a long list of groceries to buy and explicit instructions not to return until after 10:00 that night. I took Steve out to dinner and we got back to my house about 9:00. When Chris got home-precisely at 10:00-he found Steve's car right in the middle of the driveway. Chris had to park on the street. But that was the least of the ways in which Chris was to be displaced that night. When he got in the house, he found the master bedroom (or maybe it should be called the "mistress' bedroom") locked with a note on the door. The note instructed him to bring in the groceries and put them away, clean up the house and then sleep in the guest room. Then, the next morning, he is to serve me and my "guest" breakfast in bed promptly at 9:00.
I heard him outside our bedroom door when he took the note down and read it. I was pretty sure he would do as instructed. He was desperate. He hadn't gotten hard, much less, cum for nearly a month, now. I knew he had tried because the tube of lotion in my nightstand had been used several times. Of course, that tube had more of the anti-Viagra. Lubricating himself with that only made his limp dick shrivel even more. He was desperate to get hard and cum. He knew that only by getting back in my good graces could he do that. He'd do anything, no matter how humiliating, to please me.
Late into the night, Steve and I fucked. I would say that it didn't matter to me that the bed frame banged against the wall that divided our room from the guest room, but it did matter to me, very much. I wanted Chris to hear every thrust of Steve's cock into my cunt. And I was sure he couldn't have missed my moaning and screaming with pleasure. I didn't have to fake these-Steve is a terrific fuck-but I might have been little louder just for Chris's sake.
In the morning, I woke to the smell of freshly ground coffee brewing. Chris was working in the kitchen making the breakfast that I had ordered. I got up to unlock the bedroom door and put another note on the outside of the door: Chris's final instructions before entering our bedroom to serve breakfast to me and my black, 18-year old lover. Then I crawled back in bed with Steve, who was just beginning to stir-though part of him had been stirring earlier, in his sleep. I waited anxiously to see if Chris would follow his instructions.
So, as I lie in my marital bed, reeking of the smell of sex (both me and the bed), gently stroking the hard cock of my young lover, I watch the door with child-like anticipation. Will Chris really serve Steve and me breakfast? Will he follow my instructions to do it completely naked? This will be really humiliating for Chris. With the dose of anti-Viagra I've been giving him, his dick will be limp and tiny. It will be pure humiliation for Chris to stand naked in front of a man-a much younger and clearly much better endowed man-who is cuckolding him in his own bed and serve him, exposing his own wilted, pathetic penis.
Soon, though, there's a knock on the door and, after I answer, Chris swings the door open and I see him standing there, completely naked-his dick almost completely hidden by his pubic hair-holding a tray with our breakfast. Chris is stunned when he looks over to the bed. He had no idea that my lover was black-nor, for that matter, that he was a teenager, but I think it is Steve's race that throws Chris. For a moment, I fear he is going to turn and walk away. I tell him to bring the tray over to the bed and, after only a moment's hesitation, Chris turns his eyes downward and walks to the bed.
"Steve," I say with an air of nonchalance that is incongruous with the moment, "this is my husband, Chris. Chris, my lover, Steve."
Steve says 'hello' but Chris can't bring himself to reply.
"I hope we didn't keep you up too late last night. I know we were a little noisy." I try to keep a tone of genuine concern (or at least simulated genuine concern) in my voice. "I'm sorry if we made it hard for you to sleep."
Chris still says nothing. Having sets the tray down, he looks especially awkward standing there naked, wanting desperately to be covered but wanting even more not to look ridiculous by covering himself with his hands.
I tell Chris to sit in the chair and wait while we eat in case we need something. He'd rather leave of course. He would probably rather die. But sitting at least allows him to hide his shame and he does it. I make a show of eating breakfast with Steve. I feed him and whisper to him, sometimes giggling like a school girl. When I catch a glimpse of Chris, he is usually watching stoically. A few times I reach under the sheet to stroke Steve's hard cock. I raise my eyebrows and smile at Steve appreciatively, sometimes sighing when I do that. I'm pretty sure Chris can get a hint of the size of Steve's manhood under the sheet. As we finish up breakfast with Steve pushing chocolate-dipped strawberries into my mouth as I stroke his cock and moan. I allow myself to get visibly hot and bothered and both Steve and I are rocking our hips back and forth. Now it's time to dismiss Chris. I send him to the kitchen to clean up the breakfast dishes and tell him to wait outside the door for me to call him back to clean up in here. I'll just let him worry a bit about what cleaning up in here amounts to. I've already decided that it's time to ratchet up the level of cuckoldry yet another notch.
Chris leaves quickly-I think before he gets a chance to think about what I mean by cleaning up in here. That's okay. He has time to think it through while he is cleaning up in the kitchen.
All this stroking of Steve's cock has made us both quite horny. Openly cuckolding Chris added to the excitement, too. As a result neither Steve nor I need any more stimulation to be ready to fuck. But I'm really hungry to feel Steve's cock in my mouth. I don't want to bring him off that way right now. I just want to feel him fill my mouth with his ebony rod. I want to feel the hardness and the heat. I want to smell his musky odor and taste his salty pre-cum. So I slide down under the sheets and suck him gently but insistently, like a calf at a teat.
This is extremely pleasurable, as well as kind of frustrating, for both of us. Finally, when frustration overcomes the pleasure, I crawl up and ask him to fuck me with his beautiful hard shaft. We have great sex-I'm sure Chris can hear it even over the dishwasher in the kitchen. After Steve shoots me full of his cream, we lie there for a long time. He is still on top of me, still inside of me. Our breathing subsides and we both sort of float in post-coital bliss for a few minutes.
Then a remarkable thing happens. I feel Steve's hips beginning to move again and am suddenly aware that his cock has swollen once more and he's beginning to piston in and out of me. This has never happened to me before. Steve's often a more than one-shot guy. But this time he didn't even slide out of me before getting hard again. And he's not just hard. He's hot. I can see in his eyes that he is filled with lust. I think the cuckoldry has been as exciting for him as for me.
This time it takes a little longer for both of us to have an orgasm. I'm sure that Chris is waiting outside the door by the time we finish, giving him yet another opportunity to hear me being satisfied in a way that he never could, even when he could function normally. He can't even dream about doing so now.
When we're finished and our breathing has settled down a little, I call out for Chris to come in, while I pull myself up so I'm sitting back against the headboard. Chris comes in dressed in Levis and a t-shirt and walks toward the bed. I give him a disappointed look and tell him he looked better before. He mumbles something about having to clean up in the kitchen and people being able to see in the kitchen from the street. So I tell him that now he's in the privacy of his own bedroom (emphasizing 'own') and tell him to take his clothes off. Chris complies, albeit reluctantly, and once again he is standing by the bed looking pitiably small and weak. Steve pulls himself up to a sitting position too and looks at Chris. The sheets are now down at Steve's thighs and his cock, soft but full and still wet with our juices, is fully exposed to Chris's view. I can see Chris's face flush with redness. The comparison is obvious: in size, in ability, and most definitely in recent history.
"I'm a mess, Chris," I say, almost as if it is a surprise. "I really need to be cleaned up."
Chris looks at me and then over to Steve again, then back to me. I know what he is asking but I wait for a while as if I don't get it. Then, I say cheerfully, "Oh...That's okay. Steve's knows all about it and he's fine with it."
Of course, it wasn't Steve's feelings that Chris was concerned about but I don't even address Chris's feelings. I kick down the sheet and spread my legs for him to see my red, swollen vulva covered with crusty cum. I know what the outcome is going to be. The decision has already been made by Chris's subconscious. I'm just waiting now for the message to get to his muscles. After a long pause, Chris leans down and begins to crawl onto the bed, between my legs. I stop him and remind him to get the lubricant. It's clear he doesn't want to do that. This may be the one time that his hatred of humiliation was close to getting the better of his lust for sexual release. The idea of masturbating in front of my lover while he eats my lover's cum from my cunt is a bit much for Chris to adjust to. But I had told him to get the lubricant and he is resolved to be compliant. He knows that it is not just this one moment of release that hinges on his compliance.
As he gets back up, his little thing swings freely between his legs. It's kind of cute, I think. Chris gets the lubricant which is, of course, loaded with the transdermal Viagra. He crawls back on to the bed and positions himself between my legs. He slathers the lubricant on his right hand and begins stroking his cock as he lowers his mouth to my mound. As his lips draw close to my lower lips, I bring Steve's mouth to mine. When Chris's tongue touches my clitoris, mine plunges into Steve's mouth.
This is all extremely exciting for me. Kissing my lover passionately in front of my husband while my husband eats my lover's cum from my sloppy slit is a uniquely satisfying experience. I moan loudly and writhe with very real pleasure. Chris's ministrations bring me to a series of small orgasms followed by an incredibly intense orgasm that leaves me shaking and speechless. After the crashing orgasm, I'm much too sensitive for him to touch me there. I push him away not even realizing that he hadn't cum yet. Not that that would have made any difference, of course. But I really don't realize that he is still frustrated until I open my eyes and see him pumping his hard penis and looking down at me with a burning desire.
Chris begins to lean down toward me. He's planning to enter me, I can tell. I don't want that. I don't want him to be able to enter me; that's bad for his training-training I had worked so hard to reinforce. And I didn't want him to be able to "reclaim" his territory, especially right in front of Steve. I stop him, complaining that I'm too sore. I lean up to him and whisper-quietly enough that I can maintain that I'm trying not to let Steve hear but loudly enough that Chris knows that Steve does hear-"And, you know it wouldn't work anyway, Honey. You can't stay hard that way."
Chris sputters something but I ignore him. Then, I'm ready to propose my bright idea for Chris to find relief.
"Do you trust me, Honey?" I ask. What can he say? He says he does.
"Okay. Just close your eyes and trust me. I'll help you if you just relax and trust me."
Chris closes his eyes. Why he trusts me, I'll never understand. I guess a guy will do anything to get his rocks off. Come to think of is, I'll do pretty much to get my rocks off, too. But I don't let others control me.
I get up on my knees next to Chris, smiling and winking to Steve. I put my hand gently around his penis, moving his away. Chris moans softly with the pleasure of my touch. I haven't touched him when he was hard for a very long time. He opens his eyes and turns toward me. For a moment, I think he is going to kiss me-and do it lovingly. But I stop him and tell him that he promised to keep his eyes shut and trust me.
I lean over and get more of the Viagra-laced lubricant on my hands. I want him very hard and sensitive. I begin stroking his cock in long, slow, loving strokes. When I'm sure he has begun a gradual ascent to an orgasm, I begin pushing his head down. He can tell by the angle I'm pushing it at what I'm doing. He resists. I insist. My stroking on his cock is so pleasurable after his long, enforced abstinence that he yields and lets me push his mouth down onto Steve's cock.
Steve's cock is no longer slick and shiny. Our juices have dried on him, his cock is crusty and his pubic hair is matted with our cum. But the wetness of Chris's mouth dissolves the dried cum and Steve's cock becomes slick and shiny again. Chris's eyes are closed, but his mouth is opened wide to accommodate Steve, who, even when soft is more than a mouthful. I'm careful to keep pumping Chris's cock. I want to keep him aroused enough that he doesn't even think about stopping what he is doing and I want to take him to the next level of his cuckoldry training. He has to associate his pleasure not only with mine but with the pleasure of my lovers. He has to be as ready to give them pleasure as he is ready to give me pleasure.
Chris gets over the reluctance after only a few minutes. He takes the base of Steve's cock in his hand and begins to pump it as I pump Chris's cock. Of course, there is still some transdermal Viagra on Chris's hand and this gives Steve a boost, though I'm not sure he needed one. Chris finds Steve hardening fully in his mouth and struggles to accommodate him. It's difficult, but he is also aroused by all that his happening. He has realized that my massaging of his own cock is tied to his actions on Steve's cock. The faster and deeper Chris moves his lips on Steve's now fully rigid rod, the faster and harder I pump Chris's cock.
I can feel Chris begin to near an orgasm. I take my hand away and begin to shake it like I have gotten a cramp or something. To his clearly audible moan of frustration, I tell him I'm sorry. Then I guide his own right hand to his cock and move his left hand to the base of Steve's. I move his two hands so they move in unison. Chris gets the message and pulls his pecker to the same rhythm as he strokes Steve's into his mouth.
Then I slide my hand around to Chris's ass and press my wet finger onto his asshole. Chris always loved a little ass play when he was nearing an orgasm. He hasn't had it for a very long time, but he obviously still likes it. He moans a little and pushes his hips back to try to force my finger into his ass. And he quickens his pace on both cocks. I quickly shoot a little more lubricant on my finger and then, just when I think both guys are about to explode, I push my finger into Chris's ass. I press for the target and, finding it, massage his prostate as he ejaculates. I force him to cum more, and more forcefully, than he has ever done before. Jet after jet splatters on the sheets. At the same time, I hear-and feel-Chris gag a bit as Steve fills Chris's mouth with his first taste of cum from the source. Finally, after all these months of eating Rod's and then Steve's and then numerous other men's cum from my cunt, Chris is getting it straight from the cock. I can tell that the quantity and the force surprise him. Some leaks back down Steve's mast but Chris manages to swallow most of it.
When both men are spent, I continue to massage Chris's asshole gently. I'm not trying to arouse him now-just get him to enjoy the sensation of the inside of his ass being massaged. He is in such a state of nirvana, that he's moaning softly as I gently fuck his ass with my finger.
Finally I stop and get up. We're finished for now. I tell Chris to clean up the bedroom and get the sheets in the wash while Steve and I shower. Chris can shower after that. In the shower, Steve and I talk about what happened. Steve had never had his cock touched, much less sucked, by a man. As an 18-year old, I think he is a little concerned about having gotten aroused. I reassure him that the arousal wasn't any symptom of homosexual tendencies. It all had to do with feelings of dominance. He showed that he was the dominant man by having my husband service him like a woman would do. Steve seems more than fine with that and he even asks if we are going to do it again sometime. You bet we will.
After this marvelous incident, I softened toward Chris for his attempt to explore the pleasures of pimping his wife. We got back to a fairly regular routine of him getting off as he cleaned me up two or three times a week. He took to his subliminal training well. I don't think he even thought about entering me, he was so convinced that he couldn't get an erection for that. Chris took over most of the housework. It seemed more fitting that way and, besides, I was a busy little beaver with other tasks-such as "cum procurement" to satisfy his desires.
After some time, he proposed that we go back to him finding partners for me but, he assured me, he wouldn't charge the men. He just liked being involved with the process. I told him that I might consider it but before we got to that point he would have a little making up to do. He was concerned, thinking he had already done his penance. But I had further acts of atonement in mind.
I told him that the first new date he had to arrange with me was with Cliff, the guy he had played the pimp with. Chris protested that he didn't know how to get in touch with Cliff. But I held fast. That was his problem. If he wanted to get back to setting up my dates, he could spend a little time and effort finding Cliff.
For Chris, it was back to the dive where he had first met Cliff. I understand he didn't run into him there and had to track him down by talking with other patrons. Finally, though, he had a number to call. But at that point he was stymied; he didn't know what to say to Cliff. Why would Cliff do something to accommodate Chris when Chris had sold Cliff something that wasn't his to sell. Chris had finally given Cliff back the money, but not before Cliff had threatened to beat him up.
Fortunately, I was there to help Chris find the right words to assuage Cliff's anger and entice him to comply. Chris called Cliff and told him that he felt bad about what he had done and that he had talked with me about it. I had confessed to feeling a little flattered that someone had paid $200 for me and we decided to work out a little sexual "no hard feelings" gift to smooth things over. Cliff was finally convinced and a date was set for Saturday night.
I'm not sure whether Chris thought that all he would have to do for penance is to set up the date with Cliff. If so, he was in for a sore surprise. I had much more in mind. Chris got a hint that there was to be more when I told him that I would be counting on is complete, willing compliance all through the night. I had never made such a demand on him before so he knew something was up. He just didn't know what. When Saturday night finally rolled around, I had everything planned.
Cliff knocks on the door promptly at 8:30. I'm upstairs finishing getting ready. It's best to let a gentleman (or any other kind of man) wait a bit, I figure. Chris answers the door. I can hear them talking downstairs, but I can't make out the words. Chris has been instructed to get Cliff a drink but to keep him downstairs until I come down. I'm sure Chris is more uncomfortable than he usually is in such situations. But he's going to get even more uncomfortable. Tonight, the humiliation will exceed his greatest fears.
When I come down the stairs, all I'm wearing is a very short, simple black dress with very high heels to match. The dress is shear and clings to my curves except at the bottom where it flares out invitingly. I am positively edible, as Chris will prove later.
Pleasantries are exchanged, but not for long. I don't care much to chitchat with Cliff and Cliff is, after all, a man waiting for sex. Chris's desires don't count. When I have Cliff sitting on the couch next to me and Chris sitting on the chair opposite us, I begin to explain some of the situation to Cliff. Most of the explaining will be done by Chris, though, as he is about to find out.
"I'm afraid there was a very serious misunderstanding last time we were together," I begin. "I think you might have left angry and, I can assure you that I was angry, too." I put my hand on Cliff's thigh and go on. "Chris and I have talked about the incident and we want to patch things up-make you feel better about the incident. But there are some background things you need to know."
I pause, waiting for Cliff to wonder what these might be.
"Why would a man set up dates for his wife? I know Chris tried to charge you, but the money wasn't the reason. We have plenty of money and, besides, Chris has set me up with lots of men for free. So, did you ever think about why a man would do this?"
Cliff clearly had never given that a thought and he doesn't come up with anything to say on the spot. As long as he was going to get some booty out of it, he didn't care why Chris was doing it.
"Well, there's a reason," I continue. "Isn't there, Chris?"
Chris blanches. Now he understands that he going to have to reveal his inadequacies to Cliff. This is clearly difficult for him.
"Chris, tell Cliff why you arrange dates for me."
Chris stammers for a minute then manages to say that he has had some trouble performing sexually recently. Ah, how we all shade the truth to make us look not so bad!
"To be more accurate," I help out, "Chris hasn't been able to get it up to fuck his wife for a long time. He's completely impotent except in very special circumstances." I pause for a moment and then continue: "Here, I'll show you."
Needless to say, Chris is flabbergasted. But when I tell him to stand up and come over to the couch, he does it-even if a bit reluctantly. And, when I instruct him to unfasten his belt, unbutton and unzip his pants and push them, and his underpants, down to his knees, he does that, too. His shirt tails are hiding his crotch so I have him pull his shirt up and bunch it up around his chest, under his arms. Now he stands there, exposed to me and Cliff. His penis is, if anything, more shriveled than normal-maybe it's from embarrassment, maybe the constant dose of anti-Viagra is taking its toll on the poor fellow. He looks pathetic. His penis hangs down limply, barely clearing his pubic hair.
"Now stroke yourself for a minute," I say. He hesitates but one well modulated "Chris" brings compliance. I'm not always sure what humiliates and embarrasses a man (though I'm learning), but I was pretty sure when I planned this that actually fondling and stroking himself in front of Cliff and me would be even worse than simply standing there naked-especially since the stroking would have no effect on his cock.
Though Chris is complying-so anxious is he to get back in my good graces-he isn't showing much enthusiasm. He has to hold his penis just between two fingers and his thumb, it's so tiny. The pulling he's doing does nothing to harden him. I decide it's time to be the supportive wife.
"Almost nothing helps," I tell Cliff. "Look." I take over from Chris, stroking him gently but insistently. His little pecker lies between my fingers limply. "Even sucking it doesn't work." And, with that I take Chris's shriveled dick into my mouth and suck on it indifferently. It's amazing to me that my husband who once raped my mouth with his proud, hard cock, doesn't even experience a flutter of fullness in his flaccid dick even when I give him "the ultimate reward." I give up and turn away from Chris.
"Wow," Cliff contributes. "I thought that would get any man hard. You've gotten me hard just from watching you."
"Yeah, but even sucking doesn't work for Chris anymore. But I need to be fucked. I love a hard cock pounding into my cunt. I need to feel taken like that. So, that's why Chris sets me up with other men."
Cliff looks at Chris with a combination of bemusement and disgust. Chris starts to pull his pants up but I stop him and tell him to take all of his clothes off. His will is as limp as his dick. He strips and sits back in the chair.
While he's doing that, I flesh out the explanation. "Well, my needs are part of the reason Chris sets me up with other men. But there's another part of as well: Chris's needs. You see, we found that Chris isn't completely impotent; he can 'get it up' under certain very special circumstances."
Chris tries to stop me, but I tell him it is better that Cliff understand and an explanation is owed to Cliff and me after the way Chris tried to use both of us. This last is a veiled reference to what Chris had better allow if he wants to get back in my good graces. He does, so he slumps back in his seat in a silent pout.
"You see, what we found out is that Chris can get an erection-and he can even get off-when he licks some other guy's cum from my freshly fucked cunt." I look over and see that Chris's eyes are closed. He wants to shut the world out. In contrast, Cliff's eyes are wide with disbelief.
"No, I'm not. And part of our little make-up gift to you tonight will be to prove that I'm not." I pause long enough for this to sink in for both Chris and Cliff. "So, Cliff, are you up for this?" I pun. "If so, I promise that you will get off as you haven't ever gotten off before."
Cliff is definitely "up for it"-something that is obvious from the tenting in his pants alone. His verbal answer is forthcoming, even if unnecessary, and I ask him to come over so I can suck a hard cock. I've never had a man turn me down and Cliff has no intention of doing so now.
We adjourn to the bedroom where I take my time unzipping Cliff's pants, sprinkling in a few moans and sighs as I stroke him through his pants and then reach in to wrestle out his already hard cock. He has a nice cock. No bigger than Chris's was when Chris was functioning properly. But I'm sure it looks very much bigger to Chris now. In fact, I think men always overestimate the size of another man's cock-they're so insecure in that department and so certain that size is what's important. But Chris has to be painfully aware of the size difference between himself and Cliff now. Chris can't really remember how it feels to put a hard cock into my mouth.
Because part of the point is to punish Chris, I put on an especially animated show. I lavish attention on Cliff's cock and balls with my tongue and mouth. I show my excitement clearly. I'd say that I'm exaggerating my excitement but the truth is that I'm incredibly excited by this. How perfect it is to punish Chris for raping my mouth by freely giving to another man, right in front of Chris, what Chris can no longer take by force or persuasion.
Cliff in incredibly hard and I can feel the tension in his body. But I don't want him to cum in my mouth. I have other plans.
"Fuck me," I tell him. "I really need you to fuck me."
I lie back on the bed and Cliff almost leaps on me. He plunges into me like a wild man and thrusts into me seeking his release and relief. As exciting as it is to have him fucking me like this, I resign myself to not having an orgasm before he is spent. He's going far too fast toward his orgasm. But that's okay. I know I'll be taken care of.
Cliff suddenly goes rigid and begins exploding inside of me. He thrusts over and over, trying to reach deep into my cunt to plant his seed. And plant it he does. I've read that women can't really feel the spurts of cum as the blast against the back of their vaginas, but I swear I can feel Cliff's semen shooting against the wall of my cunt.
When he's done, Cliff collapses and rolls off me. We both lie there catching our breath for a while. I haven't cum, but my heart is pounding from the exercise and the excitement. When my chest stops heaving, I look over and see Chris looking my way. He has a mixture of arousal, anger and shame on his face.
I squirt some Viagra-laced lubricant on my hand and call Chris over to me. When he's standing next to me, I slather his cock with the lubricant. I don't stroke him yet. I don't want to get him off or even get erect yet. I just want to counteract the anti-Viagra so I can control his arousal later.
"Oh, God," I say in a hoarse whisper. "He pounded my cunt and filled me with his cum. I need you to lick me and clean me up."
Chris is again very uncomfortable doing this for me in front of a man who has just fucked me-this time, one who had never seen him do it before. He is reluctant, but ultimately compliant. He climbs onto the bed, gently presses my legs apart, and begins licking my sopping cunt. This is always one of the most exciting times for me: just when my husband makes the first contact between his tongue and my lover's cum that is spread on my cunt lips and deposited deep in my cunt-right in front of my lover who is watching in disbelief.
Chris does his usual thorough job licking and sucking the cum from my cunt and teasing me with his tongue. Doing it in this position, in order to be able to stroke his cock, Chris has to be up on his hands and knees, with his ass high in the air and his head down between my thighs. It's probably not as comfortable for him as being on his knees at the bottom of the bed, but it's necessary for my plan and Chris's comfort has little to do with my plan.
While Chris is working and I'm enjoying the build up to my own orgasm, I begin stroking Cliff's cock with the Viagra laced lubricant. For my plan to work, I need him hard again almost right away. I'm not sure the Viagra was necessary-he's pretty excited. But I don't want to take any chances. He's hardening quickly as I pump him with my hand.
When I'm sure he's hard enough and will stay that way, I motion him to bring his face down to mine. Dear boy, he thinks I want to him to kiss me. He does, and it feels nice while Chris is doing his thing on my sloppy cunt. But that's not why I motioned him down toward me. I need to give him his instructions. I turn his head and whisper in his hear that I'm going to hold Chris's face tight in my crotch and that Cliff needs to take Chris's virgin asshole. He seems reluctant at first but I whisper that this is the "pay back" for what Chris did to both of us and it is the only way that the evening will continue or that he'll ever be able to come back again. I'm still stroking his cock as I say this and, so, I know Cliff will do what I say. I've never met a man yet who can say 'no' when you're stroking his cock.
Cliff pulls away from me and slathers more Viagra laced lubricant on his cock. This is good. It will keep him hard and help Chris overcome the effects of the Anti-Viagra. I want Chris to get really hard the first time he gets fucked in his ass. He needs to expand his sexual horizons and to begin to associate his own sexual pleasure with more than just licking my lovers' cum from my cunt.
I can't tell exactly when Cliff positions himself behind Chris's upturned ass but I can sure tell when he first presses his hard cock against Chris's anal cherry. Chris rears his head up in surprise and tries to turn around. I hold his hands down on the sheets beside my hips and, I suspect, Cliff is holding his hips tightly. Chris can't escape. He moves up, away from Cliff's threatening shaft, but only a foot or so. There's no escape for him. I like this position better because I can watch Chris's face.
Chris's eyes plead with me. He wants to be released. He wants to be spared this further indignity. It's as if he's asking, "Isn't it enough that I sit and watch you get fucked by other men-men who can perform, when I can't? Isn't it enough that I lick their cum from your swollen cunt lips? Do I have to be a pussy-boy for your lovers, too?" If he'd asked it out loud, I would have told him: "No. No. And, yes, you have to be a pussy-boy for my lovers, too." But all I say is, "Just relax."
I can tell when Cliff begins pushing into Chris's ass. Chris's eyes open wide and he winces in pain. His asshole is being forced wide open from the outside for the first time. He's feeling like he is going to tear open. I remember the first time I took a cock in my ass-the pain, the fear, the anticipation. And, then, ultimately, the pleasure of a slow, smooth ass fucking. I want to see Chris's expression turn from pain to pleasure. I want to watch that moment of surprise and he realizes that he doesn't hate what's happening, that he feels ecstasy at being filled by Cliff's hard cock.
It takes a while. I watch his face closely. The initial pain is receding. I know Cliff has thrust all the way in because I feel Chris being pushed forward by Cliff's motion and, then, released as Cliff withdraws. After a minute or two, I can tell that it is no longer painful for Chris. But the first signs of pleasure aren't in Chris's face. The first sign of pleasure comes when, as Cliff pulls way back and Chris presses back to take Cliff's cock in to him again. On that thrust, I hear Chris moan with pleasure.
I know I can let go of his hands now. He's not planning to go anywhere except back and forth on Cliff's hard shaft. So I reach up and begin stroking Chris's cock. He's hard. In fact, he's really hard. The Viagra is helping out here but Viagra doesn't make you get hard. It just lets you get hard. Chris is enjoying the feeling of Cliff's cock in his ass, stretching his sphincter and massaging his prostate. As I stroke his cock aggressively, Chris looks down on me with what can only be described as a look of unselfconscious pleasure. He doesn't yet realize how much he is enjoying this.
In a matter of seconds, Chris is spewing cum all over my chest and abdomen. I pump as long as he spurts-three, four, five, six times-then finally I let him go so he can collapse onto my chest, resting his face in a pool of his own cum.
Cliff, though, isn't done with Chris's ass. His thrusting pushes Chris up and down over my cum-soaked breasts, smearing cum from his hair to his chin. For a while, Chris isn't doing anything. He is just being used. He is almost limp, except that his ass is still stuck up in the air for Cliff's pleasure. But Cliff is taking his time. He seems to be enjoying fucking the guy he just cuckolded. I can tell that a few times he backs off a rhythm that would have led him to an orgasm. He wants this to last a bit. And that's a good thing, I think, because before long, Chris is coming to life again. He's not getting hard again. He shot his wad and his cock won't be ready for any action for a while. But he's back up on his hands and knees again and he's moving back to meet Cliff's thrusts. I hear the slapping of Cliff's balls against Chris's scrotum.
Now I can watch Chris's face as he plays the pussy for Cliff. And it's clear from Chris's face that now he realizes that he is enjoying this-that he knows what pleasure he is getting from Cliff's cock filling his rectum. He's looking up at the wall behind the bed, focusing on nothing in particular, so I tilt his head down so I can look in his eyes-more importantly, so that he can see me watching the pleasure he is getting. I know now that there is no turning back. My little chemical treatments or not, Chris will never be the all-male, "fuck the little chicks silly" guy he once was. Even if he never had anything but straight sex with women from now on, there would always be that knowledge that he was ass-fucked by his wife's lover and he enjoyed it.
I decide to talk to Chris, putting what I suppose are his feelings into words for him. "Doesn't it feel good, Chris? Don't you love the feeling of being opened up by a hard cock? Feel how it slides in and out of you. Feel every inch as it penetrates you. Doesn't it feel delicious?"
I wait a bit and then pressed him to actually answer my questions. That turns out to be difficult for him, partly because he doesn't want to admit to me how much he enjoys being fucked in the ass and partly because he doesn't want to take any part of his consciousness away from the pleasure he's feeling. Finally, though, between gasps and a few 'Oh, God's, I get him to say in words that he loves feeling Cliff's cock in his ass. Then I start urging him to clamp down on Cliff's cock-to milk it with his ass. I hear Cliff gasp with pleasure and I know that Chris is doing as I tell him.
It isn't long before Cliff is nearing an orgasm, one he doesn't try to delay. I can both hear and feel him slamming into Chris. Chris's body is being pounded up and down over me. Then I hear Cliff scream out as he explodes into Chris. And I watch Chris's face closely. He doesn't ejaculate because he is "out of bullets," but I swear he has an orgasm, too. He collapses back onto my cum-soaked breasts-his breathing hard and ragged.
Cliff pulls out of Chris's ass and begins to back away but I tell him to wait where he is. Crawling out from under Chris, which isn't easy given his apparent inability to move his limbs, I pull a reluctant Chris off the bed, onto his knees in front of Cliff. Chris is in a kind of stupor and I don't think he really knows what's going on. He should have figured it out earlier but I suspect he didn't think that far ahead. I pull Cliff a step forward until his spent rod is hanging inches from Chris's face.
Even from where I am, an arm's length away, I can smell Chris's ass on Cliff's cock. I can even see some streaks of shit and blood on it. It must reek from as close as Chris is. Nevertheless, he is in such a stupor that when I push him forward, he doesn't resist. Cliff's stained cock touches Chris's lips and with only the slightest urging from me, Chris opens his mouth to engulf this shaft that took his anal virginity.
Now, personally I find the idea of taking a shit-soaked cock into my mouth pretty disgusting. But Chris had no problem promising me out to Cliff for this service. I figure he has no basis for complaints. The justice of forcing this role on him doesn't, I guess, make it any more palatable. Chris gags several times and, at one point, tries to spit Cliff's cock out of his mouth. But I keep a hand on Chris's head, pushing him onto Cliff's cock and I start urging him to suck it clean. Soon, it is clean and wet with Chris's saliva. Now Chris is sliding his lips up and down the soft, but still full, cock. It's not getting Cliff ready to shoot again. That would be asking too much of Cliff, I guess. But he's no longer looking to collapse in the chair. He seems to like being cleaned by his new-found pussy-boy.
After a few minutes, though, Cliff wants to lie down and I figure it's time for a break in the action. We all lie together in the bed, with Cliff in the middle, flanked by me and Chris. I gently stroke Cliff's cock while he dozes. I hear Chris doze off, too. It would be a perfect way to end the entire evening, with one exception. I really wanted Chris to take a load from Cliff in his mouth. And, I really want Chris to cum right when Cliff fills his mouth. So, after I've given the boys a few hours rest, I slather my Viagra-laced lubricant on my hands and begin giving both guys a hand-job.
I've found that men like this, even in their sleep. And both Cliff and Chris begin to get hard pretty quickly. By the time my ministrations have wakened them, they're both at full mast and ready for the coda of my plan. I get Cliff to stand up because I think it is much more appropriate that Chris service him while he is on his knees in front of him. I pull Chris into this position and, surprisingly, he needs no urging from me to take Cliff's hard cock into his mouth.
As he slides his lips up and down Cliff's shaft, I whisper in his ear, "Look, honey. Your cock is as hard as a rock. Here," I say as a take his hand and guided it to his cock, "stroke your dick while you suck your lover's cum into your mouth."
Surprisingly, he doesn't flinch at my description of Cliff or what he is doing to Cliff. And, he does stroke his own cock as he sucks Cliff's. I can see that Chris is building to an orgasm faster than Cliff is so I slow him down. I try to orchestrate this so that they have simultaneous orgasms. As it turns out, I'm not sure I needed to work very hard to achieve this. Cliff starts grunting and thrusting spasmodically unexpectedly and I momentarily fear that he will beat Chris to the finish line. But Chris seems well attuned to Cliff's level of excitement and he suddenly begins wanking his wiener with enthusiasm. I can see Cliff's cock pulsating as it shoots its sticky load in Chris's mouth. Chris's cum arcs from his cock to Cliff's legs, feet and the floor between.
When they're finished, I make Chris clean his cum off Cliff's calves and feet before Cliff collapses in a chair. Chris wants to lie down in bed, but I make him kneel at Cliff's feet and lay his head in Cliff's naked lap. Somehow, this seems more appropriate to me.
Probably a half hour passes like this. I get a chance to clean up and put on a robe. When I come back into the room, Cliff is getting dressed. That's fine. I'm ready for this to end. All I really want to do is humiliate Chris one more time and then get a good orgasm from his tongue before I fall asleep.
Tags : story,bondage,sex,female dominant
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