by J D Stones
Grunting, fevered cries. Dirty, nasty talk as they barked filthy lewdness towards each other and the degraded slut they were enjoying.
I loved every moment of it. My arse savoured every strong thrust against it, feeling the swell of his member slam against my insides. I adored the musky scent and taste engulfing my face and the bucking of her hips as she drove her orgasm from her body.
They panted and held their breaths; I felt the cock inside my arse twitch and the condom fill with cum. Moments later, Jade climaxed for the second time, squirting a small jet of liquid onto my chin.
It was enough to trigger my orgasm; the prostate massage Dom had been giving me, became an overwhelming urge and warmth, before wetness poured from my cock, pooling on my pubis.
We lay in the grass for a moment. The spiky blades of the lawn digging into my back as we enjoyed the moments of bliss.
Bryn and I left shortly afterwards; we still had a long drive back to Cheshire and my sent me a further picture of her sluttily dressed in an airport lounge.
Hands wandered from the four men she was posing with, sliding up her skirt as she smiled at the camera. Ten minutes later I got another one, that was a close-up of three filled condoms, tied and lying on a toilet sink.
I'd hear all about in a few hours.
Chapter XXIII
Ibiza
The children were long asleep by the time Erin arrived through our front door, hauling her case behind her. We kissed, my hands slid around her waist as our tongues interlocked in a passionate embrace.
She changed into her nightie and I poured her a glass of wine; she pulled my trousers down to "check" that I was wearing panties and giggled as her fingers gently stroked my erection through the lacy fabric. "I s'pose you want to hear about my weekend."
She noticed my keenness; our cuckoldry and relationship was founded on the honesty between us. I took a deep breath as she gulped her wine. I made myself comfortable on the sofa, my bare legs stretching on the couch and my head resting by her lap.
She looked down at me, smiled and began.
She had flown out of Liverpool late on Friday afternoon; by the time I was getting ready to attend Michael's Party, she hadn't even touched down on the island of sin. The delays on airline and at the airport had meant she didn't arrive at her hotel until nearly midnight.
Christina had chatted up a waiter in the restaurant they ate, and the two women had hit the town with a small pocket full of Euros and dresses that were scandalously short.
She showed me the pictures on her phone, but she wasn't the only woman flirting with decency; the background of her images were stuffed full with skin and flesh.
I loved the description of Ibiza, and her lips curled into a smile as she recounted her trip to sleazy bar. “So many hands,” she giggled, allowing her fingers to dance lightly over my unfettered genitals.
She left the club a couple of hours later with Christina and a lesbian couple: four women drunk on lust and vodka, staggering through the streets to their suite in a large hotel.
Hands gripped my wife's top the moment the door closed and lips became intertwined. She was pushed against the wall, groaning as the rampant lust engulfed them and clothes was wretched from their bodies.
They fucked; Christina's strap-on dildo rammed against Erin's cunt as her orgasms swirled around their debauched lesbian orgy and delivered waves of climaxes.
She recounted her story with two fingers buried in her cunt, detailing every thrust into her slippery pussy as her lips wrapped around another's clitoris.
The pictures taken were sent to me; I remember the twisted array of limbs and lips pressed against genitals clearly. Her eyes glazed as her fingers swirled against her sex, subtly denying my pleasure while she fingered her intimate areas for a delicate hue of arousal.
“They were insatiable. Only two of them but they went on and on and on. I was getting sore when they finished pressing against my G-Spot and forcing me to cum over their naked bodies. They glistened; a sheen of my sex showered them and they loved it. They adored the feeling of wetness against their skin and they looked so sexy. So fucking sexy, I wanted that night to never end. I came so many times like never before.”
She grinned as I mewed; she teased me with her long fingers dancing delicately over my cock.
But that night finished late into the morning and as the Sun illuminated the island of sex and sand, her partners slipped into the Ibizerian daytime.
“And then you sent me pictures of my husband being a rampant homo. You sucking some guys cock.” Her eyes twinkled as she made me explain about Michael and Sandy and the bet with Billie followed by the gay sex party. Her hand gripped my cock harder; she watched me writhe as my Saturday antics with the gorgeous masseur made her fingers strum her clitoris with fervour.
She loved the tales of my homosexual sex, adored the thought of cum splashing against my face.
“Of course, I had lots of cum in my face too.” Her lips pouted. “Saturday night we went to a lovely nightclub with some hotshot DJ that I'd not heard of. But Christina got trolleyed and she felt a bit ill so I took her back to the hotel, tucked her up in bed. But I was so horny and so I went to the little bar next door. Full of guys on a stag do and they wanted to chat me up as I was drinking on my own and checking out the local talent. And there was loads goin' on. I couldn't choose between Andre and Henry so I had both. When their party slunked off to the nightclub, I hooked up with both of them and we went back to my suite. Check on Christina.”
“She OK?”
“Fine. But I had two lovely, gorgeous men. Big arms that scooped me up and left me with no chance to resist their urges. Not that I wanted to resist them though. I felt Andre squeeze me with his biceps and I melted, offering no resistance to my clothes being taken from my body. And we did some brief massage, I tried foreplay but my cunt was leaking at the sight of their amazing muscles and thick dicks. Big, thick dicks. Very big, very thick dicks.”
Her hands squeezed my erect cock and she giggled. “Bigger than me then.”
“Much bigger. Huge. Andre speared into my pussy with a delicate thrust, filling my cunt. I opened my mouth to squeal and Henry filled it with his prick. I gagged. I squealed as he face-fucked me, and I loved it. I don't normally like being the submissive role in any scene but at that moment with my holes filled with cock, and big cock at that, life could scarcely get much better. And they weren't too gentle. They fucked me, not made love or had sex. They fucked me with long desperate thrusts of their giant cock into my defenceless body.”
“I saw the pictures.”
“You should have been there. Every moment was bliss. I felt like a fucking slut being taken and unable to feel nothing but sheer dirtiness. I was swimming with lust, adored the shame I felt and desperate for the humiliation to end, yet the thought of them stopping scared me.”
“I know what you mean.”
“But they didn't stop. They traded places and the cock in my mouth tasted of latex condom. We didn't care as my gag reflex was tested by the grunting thrusts of Andre's big member sliding into it. I was too into their sex to want to stop as Henry's big hands held my legs apart and his cock rubbed against every part of my cunt. It was singing a sweet melody and with a few more powerful thrusts it reached the crescendo. I screamed into the cock ramming into my throat as my pussy clenched against the intruding cock and he came. Lots. As did I. We all did.”
I gulped as her eyes burnt with lust and her body slipped into a fervid squealing state of arousal; her fingers swirled against her clit and her lips pouted. She groaned, filling the room with the sounds of her lustful squeals until she came.
“OK?”
She nodded and panted. “Oh, such good memories. Such lovely men too. We saw Christina at the end of the bed, watching us and taking photos – for you as it happens – and they fucked her too. I went down on her as they plowed her cunt until she could take no more and we shared wine with them on the balcony. My cunt still tingles at the th
ought of them.”
I felt more than a little pang of jealousy shoot through my body as she recounted her memories with overly vivid affection for the young men.
“They stayed the night too. We got joined by a couple of their mates and the following morning was such good fun. Breakfast with four hot and horny bastards eager to fuck and desperate to watch us orgasm. They were insatiable. Non-stop fucking that left me breathless and desperate for more.”
Her fingers swirled impatiently over her clit as she recollected more and more fucking. The four men who screwed my wife for two hours barely leaving her time to catch her breath between orgasms. She loved the sounds of my desperation and mewing; her words were a twisted torture of barbaric pain. I longed for her tales of lust. I wanted to hear her adventures and enjoy her satisfaction with her. I loved the feeling of submission but I wanted to be the one to give her the orgasms. It was my job.
Only it wasn't any more. My job was to be a provider. I was there to sate her emotional needs, not necessarily her sexual desires. I was to accept my place in our relationship that she controlled.
“At lunchtime we went to a friend of Christina's. She's a dominatrix that runs tours for male and female subs and we were in time for lunch. Naked men serving me on their knees and passing me cakes and tea. Was gorgeous. And then she invited us in to her punishment room. A row of male buttocks that she disciplined. I even got a go and the caning of their little bums was divine. It felt good; I'd forgotten how much I enjoy caning silly men.”
“Like me?”
“Oh yes, just like you. We had them enjoying each other's cocks too. That was hot. But before too long we had to leave and we went back to the hotel packed and got to the airport.”
“Where you found some more companions?”
“Yes. I'd forgotten about those. Three men travelling and I'd forgotten to pack any underwear so I went commando and he was staring at my skirt in the airport lounge. So I lifted it higher. He squirmed but kept looking. So I allowed my dress to come a little higher. And then very high. And still he stared, his hands resting in his crotch.”
“You tease.”
“Of course I tease. But he was desperate and I went and sat next to him. I said I'll cut a deck of discarded airline cards and if he beat me, I'll let him see what's under my dress completely. And he did, so we slipped off to the toilets and I lifted my dress to the bewildered businessman. And that led to a kiss and a kiss led to a fumble and that led to two pounds in the condom machine and he fucked me. Was so dirty. Two of his friends came in to check if he was OK and we were glad the machine sold condoms in packs of three!”
“You …”
“... slut. Sure. But you are too. I can't have had many more cocks that you and you're supposedly straight first.”
“I'm a bisexual cuckold.”
“Ohhh … so if you're a cuckold, I can sleep with anyone can I?”
“Ummm … I guess.”
“No, I mean, I can sleep with anyone and you're OK with it. The school bully and you'd be fine.”
“I don't have that much of a say.”
Her fingers pressed into her crotch and I slid down the bed to press my lips against her clit. She groaned as my tongue pressed along her crack and flicked her delicate button, feeling her body rock to the sinful movements of my lips.
She loved it: panting and squealing as her body tipped her towards orgasm and she climaxed with loud cries.
Our eyes met. “You're my husband,” she reminded me. “You have a say. Are you OK?”
“Sure. I'm a total cuckold. Your stories of fucking other men are just so erotic.”
“A total cuckold?” Her eyes met mine. “Really?”
“Yes.”
And that admission, with my fingers swirling against her clit, had my gorgeous wife climaxing yet again.
Chapter XXIV
A Total Cuckold
Erin panted; her nasal grunts filled the room as I watched my naked wife on the television. The video wobbled, the sights of the two men savouring the cunt of my gorgeous Erin.
She stroked my cock as we watched. Her hands flitted over my tenting lacy panties as the memories of the previous week flooded back. The recollections were powerful, the sex was intense.
Two hours of solid fucking from the four friends. I videoed Erin and Yvonne at the young student's “going away” party. It was salacious at the beginning, and turned into an orgy before the final guest had arrived.
I had forgotten how sexy she looked when she got screwed and the Scottish missy was taken by most of the visiting men that night. She came repeatedly; her body covered by a slight sheen as five demanding women were outnumbered by around twenty-five demanding men.
Of course, as a cuckolded husband, I had my own duties: glasses to be refreshed, nibbles to be served, cocks to fluff and cunts to lick.
And be the camera operator; we took it in turns. Three hours of salacious footage shot by myself, Bryn and another cuckold, was turned into a present for our departing friend; she had found a place in rented accommodation with two of her regular co-stars and was planning to increase her webcam output. It was easier, more enjoyable and more convenient work than other student jobs.
Which led us to the film première: Leicester Square Odeon it was not, but Bryn's lounge held a dozen adults and the ladies had dressed up glamorously for the event. Long, flowing ballgowns and the invited men had suits and smart attire.
Except the cuckolds – Bryn and I – we were in our panties and nothing else. We watched our ladies smooch with the stars of the video, and fawn over their razor sharp suits and impressive attire. They responded to the elegant women, and we watched as hands wandered.
There was some fucking; orgasms on the screen were replicated by orgasms in the lounge. And Bryn and I just did as we were told, watching the sluttish debauchery around us.
We fluffed a little but as the film drew towards it's final conclusions, they teased us. Erin's finger dancing lightly over my crotch. She enjoyed that I squirmed, and loved to emphasise my lack of size by using a solitary finger to stroke me.
She did it so often when we were with other men: subtle things. I might get placed in chastity or left in pink panties. She might use hands on her lover's cock but one finger on mine. Or she'd fuck me with her strap-on after I begged for it.
And if her lovers wanted to screw me with their cocks then they could; my holes were always open for her and her bullish partners. In front of them, and during the sex I was grossly inferior to her in every way. A submissive, a slave and a pathetic husband who failed to satisfy his wife properly.
She brought me to the brink of my orgasm, edging and teasing me as the rampant orgy on screen drew to a close. Her fingers swirled against my cock, still encased in lace, and her lips touched mine briefly.
I was there. I was at my orgasm. My point of no return. And then she stopped, tipping my cock into ejaculation but denying me my orgasmic release.
One of her specialities: a ruined orgasm.
I felt spent but not sated. Frustrated and horny. It was a nasty torment and my wife giggled malevolently as white globules of my cum pooled on the lacy knickers.
“Naughty little boy! You've ruined your little panties.”
It was evil. And I wasn't allowed to clean myself up. The visitors sniggered as they saw the pathetic state of a grown man wearing female underwear soaked in cum, and it wasn't until I arrived at our house I was permitted to wash myself.
But I slept cuddled up to my wife as we drifted off to sleep. Content and happy; it had been a good night.
The weekend after the film première was my youngest's birthday and our neighbours erected their giant marquee in their grounds for twenty four excited children to be treated to a variety of children's entertainers.
Uncle Bryn and Auntie Christina had never been so popular; it was good to see our friends have a good relationship with our children and my wife and I chatted to the other mums and dads as two dozen kids became h
yperactive on sweets, cakes and excitement.
We looked the respectable couple, and we acted like we were too. Nobody knew anything else.
We reached the six-month anniversary of our cuckolding the weekend afterwards and Christina suggested we visit a sex club in an adjacent town, ten miles away.
It was a little closer to where I grew up, but it was one of the few swingers' venues where the participants and the management were tolerant of kink and male bisexuality. We'd heard some nightmare stories from Bryn and Christina from other venues, and they only played at a select number of clubs that they knew to be safe.
Heaven 'n' Hell was one such establishment, nestled in South Cheshire countryside outside Stoke, the smart building was once a hotel and now worked as both a swingers' lounge, a sinful massage spa, a photographic studio and a dungeon for hire.
My wife had chosen our outfits; I had a smart black shirt and non-descript dark black smart jeans. I would have blended in with any weekend party, casual enough to be relaxed, smart enough to be admitted anywhere. It was a safe outfit.
Erin's choice of clothing was anything but safe; her red dress came a few inches below her waist, tapered at the front and back and held up with two thin straps over her shoulders. And it was see-through: a scarlet sheer outfit that flaunted her bosom and revealed the tiniest thong that left nothing to the imagination.
My wife was covered with a coat for the journey, and Christina's outfit wasn't any less revealing, as her dress was four sizes too small and ended an inch below her belly button.
"What's the point getting dressed anyway when I'll be getting it off the moment I get in? I'm going to get fucked so much tonight. You'll fluff for me, won't you?" Erin squeezed my cheek with a giggle, enjoying belittling me.
I can't say I was nervous; I'd been to sex clubs before when in London, but it was the first time with Erin. I was glad that I had to pay attention to the motorway in the drizzling rain. It meant I didn't have to think about the swingers' club and could tune out of the lustful banter in the car without appearing rude.