by Ben Boswell
Brian gestured toward a curtained doorway. I edged toward it and elbowed aside the fabric. I ducked behind, wedged in between an old, metal filing cabinet and flimsy side table stacked with obsolete computer equipment: an old monitor, three keyboards, a zip drive, something that may have been a modem.
He clapped me in the shoulder, hard enough to almost buckle my knees. “I’ll be back.”
I nodded again.
He adjusted the curtain so that it was open just a crack. And then he left.
Time seemed to pass slowly. I wondered if this was all a gag. It was easy enough to imagine Brian back in the bar, bragging to the staff and regulars about the pervert holed up in the boss’s office, all of them just waiting for me to give up and reappear so they could mercilessly mock me. On the other hand, maybe that would be a good thing. At the very least, it would mean that my wife wasn’t really on her way to get laid by this big gorilla.
I had almost worked myself up to welcoming the ballbusting that would occur if I exited the office when I heard it. Terri’s familiar, flirty giggle. Before I could steel myself, I heard the door open. I peered through the narrow gap between the curtain and door frame. Blond hair and heels. Tight red and black dress. A sexy bitch. My wife.
He closed the door behind them and Terri spun around to face him, letting me catch just a quick glimpse of her face, smiling excitedly, lips pursed, a strand of blond hair loose across her face.
They didn’t speak or embrace. For a moment it almost seemed as if they were uncertain how to proceed.
“I missed this,” she gushed.
Suddenly it was like a fuse has been lit. My wife was crudely rubbing his crotch. She dropped to her knees suddenly and clawed at his pants.
“I want to suck it before it gets too big.”
He helped her, freeing his massive prick. It dangled before her, soft and thick already. I noticed, to my chagrin, he was bigger flaccid than I was hard. She craned her neck forward and eagerly sucked him into her mouth, her hands massaging his heavy balls.
“That’s it, Baby. Suck it like a good little slut,” he growled.
The office was so small, and I was so close, that I could hear her slurping on his oversized cock, the sound of her breathing through her nose as she took him deeper into her throat. She bobbed up and down as he stiffened, until finally she rocked back on her heels and let that obscenely long shaft slide from her mouth with a smack of her lips.
He continued to grow as she stroked him roughly with both hands, kissing and licking up and down his fat tool. When she tried to suck him again, all she could take was the tip of his wide, purplish mushroom head. She pulled back and a drop of pre-come appeared. Terri eagerly licked it away.
“Damn, you love cock,” he taunted.
“I love your cock,” she cooed.
“Yeah?” He took his prick and slapped it wetly against her cheek.
“Yeah,” she acknowledged, apparently not at all bothered by his efforts to demean her.
“Where do you want it?”
He slapped her with his meat again and again, until she grabbed it herself and sucked the head into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed out and her tongue lapped wetly at his head. She let it slip from her mouth.
“In my cunt,” she replied.
I barely suppressed a groan. I never heard her use that word in a sexual context.
“You wet for me?”
“Always,” she grinned.
“Show me.”
Terri didn’t hesitate. She gracefully rose to her feet and pulled up the hem of her dress. Shapely legs, creamy thighs, no panties, a shaved snatch, glistening wetly even in the dim light of the office.
He took her by the shoulders, spun her around, and without ceremony, bent her over the manager’s desk. Her palms slapped against the scuffed wood, but he continued to push down until her torso was flat against the desk, her arms stretched out above her head. He lifted her dress and bunched it around her waist. She spread her legs without prompting.
He sighed with pleasure and cupped her pretty, little ass with his meaty paws. He spread her cheeks apart, exposing not just her wet pussy but also her tiny, puckered asshole. He stepped in closer and walked his jutting erection into her. She moaned as the fat tip split her open and then gasped as he pulled back out and thrust in harder, getting about half of his cock inside her. He withdrew and thrust again. She squealed and slapped her palms against the desk in what might have been pain, but which I suspected was rather giddy intensity.
Buried deep inside her, he paused to enjoy the sensation of her hot, tight pussy engulfing his prick. He peeled off his shirt and tossed it on the desk beside her. Terri grabbed it and nuzzled into it, breathing in his scent. He was even more powerfully built than I had realized, his back, shoulders, and chest bulging with muscles, and covered by a swirl of tattoos, tribal bands, and animals curled around provocative imagery. A snake wound around a cross. A dragon’s fiery breath blasting a hole in a brick wall.
He was kneading her ass, pulling her cheeks apart and admiring the sight of his prick stretching her pussy. If he was admiring the view, she was obviously relishing the sensation. Even though he wasn’t fucking her, just penetrating her, she was breathing rapidly, low moans mixed in with quick gasps.
His thumbs pressed down on the skin on either side of her asshole, opening her up to him. She groaned softly.
“You want it in the ass.”
His tone was confident, that of a man whom women didn’t often refuse.
“You’re too big,” she gasped.
A non-denial denial. She did want it. She just wasn’t sure she could take it. He caught her meaning. He dripped a gob of spit into her ass and followed it with his thumb.
She grunted. “No, Baby –“
He pulled his cock out and thrust back into her pussy, hard, deep, cutting off her protest. She moaned in pleasure instead. His thumb still in her ass, he began sawing back and forth into her tight snatch.
“Don’t worry, Slut. Plenty of time for that later, after I’m done stretching out your cunt.”
He thrust in hard, balls deep. She gasped. Again and again. Their bodies slapping together. The desk creaking ominously. Her eyelids fluttering, lips quivering, flecks of spit flying from her mouth as she moaned louder and louder. His thumb now churning deep into her ass. His muscles glistening with sweat. Her pussy clinging obscenely to his shaft, stretched taut as he pulled out, turned inside out as he plunged into her. It should have been too much, but she loved it. A high-pitched squeak and her body shivered. An orgasm? I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was, in that moment, she was totally and completely in his power.
A vicious thrust. She reached her hand back to slow him. He grabbed it and pinned it against her lower back. No mercy. No pause. And no further protest. Just moans, gasps, groans, his pounding so fast that she couldn’t speak if she wanted to.
A shivering squeal. My stomach did a flip. It was exactly the same sound I’d heard Melanie make all those years ago. Again and again and again. My dick was suddenly rock hard, and my head spun.
Her legs twitched. She glared back at him, teeth bared, an unrecognizable expression. Challenging, angry, but also undeniably excited.
He laughed, and withdrew his thumb from her ass and pressed it into her mouth. She didn’t resist. Her lips closed on his thumb, her tongue swirling around it.
He thrust harder. The heavy desk screeched as it edged across the floor. Thumb still in her mouth, he cupped her chin and pulled her upright. A hard thrust. Another. Another. Each making her gasp and lifting her momentarily off her feet.
He grabbed her dress and yanked it up over her head as she wriggled to make it easier. She was braless as well. He resumed pounding into her from behind, making her big tits jiggle wildly. He pressed his thumb back into her mouth and she let out muffled mewls around it. He reached around, palming her flat belly, his fingers digging into her snatch, tormenting her clit.
She managed to spit out his
thumb. “Oh fuck,” she gasped. “Oh fuck, I’m coming again.”
Her body shuddered violently. Her orgasm a frightening near-seizure. No wonder she was so addicted to this. These men fucked her like I never could. It was a thought that filled me with despair.
Brian seemed to take mercy on her. He slowed down, now fucking her almost tenderly, with long, deep, slow strokes of his massive cock. He moved his hands from her chin and belly and cupped her big tits, mashing them in slow circles in time with his thrusts. As she recovered, she reached between her legs and with one hand and began massaging his plum-sized balls.
“You know what I like about you?” he asked.
“Is it my wit and love of theater?”
He laughed. “No romance, no foreplay, you’re just in it for the cock.”
She chuckled. “You know what I like about you?”
“My big dick?”
He thrust in hard to punctuate the response.
She gasped.
“Mmmm, yeah. You fuck like you’re angry.”
I wouldn’t have thought that was a good thing. But obviously from her tone, it was.
“Just giving you what a dirty slut like you needs.”
“How do you know what I need?”
Another hard thrust from him. A sultry gasp from her.
“I just do. All those things your hubby won’t give you. Rough. Sweaty. The kind of shit you won’t admit to him. Dirty. Crude. A roomful of strangers taking turns with you.”
“No,” she moaned.
“I felt your cunt twitch when I said it.”
“No,” she repeated, her tone even deeper, throatier, belying her response.
He laughed. “You don’t know what you want.”
“I do,” she protested.
He laughed again. I could see why. Despite her objection, she remained his to do with as he pleased. It wasn’t just her tone, which dripped with sexual excitement, but also her body, undulating slowly as his fat prick churned inside her, the way she thrust her ass toward him, molding herself to him, the way her lips trembled, the way her face glowed.
“Get on your knees,” he growled. “I want to nut in your mouth.”
Such was his command over her that not only didn’t she protest, she didn’t even hesitate. She spun gracefully and squatted down before him. She spread her knees apart, exposing her battered pussy, red and gaping, obscenely incongruous beside the little rose tattoo.
With both hands she gripped his fat, slick prick and stroked it up and down.
“Yeah, Baby, open up.”
Again my wife complied.
“Like this?” she asked.
She opened her mouth wide, tongue flicking at the head of his prick as she continued to work his cock.
“Yeah, Slut, here it comes….”
A thick spurt of creamy jism shot into her mouth.
“Don’t swallow,” he commanded as he continued to rope onto her tongue.
She knelt submissively, naked, mouth full of his come, until both corners of her mouth leaked a thin stream of jism and spit, sliding down her cheeks and meeting at her chin. A drop fell onto her heaving breasts.
“Go ahead and swallow.”
She nodded, and with a loud gulp, drank his heavy load. She wiped her chin and licked that up too. And then, unbidden, she licked a last drop of come off his prick.
He chuckled.
“Thanks, Babe,” he grunted curtly as he pulled up his pants. “Let yourself out,” he added. He grabbed his shirt off the desk and pulled it on as he left the room.
Terri and I were alone in the office, though she didn’t know I was there. I felt suddenly uncomfortable. Most people, of course, would think watching their wife getting fucked by a well-hung, tattooed ape was pretty strange. I did as well, but somehow, watching her naked and alone, slowly pulling herself together felt even more transgressive. I felt more like a voyeur now than when she’d been coming again and again as Brian fucked her.
Terri didn’t help matters. I’d expected her to turn suddenly sheepish. With his sexual hold over her broken, I thought she’d quickly dress and scurry out of there, embarrassed, maybe tearful even. She was none of those things. Instead, she seemed quite pleased with herself.
She rose and leaned back against the desk still naked. I shrank back into the closet. She was facing me, but she didn’t seem to see me. I wasn’t sure she was seeing anything really. Her gaze seemed directed into the middle distance.
She seemed to be taking stock. Her hands slowly explored her body, tracing those places where he’d touched her. Her fingers touched her chin and mouth, then her breasts where he’d massaged her. She lingered over her stomach, maybe remembering how much she’d enjoyed his strong hand on her belly, his fingers probing her slit. She ran her fingertips over the tattoo and smiled.
I barely suppressed a gasp as she spread her legs slightly, fully exposing her battered pussy.
I knew it would go back to normal. But at the moment, it was almost unrecognizable, swollen, very wet, her lips dark red, not quite gaping, but visibly open. I knew if I burst from my hiding place and jammed my hard cock into her, she would probably have trouble feeling it. She seemed to have the same thought as she curiously pressed a finger into her freshly-fucked cunt. She added a second and then a third as she sought to approximate the sensation of Brian’s cock or to at least feel something.
I watched in shock as she slowly began pumping her digits in an out of her stretched-out twat. She let out a low moan. I looked up to see her still smiling, eyes closed. Her other hand was on her breast, twisting a hard nipple.
Brian was right. She was an insatiable slut, and I knew that if she had another cock available to her, she’d gladly, hungrily, take it inside her. Two men, three men, a roomful. When she was in one of her sexual fugues, anything was possible.
I could hear her fingers squishing wetly into her worn pussy, a sound that was even more obscene than the sight of it, which was pornographic enough. She lifted her breast to her mouth and sucked on her own nipple, gripping it between her front teeth, hissing even as she did.
She let out a sexy little sigh. Her body shuddered on the edge of the desk. And she slowly recomposed herself, she withdrew her fingers from her pussy. She chuckled softly. Finally, she looked about the room for her dress.
She pulled it over her head and straightened herself out. She ran her fingers through her hair to restore a modicum of order to her mane. Another pause. Another grin. And then with a self-satisfied strut she slipped out the door and back into the bar.
I waited a few moments. The last thing I wanted was to run into her in the bar, probably exchanging a last, lingering kiss with her studly lover, his hand cupping her ass, letting everyone in the bar know that this married slut was his for the taking. When I finally ducked out, I made a beeline for the exit.
I had come to speak to Brian and learn something about my wife. He hadn’t given me much, but what he’d shown me confirmed all my suspicions. She was no longer mine. Not really. She craved things that were just not in my nature to provide.
I headed home. It was my turn to pick up the kids from after school care and get dinner started. It was a task I looked forward to and enjoyed. But at the same time, today, with my wife returning to work with her pussy throbbing from Brian’s huge prick and her mouth salty from his jism, it made me feel like less than a man.
CHAPTER TWO
I hid my moroseness from the kids as best as I could. Whatever was going on between their mother and me, I wanted to keep it from them. It was exhausting.
When Annabelle asked me “Where’s mommy?” it took a conscious effort to resist lashing out and replying, Probably out getting her cunt stuffed.
Okay, in truth, I would never do that, but I couldn’t control the thoughts and emotions swirling through my mind. Hurtful, ugly words. Dirty slut. Cheap whore. Dumb cunt. Bitch. Cheater.
As much as I hated her, I hated myself more. Weak. Pathetic. Cuckold. Sissy.
/> I knew what Terri would say. I had brought this on myself. I had pushed her into it. I had done it from the beginning. I’d pushed her to renew contact with Chucky. I’d thrown her at Jean-Pierre. I’d been right there and done nothing when she’d first gone off with Brian. I’d given her the free pass, and encouraged her to use it, that led her into Mike’s bed. And I was doing it all to feed my own obsessions and desires, conceived of my experience with April, born in the collapse of my relationship with Melanie, and reawakened with the revelations about Chucky.
But if it was all about me -- about my needs and desires – then why did it leave me feeling so awful? So drained and battered. Depressed. Yes, periodically aroused, but even that was largely contagion from Terri’s excitement. I didn’t, at least not often, jerk myself off thinking of my wife with other men, though yes, when she was all hot and bothered and recounting her adventures my revulsion was overwhelmed by lust. Okay, so it was complicated.
When Terri did get home late – “Sorry, honey, something unexpectedly came up” – she had an unsurprising gleam in her eyes. But she didn’t let on that anything had happened during the day. Usually, she would have found a way to drop a hint. Something about running into an old friend or maybe a mention of the bar. Something. But not that afternoon.
And not that evening either. Not before bed. And not in bed either. It fell to me to press the issue. She was sitting beside me, immersed in some police procedural. S is for Slut or some such. She’d decided to forego her flannels for an oversized tee shirt with a happy face on it. Her nipples punctuated the eyes. I presumed it was some sort of joke.