Taming Terri (Terri Trilogy Book 3)

by Ben Boswell

  “God, I’m so sore.” She rubbed her sex beneath the surface of the water. “No matter how much I practice, he still wears me out.”

  “Practice?”

  She finished off her wine and rose out of the water. I looked her over, but my gaze was quickly drawn to her pussy, which to my eyes did look puffy and well-used.

  “Pass me my towel?”

  I handed it to her. She stepped out of the tub gracefully and wrapped the towel around her sexy body.

  “Did I mention I got a new, Brian-sized toy?” she said as she walked past me into the bedroom.

  I followed after her. She approached her dresser and dug out her new dildo, a life-like phallus, complete with balls and textured like a real cock. It was laughably big, and I’d have dismissed it as unrealistic had I not seen in person the real version it was meant to recall.

  “I’ve been practicing on it,” she said.

  She ran her tongue around the bulbous head until it glistened wetly, and then, opening wide, she swallowed several inches of the thick shaft into her mouth. She pumped it in and out slowly, going deeper with each swallow, but even still taking less than half of it at most.

  “I really want to learn to deepthroat him. It might save my pussy some abuse.”

  “You don’t have to see him,” I noted.

  “I can’t help myself,” she replied.

  “When are you seeing him next?” I asked. Then I shivered as I realized I sort of was hoping she’d reply, right now.

  She didn’t answer the question. Instead, she grinned mischievously. She sucked wetly on the dildo. “I’ve never had one this big to play with regularly. You can see why I’m hooked.”

  “You always tell me size doesn’t matter.”

  She chuckled. “Maybe I was wrong,” she replied, deliberately pushing my buttons.

  Even still, I could tell there was something to it, particularly a few minutes later when I was using it on her. She threw me her wet towel, and as I hung it up, she draped herself across the bed.

  She spread her legs wide and rubbed the fake cock against her vaginal lips. “Though even if I could sword swallow him, I doubt I could resist feeling him inside of me.”

  She angled the tip, and it spread her labia apart. The bulbous head opening her widely. She moaned softly.

  “Bill, you do it,” she suggested.

  I approached the bed and wrapped my hands around the huge cock. It was heavy and more than a little disconcerting. But as she writhed against it, I began to wield the enormous phallus. Her pussy was very wet, but even still I could feel the resistance from her tight pussy as I worked it in and out. I was jealous of Brian, of the fact that every time he had a woman, that regardless of how excited she was, he’d get to experience that sensation of stretching her out, seeing her struggle to accept him, and at the same time, the moans, gasps, grunts, and sighs of pleasure.

  I’d seen it in that bar manager’s office, but not this close. Inches away from my wife’s stretched snatch, I could see how taut the skin was around the rubber cock, the way it exposed and made prominent her hooded clit. And bottoming out, I watched her shivering uncontrollably in passion.

  “Oh God, Bill, let me suck your cock while you do that.”

  I kneeled beside her. She turned her head and swallowed my prick deep into her hot, wet mouth. She sucked me hard, urgently, and I reciprocated by ramming that huge tool harder and faster into her wet cunt. Her moans reverberated up and down my shaft. She grabbed my balls tight around the base holding me in place, keeping me buried into her mouth. And then suddenly from around my prick, she squealed loudly. I churned the dildo in harder still, and she shuddered from head to toe, even her throat seeming to clench in time with her waves of passions.

  I imagined what she was thinking about. Of two men holding her down and forcing themselves into her as hard and deep as they could. That realization put me over the edge. I gasped as well, coming into the back of her mouth, and she swallowed my load like a pro.

  ***

  I was waiting for her in the darkened kitchen when she came home. Painted-on jeans, high-heeled leather boots, a tight sweater clinging to her bra-less chest. I’d have known she’d gone to visit Brian again even if she hadn’t called to tell me she was running late.

  That made it three days in a row, which was all the more galling since she was going out to California tomorrow for a professional conference.

  I knew saying something would end up badly, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “You’re seeing of lot of Brian.”

  “I need to get my fill before my trip.”

  “There are men in California,” I noted.

  “Yes, but there are no guarantees they’ll fuck me half as well as he does.”

  “I wish you’d talk about me the way you talk about him.”

  “Who says I don’t?”

  I snorted. “I doubt you talk to Brian about how good a lover I am.”

  “Ah, but I do,” she insisted. “It helps to keep him fired up. I tell him to fuck me so that I forget about you. And he tries. Oh, boy, he tries.”

  She gave me the opportunity to reply, but I held my tongue. I’d dug myself a deep enough hole already.

  She flicked the hair from her face. “He was in rare form tonight. He picked me up off the ground and just bounced me up and down on his big cock. One day he’s really going to just tear me in two.”

  Another pause. I let pass another opportunity to jump in. She leaned in close. Her breath was hot, a little boozy, maybe even a little musky, though that was probably my imagination.

  “I never stopped thinking about you. Even when I couldn’t see straight. Even when I was probably screaming even louder than Melanie did when Toby screwed her.”

  I felt my jaw drop and my breath catch.

  She grinned. “I thought about seeing that very look on your face, in fact.”

  I managed to suck in some oxygen, and then realized my heart was pounding.

  “Do you think Melanie thought about you when she first started sucking on Toby’s big dick? How about when he first got inside her?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied.

  “I bet she did. I bet she was thinking about you the whole time. How angry you’d be. How disappointed. But also how surprised. And maybe even how turned on.”

  “That sounds like you.”

  “It does, doesn’t it? Do you think she ever cheated on you with other men?”

  “I’ve never thought about it.”

  “Never? Not even a little? I bet she did. I mean, hooking up with another guy at a party you’re at is a pretty advanced move. Not for the faint of heart, I mean.”

  “You’re cruel.”

  She laughed. “But I can be so giving too.”

  She unbuttoned her jeans and eased them down over her hips. She wasn’t wearing panties. She turned and bent over the kitchen table, presenting her ass to me. Her pussy was wet and very swollen looking nothing if not well-fucked. My eyes were also drawn to her asshole, which seemed to wink at me as she ground against the table. I wondered if he’d had her there yet.

  “What are you waiting for?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  She reached behind her and dipped two fingers into her steaming hole. They came out glistening, and she rubbed her juices along the length of her crack, pausing to tease her own ass.

  “I wish Brian could be more patient. He just likes to slam it in there. And that’s hot. But I wish he’d make me beg for it sometimes. I bet Melanie begged Toby for his cock.”

  “Terri, don’t….” I muttered. If it came out unconvincing, it was because I was ambivalent. I knew I should try to stop her, but I also didn’t want her to.

  “Once a guy makes a girl scream in passion, there’s very little she won’t do for him,” she said suggestively. “Do you want to know what I’d do for Brian?”

  “No.” But I was nodding.

  She smiled. She continued playing with herself
. She pulled her cheeks apart and fingered her pussy. She arched her back and writhed against the table.

  “Ever since you encouraged me to try anal with Chucky --”

  “I didn’t encourage you.”

  “But you were so supportive. Without you I’d have never had the guts to try it. And now, I really love it.”

  She punctuated that by sliding her middle finger deep into her ass while letting out a sultry moan.

  “Do you think Melanie took Toby in her ass?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I think she probably did.” She added a second finger and began pumping them in and out of her rectum. “But that’s okay. I think it’s great how open minded you are.”

  “Is there some point to this?”

  She laughed. “Ooh, you are good,” she cooed. “I’m trying to get you to fuck me, Honey. Are you going to make me beg?”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “But you do. You’re just worried about what message it will send.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t need to send up smoke signals, Bill. All you need to do to is say the word. But you don’t want to because you don’t want to own it.”

  “Stop psychoanalyzing me,” I snapped.

  She stopped squirming and slowly slid her fingers out of her ass. She stood and yanked up her jeans. She turned to face me. She wasn’t angry, or at least didn’t look it, but she wasn’t happy either. What did I see in her expression? Concern. That perhaps most of all. Pain, maybe. Disappointment. It was a look I’d seen before from Terri, but I wasn’t completely sure what it meant.

  She approached me.

  “I love you, Bill,” she said simply

  She kissed my cheek. It felt like a goodbye. Then she turned and went upstairs to bed. By the time I followed, she was asleep, as I had planned.

  When I woke up the next morning, she’d already left for the airport. Her flight was early, so at some level this was simple consideration. But it was also something else. A chance to send me a message. On her bedside table, she’d left something behind, her wedding and engagement rings. I didn’t know if she’d left me for good, but I did understand one thing. Out in California, she considered herself a single woman.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I was in the car, driving to pick up Annabelle and Braden from their after-school activities when she called. She’d arrived in Los Angeles in the morning and spent most of the day there already.

  “Hi honey,” I answered, trying to keep my voice level. “You called a little early. I don’t have the kids yet.”

  “I know,” she replied. “I wanted to speak to you.”

  I waited for her to continue. She didn’t. “What about?”

  “I met a man.”

  Even though it was the answer I expected, my stomach did a flip.

  “And did you?”

  She laughed. “Don’t you want to know what he’s like first?”

  I groaned. “Yeah.”

  “He’s very, very handsome. Tall. Really thick dark hair.”

  “Young guy?”

  “No. Older. Well, fortysomething. Very successful. He’s the director of geriatric medicine at Cedars-Sinai and a professor at UCLA.”

  The sour taste of bile in my throat. “So was he good?” I spat out.

  She laughed. “I don’t know… yet.”

  “Oh, you didn’t let him pull you into an alley?”

  She laughed. “I would have... in a heartbeat. But he invited me to dinner instead.”

  “Classy.”

  “Very. I wonder what he’ll think when he finds out I’m not wearing panties.”

  Another one of those moments when I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I settled for sarcasm.

  “Going to flash him?”

  She chuckled. “If I have to. Anyway, just thought I’d give you a heads up that if you try to reach me later this evening, I might be, uh, indisposed.”

  “Terri….”

  “What? Would you rather I didn’t go to dinner with him?”

  I hesitated. “Have fun.”

  Another laugh. “I’m sure I will.”

  I knew he would too. Happily I didn’t have time to dwell on that. I pulled up in front of the school. Seeing me, the kids pointed at my car and the teacher cleared them to join me. They climbed noisily into their car seats.

  “Mom is on the phone,” I said to them.

  They both shrieked in joy and began speaking simultaneous to their mother. I zoned out and began to drive home.

  ***

  She wouldn’t need to flash him. She had probably been flirting with him like mad. Peering at him through her eyelashes, her throaty laugh, flicking that strand of blond hair from her face. He was probably kicking himself for not having just invited himself back to her hotel room for an afternoon quickie. When Terri was into a man, he didn’t need to put any extra effort into it. But regardless, dinner was just a pretext, something that normal people did before they fucked a stranger.

  He was a handsome fucker. Avetis Termernian. She told me enough about him that I could look him up. I wasn’t surprised to find he was a very dapper-looking, olive-skinned, well-built man with a dazzling smile. There were lots of images of him giving speeches and attending galas, always appearing confident and in control. I could see why a woman would be attracted to him, why my wife was.

  He seemed like a gentleman, but Terri would break him of that. Giggles, smokey glances, flashes of cleavage, painted fingernails tapping against her wine glass. He gave off an aura of worldliness, and out in Los Angeles, he’d certainly had opportunities to deal with women like my wife, who wore their sexuality on their sleeve and were up for anything.

  I could picture it. A trendy restaurant, perhaps a bit loud, but also dripping with energy. Champagne cocktails, lighthearted conversation. He’d edge closer to her to be heard. Her hand casually touching his forearm. His hand brushing against her skirt under the table, when she didn’t retreat, he would get bolder. Fingertips on her bare knee. Her eyes flashing, her breath catching.

  Their food would arrive and they would separate, but the air between them now charged. They’d both expected the evening would end in sex, or at least she expected and he hoped, but now they both knew, and they both knew the other knew. A new dynamic. Seduction segueing to foreplay without even leaving the table.

  Dinner now an impediment, something to be, if not hurried through, then at least, dispatched with a certain efficiency. No to dessert. No to coffee. He’d rise quickly and ease back her chair. A gentlemanly gesture. I pictured him taking her hand in his and walking her toward the exit. Various sets of eyes on the hot blonde and the lucky guy who’d surely be fucking her later than evening.

  Walking out in the warm, Southern California evening, I imagined him pausing on the sidewalk and drawing her into his arms. A kiss. Gentle at first, but building, a flick of tongue, and then breaking off. Not about making a scene in public, but rather confirming intentions.

  Then to his car. Expensive, sleek, perfectly maintained. A Mercedes S Class. Jaguar XJ. Maybe a Maserati. My wife in the passenger seat, her hands massaging the soft leather, seat belt wedged between her breasts accenting her cleavage as Avi glanced over approvingly. Pulling out into traffic, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the bare skin of her knee, fingers slowly exploring upward, relishing the smoothness of her skin, the softness of the invisible, downy hairs on her inner thigh. Higher still, her skin becoming warmer, dampish, slightly sticky. Another glance from him. A smile. Terri blushing, but smiling as well.

  Her hand on his, encouraging him further, leading to the discovery she’d planned for him. His killer smile, radiant, and he finds her bare skin, her wet slit. He moves his hand back down her thigh, rests it confidently on her knee.

  The luxury sedan turning off the main road, through an automatic gate, pulling up to a mission-style mansion. She waits for him to open her door, and when he does, she emerges with a generous flash o
f leg and cleavage. Hand on her lower back he leads her inside.

  Tastefully appointed, expensive artwork, the light-colored furniture of a man without children. They sidle over to a heavy, carved wooden bar. She asks for a glass of white wine. He pours himself a scotch. They toast. To new friends.

  Their eyes lock. He moves in confidently, hand cupping her cheek, and they kiss. Deeper this time than out on the street. Tongues swirling. Hers flicking at his lips. He can feel her heat, her hunger. She’s up for anything, and he knows it. But he resists the temptation to push her to her knees or bend her over the barstool. He continues to kiss her, his hands entangled in her silky hair, then sliding down over her body, feeling her slender form, teasing her curves as she melds against him. He breaks the embrace. She looks up at him, aflame and panting.

  He takes her hand and leads her from the living room, up the wide curving staircase to the second floor. Through double door into his master suite. She peers into his bathroom, spying the oversized Jacuzzi tub. He follows her gaze and smiles. There will be time enough for that later. For their first time, he’ll take her on his raised, king-sized bed.

  They pause at the foot of the bed and kiss again. This time his hands are more aggressive, cupping her heavy breasts as he sucks on her lip. She’s ravenous now. She shoves him back and in a quick motion, she lifts her dress up over her head. It messes her hair, and she looks wild. Naked, breasts heaving, eyes flashing. He grins and carefully removes his jacket.

  She kicks off her heels and jumps onto his bed. Her legs parted slightly, shamelessly. She leans back on her elbows and watches him disrobe. He admires her confidently, seeing her excitement, her erect nipples, her glistening snatch, knowing he’s the cause. He’s nearly naked now, and he’s gratified at her expression as he pulls down his boxers and exposes his dark, thick, hard tool. She licks her lips and absentmindedly rubs her pussy.

  He climbs onto the bed and her legs spread instinctively as she drops down onto the mattress. He moves between her creamy white thighs, his jutting prick inches from her steaming pussy. He takes in her body, the flatness of her stomach, the swell of her breasts, the exquisite lines of her neck, the fan of blond hair against his sheets. He runs his thumb between her labia, feeling the heat and wetness of her vagina. His thumb trails across her clit, and she shudders.