The Surrogate Master

by Ben Boswell

  “Are you thinking of me or of him?” I asked, two fingers plunging inside her.

  He’d come inside her. Was I feeling that or was it all her?

  “Both,” she sighed.

  “Same,” I replied. “It was hot watching him fuck you.”

  “You watched?” she gasped.

  It hadn’t occurred to me that she might not have realized. Her pussy seemed to get even more soaked.

  “All of it?”

  She began to thrust against me, seemingly trying to get my cock inside her.

  “I saw you ride him. Saw you open yourself for him. Saw him come inside you.”

  “Oh God,” she moaned.

  She tried to roll on top of me, but it was important for some reason for me to be on top. We wrestled a little, and then she seemed to surrender. I spun her onto her back and settled between her legs. She pulled at my cock, pressing it against her hot, sticky snatch. I would have liked to tease her, but I couldn’t resist. I buried myself inside her.

  “Mmmm, that’s nice,” I said, relishing the feel of her heat. She was still nice and tight, even though I’d seen how thoroughly stretched out she had been by his big cock. It is a feminine miracle that no matter how many men a woman’s had, it still feels perfect when you thrust inside.

  She wrapped her legs around my waist, at once opening herself wide and at the same time pulling me close. I attacked her neck, sucking, licking. She gasped open mouthed. I nibbled on her ear lobe.

  “He fucked you right here,” I breathed.

  “I know.”

  “Right in our bed. You had another man’s cock inside you.”

  “Yesssss,” she hissed.

  I felt her pussy spasm on my prick. As she crested, I felt her tense. I looked at her anxious expression.

  “I love you,” I reassured her, ramming her hard, another form of reassurance.

  “I love you,” she replied. “I love you, Max.”

  “I love you,” I said again, hammering her hard, over and over until I felt my body tense and then euphoria as I came inside her.

  I rolled off her, breathing hard. “Well, that’s a new one for you,” I said. “You’ve sucked off two guys in one night before, but this is the first time you’ve fucked two guys in the same night.”

  She laughed. “You’re weird, Max.”

  “See, we both have our flaws.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  We had both enjoyed the evening with Tommy. Rachel’s guilt kept kicking in, and I kept reassuring her. I didn’t know if that was the right approach. I didn’t want to turn the illicit into the licit, lest it lose the thrill. But at the same time, I couldn’t let her beat up on herself.

  I asked Tommy for advice, but he was on radio silence all of a sudden. He was also not responding to Rachel. There was one absurd evening where the two of us sat together wondering if somehow we’d offended him. I was getting pissed off. What was wrong with the guy if he didn’t want to stay in touch and maybe screw my wife again? Rachel was having similarly weird thoughts.

  After four days he began returning emails.

  –We’re still good.

  –Where’ve you been?

  –You needed time to digest it. How did it go after I left?

  –Great. We’ve been bonding over feeling dumped by you.

  –I like you guys. I will definitely miss you both when it is time to move on.

  I puzzled over that one. One of my worries had been that he wouldn’t move on, that we were stuck with him. And yet, I didn’t want to not be stuck with him. I liked having him in our lives, even the part where he came over and screwed my wife.

  –Tell me the plan.

  –That’s not how it works. I told you, there is no set of rules, no roadmap.

  –But you said you would move on.

  That’s not a plan. That’s an outcome. You don’t want me to be forever in your lives, do you?

  I wrote back that I didn’t. I tried to get him to explain things, but he wouldn’t, not in any detail. So we kept writing, him even more with Rachel, though I kept my promise not to pry.

  Rachel and I seesawed. Most days were good. Somehow that weird sense of having to act normal dissipated, dispersing that particular oppressiveness. I’m not sure we were at the point of letting our freak flags fly, but we weren’t desperately trying to hide them either.

  At the same time, I didn’t feel like the passions of that evening with Tommy were still accessible. When we’d first climbed into bed after he left, it seemed oddly natural to invoke his presence to excite her. As every day passed, that seemed harder and harder to do, the passion more and more distant, the strangeness of it more and more palpable. After a couple of weeks, mentioning that Tommy had been in our bed seemed as alien as suddenly confessing a fetish for scat play.

  -----

  It was almost a relief when, after three weeks, Tommy announced his interest in a new get-together. I didn’t know if he’d mentioned it to Rachel, so I didn’t dare raise it. She felt the same way, leading to a daylong Kabuki where we both traded hints hoping to elicit the other’s support.

  I finally broke down, “So did Tommy mention next week?”

  She sighed in relief, but answered, “We don’t have to.”

  I laughed. Of course we didn’t have to, but I wondered about the weird game we were playing where we pretended it might not happen, where we acted as if it were not a foregone conclusion we’d invite him to again join us. Not for the first time, I bemoaned our inability to be honest and communicate fully. In a strange way, that seemed more ominous to me than the fact that Rachel periodically wanted or needed to be fucked by a rough stranger. Good grief, what was wrong with me?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  As before, we’d shipped off the kids to my folks. Rachel had learned from before and was wearing a short wrap-dress, high heels, and nothing else. We’d sat together and planned the outfit, and I watched as she draped it on, watching the fabric cling to her curves, knowing she was wearing nothing underneath. We joked about him using the spoon, though we actually hadn’t seen it since his last visit.

  But Tommy’s arrival was anything but what we’d expected. He didn’t come alone.

  His partner was a woman, Donna, probably in her early thirties. He hadn’t mentioned to me that he was bringing a guest, and from Rachel’s reaction she was blindsided as well. But to me it was a pleasant surprise. Donna was a cutie, her straight blown hair in a bob with bangs, heavy mascara applied to bring out her big, blue eyes. She was wearing a black scoop neck tee, exposing her generous cleavage, and tight skinny jeans that left little to the imagination.

  Knowing the nature of the relationship, I knew that before too long either I’d be fucking her, or Rachel would, or Tommy would. I was okay with all of those. Looking at Rachel, I could see her making the same analysis, but coming to the opposite conclusion.

  Tommy introduced the two women, “How about a little kiss?”

  Donna leaned in and tried to give my wife a kiss, but Rachel flinched and backed away at the last second. Donna grinned evilly.

  “You’re right, Donna,” Tommy said reading her expression, “It looks like she’d rather feel the spoon than a pair of soft lips. Let’s try that again,” he insisted.

  Donna again leaned in close and this time, Rachel successfully fought the urge to withdraw. The kiss itself was almost anticlimactic, just a little peck on the lips, but with the promise of more implicit in it.

  As they broke contact, I noticed Rachel looking down. I realized this was not going as she’d planned or maybe hoped. She’d have been happier with a repeat of our last encounter, a little light domination, some sexy talk, a good fucking. Now she was uncertain, unsure where this might go.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I offered.

  As before, Tommy replied looking at Rachel. “Beer for me. Wine, white if you have it, for Donna.”

  He glanced over at me. “Uh, beer for me too.”

  Rachel n
odded and poured the drinks as I led Donna over to the family room to sit. Our house is laid out with the back half open into a single great room comprising the kitchen, dining area, and family room, so we could all see and hear each other even though Tommy remained back in the kitchen with Rachel. Rachel brought us the drinks, giving me a hard glare. I raised my eyebrow questioningly. What was her problem? She could, like me, call an end to this whenever she wanted.

  I looked over at Donna, smiling at me with disconcerting frankness. She, at least, knew what was up and was clearly game for anything. Knowing I would soon be seeing this strange, and very attractive, woman in a sexual situation made it hard for me to speak. I noticed her wedding band.

  “Where is your husband?”

  She laughed softly, “Back home where we left him, right Tommy?”

  Tommy chuckled. “Unless he managed to untie himself.”

  I looked from one to the other. Were they joking? Is that what he had in mind for me? Was that where this was leading, Rachel inducted into Tommy’s harem, taken away from me periodically for fun games while I remained behind? I didn’t like that idea. I felt myself flush with anger.

  Over in the kitchen, Tommy was hovering close to my wife. “Oh, come on Rachel, you really expect me to believe you’ve never been with another woman.”

  She shook her head briskly.

  “Not even a little kissy-kissy on the dance floor for attention.”

  “No. It’s… not my scene.”

  He laughed. “No, I guess it isn’t. No real ambiguity when you decide to play. You just walk up to a guy and breathe hard until he takes the hint.”

  She shook her head, but didn’t respond. What was she going to say? That was basically how she’d described it herself. She glanced over at Donna, apparently embarrassed more than anything else that this stranger was hearing her predilections.

  Donna was clearly amused by all of this. She drained her wine and then went into the kitchen for a refill, making sure to brush against Rachel as she did, who jolted as if scalded. I adjusted my pants. The thought of Donna and my wife, naked, making out or more was indeed scalding. But again, I had my doubts. How was this contributing to… to whatever the fuck we were doing?

  We sat down to dinner, Tommy filling in Donna on his last visit. Rachel continued to blush red. When he got to the part where she’d fingered her own butt, Rachel finally broke down.

  “Do we need to do this?” she said, rising and clearing away the dishes.

  “You’re not ashamed, are you?” he asked, amused.

  “No. Just embarrassed to share it with… her. I didn’t know we’d be having guests,” she replied as she began to fill the dishwasher.

  Donna put her hand to her heart and feigned taking offense.

  “But Donna is central to our plans this evening.”

  Rachel stood upright and shook her head. “I told you, I… that’s not my scene.”

  “But you’ll do it if I tell you to, won’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” my wife replied softly.

  Donna’s eyes flashed with excitement.

  Tommy stood and walked behind Rachel, resting his strong hands on her shoulders. “Rachel, Rachel, Rachel, how you disappoint me.”

  He ran his hands down her sides and cupped her ass through her dress, his thumb rubbing the spot where he’d beaten her the last time. She flinched.

  “Has it healed completely?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but he didn’t give her the chance.

  “Let’s take a look,” he said as he firmly bent her over the table. He lifted up her dress and exposed her hard ass. His fingers found the right spot and pressed. She flinched, but didn’t gasp. “I think you need a reminder,” he said giving her ass a firm whack with his palm.

  He looked over at Donna. “Hey, beautiful, why don’t you take Max back into the living room and keep him entertained while I, um, discuss things with Rachel.”

  I looked down at my wife, bent over the table, her ass in the air. She was giving me a boner-shriveling glare.

  Donna cleared her throat and when I looked over, she casually lifted off her tee shirt, exposing her big, firm boobs. She kicked off her pumps and as I watched, mesmerized, she shimmied out of her jeans, setting those heavy tits jiggling. Standing there in bare feet, naked, fully shaved, she was a small slice of heaven, a compact package, at most 5’2” and all tits and ass.

  WHACK!

  I looked behind me to see Tommy wielding the spoon against my wife’s shapely bottom. Where had that fucking thing come from?

  WHACK!

  “Oww,” she whined.

  “You forgot to count.”

  WHACK!

  “One,” she hissed.

  Donna seized my hand and with surprising strength she hauled me into the living room, not that I was planning to resist despite Rachel’s angry stare.

  Tommy continued to spank my wife’s ass. She continued to scowl at me. But I was barely paying attention because Donna had wrenched down my pants, shoved me onto the sofa, and was presently bobbing up and down on my hard prick.

  I tried to imagine the scene now. Was Tommy trying to show Rachel how much pain she’d caused me when she’d cheated? I couldn’t imagine him pursuing such a prosaic and obvious approach.

  He gave her another nine strokes. The last few sounded particularly hard, with the spoon whipping audibly through the air before exploding on my wife’s ass. She cried out plaintively, and I had to remind myself that she could deploy the safe word whenever she wanted.

  She was shaking and shivering when he finished. Donna had crawled up on the sofa beside me, and I was caressing her ass as she sucked me. My hand ran across the ornate compass rose she had tattooed above her crack. Tommy was mirroring my actions with my wife’s ass.

  “Do you like watching another girl blow your man?” Tommy taunted.

  “No,” Rachel replied curtly.

  “Some would call you a selfish bitch.”

  She tried to rise. He shoved her back down onto the table. “I didn’t tell you to get up.”

  WHACK!

  “Eleven,” she whined.

  “You could learn a thing or two from Donna,” he teased.

  Donna looked up from sucking my cock and gave Rachel a sickly sweet smile. Rachel gave her the finger.

  WHACK!

  “Twelve,” Rachel cried out, but I could tell she’d considered that one well worth it.

  “Give those titties a good squeeze,” Tommy suggested. “You probably haven’t gotten your hands on some hangers in a long time.”

  I nodded, ignoring Rachel’s displeasure. I reached down and cupped Donna’s big tits, feeling her long nipple slipping through my fingers. She moaned around my cock and I squeezed her tits more roughly. Her hands began massaging my balls, her tongue swirling around my cock.

  I realized too late how far along I was. “Oh God,” I groaned by way of warning. Donna sucked harder, giving me no choice. I came hard, filling her mouth with jism.

  The moment I was done, she rose off me. I groaned in disappointment. I would have loved to get soft and then stiffen again in her mouth. But it was still a treat to see her bubble butt swaying seductively as she walked back toward the kitchen.

  I saw Rachel’s eyes widen in sudden understanding.

  “Time for another kiss,” Tommy ordered.

  “No,” Rachel shook her head, “no.”

  WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

  “Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen,” Rachel called out instinctively.

  “I can do this all night,” Tommy warned.

  Donna lowered her head toward my wife. Slowly, grudgingly Rachel turned her head to the side. The little brunette dipped lower, flashing me a shot of her swollen cunt. Their faces approached, slowly, slowly, and then suddenly Donna lunged out and seized the back of Rachel’s head and kissed her hard, her tongue forcing its way into my wife’s mouth, a mix of spit and cum dripping from their linked mouths.

  Just as qu
ickly, Donna broke the embrace and Rachel looked around, at Donna, at Tommy, and at me with a dazed look in her eyes. And then suddenly her eyes fluttered and I saw Tommy’s hand churning between her legs, plunging wetly into her soaked pussy.

  He looked up at Donna. “Go get cleaned up,” he said as he continued to molest my wife’s twat. I watched the little brunette disappear up the stairs. I realized with an excited shudder that our evening had only just begun.

  -----

  I had sort of expected Tommy to screw Rachel bent over the table. I’m not sure I could have resisted it, nor would I have begrudged him had he done it. But he didn’t. After another few minutes of churning his fingers into her wet pussy, he pulled away, eliciting a disappointed sigh from my wife. Was it weird that I found her disappointment at not getting fucked more difficult to handle than the reality of her being with another man? A weird psychological dynamic, but no less real for its unexpectedness.

  Rachel pulled herself together, casting anxious glances upstairs at where the interloper had disappeared. We opened another bottle of wine and settled down in the living room. As before, Tommy positioned himself on the sofa, and Rachel sat next to him. And as before, his hand immediately went to her knees and began to caress her thigh. Tommy managed the down time with easy, manly banter. This time he talked about a sailboat he was thinking about buying.

  Donna wasn’t gone long. But when she returned she was wrapped in Rachel’s favorite bathrobe. Oh, fuck, $250 down the drain. No way would Rachel ever wear that thing again. The annoyed look on Rachel’s face seemed to confirm as much. I stopped thinking about it when Donna sat down in my lap on the recliner.

  “Do you two ever fuck on this?” Donna asked matter-of-factly.

  “No,” I replied, realizing that was likely to change momentarily.

  Tommy’s easy fondling of my wife encouraged me to slip my hand inside the bathrobe. I’d done that many times, of course, with Rachel, but delighted in the sensation of another woman’s body in there. Donna’s body was so warm and inviting, soft and curvy. It occurred to me that I might be willing to share Rachel if it meant that I could have sex with Donna on a regular basis. So was that the game? Did Donna even have another husband tied up somewhere, or was she married to Tommy? Had we just been recruited into a swinger cult?