by Violet Blue
“That’s right,” he said, and that was plenty to send her whimpering into the stratosphere, her cunt giving a clench around his fingers as she felt more like a whore than she already did. Vanessa loved to be kissed, but she loved even more to be treated like the type of girl who didn’t get kissed.
“Well, I’ve got to do something with my mouth,” she whispered excitedly.
The cuckolder slid his fingers out of her, brought them up to her mouth and eased his hand into her cascade of red hair. He gripped her hair tightly as he forced his fingers in, and Vanessa whimpered. She suckled obediently, licking her cunt off his fingers. As she did, he used both hands to guide her face down to his crotch. His pants were already open, so it was easy to get his jockeys down and take his cock into her mouth. He was even bigger at close range. Vanessa’s lipsticked mouth went working up his shaft, licking precum from his tip and sliding down to tongue his balls. She started sucking with mounting eagerness, her lips circling his shaft as she pumped up and down on him.
After a few minutes she came up for air, panting.
“Now don’t dare come in my mouth,” she said.
“Don’t like the taste?” he asked.
“I love the taste,” she said. “But I wanna fuck.”
“Don’t worry,” said the cuckolder. Vanessa’s mouth went back down on his cock and started working eagerly over him; her tongue lavished affection on the underside as she tried to gauge his arousal from his moans. Promises, promises: the guy could still shoot on her face and never know it was coming… and then she’d be left making cell phone calls at midnight. No one wanted that.
Outside the car, Mark stood smoking, while a growing group of men edged in, a couple wearing trench coats, some in sweats, still others with their peckers out and visible. Mark didn’t do a thing; he just stood there, his cock erect. He glanced at his watch. His breathing quickened.
Vanessa suckled precum off the cuckolder’s cockhead. One hand held his shaft down near the base; with the other, she reached down and began to frig herself.
“God, I’m fucking wet,” she said.
“So do something about it.”
“I think I will,” she smiled, and climbed up onto her knees on the seat. She planted one knee on each side of him and slid herself down on him, using one hand to guide his cock to her pussy. She slid it up and down, looking into his eyes; his lips were tight, and she wanted very badly to kiss him. She felt a wave of erotic tension from knowing she could not. She worked his cockhead into her and said, “Fuck!” as she slid down onto him. He was big; he fit into her only with effort, making her feel fuller than she’d felt in ages. This position made her feel tighter, she knew from experience—or maybe it was just that she liked to use this position in situations where she could choose her cocks like a poor girl at a smorgasbord…and she always chose the big ones.
Mark was startled when the big dark car arrived; the masturbators all around him, seasoned professionals, yelped and scattered like cockroaches. Mark just stood there, watching, and when the plainclothes cop got out and pointed at him, he said, “Oh, fuck,” and then he reached into his pocket and obediently hit the button.
The door locks clicked; the cop reached in and hit his red lights, then opened the door before Vanessa could climb off the cuckolder. In fact, little had changed inside the car; Vanessa still rode him and he never even stopped thrusting.
The cop badged them.
“You mind stepping out of the car?” he said.
“We’re just having a little harmless fun,” said Vanessa.
“Please step out of the car. Both of you.”
Vanessa didn’t climb off the cuckolder; she was still riding him, her tits bare, her breasts brushing his face. He didn’t move to change positions, either.
“Please, officer. Let us finish. I’ll make it worth your while…” Vanessa turned a little toward him so he could get a better look at her tits; the cop appraised them eagerly.
“I mean really worth your while,” she said. “Just let me finish.”
“Officer, please,” said Mark, rushing up to him. “This is my car.”
“Your car? Who are you?”
“Her husband,” said Mark. “We…we meant no harm.”
“We meant no harm? Is this some kind of thing you people do?”
In the cop’s car, the police scanner chirped and crackled: 104 in progress. 17 on West Lincoln. 713 in Durden Heights.
Vanessa was riding the cuckolder with greater ferocity; she worked her pussy up and down on his cock so that the cop could see his shaft outlined against the door lights. The cop could smell her. In fact, Mark could smell her, too; the pungent scent of female sex was wafting out of the car.
“I’m afraid so, officer—”
“It’s detective,” said the cop.
“Detective, I’m sorry. Yes, this is a thing we do. We meant no harm.”
The cop made a disgusted noise. “You drive your wife up to the Point to fuck with strangers?”
“Yes,” said Mark breathlessly.
The cop squared his shoulders, growled: “You probably lick her clean afterward!”
“Yes, sometimes—” Mark began.
“You probably lick him clean afterward!”
“Yes, if he wants it—” gasped Mark.
The cop’s voice had been getting swiftly louder, and now he cried out in a bellow: “You probably warm him up for her!”
“Not this one…but, yes, sometimes—”
“You disgusting little—”
Vanessa rode the cuckolder, crying out as she said, “Oh, god, I think I’m going to cum…. I’m going to turn around and sit on you, jack me off while I ride you, please, baby?”
Vanessa lifted herself off the cuckolder, worked herself around, crowded herself up against the ceiling, steadying herself on the front seat. She spread her legs and nuzzled her cunt up to the cuckolder’s cockhead; at the last moment before taking him into her, she said, “You don’t mind, do you, detective? I don’t want to get our guest in trouble. I’ll still make it worth your while, if you…”
“That won’t be necessary,” the detective said. “You kids go right ahead and fuck. Do her fucking ass for all I care.” He pointed at Mark. “It’s you got some explaining to do, son. You warm your wife’s ‘boyfriends’ up for her?”
“Sometimes, Sir, yes—”
“Does that make your little pecker hard?”
“It does, Sir, yes—”
“Then show me,” snapped the detective.
Trembling, Mark obeyed. He unfastened his belt and unzipped his pants; he took his cock out, displaying it to the detective. It was hard.
The scanner chirped: 213 in progress, South Pendergast. 424 on Washington.
The cop was almost screaming: “You ever warm them up without her?”
Mark bleated: “No, Sir, that would be—”
“That would be what?” thundered the detective. “Show me what it would be, you little bitch!” He pointed angrily to the pink triangle lapel pin affixed to his trench coat, swept the coat open and reached for his belt buckle.
“Show me!” he shouted.
“Y-yes, Sir,” whimpered Mark, dropping to his knees and crawling to the detective. Vanessa let out a cry of pleasure as the cop opened up his pants pulled a half-hard dick out of boxer shorts with badges on them. Mark’s mouth enveloped the thick cockhead and started working up and down as his eyes turned up toward the cop. Without being ordered to, he took a deep breath, nudged the cockhead against his throat, and swallowed easily, taking the cop’s prick all the way into him. He came up for air and slid his tongue from cockhead to base and then to balls; he came up and started sucking again, pumping it down into his throat and then bobbing up and down on it. His eyes took in the sight of the cop’s cruel face; he was grinning savagely as his cock got sucked.
“Yeah, see what that is? It’s smoking pole, you little cocksucker, whether it tastes like your wife’s cunt or my boyfriend’s fu
cking asshole. And you like it, don’t you, pal?”
Mark whimpered.
“I said you like it?” Mark nodded obediently, never letting the cop’s prick leave his mouth. “Yeah, you do it pretty well for someone who needs a skirt to get his cock fix, son. You know what they say down in Q-town—married men give the best head.”
“Yes, Sir,” panted Mark as he worked his way from head to balls, caressing the shaft with his tongue and rubbing it all over his face.
In the car, Vanessa was crying out wildly. The cop leaned into the car and said, “You kids all right?”
“Just fine, Sir,” Vanessa whimpered.
The cuckolder was stroking Vanessa’s clit, his fingers pressed up alongside his big prick. She rode him facing out, moaning wildly as she lifted herself halfway off his cock and then slammed down onto him.
The police scanner chirped and bleated: 445 in progress. 17 at Western Park.
The detective turned back to Mark. “From the looks of it, you don’t mind it one bit—nobody’s putting a gun to your head.” He swept his trench back to reveal his—just to remind everyone he had one.
“No, Sir,” said Mark, slurping audibly.
“Now stroke it off.”
Mark slid his mouth up to the detective’s cockhead and put his hand around the shaft.
“Not mine!” howled the cop. “Yours, cocksucker. Stroke your dick off on my fucking shoes. You better aim, or you’ll be eating dirt.”
Vanessa cried out, moaning, “Come in me. Come inside me, baby. Shoot it in me.”
Mark lowered his cock to his hand and began to stroke rapidly while his mouth worked up and down on the detective’s cock. As he mounted toward orgasm, he could barely suck; uncontrolled moans were coming from his mouth, and so he put his other hand around the detective’s shaft and started pumping.
“Yeah, you can pretend I’m making you do this all you want, just like you pretend she’s making you do it…but you’re gonna spooge my fucking shoes before I fill your fucking mouth, aren’t you? Don’t you fucking dare shoot on the ground, pig, or you’ll eat dirt, so help me god, you’ll eat a cumload’s worth of dirt—”
Mark cried out, leaning over and aiming his cock at the detective’s big black shoes. Cum erupted from his cockhead, spewing over the black leather in streaming spurts. Some squirted into the dirt. Mark looked up at the detective in guilty anticipation.
“Clean later,” said the cop. “Now make me come.”
Mark put his mouth back where it belonged and started stroking the cop rhythmically, feeling his hips pump as he got closer. Inside, Vanessa cried out louder than ever, and the cuckolder erupted in a thundering roar of orgasm; the cop’s prick spurted cum and Mark suckled on it hungrily, his throat muscles working as he swallowed every stream.
“Now clean!” snapped the cop.
Mark licked the cop all over, then lowered himself to the big black shoes and started licking. It was hard to see where every drop of cum had hit, so the cop helpfully pulled out his pocket flashlight and shined it down on Mark.
“You missed a spurt,” he said.
Mark lapped it up.
In the backseat, Vanessa and the cuckolder were still moaning, and Vanessa was performing much the same service on the cuckolder that Mark performed on the detective’s shoes. Mark looked into the car and saw Vanessa’s face bobbing up and down in the cuckolder’s crotch; the detective reached out and slammed the door as Mark put away the cop’s prick and delicately zipped his pants.
The scanner crackled. Unspecified disturbance at the Point, nearby unit please respond.
Unit 226 on the way from Placer Canyon, ETA in five.
“Keep it real, cocksucker,” growled the cop. He walked over to his sedan and climbed in. He started the car and threw it into reverse as Mark sprinted for the driver’s seat. They raced each other down the mountain.
As Mark took the curves at high speed, Vanessa finished cleaning up the cuckolder, put his cock away, and fixed her dress. She sat facing him in his lap, leaning close.
“Same place okay?”
“That’s fine. That wasn’t what I expected.”
“You posted ‘up for anything.’”
“Yeah,” said the cuckolder. “That’ll teach me.”
He kissed her, open-mouthed, with lots of tongue.
A GUY SHE’S NEVER MET
Zach Addams
It’s not like I thought I would end up this way. On the contrary, before I had a girlfriend I always thought I’d be possessive—I would never want to share. I thought when I was madly in love, when I loved a woman more than life itself, I would keep her close, never letting another man near her for fear of losing her. Now I know different. I’ve got the hottest girlfriend in the world, and I’m crazy for her. But as much as I love fucking her, and she loves fucking me, it’s just as hot to watch her spread to get fucked by a guy she’s never met.
That’s the key to what makes my dick so fucking hard; this isn’t someone she’s picked out in the usual manner. Oh, she picked him out, all right…in that special way that, I’m betting, plenty of women would like to pick their men but never get to, because they don’t have boyfriends as cool as me. Maria looked through hundreds, maybe thousands, of pictures of guys’ dicks, without the option to look at their faces. I kept them all catalogued in a spreadsheet for her, so that I could match them to pictures of guys’ faces and be prepared when I met with them.
I had already looked through and discarded the guys who failed to follow instructions. What I needed, as stated in the personal ad I wrote, wasWell-hung studly guy, 20-40, ripped, cut or uncut, to fuck my girlfriend in all holes. Any race. Please be fit and hung. She is 25, brunette, very oral, receptive. Include high-res JPG of your face, one of your dick, and then a picture of both. If we proceed, paperwork will be expected.
The key was to know that the dick was real, the face was real, and they more or less went together. Otherwise, fortysomething guys would send in a picture of themselves at twenty-two, a JPG of Jeff Stryker’s cock, and leave us having been had in more ways than one.
I included seven JPGs of Maria, from the waist down or from behind. In one she had her legs spread, gorgeous smooth shaved cunt exposed. In another she was on hands and knees, her long, lustrous black hair streaming down her back, her legs spread wide and her cheeks parted to show her perfect pink asshole. Another showed her from the side, from her tits to her thighs—gorgeous. In others she was touching herself. It was a nice assortment of pictures; if I’d seen it myself, I would have thought “Bullshit—porn star.” But she’s for real. She’s very much for real.
There were thousands of responses; perhaps two hundred guys could follow instructions. Maria and I had a date to have her look through the cock-only images. The understanding was that she would pick out the guys she wanted me to verify and consider inviting over—not the guys, so much, but the cocks, with no concern over whether the guys would be good looking, kind, gentle, or sexy; she would not worry about whether they would smell good, taste good, or be losing their hair. That would all be my concern. She would focus on one thing and one thing only: Do I want this dick sliding into me? Every time I thought about it, my own dick would get hard, and fucking fast.
We made the selection one Friday night; I made her dinner, poured her wine, complimented her on her dress and told her how good she’d look out of it. We had a long, slow, lush dinner with several more refills of wine and a lot of deep conversation. Then I kissed her, took her hand and led her from the table to the desk. I sat her down, poured her more wine, and put on soft music.
I called up the file with dick photos, pulled over a chair and sat down next to her, my eyes roving from my girlfriend to the cocks of her potential lovers.
She looked nervous at first, but quickly settled into the task.
She sipped red wine. She lingered on each cock, her eyes slowly sliding up and down their fleshy expanses on the twenty-inch computer monitor.
She made
some comments. “I like this one. Nice big thick head. Don’t you think that would feel nice going into me? He’d have to work at it.”
I breathed hard, leaning in to agree.
She took little sips of wine as she considered each one and then slowly paged to the next. “This one’s far too long… If he was thicker, I’d like that, but…you know how I like them wide.”
“I do,” I responded.
She sipped. “Oh, my…this next one looks especially thick… I’m not sure I could do anal with him…and you know I want to do everything.”
When we’d first started the negotiation, she hadn’t wanted to fuck. The original plan was that after meeting the guy and talking with him extensively, she might suck his cock, but never go all the way. Then as we talked more, it became clear that what I really wanted was this—“all holes,” with a stranger, a guy she’d never met. Gradually Maria came around to my way of thinking. Now she was getting as turned on by the idea as I was. I could see her nipples, as she was braless in the thin flowered minidress, stiffening and showing through the fabric. As she leaned forward in the chair I could see the skirt riding up her thighs and knew underneath she was wet.
I had weeded out the small ones; “Well-hung” has many interpretations, but she knows it when she sees it. She had lots to consider. Between lingering, longing looks at the images of strangers’ dicks, Maria would look over at me and smile, seeing my red face, my lips slightly parted, my breath coming quickly. She would lean over and kiss me periodically, and ask my opinion on cocks.
“Do you think this one could fuck my tits? Look at that head… Wouldn’t that look nice shooting cum all over my face?”
“Yeah,” I panted. “That would look good.”
“Oh, this one… I like that he’s so long… You know how I love to have my cervix pounded. When I’m in the mood. You’re going to help me get in the mood, aren’t you, darling?”
“Definitely,” I breathed.
“Oh, wow…this one’s nice. Something about the curve. I think it would hit me in all the right places….”