CHAPTER 8: In the Closet
When I opened my eyes they had arranged themselves in the room next to the bed.
Summer gave him the seductive smile, and traced her pink tongue over her upper lip. Slowly. She was looking right at him.
Her hand moved down her dress. It was tight against her body until it flared at the bottom, and it was impossible not to watch her shapely hand as it followed her curves, like she was giving a preview of all the places he could go.
Then her other hand fell to her side, and they both lifted the dress from the bottom.
It peeled from her body in one smooth motion, turning inside out as rose up. First her thighs, shapely and feminine, ending in white lace and satin boy-cut panties, so thin that I could see the dark mahogany of her curls through the material. Up went the dress, and her stomach appeared.
Her breasts, encased in matching white satin and lace, filled the cups of her bra and were pressed together as she pulled the dress over her head. They were toffee-colored from her tan and the light of the late Roman evening. When she shook the dress away, her hair spilled over her shoulders, equally silky and shiny, like her lingerie.
Sandro had moved closer to her, and I could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. He pulled his own shirt off, and I was treated to the view of his toned and muscled back. I watched Summer's eyes moved over his body with pleasure.
She moved, in two neat steps, back to the bed, and tucked her knees underneath of her to get onto it in a kneeling position. Her eyes were on Sandro's face now, probably meeting his own eyes. She was reeling him in like a very big fish.
But Sandro, I knew, needed no extra reeling. He could see what I could see: the round, full flesh that filled the white satin cups, the hips that held up the silky panties, just barely. He knew what was underneath them, and that he would feel her pussy wrapped around his cock, wet and hot, in just a few minutes.
Could this actually be happening?
Sandro was unbuckling his belt with one hand. With the other he reached behind Summer's head and worked his big, strong fingers into her hair. He pulled on her hair to tip her head back, to face his gaze.
Summer, who had only moments before been the leader of this seduction, was now being taken into his control. I knew how it happened; I had seen it before. Sandro the snake-charmer, Sandro the alpha wolf. Sandro with his blue eyes that let nothing and no one escape.
Summer responded by opening her mouth lightly, and smiling. But her own power was gone. It was plain to see that now Sandro would be the one to call the shots. And Summer loved it. She was giving herself over to him completely.
I knew the look. Sabrina's face, as it had also changed, was burned forever in my mind.
Now I wanted to stand up and knock down the crazy closet door. A dark turn had taken place, and I was feeling more pain than pleasure turning in my chest. Click, click, click, like a medieval torture device, and now I had clicked too far.
But it was too late, and I could see that. Nothing would come of stopping them now. Summer was seduced, just like that. Just like all women were seduced by Sandro.
Maybe it was nature. We were all just programmed to play the sexual role we were meant to play, and there was something about Sandro that no one could fight against or resist. Because he was the better man, he was the alpha male. Look at him. His David-like body, his blond hair, his blue eyes. He was strong and healthy and perfectly symmetrical. He should get whatever mate he wanted.
Summer gasped in one of those hyper-sexualized, porno gasps, and her mouth broke open in a welcoming smile.
Sandro let his pants fall to the floor.
I watched Summer's eyes as they fell, like autumn leaves, stopping here and there on the chiseled body, before they landed on his cock. His big, perfectly-shaped, cock.
She reached out with her hands to hold it. Her white hand squeezed him through the silky material of his boxers, and she opened her mouth in an even wider, even more pleased smile.
I rubbed my eyes. The image was burning like acid. I could not believe I was seeing this. I watched Sandro's fingers moving over Summer's skin – my Summer – and as they inched down her body to the hem of her panties, I felt like I was being flayed.
What's more, I couldn't tear myself away from what I saw.
Sandro peeled away his boxers, and his thick, long, Italian cock sprung forward. Summer's hand immediately grasped it, and she gave him a gasp of pleasure again. I could see her hand on his shaft, barely able to wrap around the circumference.
Not like me, I reminded myself, not sure what I was doing. Not like my cock that she could easily grasp in her hand with her fingers on her palm.
Sandro's was the biggest cock I had ever seen or imagined, even after so many years of watching porn. It had not changed since it had been seared into my memory the night he had taken Sabrina from me. It matched his physique of masculinity and perfection: his muscles were huge, veined, enormous, and so was his cock.
The cock my wife now held in her hand with a smile.
My eyes were glued to Summer's hand. She began to move it, rubbing it back and forth, from base to tip, making a neat little circle over his head, like she had done with me. I looked at her face. She was staring straight into Sandro's eyes, as though she had no idea I was there. Was she teasing me now? Making me want her to look at me? Or had she forgotten about completely when she took Sandro's big cock into her hand.
“You like that, little girl?” Sandro groaned.
Summer leaned closer to him. Her voice was serious, and edged with a feral sexiness when she said: “I love. Italian. Sausage.”
It should have been funny, but it didn't make Sandro laugh, nor me. His cock flexed in her hand.
I watched in horror as she backed her knees and legs out behind her, coming to a position on all fours that gave me a stunning view of her tits, hanging below Sandro's ass. There was just enough of an angle that I could still see half of her face, looking up at him. Seducing him. Her mouth was opening...her red, full mouth. Her wet mouth, and all of the hot, soft flesh inside of it.
I closed my eyes. I tried to tell myself again that the best thing to do was not to watch. Did I really want to see my wife suck on Sandro's enormous cock?
When I opened my eyes my pulse raced, and all of my blood gushed directly into the tip of my own throbbing cock. I could feel the precum oozing out of the end of it, like one painful, slow orgasm. Summer had her mouth stretched open, and her lips were wrapped around the base of Sandro's huge dick.
She had just opened up and taken it all in.
I stared at her lips, spread over him, her lower lip against his ball sack.
I love. Italian. Sausage.
She began to bob her head back and forth, slurping and gulping and licking and sucking at his cock like it was the greatest thing she had ever put in her mouth. She bestowed so much attention on it that I almost forgot that Sandro was even in the room. I just watched her mouth and her lips, working their way all along his shaft, kissing his thick Italian snake of a dick. She licked at him like a kitten while he sucked in his breath. She swallowed him whole, and the bulge of his cock pressed out of her neck and moved down her throat.
The deepest cut came from her eyes, which she lifted submissively to him. Meeting his eyes, letting him consume her. Sucking his cock with her eyes locked on his.
How long did this go on? It seemed like forever. I was dripping precum and holding my cock like it was injured, trying not to burst.
Sandro, unable to take her teasing any longer, grabbed her suddenly. He lifted her up by her hair to a standing position. He ripped her panties away, shredding the fine lace with a single jerk. He turned her around and pushed her forward onto the bed.
This is when Summer finally treated me to one of her smiles.
He'll like it rougher than that, I remembered her saying.
I wondered if they had been fucking all along. Rehearsing. Rehearsing my humiliation. Laughing at me together.
Summer smiled for me, and winked. She licked her lips, but I wasn't sure if it was Sandro or for me. Her eyes were turned toward him now, pulling him in.
My eyes moved to where Sandro's hands had gone.
He was behind her, and he had his fingers dipping into her pussy. She closed her eyes and mewled.
She was dripping wet. The sides of her upper thighs were smeared with her juices. Through Sandro's legs I could see his fingers, nimble chef's fingers, pulling apart the lips of her pussy with expert ease. His forefinger had found her clit, and pinched it outward so that the rawest part was exposed to his fingertips.
Summer made a sound I had never heard before.
Just like Sabrina, she was gushing and twisting in his hands, reduced to a puddle by his expert fingers.
She bit her lip, and tossed her hair. I watched for the second time as Sandro turned a woman I loved into a panting, stamping, whinnying horse.
He slid his wet fingers up, up to the little circle of her ass.
She wouldn't.
She arched her back, and moved her ass up higher for him. Toward him. His finger moved in a sweet circle around her contracting anus. As he did, it seemed to open for him like a magic door.
I knew he was looking down at her, sweaty and panting like an untamed mare, and thinking about how easy it was to make her open up for him. To claim her, and fill her up with his cum in any hole he wanted.
My cock was going to rip open. There was a puddle of precum on the chair now.
Summer crawled forward onto the bed, allowing Sandro to place his knees on the edge. So he could get inside of her with that big cock.
She reached her hand behind her and found it, stroking it like she couldn't bear to stop touching it.
“Fuck me,” she breathed. “Put that big cock inside of me and fuck me full of your cum.”
Then she lowered her head to the bed, and turned it slightly, so she was looking toward the closet. Toward me. But her hands moved from behind her knees, up her thighs, and to her ass.
She was pulling herself open for him.
For a moment Sandro, too, took some time to enjoy the view: her oak-highlighted hair spread out over the sheets, a few strands stuck to her skin by sweat. Her perfect ass, rounder than ever, tilted to him in an act of utter submission. Her hands on her buttocks, pulling apart her flesh to spread open the dripping pink flower and her tiny, virgin asshole. All of them glistening with her juices. Swollen with her excitement. Feverishly hot.
Sandro held his cock, and moved it over her clit, making her twist and beg a little. “Oh god,” she said. Please just fuck me!”
When he began to push the tip of his cock inside of her, she squinted her eyes and opened her mouth, crying out in agonized pleasure.
“Oh!” she squealed. “Oh, oh, oh it's so big! This is just what I wanted!”
Was that for me? Or was it just what she wanted?
“Oh, yes. Oh fuck, your cock feels good,” she said. Her voice scraped away at my heart, licking at the inside of my ribs with torturous pain.
Summer moaned and howled as Sandro sank deeper and deeper into her. I could see her pussy stretch out, the petal deforming into pencil-thin pink lines as the hard cock pushed them open. Further and further, filling her up and gaping her pussy wide. Then he moved slowly inside of her, and his fat, hairy balls crashed gently against her clit. She was so wet the juices were soaking his scrotum with cum.
Summer moaned, her hands picking up fistfuls of the sheets.
Could they have planned this, to make it look so much like the past? The similarities were awful and beautiful all at once.
In and out, purple cock against her pink and white skin. Every sound of his cock moving through her slippery, pussy splattered around the tiled room more than once. And for a few minutes there was only that: the pumping of Sandro's cock in and out of my wife, and the slippery sounds of her engorged, wet cunt.
“Come for me,” Sandro said, and it was like I had been taken back in time. “Come for me and get my cock wet. I'm going to fuck you in the ass, and you want my cock to be wet, don't you?”
I didn't know if I was seeing Sandro with Sabrina, or Sandro with my wife. If I was watching my life disintegrate now, or twenty years ago.
Until Sandro took the palm of his hand, and slapped Summer's ass. “Ride it!” he said.
Did he know I was here? Would he turn around and sneer at me as my wife obeyed his command, and rose to all fours to work herself over his cock?
Summer began to pump furiously at him, and the whine in the back of her throat built up to a scream as she plunged herself over his cock until she arched her back and threw her head back. I watched as her creamy cum pushed through her stretched pussy lips and onto Sandro's cock.
She fell onto the bed, and I froze in utter disbelief as her hand came back, over the top of her hip. Her long fingers worked their way into her pussy, and then up to her ass.
“Put your finger in,” Sandro said, holding his cock close to her opening.
Summer howled while she inflicted the pain upon herself, pushing her finger into her tight ass. Sandro placed his other hand on her ass-cheek, holding her still and open for his viewing pleasure. He dipped his own fingers in her welling pussy, and used her cum to get his cock shiny and wet.
He moved her hand to the small of her back, and pressed it there so she would know to leave it.
The tip of his cock, thick and blunt, had to make several attempts as Summer moaned on the bed. And then, like a flower opening, her anus unlocked, and his cock slid in as she screamed into the pillow.
Her feet were together, as though they were bound, and they twisted in discomfort, and probably pain, as the long shaft went deeper and deeper inside of her.
“That's it,” Sandro said. “Just relax.”
Her feet stopped their twisting, and Sandro began to move as Summer lay still, giving herself over to him as he began to pound her ass. He started slowly, opening her up, breaking her in.
But as she lay there taking it, letting Sandro fill her up in the most intimate hole, the place I had never been, he started to fuck her harder. I watched the slab of his cock as it stretched her open. I imagined the pain she was enduring for his pleasure. I could feel it in my own ass.
I took my own cock in my hand when Summer looked back at he closet. How she found my eyes, I do not know. “Fuck me full of that cum,” she breathed.
The smack of her skin sounded like a spanking as he rammed his cum into her ass.
“Fill my ass up with your cum!” she screamed.
“Say it again,” Sandro growled. “Say my name.”
“Sandro,” she said. “Sandro, fill my ass up with cum!”
I was gone as soon as the first syllable of his name left her lips, but my eye never left the sight of her ass being pummeled full of his cum. Not as he yelled and smashed himself so deep inside of her I though his cock might emerge from her throat. Not as he gripped her ass and jerked his final spurts of cum inside of her. Not as the now-rubbery snake slithered out of her hole.
There it was, wide and gaping: a red, swollen ring around a black, open hole. And out of it gushed Sandro's cum. He held her open, as though he knew he had an audience, and watched his seed snake from her anus to her pussy, where it mingled with her own frothy cum.
Summer fell onto the bed, turning around. Her silky bra still held her breasts up, in a display reminiscent of a bride. My hand was wet with cum, and I was trying hard not to breathe too loudly and give myself away.
Summer was panting. She smiled at Sandro and pushed her hair from her face. “You had better go,” she said finally. “Before Ben gets home.”
Sandro, an expert at leaving a bedroom quickly, had already stepped into his boxers by the time she finished her sentence. He put on his jeans, but he climbed onto the bed and covered my wife with his body. He grabbed a handful of her full breasts, and kissed her mouth passionately.
Then he hopped up and slipped his s
hirt on, all in one fluid movement.
“Ciao, bella,” he said. “See you Monday.”
CHAPTER 9: Aftermath
Of all the images that stayed with me afterward, one that surfaced the most was of Summer's stretched and tender asshole, dripping Sandro's white cum into the hungry mouth of her pussy. I lay awake all night, face up, playing out the images I had just seen on the blankness of the ceiling.
After the door had clicked closed, my wife had propped herself up on the sheets and looked at the closet expectantly. She had a pleased smile on her lips, but when I didn't move from the closet, it soured a little.
She slid to the end of the bed, and moved her hands between her sodden thighs. I watched, unable to move, as she moved her fingers to her clit, and pulled the lips of her pussy open for me to see.
“I'm still not done yet,” she purred. “Don't you want to come and get the leftovers?”
I had no idea where she got this stuff from, or how she knew that it would prick me in exactly the right way. How did she know that the word leftovers, leaving her lips as she sat at the edge of the bed with another man's cum dripping from her stretched cunt, with the images of her face twisted in ecstasy burned in my mind and the sounds of her moans still echoing in my head, would make my cock twitch again?
The weight of the man who fucked my wife being Sandro was lodged in my chest, but my wife's fingers slipping and sliding in the wetness of her pussy went straight to my dick like an elixir. As bewitched as she herself was by Sandro, I rose in a trance-like state, and opened the closet door.
She looked at my cock, and took in the wetness on my boxers, which still hung around my knees. Disappointment flickered, very quickly like a flame, across her face. It was a brief second of disdain, but it scorched me to the core.
“Do you think you can get it up for me again? Can you satisfy me?” she said.
I moved toward her.
“Keep talking,” I whispered.
“It will be very, very hard to fill me up now,” she said, and her eyes looked down to my cock and quickly back up at my face. “You were supposed to wait. After all I did for you, and you couldn't even do that...” her voice trailed off and she ended with a tisk.
The Hotwife Summer Page 7