Zane 2 (Pleasure Extraordinaire: Part 2)

by Liv Bennett

  “Yeah. Your drilled ass got two million hits, baby. Two million men jacked off imagining being in my place.”

  “Matt, what did you do?” The feeling of disgust isn’t enough to pull me away from the upcoming explosion, and I come hard, squeezing his cock with violent pulsations of my sex.

  “Fuck, baby. I love how your pussy sucks my cock. Don’t move. Don’t fucking move an inch.” He thrusts deep and stays frozen as his cock throbs and squirts inside of me.

  *

  “What the hell did you do?” I yell in the living room, wrapped up in my bathrobe. I feel like a slut, robbed of my innocence.

  “It’s nothing. Come on, I’ll show you.” Matt, now fully clothed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, grabs his phone, taps on it and then sits beside me on the red loveseat. He slips the phone into my palm and lifts my hand so I can see the shameless visualization of his sexual power over me, generously presented to millions of perverts around the world.

  It’s a five-minute video of Matt fucking my ass doggy-style. My boobs float forward and backward with each plunge, but the most embarrassing thing to note is my pathetic screams. Matt wanted me to beg for his cock while thrusting into me that time, and I’m apparently very good at delivering whatever he wishes and moaned, “Harder, fuck me, I want your cock deep inside my ass,” over and over again throughout the video.

  “Look, no one will know it’s you. It’s not like you had sex with another man other than me. No one has seen your ass upfront. So why do you worry, unless you lied to me about being virgin?”

  “Jesus, Matt. You’re the only man I’ve been with. Don’t you remember I bled after our first time?”

  “I do, baby. I was just trying to make a point. I love you; I adore your body. I’m fucking proud of being the only man who’s seen you naked and fucked you. But this, ahh! All these motherfucker losers are jealous of me. They’d give their lives to be able to penetrate inside of you like I do every fucking day.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “Disgusting? Read the comments and see what really disgusting is.”

  I scroll down and read the first three comments before turning my head to the other side with disgust, feeling sick to my stomach.

  I’d fuck that ass till it bleeds.

  Bet she can take two cocks at once into that ass.

  Hey, gorgeous, you’re welcome to our gang-rape party. We’ll make sure all your holes are filled up with hard dicks for hours.

  “This is seriously fucked up. Take that video down right now,” I order.

  “No can do, baby. I want you to read all the comments next time when I fuck you. I want to see you blush as you find out what men really think of you and your tight, little ass.”

  “I most definitely won’t do that.”

  “Yes, you will.” He grasps my wrist and yanks the hem of my bathrobe away, baring me naked before his angry eyes, and slides a finger between my thighs, pushing it inside my entrance.

  “No, Matt. I just came twice. Give me some time to recover.”

  “No, I want you to be ready for the next round. Now!”

  I whimper as his fingers graze over my worn-out flesh. “I can’t do it. I’m tired.” This time I really am, but that fact seems to only turn him on more.

  “Get down and suck my dick, you little whore.” He pushes my head down to his flaccid cock and guides it into my mouth, while working up my sex with his fingers as we sit on the loveseat. He smells of the cologne I bought for him on our eighth anniversary despite the shower he just took. His cock is almost tasteless at first, then salty as it grows inside my mouth and spills pre-cum. I suck him with focus and effort, aiming to make him come quickly so he won’t have the desire to fuck me again and force me into reading those disgusting comments.

  I feel his hand fist at the back of my head and I’m jerked up facing him with a sudden pull of my hair. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” He grits his teeth with anger. “Get on your knees.”

  I do as he says and turn around so I face the back of the loveseat while my ass is up in the air toward him. I’m afraid with the anger he’s sporting, he’ll plunge into my anus without caring about hurting me. As much as I love having anal sex with him, it’s partly because he’s always been cautious and gentle so as not to cause any pain.

  I consider begging for his mercy to calm him down, but previous experience tells me he never calms down, I guess because anger turns him on better than anything else, and requesting him to calm down is for him equivalent to denying him the pleasure that’s awaiting him.

  “Don’t hurt me,” I whisper only.

  He has never physically hurt me, unless he asked me in advance for my permission to give me pain, and even so it was very slight, a faint feeling of stinging. But he also had never wanted to share me with another man. The video proves just the contrary. Today he gets turned on by the men drooling over a video of us fucking, who knows what might get Matt crazy for sex tomorrow?

  “Here.” He hands me the phone and grabs a bottle of lube from the drawer of the coffee table, squirting a generous amount in his palm and spreading it on his now-hard cock. He’s not dipping into my vagina as he usually does to lube himself for anal. Why is that? Does he want to relive the video while imagining dozens of men watching us? “Start reading.”

  I read the first comments again and stop as I feel his cock lying in the crack of my buttocks. His hands massage my back opening and clit with gentle strokes and he moves his hips forward and backward, making his penis slide deliciously against my skin. My sex wakes up almost instantly with his touches.

  “Continue,” he orders and I go back to reading.

  Dig it deep inside that dirty bitch.

  Cock too big for her.

  Matt laughs and pushes the head of his cock slowly inside my opening.

  Sweet ass and pussy. Perfect tits. I continue reading, while he rubs my clit. It seems, the more he fucks me, the faster I can come, and this time won’t be any different.

  I jacked off from start to finish.

  I wish this guy fucked my gf while I’m watching.

  He stills and asks me to repeat the line. When I read it, he asks me, “What do you think of that? Would you lend me to him to give it to his girlfriend?”

  “Never,” I yell and turn my head to glance back at him to show my own anger.

  He laughs and orders me to stop reading, and his cock slides deeper inside of my ass. “Wouldn’t you want to see how talented your husband is on another woman?”

  “No,” I repeat. “You can’t have sex with another woman. Our marriage will be over if you do, and that’s the end of the discussion.”

  “I won’t fuck another woman behind your back. But I can fuck you and another hot chick at the same time. You know I have the physical power to satisfy two ladies.”

  I don’t speak.

  “Think about it; first I’ll fuck you in front of her, making her wild and expectant for her turn, then I’ll take her hard as you recover from your own climax.”

  “No, no, and no!”

  “Ahh, my greedy little kitten won’t share. Okay, as you wish. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  The talk must be too arousing for him, because he erupts into me in under one minute; a record for him since he normally likes to prolong his time inside of my ass.

  Dropping his heavy body on the loveseat, he pulls me over to him, his eyes focused on something in the ceiling. If I know him one bit, I can tell he won’t give up on his idea of a threesome anytime soon. I enjoy going the extra mile to give him sexual pleasure, but there’s nothing that can make me willingly share my husband with someone else.

  CH 2

  ~

  Matt leaves a soft, moist kiss on my forehead before leaving the bedroom. I don’t need to look at the clock to know it is six thirty on the dot, as it’s the time Matt leaves for work every day, six days a week. I toss and turn in the bed, hoping for another hour or two to recover from the
soreness in my body, but the fresh memories of last night and Matt’s suggestion to bring in an additional lover into our love nest keeps me from relaxing.

  Reluctantly I straighten up, stretching out my arms and legs and yawning loudly. Grabbing my phone lying on the nightstand, I call my good friend, Shelly, short for Michelle, to ask if she’s awake.

  “No,” she replies.

  Giggling to myself, I greet her with a cheery, “Good morning”.

  “What’s going on? Why are you calling me before the sunrise?” she complains.

  “The sun is already up, silly. Come over, and I’ll treat you to breakfast at the Beverly Hilton.”

  “Are you trying to buy my friendship?” Like that is remotely possible because my dear friend and ex-roommate from college is living the dream on the millions she inherited from her late husband.

  “Yeah, would you be interested?” I say.

  “Sure. I’ll meet you in half an hour.”

  “Make it an hour.” I laugh and disconnect. The shower helps relax my muscles a bit, but the disturbing thoughts of Matt with another woman are still there, bothering and annoying the hell out of me. I pick a long, dark-green sheath dress with black Vivien Westwood high heels and a matching hand bag.

  Always looking presentable, sexy, and elegant is another requirement I took upon myself when marrying the love of my life. I fix my hair into a ponytail and apply full-on makeup, perfectly arranged from mascara to the lipstick.

  Shelly greets me with an air kiss as we meet at the hotel entrance and slides her arm through mine. Her thick blonde curls are moist. The black roots have already started showing, which means a hair salon visit will be on our agenda today. She’s wearing a plain black sleeveless T-shirt and black skinny jeans, which I’m sure each cost at least two hundred dollars. My friend likes to spend money on designer clothes to fill up her loneliness after her husband’s death. She’s aware of her shopping problem and has come to terms with it, which doesn’t mean she’ll give up on it anytime soon.

  “Something is wrong with you.” She bores her large brown eyes into me, her thin eyebrows knitted together in suspicion. “Tell me if that jerk of a husband hurt you and I’ll bite his head off.”

  “I know you will, but how did you guess I don’t feel good?”

  “You always color up your face like a Picasso painting when you’re not well.”

  “What?” I say and smile, holding the urge down to check my makeup.

  “Let me break it down for you, darling. You look like a fifty-year-old cougar on the prowl for her next millionaire with that extra touch of makeup.”

  I shake my head. “Couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  “I know. I’m just saying that you look like hell. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  We stroll into the restaurant inside the hotel, and a maître d’ walks us to our table and pulls out our chairs as we settle. Shelly orders coffee and pastries for both of us and winks at the maître d’ with a quick wave of her hand as he leaves. “I’m all ears.”

  “I don’t know. I’m probably only exaggerating his signs,” I confess.

  “Stop murmuring to yourself and give me a full account of what happened.”

  “I think Matt wants to have sex with another woman.”

  Her eyebrows lift up to her hairline in a flash, and she clasps her long, thin fingers together on the table. “I’ve always wondered what kind of lover your husband is. Guess I won’t have to keep wondering for long.”

  I laugh sarcastically. “I’m not sharing my husband with anyone or with you for that matter. He was just talking about having sex with me in front of a group of men, then it turned to him fucking another woman in a threesome with me.”

  Heads turn in our direction from the neighboring tables, and I realize I’ve practically screamed the last sentence.

  “Oops.” I glance down at my plate with shame, feeling heat in my cheeks.

  “I do see an exhibitionist streak in him. He wants to be watched while doing something he’s allegedly great at and get patted on the shoulder for his success. How was his relationship with his father?”

  “Stop psychoanalyzing him. He just got a little kinky. Doesn’t have to have anything related to his relationship with anyone.”

  “Hey, I can’t help it, I’m a shrink. But, I’ll stop. If he insists on his fantasy, I’m only a call away. I can tag along with one of my lover boys so your husband can watch how well you can get off around another cock.”

  “Oh, my goodness. Shut up. They’ll kick us out.” I cover my mouth in shock. “I love my husband, and I most certainly don’t want another cock.”

  “Your loss, hon. He needs a lesson to figure out he’s not the only guy with a big dick who can provide for you sexually. But I will shut up because I love you too much to lose you over a stupid argument.”

  “I love you, too.”

  The maître d’ brings our coffee and breakfast. Shelly squeezes a generous amount of honey into her coffee and grabs a chocolate croissant from the plate. “Hey, you’re coming to my mom’s birthday this Sunday, right? Have you already picked your present? She might not allow you at her party if you show up with empty hands. You know how easily that grumpy witch gets mad if she’s not showered with gifts.”

  “Oh, is it this Sunday? I totally forgot. It’s Matt’s only free day during the week.”

  “So? Bring him with you. Mom will keep him busy with her adventures from her youth.”

  I nod and manage a faint smile. Sundays are our sex days. Every day is a sex day for us, but we don’t leave the bed on Sundays and have sex until I’m too sore to continue. It’s always been so for years. Matt won’t easily agree on giving up our sex day even if it’ll be only once.

  We end our breakfast with exquisite champagne to honor Shelly’s mother’s upcoming birthday and then start our day with a heavy dose of shopping in Beverly Hills.

  At the end of the day, my feet are throbbing with pain after having been forced to accommodate unforgiving high heels for thirteen hours. Thirteen hours!

  “Damn it,” I whisper to myself as I take off my shoes and walk barefoot to the elevator that takes me directly up to our penthouse.

  Throwing the shopping bags aside to unlock the door, I fumble with the key and wind up having it slip out of my hand. The liberal amount of alcohol I consumed throughout the day on a hungry stomach keeps my eyes from focusing on the little piece of metal between my feet. I should have eaten lunch rather than worrying about keeping my size-zero figure.

  I hear footsteps from the other side of the door and straighten up, forgetting all about the key. As the door opens, a pair of horrified blue eyes land on mine.

  “Evelyn, thank God you’re okay. I’ve been dead-worried about you.” Matt’s strong hands grip me from my waist and smash me hard against his torso, lifting me so my feet don’t touch the floor anymore.

  “I’m here, Matt. Everything’s okay.”

  “Everything’s not okay!” he screams into my ear and puts me down, desperation dominant in every word. “Why didn’t you answer my calls? Why didn’t you call me back? Where the fuck have you been all this time? I called the police, hospitals, emergencies. No one knew where you were.” Anger is palpable in his voice, in the tight hold of his arms.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear your call. I was with Shelly.”

  He takes a step back to glance down at my face, his arm still locked around my waist.

  I signal the half dozen shopping bags that’re waiting to be carried inside. “I just forgot about the time while shopping. I bought you something, too. Let me show you.”

  He eyes the shopping bags suspiciously, as if they might have explosives inside, then loosens an arm around me to drag the bags inside only enough to push the door closed beside them.

  “You’ll not do this to me again.” He grabs me with both arms again and pins me against the door, lifting up my skirt. His cold fingers spread possessively over my stomach before trai
ling down and ripping up my panties with a quick move.

  I gasp. My heartbeats get louder in my ears with each second as I start to realize what he has on his mind.

  He unzips his pants and releases his penis, the hardness of it brushing against my thigh. “Evie.” His voice, throaty, blows fear into my heart. His eyes, so foreign, darken and give me a glimpse of what he might be capable of.

  Matt guides his cock up and presses its head against my entrance, and just like that shoves it inside of me. No foreplay, no kiss, no massaging to warm me up or allow juices to accommodate his massive size. I cry with the stinging pain between my legs as he thrusts into me with one unforgiving move.

  “Slow down. You’re hurting me.” With my voice cracking, I beg for him to calm down, fearful of the crazy look in his eyes.

  “You should know by now I can’t live without you. It’ll be the end of me. You’re my drug. I’ll kill you if you leave me for another man.” He plunges into me with painful strokes, repeating his need for me over and over into my ear.

  “I’ll never leave you.” I stutter the words out and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. But, he doesn’t budge, doesn’t give me the kiss I need to turn this violent fuck into lovemaking.

  He just stares at me with that same murderous expression hardening every inch of his beautiful face. “You bet you won’t. You’re with me till death. Your pussy is mine until your lungs can’t breathe anymore.” His hips swivel as he empties his release into me. Then he slides out, puts me down on my feet, and frees me from his hold.

  I swallow with hurt, sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stifle the threatening sobs, feeling his hot liquid dripping down from my sex toward my inner thighs. His breathing is loud and heavy, with his scary stare still trained on me. I’m not sure what to do—go to my bedroom to cry my eyes out or stay with him to calm him down? Although I’m the one who needs to be comforted, I go for the latter and stay standing before him to keep his ego intact.

  “Take off your dress and bra. You’re going to stay naked until I give you permission to put them back on,” he orders. “Go lie down on the loveseat and keep your legs spread open. Your pussy needs a lot of fucking tonight until it understands who it belongs to.”