One Too Many

by Jade West

  But I didn’t want to say a word in front of that smug asshole.

  I managed a smile, and it was enough. I relaxed as she did, taking a breath along with hers as she let herself calm down.

  I’d have gladly strangled the motherfucker ten times over before kneeing him in his big brass bollocks for the thrill, but it would be playing into his hands somehow.

  Not only was he a slippery fish, but he’d done this before. It was obvious. His composure was obvious. As was the fact he’d fucked a whole shit ton of pussy before hers.

  I guess that’s what irked me as much as the rest of it. Sure, I knew how to get my wife off. I knew what she liked, what she didn’t and what drove her out of her pretty mind. But this… whatever this crazy shit was, was well out of my remit.

  We sucked, fucked and came. Many times over some nights. Enough that we’d last a lifetime through and still never tire of it.

  We didn’t have a whole fucking truck full of dirty sex toys waiting in line on a nightstand. I didn’t truss steel chains under our bed ready to clamp my wife in position whenever I wanted to fuck her brains out. I didn’t make her scrabble against a plastic sheet with crotchless fucking knickers on.

  Maybe I should have.

  Maybe I would from this night forward.

  Who the fuck even knew what we’d be doing in bed after this shit show.

  My balls ached with the horrible notion that I’d be thinking about another man’s cock in Grace’s pussy when I was buried deep inside her forever more. Because it was shit but true that I liked it. It was fucked-up beyond all reason, from some random dimension that made no sense whatsoever, but I couldn’t argue with the straining hard fact in my jeans.

  I liked watching her whimper and grunt as her pussy took someone else in front of me. I liked the thought of her stretching around someone else’s meat, even if they were a sad sorry cunt with more money than fucking sense.

  She didn’t see him approach her and drop to his knees at the bottom of the bed. She jolted like a fish on a line as he tugged her down the bed, draping her legs over his shoulders as the prick ripped those fancy knickers right off her.

  My own mouth watered as he took a taste of her, knowing full well how delicious that puffy pink pussy would be against his tongue.

  She hadn’t seen the big purple dildo he’d stuffed down by his knees ready to go. Her eyes widened blankly as the dirty prick spoke up at her.

  “Now, now, pretty Grace. We’re just getting started,” he told her, smug as shit. “Let’s see just how much this tender little pussy can take, shall we?”

  He was quick with it, thumping the toy against her clit three times over before he jammed the head inside. She couldn’t move, not with the chains stretched tight, but I could. I was halfway to my feet before I grabbed a hold of myself, slamming back into the chair with my fists clenched tight.

  He hadn’t fucking shot his load yet. Wasn’t even close. As much as I hated the asshole, I wasn’t a man to go back on my word, and Grace wasn’t a woman who’d go back on hers either. No spunk, no cash. Not even the twenty-five we’d already dug deep into.

  She was wet enough to take the toy, even if she hissed out her breath as he pushed it all the way. It was bigger than his dick, bigger than mine too. I hated how much I hated not being able to see the way her pussy stretched up close.

  But I could see enough to set my balls off again. Her perky nipples jutting up at the ceiling. The excitement in her eyes as she stared down at the man fucking her with plastic. The base of that purple dick straining her hungry slit open wide.

  He circled it deep, still jammed in all the way. Slow and smooth, knowing the right fucking motions to make her moan all over again.

  Maybe I should pay him back some of the fifty fucking grand for some lessons in how to be a filthy cunt. If there wasn’t such undeniable hate sizzling between us, I may have shaken the prick’s hand and congratulated him on a job well done.

  He took an age over fucking her with the big purple dong, teasing her slow, even as she started rocking for more.

  I didn’t touch my dick, even though it hurt with the strain. I kept my hands clenched tight on the armrests, counting down the minutes like I wanted them to end.

  I did, and I didn’t. I’d lost track of everything but hate and hard on by the time that wanker was working her back up to frantic whimpers.

  He left the toy inside her when he got back to his feet and went for another. She saw him this time, and saw the monster in black he was carrying back to her.

  “I can’t…” she protested. “I can’t take that…”

  “You can,” he told her, and he was so confident she believed him, parting her legs nice and wide as he pulled out the purple and rubbed the big fat head of black around her swollen pussy lips.

  Her grunt was loud enough that I gritted my teeth when he eased it inside her. His thumb brushed her clit as he pushed deep, and even though her thighs narrowed on the bed before him, she didn’t balk at the strain.

  “I’ll never go back to normal…” she whimpered, and he laughed that low bastard laugh of his.

  “I promise you, you will, sweetheart,” he said. “You might not want to, but you will.”

  And there it was. That asshole edge I’d known was there since that very first night. The asshole edge in him that knew he’d change my wife forever with his crazy fucking pussy mastery.

  “Lift your legs up,” he told her, and she did it without question, pulling them up to her chest and dropping them wide. His angle was brutal but she took it all, her wetness squelching loud enough for her cheeks to blush a whole new shade of pink.

  “I can’t wait to show you how pretty your cunt looks when it’s gaping,” he said, and even though it brought the bile up in the back of my throat, my dick pulsed so hard I thought I was gonna fucking blow.

  I looked away at the bathroom door, just to keep myself together, only daring to look back over when the sack of shit groaned along with her.

  The toy plopped free of her pussy with a squelch, and she really was open wide, stretched raw as he angled her shaking body to the mirror to give me a clear fucking view.

  His dirty fingers hooked inside and splayed her, his eyes on mine as he forced that hole to its full stretch.

  I’d never seen her like that.

  I hated how much my mouth watered as I stared at the gaping tunnel another man had drilled wide.

  “Beautiful,” he said. “A little more play and she’d take two in one. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mrs Foster?”

  His eyes were still brimming with spite as he cracked me a grin.

  “Only I don’t share,” he added. “Only fools share such precious things.”

  I could have pounded him into a bloody pulp, but still my dick twitched in my pants as he slammed that black monster back inside.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Thomas

  Grace’s sweet cunt was hungry enough to gulp in whatever I offered. Her stretch was glorious, enough to make my balls pain as I stared into glistening pink.

  I was merely taunting her husband with the prospect of two inside her at once. His wife was far from up to taking that kind of strain, even if the spread of that tight little hole looked mighty impressive for a few hours of careful effort. I think the idiot had actually believed me, flinching at his own pathetic desires.

  I would never have shared a beauty like his wife, especially not with a man like me. Not for fifty million, nor the finest hotel on the planet.

  If only I could be lucky enough to see how much he’d regret it in the coming weeks. Basking in his pain would be a pleasure I’d appreciate far more in close proximity, but alas, it wasn’t to be.

  Nevertheless, the night was still relatively young as I pushed that thick toy back inside his pretty wife’s tender hole and teased her clit with a brush of my tongue. Her excitement was a tightrope, taut between the heady rush of want and the pain of over-stimulation.

  Luckily for
her, I was a fucking master.

  People may be quick to say it was a foolish endeavour to pay so much money to thrill another man’s wife for hours on end, but they’d be wrong.

  It’s in controlling someone else’s pleasure that the real man finds his own. My own throbbing dick was demoted to the outskirts of my awareness, my focus razor-sharp on that beautiful woman’s enjoyment as she confronted sides of herself she’d barely known existed.

  It was always like this for me in these situations, but this time more so than ever. This time more so than everything.

  My instinctive awareness of the minutes passing dulled to a blur as I ploughed that slick, wet cunt with whatever toy took my fancy. Her juices were pooling under her ass on the plastic sheeting as I worked her into frenzy after frenzy, stopping at the most sadistic point of her crest time after time. Fingers, mouth, the sharp slap of my palm against that soft smooth mound whenever I knew her body could take it. The strain of a hooked toy against her sweet spot, the stretch of a dildo circled wide, more, more, always more, and she took it with the acceptance of a woman awakening to her deepest self.

  Grace was a submissive who’d been slumbering through a lifetime of vanilla, ready to unfurl in just the right hands. Not a submissive in the sense of hard spankings and a red paddled ass, not even of sir as a means of address. The tools hanging on the drawer handles would be largely redundant, but it had taken intimate experience of her body to make that call.

  She was submissive in the sense of naturally yielding to another’s instruction, soaking up the guidance of experienced hands and a sharp tongue with a delightful revelry. Her wide eyes became ever more eager in seeking mine out as the night drew on, her body switched on to mine as I took her in hand and pushed her to heights she’d have balked at a few hours earlier.

  It was a delicious massage to my already proud ego to witness how her husband watched everything. Saw everything. No doubt felt everything.

  I knew his dick was easily as hard as mine was, his balls just as tense with the urge to shoot their creamy load inside his wife’s sweet wet cunt as she stared up with rapture.

  I guess there were more similarities between us than I’d ever dared to acknowledge — both of us transfixed by the delicious creature he’d claimed before I’d ever had the most basic of attributes required to snare such a wonder.

  Her breaths were a dry rasp as she came down from another whimpering climax, her whole body collapsing flat to the mattress as she rippled in the aftermath.

  It was time.

  She didn’t move a muscle as I got to my feet, too caught up in the endorphins for even a shudder of nervousness as I presented myself at her side. She moaned in gratitude as I took the key to the cuffs from my inside pocket and freed her sore wrists from their shackles. Her arms pulled back to her chest in a flash, fingers rubbing frantically at the marks the restraints had pressed into her skin as I stepped away and sought out the minibar by the far bedside table.

  Any suspicions she had as to my intentions had long dried up in the face of her body’s obedience to my will. She took the bottled water from me with a genuine smile, her eyes full of thanks as she unscrewed the top and took a swig.

  “I needed that,” she told me, downing the rest of the measure and handing me back the empty bottle.

  Then came the moment that tested the true reach of my inner cunt. I was surprised when my own bitterness came up short enough to offer a friendly lifeline where none was warranted.

  Brett looked as surprised as I felt when I headed over and deactivated the infrared sensor in order to hand him a bottled water over the line. He offered a nod, if not a thanks, swigging back a decent mouthful with the same fervour as his wife.

  “Don’t think my hospitality grants you any liberties,” I told him as I reset the device, and his eyes flashed with offense at the implication.

  “Would take a shitload more than a bottled fucking water to make us pals,” he said. “And I know full fucking well what I agreed to and where your pissy little red line is.”

  I was coming to grudgingly admit that he was a man of greater moral compass than I’d given him credit for, even in the most perverse of circumstances. If I wasn’t such a careful guy I’d have even considered turning the thing off again and trusting our gentleman’s agreement.

  But I am a careful guy.

  I took a water for myself and stared out at the dark night through the window as I drank my fill. I could see him in the reflection of the pane to my left, his gaze seeking out his wife’s as she rolled onto her side to face him with her thighs clamped tight.

  I had to give them credit. Usually by this point in proceedings the communication between the couple was already stretched thin, both of them knocked sideways by the realisation that things would never return to normal.

  But not here. Not yet.

  I dropped my empty bottle on the windowsill and turned to the pair with a smile bright with cockiness.

  “Enjoying yourself considerably more than you expected,” I goaded. “Both of you, nonetheless. If I’d have known this was going to be such a pleasure for all parties involved, I’d have negotiated the terms a lot harder.”

  Brett’s voice was every bit as bullish as I predicted. “Like fuck you would have. Cut the crap, Heath. This shit ain’t new for you. You’ve got plenty of fucking experience at this game, and paying for it.”

  “Astute,” I said with a tip of the head. “Who’d have ever thought there was such a brain behind your macho sports field grunts?”

  It was my first slip up.

  I saw my words rattle loud behind his eyes, the venom in my question far too alive to be spoken by a passing stranger in this backward slice of paradise.

  “You seem that type,” I added in a breath, but it didn’t undo the damage.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he asked me, ever blunt in his communication.

  “Nobody you know,” I responded. “Just a man who’s paying handsomely to fuck your pretty wife while you watch.”

  “I call bullshit, you weird ass sonofabitch,” he snapped back, and it made me smile with genuine amusement.

  “Call whatever you like, Mr Foster, but do it on your own time. This is mine, bought and paid for, so quit with the caveman speculation.”

  The unspoken standoff lasted almost a full minute as I forced myself to relax back against the window, inwardly cursing my poor grip on the situation. There was no red line in the world that could hold him back from storming over and demanding the truth with a pummel of fists. Not if he was so motivated. There was also no smooth mask of cool disinterest that could gloss over the crack in my polished veneer.

  “This isn’t over,” he told me as he dropped his empty bottle at his side and adjusted himself in his seat. “Whatever fucking beef you’ve got with me, you can spit it out when we’re done or forget about it. I don’t fucking know you, and I don’t fucking want to. Believe me, however our paths have crossed in the past, I don’t fucking remember it.”

  “Paranoid as well as possessive,” I goaded, but he shrugged me off without a blink of self-doubt in his suspicions.

  It was Grace whose eyes were flickering with some dull half-light of speculation as they stared up at me. I hated the twist of concern in my stomach, hated the way the ground felt set to crumble underneath my backtracking steps.

  “Any false move from either of you and this whole deal is off,” I told them both, making sure my voice was bristling full of the confidence I feared crumbling under me. “No cash, no financial lifeline in this shitty hole you’ve wound up in, bye bye, sweet hotel dreams.”

  It was Grace who held up her hand this time, shaking her head as though I was preaching to the converted. Maybe I was.

  “You can ease up with all this,” she told me. “We know the deal here. Both of us.”

  I settled grudgingly back into my stride, discomfort appeased for the short term at least. Grace reclined back on the mattress, her eyes still fixed on mine as she strugg
led to keep up with the choppy sea of interactions in this one tiny hotel room.

  There was only one way to truly ensure she didn’t blurt out any unwelcome questions, and her distraction would be my pleasure, quite literally.

  “I think it’s about time you returned my very generous favours, don’t you?” I asked her, and finally shrugged my suit jacket from my shoulders.

  Thank fuck for endorphins and the consuming lust of a pussy driven wild.

  Her thoughts were right where they should be as my fingers went for my shirt buttons.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Grace

  I was done with lying to myself. I wanted the enigmatic stranger who’d flipped our whole life on its axis. His brutal fingers, skilled enough to drive me crazy. His mouth, so consuming. His devilish smirk, his arrogance, his cutting words.

  He was magnificent under his suit, tight abs rippling as he cast his shirt aside and unbuckled his belt. His cock was standing proud as he dropped his pants to the floor, his happy trail paving the way to the beast of flesh I’d felt so deep inside me.

  My whole body was a victim to the sensations running wild as he dropped onto the mattress at my feet.

  “Come,” he said, his voice firm, even though quiet.

  My limbs felt weak and bandy, my thighs protesting as I scuttled down to join him. It felt strangely natural to drop down under him as he positioned himself on top, his ridges welcomed by my curves as he lowered his weight onto mine.

  He didn’t have to ask me to kiss him this time. My lips were already parted as his came in hard. My calves wrapped around his thighs and pulled him close, my whore of a pussy seeking out his cock as his tongue hunted mine and found me wanting.

  This was more like I was accustomed to. Flesh on flesh, mouth to mouth, my fingers instinctive as they swept up his tight muscled back to tangle in his hair. I knew this place where two bodies met and moved as one. I knew the warmth of a firm chest pressed hard against my tits. I knew the strain of male thighs as his full length ground against mine.