by Unknown
He was now naked, and the fullness of his abs and his arms was on display: he was a big man, a muscled man. A man who could throw a woman around if he wanted.
He got onto the bed on his knees and almost in the same motion reached out to Adria and flipped her over. He pushed her dress up to her chest, so her back and ass were exposed. Her black lace thong underwear were still on her hips and snug between her asscheeks.
Andy used his knees to push her legs apart, and then he drew her feet up. Her shoes were still on: a pair of slick, simple high heels with a long, slender spike of a heel. He propped her feet up so that the pretty figure of the shoes on her shapely feet hovered, bouncing a little, over her obscenely displayed ass. Then he took her hands and placed them on the heels. “Don't let go of those heels unless I tell you to,” he ordered.
Adria obeyed. He grabbed several pillows and stuffed them roughly under her pelvis, so her ass was tilted up and on display. Then he slowly peeled the thong away, and Adria's neatly trimmed pussy, which was engorged and blown open like a burst flower, was visible to them both. Red, glistening, ripe for Andy to fuck. He slid his fingers over her her clit and her legs bobbed, but she held on to the heels as he had commanded. Andy made a sound, a little like a tisk. “Such a bad girl, aren't we, Ana? And your husband watching.”
John felt himself go cold for a moment. But Andy continued to massage his wife's pussy, and Adria continued to shudder with the pleasure of his touch.
Andy slipped a finger inside of her, and John saw that Adria's body arched slightly. Then another finger, and a third. Then, to his disbelief, he watched as Andy slipped his entire hand inside of Adria's pussy. His wife squirmed and moaned, and one of her feet slipped from her hand. Andy caught her wrist, and it looked frail and almost snappable in his large paw. He moved a knee on top of her flailing leg. “Hold still, Ana. You're being very bad and you're going to get punished for it. You just relax and take it. You've been a naughty little girl and your husband wants to see you punished for it.”
John went cold again at the mention of himself. But a heat burned through him as well: he did want to see her punished. In a way. In a way like this, that made her so wet that she dripped down the sides of her thighs. In a way that satisfied them both.
Andy did another temporarily inexplicable thing, and pulled his fist from inside of her. He jerked her underwear back up and over her hips. The soaked thong slipped between her folds and she whimpered as he pulled it hard to twist one side of it around her wrist.
The bondage was flimsy, of course, but the intent was clear. He splayed her captive fingers over her left buttock. Then he pushed the now cord-like strip away from her swollen hole, and pushed his hand inside of her. Her pussy squelched as he entered, and her saw her raise her ass and twist in discomfort as his whole hand disappeared inside of her.
And then he reached for the belt.
John stared at his wife, waiting for her to utter her safe word, but she did not. She dug her fingernails into the flesh of her ass, and twisted against the pain of Andy's fist stretching her pussy open, but she did not call it off. It was obvious that she liked this level of dominance, of roughness, of her own submission.
Andy slapped her – very lightly, with precise control, with the folded belt. A red mark appeared on her ass, and the sound of her slapped flesh cracked through the sloshing, wet sound of her pussy. Andy lifted his arm, and his muscles bulged. Adria's hips came up from the pillow about and inch, and she screamed, but it was a half-pleasured scream. Andy cracked his belt again, and then again.
“Now be good,” he hissed, and let her hips drop back to the pillow.
He pulled his hand from inside of her pussy, and then re-inserted it, with his thumb out to stroke her slit. John watched as he brought his wife easily to orgasm, with only a few quick rubs over the swollen nerves of her clit. Adria screamed into the pillows, and tossed her head back and forth. Her cunt was filled by his hand but he could still see dribbles of her cum bursting from the sides.
“Good girl. You're going to glad for that,” he said. He slid his hand from inside of her, and it was soaked with her slick cum. Globs of white were on his fingers, slippery like oysters,. John could smell her now from where he was. It was utterly lewd, the image in front of him. His mouth felt dry, and he realized he had been staring with his jaw hanging open for the past few minutes.
He brought the drink to his lips, and while he did, trembling, Andy readjusted Adria as though she were a doll, pushing her chest to the bed, jerking her underwear until it ripped away from her. He slid her dress up until it was over her head and arms. Adria, who seemed to know what was coming, brought her hands next to her, and she placed her fingers in her mouth. She looked at John, a strange expression on her face, but he could only stare back. He took a sip of his drink.
Andy propped Adria up so that her ass was high in the air, her legs spread, and her ass and pussy exposed and waiting for him to with as he pleased. John's cock pulsed.
Andy used his slippery, cum-coated hand to draw some of the moisture that was gushing from Adria's cunt to the eyelet of her anus. John watched, but as the realization of what was about to happen reached his conscious mind, his hand shook and the whiskey splattered onto his lap. It was cold, but it only stimulated him. He stopped breathing as he watched Andy slip his thumb into Adria's ass.
She moaned, and it was a pained moan. Her eyes closed, and then they opened. Andy's finger was in to the knuckle. Adria balled her hand up and bit on her own thumb knuckle. Her eyes grew wet.
Andy plunged in and out of her, and she convulsed. Then she said, “No, no I can't.”
But he gave her a slap on the ass for this. “I'll tell you what you can and can't do.”
He used his pointer finger to spread her ass even more, and she gave a cry. Her eyes squinted shut.
“Just relax, Ana,” he said, gruffly. “The more you relax, the less it hurts. You better get ready, because I'm going to stuff you all the way full of cock.”
John dropped his drink.
Adria opened her mouth. No sound came from her as the third finger went inside of her. Andy spread his fingers and stretched her ass. She whimpered and mumbled, “I can't. Oh god. No, I can't do it.”
“You will do it,” he said.
He finger-fucked her for a moment or two, and Adria whimpered, but then he smiled. “There we go. That's it. Just take it. It's better that way.”
He pulled his fingers out, and gave her ass a final spread – it had stretched remarkably. It was lewd and obscene, and John felt ill, but his cock was gushing precum and so much of it his pants were stained by the precum. He wanted to see more. He licked his lips.
Andy reached down and grasped Adria's ponytail, and the rush that went through John as incredible. He realized he had been hoping for that, and now he could see it. Andy pulled on her hair and brought her to all fours, her back arched so that her ass and head were tilted upward. He pulled so hard the her hair tugged at the each follicle of her scalp, and she closed her eyes tightly. “Oh god!” she screamed.
He dipped his cock in her pussy, getting it wet, and then he made a slow circle over her anus with the crown. The head of his cock was so fat that the circle was only implied: he block the view of her hole with his sheer size.
John heard that Andy was entering his wife before he saw it. Adria squeezed her eyes and gasped, and then she let out a sob. “I can't,” she panted, and Andy only responded by pulling her hair tighter, so that her throat was exposed to the ceiling and her black, mascara-streaked tears rolled down to her ears. Her open mouth made no sound except for heavy breathing as Andy's cock stretched her open and slid into her ass.
He released her hair, and Adria fell to the bed again, bringing her fingers to her mouth. She looked at John, with the same almost vacant expression as before, only now with wet eyes. Her mouth open when Andy thrust inside of her, all the way to his balls.
And then she lay there, staring at John, while Andy fucke
d her in the ass. He began slowly, moving at a gentle pace, probably to break her in. Adria's feet twisted in discomfort, and one of her heels fell off with a thunk on the floor.
Andy began to pump into her faster, and she winced and let out a moan. Then faster, and Adria closed her eyes and put her fingertips into her mouth to bite. “Oh god!” she said. The thick, veined cock was pistoning in and out of her now, and John could only imagine the ache of her ass as she took his unrelenting punishment. As she submitted to another man's will, in the most vulgar way. His own cock pained him now. He was breathless as he waited for Andy's climax.
Finally, the man groaned, and his muscles tensed all over his body as he threw his head up at the ceiling and slammed deep into Adria. She screamed, and Andy kept battering her with his cock for another ten or fifteen thrusts as he yelled and sprayed his cum deep inside of John's naughty and deserving wife.
Adria settled down, softly whimpering, as he thrust the final loads of his cum inside of her. He panted, looking down at her submissive from, her hand curled up to her mouth, her ass in the air. He left his cock inside of her, and John knew that it was still aching, because Adria turned her feet still with the pain of it.
And then he very slowly slid out of her, until his heavy cock, still semi-hard, flopped out. A river of his cum gushed from her ass. The hole pulsed, trying to close up, failing miserably, gaping and gushing white cream.
Andy gave her ass another slap, and then he hopped off the bed. “I'll let hubby here finish you off,” he said. He pulled his jeans up, buttoned them, swept up his shirt, and with the air of a professional, departed.
John stared at his wife.
His cock was so hard he could barely stand. The glass rolled onto the floor when he stood up, and he fumbled with his pants, moving at the same time around to Adria.
She moved her fingers up to her pussy, and began to stroke her clit. John stared, unsure of what she wanted, watching cum drain from inside of her.
She slid her finger up, to her ass, and dipped it inside. She made a lewd circle around the rim, and her desires were evident.
The sensation of her ass, where he had never been before, was admittedly exquisite. Taut, superheated, surprisingly soft. It felt sensationally perverted to have his cock slide inside of her, lubricated by the slickness of another man's cum, but it was worth it.
He fucked her gently, needing very little to get himself over the edge at this point. He felt her fingers working at her clit, and her body seizing up around him, growing tighter around his cock, until her orgasm shuddered through her. Her ass went even tighter around his dick, in waves, as he thrust for the last time and added his cum to Andy's.
22 ON THREE
They lay in silence for a while. They had rolled to face the ceiling, and John didn't know about Adria, but he had dozed off for a bit. He sensed Adria get up, go into the bathroom, take a shower. But he didn't fully rouse until she was back beside him. Still naked, smelling like lime and mint.
“Did we do the right thing?” she said.
John put his hand to his forehead. “I don't know.”
Adria turned to look at him. She was stunning, her face fresh and her blue eyes cool in the dim light. Her eyes were wet. “Was this whole thing a mistake?”
John took her hand. “It got pretty fucked up,” he said.
She turned back to the ceiling.
A long silence hung in the air.
“Is it so fucked up we can't fix it?” she finally said, quietly.
John knew what the answer was for himself. The same unknowable forces twisted inside of him again: lust and jealousy, pain and pleasure, addiction and reason. The mix was terrifying, intoxicating.
But under all of that, more like bedrock, he knew about his feelings for his wife.
“Want to count to three?” she said.
Her voice was shaking, and the wobble in it was strangely romantic to John. After all, it meant that she cared. That the possibility of his answer being different than hers cut into her deeply.
They turned their heads to each other.
“On three?” he said.
“On three, like, 'one, two, three, say it...?' Or on three like...” Her voice was small as she repeated the joke.
“Like we always do,” he said. Then he laughed. “Wait, to make sure: what's the question?”
“Can we fix it,” she said softly.
“I'm glad I clarified that. I thought it was, 'is it so fucked up we can't fix it?'”
She gave a weak smile. “That would be a different answer,” she said.
A pause, and both of them felt like the world was plummeting to the bottom of the universe. John stared into her eyes.
One...
Two…
END
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