“Watch his cock sliding into me… come closer! Can you see how wet he’s getting me? Feels so good…”
Peter crawls closer, his face just a breath away from where Victor’s thick shaft is stretching me open with each thrust. If he reached out his tongue, he could taste it; should I ask him to do that? Should I order him to? The idea sends another ripple of pleasure through me, my pussy tightening around Vic’s cock, making him groan.
But no, I have to torment Peter by making him watch, not give him the release of touching me. All he gets is this sweet suffering. And the thing is, it was all his idea.
My friend Peter confessed somewhat drunkenly to me that he had a fantasy about being a cuckolded husband, watching his wife fucking other men and not being allowed to touch her.
The catch is, he doesn’t have a wife, or even a steady girlfriend at present, and it’s not really the kind of scenario you can introduce on a casual date. But while I’m not even remotely interested in being anyone’s wife, when Peter suggested I might like to play the role for a few hours I was intrigued… and turned on. I wanted to know what it would feel like, to be the bitchy wife flaunting her lover’s prowess to torment her husband, knowing it’s what he secretly craves. I’m drawn to power games.
Peter and I have never fucked, and now we never will. That would spoil the game. But we’re about to share a very intimate moment, one that will explore new territory for us both.
Victor, my personal trainer/ fuckbuddy, took to the game with alacrity, goading Peter subtly when he ran into him at the gym, setting the stage for the sexual humiliation he apparently craved. Vic’s muscle–bound physique, vaguely sinister Eastern European accent and appetite for vigorous sport fucking made him the obvious choice to play my bull lover.
So here I am, skirt up, legs apart, panties around my ankles, with Peter kneeling on the floor in front of me, staring at my pussy.
“You can look all you want, but you can’t touch,” I tell him. “That’s for my lover, not my husband. He’s going to put his fingers, and his tongue, and his big cock right here…” — I slide a fingertip between the plump lips of my pussy — “…and you’re going to watch him do it.”
Peter nods mutely, looking both miserable and excited by the thought. His pants are getting tight around the crotch.
“In fact, why don’t you send him a photo to show him exactly what he’s got to look forward to,” I continue, handing Peter my phone. He leans in and takes a photo, so close I can feel his hot breath on my pussy. I’m getting so wet. I’m not naturally dominant, but my domme girlfriend Angela has made me submit to her often enough that I find I know just what to say to make Peter squirm with the need for release; a need that’s not going to be met any time soon. And keeping him on the boil like this is more arousing than I’d ever imagined.
Peter texts the photo to Victor, whose response — oh I’m gonna enjoy fucking your wife’s juicy pussy — gives me another thrill of anticipation. And then I make Peter kneel, hands behind his back, while I sit there with my legs spread, playing games on my phone and resolutely resisting the urge to touch myself as we wait for Vic to arrive.
I send Peter to open the door when Vic shows up, and his opening gambit — “So you must be the pathetic loser who needs me to fuck his wife for him?” — tells me I’m in for a good, hard pounding, which is just what all this teasing has put me in the mood for. Vic walks straight over, pausing just for a second to admire the view of my pussy, seeping wetness, before he unzips and offers his stiffening cock to my mouth.
Hands on his hips, I steer him a little way to my right; Peter has returned to his kneeling position and has the perfect side-on view as I take the head of Vic’s cock between my lips. As you all know, this is my favorite thing to do and as my lips and tongue glide smoothly up and down the hot, rigid, pulsing column of flesh I go into a blissful trancelike state.
I would be lost in sensation to the point where I forget Peter is even there, if not for the steady stream of goading dirty talk from Vic: “Your wife is such a hot little cocksucker… can you see how much she loves getting her mouth fucked by a real man?” I’m too focused on Vic’s perfect dick to sneak a look at Peter, but I slide one hand around to squeeze Vic’s rock-hard ass cheek, encouraging him to fuck my mouth hands-free as I stroke my pussy with the other hand. I’m dripping wet, and I hear Peter groan with frustrated arousal as I rub a slippery finger over my clit.
Not even Vic can take too much of my intense sucking, so after a while he pulls away and undresses slowly, well aware of how intimidating his ripped body is to mere mortals. He pulls my dress off over my head and unhooks my bra, leaving me naked except for my high heels and my panties dangling around one ankle. We let Peter take a long look at us: his slutty ‘wife’ with her legs spread, wantonly displaying her juiced-up pussy, and her lover sporting a huge, saliva-slick erection. I can see from Peter’s expression that he’s utterly immersed in the fantasy we’ve created, transported by the thrilling humiliation — and his shame at how much it’s turning him on — into a deliciously tormented headspace.
I tell Peter to pull his pants and underwear down to his knees, exposing himself to us. His cock doesn’t compare to Vic’s monster but it’s hard as stone, engorged, the tip shiny. I’m careful not to look at it except with a vague, disdainful glance.
Now Vic has me stand for a moment so he can take my place on the chair, and then I straddle his lap, facing Peter. It’s a position calculated to give him the most graphic view as I sink down slowly, letting the head of Vic’s cock stroke against my slippery slit; and then lower, impaling myself on it inch by glorious inch. I’m so wet the thick girth slides into me like a hot knife through butter, until it’s buried to the hilt and my ass is resting in his lap.
I lean back, lifting my heels to rest on Vic’s thighs, and tell to Peter to come closer. He shuffles forward on his knees, cock dark red and angry-looking, eyes fixed at the point where my body and Vic’s are joined. I wish I could see what he’s seeing. As if reading my mind, Vic hands Peter my phone.
“Why don’t you take a picture of my fat cock stretching your wife’s tight little cunt open, loser?” he sneers. Peter does as he’s told. His hand is shaking as he hands the phone back, and Vic and I look at the photo. It’s utterly, beautifully obscene, Vic’s cock glazed with my wetness, my pussy lips wrapped snugly around it… I feel Vic’s cock twitch fiercely inside me and for a moment I think he’s going to lose it, but then he regains control and grips my hips, encouraging me to start moving up and down on him.
I plant my heels on the floor and start to ride, moving faster and with more assurance as we hit a perfect rhythm, Vic’s strong hands under my ass to help me rise and fall on him. His cock feels amazing, filling me wonderfully on every down-stroke, the head gliding over my G-spot as I rise, in a blissful ebb and flow of sensation. It can surely only be a few minutes, but time seems to stop as I’m consumed by pleasure. And even through the euphoric haze I’m aware of Peter’s eyes fixed on us, his low groans mingling with my gasps and Vic’s lustful growls.
“Are you watching, hubby?” I taunt him, drinking in the dumbstruck expression on his face. “Look at this big cock stretching me and filling me so full! It’s going to make me cum. You’ll never know what it feels like to have my hot little pussy cumming around your pathetic dick… watch him fuck me, it’s the closest you’ll ever get…”
When my thighs start to burn I hold still and Vic thrusts up into me, his fingers strumming my clit. My orgasm hits me hard, pussy clenching, hips bucking crazily as I ride out the waves of bliss. The tempo of Vic’s driving strokes accelerates, keeping the vivid electrical pulses surging up until I climax again, and then his hips stutter and he yells as his cum blasts into me. I grind in his lap, my pussy gripping tight to milk out every drop, and then gradually relaxing to let the hot cream trickle out.
Peter’s eyes are glazed, his face red, his cock rigid. I can hardly believe he’s been this hard for this long, and still managed not to touch himself. He’s so submerged in the fantasy that he doesn’t dare; he just stares at my drenched pussy, practically vibrating with need.
I grab my panties, which are still hooked around my ankle, use them to mop up some of Vic’s copious cum, and throw them in Peter’s face.
That’s all it takes; his cock jerks wildly and starts spurting, untouched. Reflexively, Peter grabs the panties and catches the final few jets of jism in them, wrapping the soaked fabric around his twitching dick and shaking, almost sobbing with relief.
We’re all quiet for a moment; too dazed to move or speak. Finally I manage to stand and take Vic’s hand, pulling him after me.
“You owe me a new pair of panties,” I say to Peter, as we head for the shower. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Vic and I take our time showering, reconnecting with each other’s softer side and giving Peter time to pull himself together. He’s fully dressed by the time we return to the living room. He looks emotionally wrung out but so happy, eyes bright.
“Hi darling, do you feel good?” I ask him gently, hugging him, letting him know the game is over.
“That was amazing… I feel so… amazing!” he says, laughing like he’s coming down from an ecstasy high. We chat for a couple of minutes just so I can be sure he’s okay, and I offer him some tea (I’m English, it’s my default setting!) but he tells me he wants to go home and ‘process’ what just happened. By which I assume he means, jerk off again. He and Vic shake hands with a wry grin and then he’s gone; I notice my cum-soaked panties peeking out of his jacket pocket as we hug goodbye.
Vic and I cuddle up on the couch to chat about what happened. I’m not usually so reflective* about my sexual experiences — maybe because crazy stuff seems to happen to me pretty frequently — but tapping into my dominant, Queen Bitch side definitely stirred something within me that I’d like to explore. I wonder who would like to help me?
*Well, I say ‘reflective’ but Vic did have his fingers in my pussy as we talked about it… you know me.
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More confessions from me here — if you think you can handle it! Maybe have a cold shower first…