Chapter 5: Rationalizations

For a long moment the kneeling Brad simply stared after her. Maybe, he tried to tell himself, maybe she would humor him after all. Perhaps this wicked teasing and taunting was merely part of her little game. For she was an absolutely impossible tease, was she not? She always had been, and yet now…now as she reveled in her terrifyingly magnified sexual power, her cruelties seemed to know no limit. Yes, she would say anything, he was certain, anything merely to pique and tease his long-denied cock, to torment her poor husband, to make him suffer and squirm and sweat in the beautiful agony of his worship for his alluring white mistress.

Maybe, then, despite what she had said, despite the way she so sneeringly had rubbed his nose in the thought of her most intimate betrayal, she would indeed use a rubber. Perhaps she would deign to reserve for the poor cuckolded boy at least the faint prize of being the one allowed, even after all of her adulterous fucking, finally to splooge her full and unload every drop of his love and his lust and his shame into a betraying cunt that other men’s cocks had profaned but at least not polluted...He licked his lips uncertainly. His face felt red.

The poor neglected boy rose from his knees and, with his trousers still unzipped, turned to the bathroom and followed the swollen head of his jouncing purple cock through the door. He had intended on rinsing his warm face, but then his flexing nostrils caught again the delicious tang of Alyssa’s lubrication all over him. He could not bear to wash off that cherished scent, a bittersweet reminder of days when his love had been so simple and carefree. And, too…well, the delicious flavor represented the only sensual contact she had granted him in endless aching months, and even in his shame and denial and degradation, still it thrilled him so! Carefully, then, he splashed some cold water on only his sweaty forehead and then toweled it off, leaving the rest of his face untouched so that she smell of overexcited cunt still swam around him. Blinking, he looked up and stared at himself in the mirror.

What kind of man could take it? he wondered bleakly. Who could let his own dear wife cheat on him, with strangers’ mouths all over her breasts and their hands grasping at her shapely hips and their fat red cocks just shoved right up into her cunt—and then thank her for the privilege of being betrayed? Yes, these things happened sometimes, of course—women occasionally flirted, cheated, strayed. And yet the husbands didn’t knowingly join in on their own humiliation, did they? They didn’t have to beg their wives to take a gangbang just so that they, too, finally could be allowed the chance to touch that once-familiar flesh again, after everyone else had used it first and all those other guys had groped it and penetrated it and made it all sweaty and flushed and cummy.

Or…well, or did they? Some people apparently did dabble in the occasional wife-swapping, after all. And surely some of the bolder ones did more than dabble—after a taste of the heady freedom, perhaps such people took their pleasures unashamedly. There were websites devoted solely to swinging, weren’t there? And magazines with the most intimate types of personal advertisements? Why, surely some of these people swapped partners every week, maybe even more! To Brad it was almost unbelievable, but to them it was simply a normal fact of life. Perhaps, Brad told himself reasonably, his own slowness to understand the situation and his disbelief that such things truly could be real were akin to that of some gangly young virgin who simply could not imagine the reality of lying next to a nude girl night after night, kissing her and touching her, doing anything you wanted to her. And yet to the average husband, that adolescent fantasy was a commonplace. Most likely the terrible things that would fulfill Alyssa’s debauched needs might seem commonplaces to someone else.

Yes, surely some couples even attended those vacation retreats he heard about on late-night cable television once, at a private campground where everything revolved around the swinging lifestyle. This special adults-only establishment was a mom-and-pop place run by a smiling, silver-haired old couple who in the interview looked so much in love even after all those years. They were non-smokers, exercised religiously every day, and ran a strictly alcohol- and drug-free resort—and they obviously still got off on swinging. Couples of all ages came from all over the country, staying for a week or a month in tents and campers and motor homes, teasing and flaunting all day and swapping partners all night. The camera crew interviewed one nonchalant forty-ish wife from Connecticut who sat in the kitchen of her little trailer while only a few feet away on the couch, just outside of the camera angle but definitely within range of the microphones, her husband gave sloppy, noisy cunnilingus to a pair of Texas co-eds on their way to Spring Break.

It was so deliciously kinky—poor Brad had grown almost painfully excited at the very thought. And even though Alyssa was asleep in the bedroom barely a dozen feet away, it seemed just a little too awkward to wake her and beg for sex, and perhaps have her ask what had gotten him so worked up. It would have been too embarrassing to admit. Instead, then, the guilty boy had simply slouched down in the recliner and, with a quick glance over his shoulder at the still-closed bedroom door, he had opened his pants and begun masturbating at once. God, the thought of that middle-aged guy’s tongue in some pretty co-ed’s glistening wet cunt, slobbering happily, as her roommate, sitting hip to naked hip in the couch, watched, and fingered herself drowsily, and maybe begged for a lick, too, as all the while the man’s wife discussed it with the interviewer so matter-of-factly…

Licking his lips, gazing into the abundant, jiggling white cleavage of the bosomy older woman on the TV screen, Brad had strained his ears for the sweet sounds of the two girls’ shivery moaning, and for the wallowy slurping of the married man’s eager tongue. Excitedly he yanked at himself. He couldn’t help it—he simply squirted off all over himself almost immediately. Oh, what a mess! And yet…well, as his own little organ shrank and drizzled and his semen congealed and cooled all over his hairy belly, still that wicked documentary excited him so! He knew that what he had done was wrong…and yet he could not change the channel.

That man lapping and slobbering in slippery blonde curls just off-camera had not stopped, after all. And despite her apparent nonchalance, Brad could not help but notice that the older woman’s big nipples thrust up thick and crinkled and erect from beneath her clingy tee shirt...When the husband was done and had eaten both of those pretty little girls to orgasm, Brad wondered shakily, would he then turn his attentions back to his indulgent, patient wife? Oh, how the man might dig those heavy, rolling bosoms out of her study brassiere! And then, as lips still stinking of someone else’s cunt sank down hungrily onto the swollen mouthfuls of her matronly nipples, at last it would be her turn to shiver and pant and moan...Still covered with the fluids of his own guilty ejaculation, poor Brad could not help grabbing his wriggling little organ and tugging it happily to one more gooey orgasm…

Yes, though he had never dared to tell Alyssa, of course, that late-night cable television documentary had certainly put some ideas in Brad’s head. And, oh, the next morning, with visions of his previous night’s secret viewing still blazing in his mind’s eye, with what wicked joy had he stirred sleepily and simply mounted his slender little darling with a possessive grunt! God, she wasn’t even awake yet, but he forced himself on her without a word of apology—he simply plopped his blunt, still slightly aching cockhead into her hairy twat, and as she rolled and panted confusedly beneath him, he just pushed her wide and pressed thickly into her, down, down, down.

He whimpered faintly in his own need, feeling those unready labia so tight about him, stretching as he pushed, pushed, pushed. Oh, how he needed her! By the time he was balls-deep, of course, she was as juiced up as a whore, and he chuckled inwardly at her instinctive response. Reveling within her slickened interior, he drew back his shivering hips and began to pleasure himself inside of her. Ah, how good it felt! Despite his hungry urgency, however, his poor organ was still a little overexerted from the night before, and it took the savage kindness of her wicked red nails upon his nipples to help bring him off that third time in scarcely half a dozen hours. Feeling like quite the sneaky bad-boy, then, he at last simply splooged her with a crooked grin.

“Wow,” murmured Alyssa with a surprised little smile as he collapsed breathlessly upon her receptive form, “what got you going so early?”

Blushing, Brad had bit his lip. “Just love ya, sweetie,” he said a little shamefacedly, “that’s all.”

At the time, though, he had thought only about a husband getting the chance to handle some strange girl’s forbidden body—not the flip-side of the situation, where perhaps a loving wife would share her body with strange men as well...Surely that sometimes happened, too, however, and eventually Brad had gotten pretty worked up now and then in imagining such things. But…well, he had never imagined that happening with his wife. He swallowed uncomfortably. Yet now he was going to have to do more than just think about such a thing, wasn’t he? He was going to have to endure it. Uncertainly the poor husband tried to understand the predicament he was in.

Probably, Brad thought now, most of those kinky wife-swapping guys at least got the chance to slip inside of someone else’s wife at the same time that their own spouses got dicked. Still, maybe some of them did just enjoy the beautiful, forbidden sight of their own wives being stroked and fondled, kissed and petted, finally pumped and just squirted full of sperm. That must have been part of the allure of swinging, he had always imagined. And certainly that was something that many couples reported in that sexy late-night cable documentary.

Once, on one quiet evening shortly afterward, on a dirty whim Brad finally had worked up his nerve to ask Alyssa very casually if maybe, just maybe, they should watch something naughty together from the paid on-demand section of their cable menu...To his delight, the girl agreed swiftly, her eyes flashing, and as she sat there beside him, shivering in anticipation with her hand resting oh-so casually upon his jean-clad thigh, Brad scrolled through the various choices in the adult menu and eventually settled upon the one he secretly had scouted out the day before: a porno of amateur swingers, average-looking to medium-attractive people ranging from their twenties to maybe their late forties, cavorting in various trysts in someone’s basement or a deserted stretch of beach or the carpeted back of a van somewhere.

While it had been clear that they truly were amateurs rather than professional porn stars, it was also very, very obvious that these people really got off on watching their spouses get fucked. He himself had been particularly turned on by knowing that the people writhing naked upon his television screen were not remote professional actors diligently following some hack’s script out in one of those sleazy yet perversely glamorous movie sets in the porno district of Los Angeles. No, they were simply ordinary people just like himself and Alyssa, people whose way of loving one another included wanting to experiment with some of the deliciously naughty things which society said were dirty and wrong.

In one scene a middle-aged husband made love to his wife’s full-bodied best friend in the back of the couple’s minivan, enjoying her thoroughly while his golden-tressed wife drove them around town. It seemed particularly kinky when the man holding the camcorder—was it the brown-haired woman’s husband? Brad had wondered with a comfortable inward shiver—cut back and forth between the man who pawed and slobbered over his neighbor’s once-forbidden body and a view of the trim blonde soccer-mom in the front seat. That tanned and toned lady behind the wheel might have seemed nonchalant at first glance, and yet she seemed to smirk faintly behind those expensive aviator shades of hers. Yes, the nostrils of her elegant narrow nose had flared ever so faintly, and there was no mistaking the erectness of the nipples that despite the heat of the sun thrust up from the tips of her shapely little breasts to push betrayingly against the thin cotton of her sundress.

Oh, clearly it was a pleasant little delight for her now and then to glance indulgently back at the pair in the rearview mirror. The trembling male animal she observed with such apparently superior aloofness was, most likely, a successful businessman, a devoted father, a loving husband—and yet when allowed the opportunity, the poor needy man could not help molesting his wife’s best friend without remorse. Happily the man dug the brunette’s big rolling bosom out of her top, clutching at wobbling white mounds so different than those of his own athletic spouse. Moaning, he chewed and smacked on crinkled pink-brown nipples that filled his mouth with their comforting fistfuls of erectile tissue. Sucking on the thickened tips of those heavy breasts as deliriously as any infant, the man soon reached under the brown-haired woman’s skirt to stroke her ever more assertively between her quaking thighs. She was wet there—you could hear it.

On and on it went as the minivan snaked patiently through traffic, until finally the man had kissed and eaten and rubbed the other lady to her unfeigned orgasm, and he just mounted her desperately, grunting. Oh, how clearly he enjoyed her, savoring every sliding inch of his neighbor’s available wife. He simply grabbed her hips and fucked her like an animal. When he was almost done, however, he pulled out. The woman beneath him looked up through eyes drowsily half-lidded, and as she reached gracefully down to scratch and squeeze at his jouncing balls, he yanked savagely at his reddened meat until he ejaculated all over the woman’s fluttering belly and her lolling breasts and the rounded pillar of her throat. The man was gasping and red-faced, wild-eyed in his excitement and his triumph as he emptied himself so messily without reserve. He spattered her happily from navel to nipples to neck, the strings of his clingy goop gleaming all over her in the sunlight filtering through the van’s tinted windows.

Then his own wife, smiling to herself, finally parked the minivan in a secluded parking lot behind some deserted factory. The athletic blonde came back to join them, perching herself between the other woman’s spread knees so that she could lean in nimbly over the mess and plant a little kiss with chaste playfulness on the tip of her friend’s nose. Negligently, almost as if scarcely realizing she was doing it, she began to run her fingertips lightly through a brown-furred pussy already sopping with her friend’s ready lubrication. Soon, however, the blonde smiled slyly, and her wrist moved faster, perhaps as much for her own enjoyment as for that of her friend, and her cheeks glowed warmer as the brunette bit her lip prettily and began to shiver as her poor body was driven toward another climax. And then, while the golden-haired lady’s husband looked on excitedly, starting to tug experimentally at his shrunken little penis once more, she lowered her flushed face and began slurping up every gleaming cable of his cum…

In another vignette a good-looking redheaded girl with a sexy crooked smile lay with her navy blue midriff shirt pulled up over her petite little breasts and her jeans bunched down around her slender ankles, splayed open in a flower-sheeted bed in what was obviously a girls’ college dorm room, masturbating before a crowd of grinning male acquaintances. It was clear that these boys were not simply strangers hired with some cryptic want-ad in the personal column of a college-town student newspaper. From the easy way they said her name and chatted casually back and forth with her, it seemed that they were basically just friends of this girl, and to Brad that somehow made the whole thing even kinkier.

Maybe a couple of these boys had been her lovers at one point or another, but surely all of them could not have been, Brad believed. The lanky girl was so young and fresh-faced and beautiful, like any of a thousand such co-eds on a big campus, one who might sit right beside you in class everyday, unnoticed. And yet despite her seemingly conventional pose in public, the wicked mind of the poor thing smoldered with wild desires she could not deny. How touching it was, somehow, to imagine the hesitance and embarrassment with which she must have approached her friends, craving so much to live out her dirty fantasy at last, and yet painfully uncertain of what they would think of her.

Yes, perhaps the boys had thought she was kidding at first, maybe making fun of their predictable masculine appetites. A little awkwardly they would have chuckled in self-deprecation. Yet when at last they realized she was serious, how their eyes must have widened in astonishment! It might have taken the blushing girl awhile to convince these uncertain guys that it really was okay, that what she proposed would not demean her or humiliate her. It would thrill her, she might insist softly. So, so much...And, then, blinking solemnly, the coy thing might bite her lower lip in the most endearing, unfeigned gesture of shyness ever. Despite their initial reservation, her friends simply could not resist.

Exhibitionistically, therefore, the redhead touched herself now, crimson-nailed fingertips gliding teasingly over her thighs, her hips, her belly. Caressingly she cupped her upstanding breasts, scratching and plucking at her fiercely pointed nipples theatrically for the benefit of her watchers almost as much for herself. She knew how lovely she must look, and she played to her audience, happily. Soon, of course, she began to prod herself in the watering velvet beneath her fluttering belly. With well-practiced fingers, with a buzzing little vibrator, and sometimes with an enormous lifelike dildo, she teased her shapely white young body again and again toward a shivering climax that ultimately left her flushed and sweaty and sumptuously drained. How beautiful it was as the teasing girl’s slender hands roamed her supple flesh without shame or remorse! And yet while the smirking thing could have brought herself to climax almost immediately, instead the wicked masturbatrix took a long, long time getting there. Yes, first she enjoyed her slender young body very purposefully, very thoroughly, and along the way she encouraged her wide-eyed watchers to step up, unzip, and play with themselves until they just squirted right into her beautiful face.

And they did, eagerly, sometimes pinching at her stiff-nippled little breasts, sometimes caressing her naked white neck or her cotton-clad shoulders, sometimes stroking tenderly at the waves of chestnut hair that glowed on her rhythmically shaking pillow. And through it all, of course, each man jerked a fat red organ so close before her gasping face, faster and faster and faster, until the twitching thing just unloaded all over her provocative young smile. The girl always made a big show of gurgling their splooge theatrically before smacking it down with a lip-smacking relish, and when at last she let herself climax as well, her face shone with stray spatters of their sour juices, and her lovely little ear hung with the clingy strings…

A different scene featured a heavyset blonde woman sitting cross-legged and nude in her living room, giving enthusiastic head to five younger guys at once, well-muscled specimens that looked like college football players. Her fully clothed husband sat quietly in a nearby chair, tapping his upper lip speculatively while he watched in silent awe as the loving housewife debauched herself like an absolute whore. Happily she fondled her big boobs, squeezing and pinching with abandon at her enormous nipples as she slobbered upon one great purple-headed cock after another. Sometimes she reached down beneath her belly and rubbed herself contentedly in her big hairy pussy, too.

This woman was somebody’s wife, Brad had told himself wonderingly, and somebody’s mother. Those heavy, bulbous blue-veined breasts, so different from those of his own wife’s girlish mounds, were not made for a fashion magazine—they were great sexual workhorses, designed to be used, to be fondled and groped and sucked upon, while rippling white flesh spilled from between some molester’s splayed fingers. Yes, those thick jugs had comforted that husband many a night, and most likely decades ago those puckered nipples had nourished two or three babies as well. She was not some naïve young girl perhaps unsure of the ramifications of what she did now—she was experienced and mature, and clearly this faithful middle-aged lady enjoyed being on display so, and servicing the sexual needs such handsome young beasts. Most likely this was a fantasy that had fired her naughty imagination through twenty or thirty years of marriage, and now, thanks to the balding, slightly potbellied man whose bright gaze tacitly egged her ever onward, she at last had the chance to revel in her every dirty wish.

On and on she sucked at those swollen phalluses, moaning and smacking. The broad-hipped woman smiled around each mouthful of throbbing dick as it finally twitched and squirted helplessly within her knowing lips, for every bitter throb was a testament to the power of her undeniable feminine skills. Yes, at that timeless moment of the primitive male ejaculation, the gracious fifty-year-old hostess did not flinch, did not make a face, certainly did not spit—she just kept on sucking contentedly until she had drawn forth every stringy squirt. She swallowed each load with smacking relish, tugging on her thickened nipples all the while, and the she went eagerly on to the next erect red penis. At last the slutty thing had gulped down each boy’s copious orgasm—not even neglecting the cameraman, who with a series of swooping jerks unskillfully traded off the digital camcorder to a grinning friend who had already been serviced so that he, too, could get his knob-job from the round-cheeked matron. She smiled dreamily for a long, satisfied moment, her stomach full of cum.

Breathing deep, the housewife finally lay back down against the carpet, red-faced and sweaty and dreamy-eyed. There was still a stray wad of someone’s cum nestled between her lower lip and her chin, and a thick drizzle of gluey gray sperm oozed from the corner of her mouth, down her rounded cheek toward her ear. Eyes shining, she raised her knees and spread her heavy thighs invitingly, smirking silently at her waiting husband. The boys stood aside, then, and then as everyone watched, the poor man simply got down on his knees, unzipped to free the only untouched erection in the room, and leaned over to grab his wife’s big soft breasts assertively. Shuddering, gasping, clinging to the thick fistfuls of her nipples, he began to kiss that ravenous mouth with abandon, and he finally just fucked her as he needed…

On and on went the kinky scenarios. Like her husband, Alyssa also had been wondrously excited that night—how her eyes had shone as they sat together on the couch, watching red-faced, eager strangers fuck one another’s spouses silly! Some of the scenes were just so deliciously kinky—Brad had wanted to watch a couple of them more than once, but he was just a little too embarrassed to suggest it. To his delight, however, Alyssa had the same idea, but she was not loath to express herself, and with her heavy-lidded eyes bright upon the action on the screen, her slender hand now and then groped for the remote control so that she could replay some of the dirtier things.

Oh, how exquisitely naughty it had been! His darling Alyssa was just so impossibly lovely as she drank in some of the nastiest sights again and again, her dark eyes glowing.

Two kittenish girls pinching each other’s nipples and kissing passionately as their boyfriends masturbated all over their flushed young faces till they shone and bubbled and dripped— Their randy young boyfriends were so eager and physical and brutish, while the girls in the throes of their gentle feminine lovemaking were so endearingly tender and experimental.

A close-up of one wife’s hairy dilated pussy bubbling over with sperm as the blunt purple cockhead of the next guy in the gangbang plunged squelchingly through the clammy mess that the previous ravisher had left, sank shudderingly down, down, down until someone else’s cum welled up around his quivering balls, and then withdrew for a stroke that would truly take her breath away— And close beside, clinging happily to the woman’s hips, her wide-eyed husband crouched with his reddened face upon her belly, nuzzled into the very top of her sweating mons, his gaze absolutely filled with her beautifully fucked cunt, his excited lungs breathing nothing but the heady scent of her.

The expression of rapture upon the face of the middle-aged bleach-blonde squealing happily as her jiggling pair of blue-veined titties were fondled and squeezed, lifted high by their big sturdy nipples, sucked and slobbered over by three or four different men at once— Oh, how she writhed beneath their demanding attentions, moaning out her ecstasy as she peeled back the fat lips of her cunt with one pudgy hand and rubbed herself there excitedly with the other.

A skinny young black-haired dominatrix in naughty high-heeled jackboots and red latex who blindfolded a pair of older men and lashed them naked to their chairs, her bright-lipsticked mouth grinning as she then squatted around a thick black rubber dildo that seemed as fat as a fist— With what deliciously casual cruelty she controlled these poor male slaves, making them shiver and pant and beg, until after an agonizing time of the most exquisite tantalizings and torturings, at last she savagely yanked her prisoners simultaneously to their spattering orgasms.

A fresh-faced girl of around twenty shivering in the throes of a whimpering orgasm as her smooth-shaven, spermed-up cunt was licked simultaneously both by the middle-aged husband who had just fucked it and by his indulgent, flush-cheeked wife— The girl was sweet-looking and lovely, made even more beautiful in her pleasures, and yet just as powerfully thrilling was the look in the smirking older woman’s eye, somehow drowsy and triumphant all at once. Groaning, the tousled wife pulled her husband’s panting face right in with her, French-kissing him in the curdles of his own semen.

Oh, how deliciously kinky it all was! With one eye on the big-screen TV and his lips nibbling along his wife’s neck and her blood-warmed ear, Brad that night had worshiped his dear Alyssa as she so obviously deserved. What fun it had been to share those wicked delights with her, to tease her and tantalize her! The wildly erect boy had petted and stroked his dirty angel hungrily, compulsively, bringing her lovingly to orgasm two or three times before finally she had begged him to enter her and finish himself off as well, as he so clearly needed. And when at long last he dragged her supple form to the floor and entered her over-lubricated interior, oh, what a mess he had made of her!

Well, thought Brad now, slowly, if a husband had always reveled in the excitation, the teasing, and the fulfillment of his wife’s passions, then perhaps how much more arousing might it be for the husband to see his own beloved made ever more beautiful by the caresses of curious, appreciative strangers? That, he supposed, must have been how the husbands in that video must have considered the situation. Rather than doing it all himself, the indulgent husband could draw back and watch every aspect of the proceedings, drinking in the sight, the sound, the smell of what he so altruistically allowed his over-excited mate. Moving calmly about the bed, red and rampant and trembling in his voyeuristic waiting, such a husband could take in every detail of his dear wife’s debauchery, from any angle he chose. A husband could step back for a gleamingly pornographic panorama that would encompass every part of the naughty proceedings. Or perhaps a husband might move his wide-eyed face up close, so close, close enough to see every pore of his writhing beloved’s flushed cheek or every hair follicle of her shivering mound, close enough to feel the heat of her overexcited body, close enough to smell the delirious tang of her beautifully fucked pussy, close enough even, perhaps, to lean in that last long inch and taste her glorious flesh …

Brad blinked, red-faced. Yes, reluctantly he did have to admit that the situation Alyssa proposed now did perhaps have a rather perverse, secretly thrilling appeal that made his poor flesh wild with un-nameable desires. And right now it was either that, he told himself, or nothing—either allow the devilish angel her naughty joys or lose her forever. She claimed that she still loved him, and the feel of her shivering and gasping once more beneath his worshipful tongue had brought all his old feelings to the surface again. Somewhere in the back of his mind still simmered the resentment, the betrayal, the subtle sense of loss that was so difficult to describe. And yet, well…it had always been so hard to deny his wickedly flirty love in anything. If she smirked and teased and goaded him into letting her open up those sleek white thighs for an anonymous, brutish, purely physical fucking that would take her breath away, he had to admit that it could only make his wanton Alyssa ever more beautiful in her naughty pleasures.

Uncertainly Brad tried to work up his courage. And it was only physical, wasn’t it? No matter how intimate the possession of what was once his wife’s most secret places, he told himself, still their love might remain unscathed, for though he winced at the thought of some other man’s fat, drizzling cock shoved balls-deep up between Alyssa’s shapely white hips, still her heart would belong to Brad. He loved his wife, after all, and he would do anything to make her happy, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he?

And certainly it had always been an exquisite vicarious delight to watch as he dildoed her—to penetrate her so purposefully, so mechanically, watching every squelching stroke wide-eyed as she shivered and squealed. He loved to see the great lifelike piece of veiny rubber sink down, down into the very core of her body, filling her, stretching her, making her truly feel what it meant to be a woman. In the grand scheme of things, the boy tried to tell himself, was there really much difference? Yes, so rather than lifeless molded rubber that gave her whorish cunt the surrogate fucking she deserved, it would instead be flesh, red and thick and straining, surging with the overflowing sperm it longed to squirt...But still, he reasoned desperately, though the object that penetrated and pleasured her would be living rather than inanimate, still it was not loved as Brad was—why, it should be no more threatening to the reluctant husband than the couple’s favorite dildo. Wasn’t that the correct way of seeing the situation? Wasn’t it?

Brad licked his lips. He looked at himself for a long moment in the mirror, seeing a face flushed and excited, seeing eyes wild and hungry. The wicked Alyssa had just accepted his fierce oral love with only the most negligent of thanks, and though she planned for herself the most self-indulgent adulteries, still she denied his poor reddened organ even the quickest of relief. Shivering, he almost wondered if while she was on the phone he might simply disobey her and jerk off anyway…

He looked hesitantly down, seeing projected from his open pants a quivering piece of meat so much more swollen and urgent than he ever remembered. How erect he was, how desperate for release! Oh, he could reach his orgasm almost at once, he was sure, and how good it would feel...Yes, the semen that his raging fist dredged up from the depths of his spasming balls would jet all over the mirror and sink and faucet and walls like nothing he had ever seen, surely half a cup if it was a drop! Strong within him raged the desire to reach down and take command, to grunt and gasp, and spatter that little room with every messy squirt of his sperm! Yes, with just a few purposeful strokes he could hang the walls with the stalactites of his jism, gout after gout of the stringy ropes of his unutterable liquid lusts…

And yet—well, what she had said made him blanch again and made his poor cock soften slightly. Had she truly meant it? he wondered again. Despite what her cruel red lips had said, mightn’t she just let her poor suffering husband give himself one teeny little orgasm before having to endure his humiliating and yet titillating cuckoldry, just one? God, he was so frustrated, so wildly over-stimulated that he felt he could jerk off three or four times in a row—surely just one wouldn’t hurt anybody…

But he was only kidding himself, he knew bleakly. His smirkingly cruel wife’s punishment for disobedience was stern—disgustingly so—and she would not hesitate to heap it upon her poor groveling spouse. Just as he had no wish to incur his mistress’s wrath, he would not purposefully run the risk of having to endure the girl’s wickedly inventive penalty. Though he longed fiercely to pleasure himself like a beast, the notion of being caught in the throes of that most intimate misbehavior by the demanding Alyssa was deflating. And he had little doubt that if she felt her sensual authority challenged, she would not hesitate to do precisely what she threatened, and make him slurp up every sour squirt of his own ejaculate like a pig...In fact, most likely, as she had told him so sneeringly, it would actually turn her on to see...He thought of that, his face red.

Swallowing, he realized that no matter now needy his poor engorged organ was, his own orgasm simply would have to wait, as she had said. Her needs would come first, no matter how debauched, self-indulgent, and slutty. His needs—no matter how legitimate, long-denied, and wickedly piqued—would have to wait.

Suddenly there was a knock at the outer door, and Brad started guiltily. So soon? he wondered bleakly. Why, she must have had someone on standby, ready at a moment’s notice! The long-suffering husband could not help but find the thought both disquieting and somewhat embarrassing. Oh, for while she may not have been cheating behind his back, she must have flirting like an absolute slut. Certainly guys were always attracted to the slinky, black-haired siren like moths to a flame, but she also must have been working her sly skills for weeks or even months, just setting up contacts and getting things ready for the night her poor husband finally broke, and veritably begged her to betray him. All she had to do, then, was make one phone call, and she could get some stiff-dicked guy to hurry eagerly over…

The knock came again. Apparently, Brad supposed, Alyssa did not even deign to answer the door—it was more amusing for her to make her husband take part in his own betrayal. Grimacing, he somehow managed to tuck his frustration-fattened manhood back in his tight trousers and then, frowning inwardly, he headed out of the bathroom. What would it be? he wondered with a vague dread. Some sleazy lounge lizard picked up in a singles’ bar, a tanned guy with gaudy gold chains hanging on a hairy chest half exposed by an open shirt? Or perhaps a big broad-shouldered football player or weightlifter, somebody with enormous muscles who looked as if he could fuck her like a machine for hours? Really, Alyssa had always been unpredictable enough in her passions, and it was simply impossible to guess now what might tickle the inventive girl’s fancy.

Ashamed of his own acquiescence, Brad hurried to the door, dreading what he might find, and yet at the same time dutifully obedient to his stern mistress’s command.