His Wife, My Toy: Part 3

Friday May 30 11:45It’s Cuck’s birthday today. I know because Pet, his wife, told me not long before I delivered a mass of hot spunk over her lips the other day. They’re having friends over this evening. I’m not invited. It doesn’t matter.Lunchtime is approaching and I have ideas. I take out my mobile and phone Pet.“What do you want?” she asks, sounding a little breathless.I ignore the question. “Where are you?” I ask.“I’m at home. I’ve got the day off. I’m getting things ready for this evening.” Just as I expected.“What are you wearing?”There’s silence. Then, “Just an old dress. Why?”“Panties?”Silence, then, “Of course. What kind of woman…”“Take them off.”“What?”“Take them off. I’m coming over.”“But Cuck isn’t here.”“So much the better.”“I’ve got things to do.”“I won’t stay long.”There’s silence. A long silence. “You made me feel very ashamed the other day.”“Yes?”“Yes.” Again silence, then, “I never do that, you know. I never let Cuck do it. He was insanely jealous.”I relish the moment. “You never let him cum on your face, you mean?” This is getting better and better.“No.” A pause. “I’m not some slut, you know. You made me feel like a slut.”“Just get those panties off, Pet. And expect a visit.” I cut the call.Since I run my own company from home, there’s nobody to get on my back for taking time off. I drive steadily, carefully. If Pet has to wait a little longer than expected, well, that might be all for the good.She opens the door in a light dress, rubber gloves on hands. “What if somebody sees you?”“Then say I’m delivering some service for the party.”She stands to one side and lets me in. She looks apprehensive, but there’s a little more decisiveness about her nonetheless. “You shouldn’t be here,” she says.I walk further into the house, Pet following behind. “Nice place,” I say, scanning the living room.“What do you want?” Pet says.I turn, she averts her eyes as I look at her. “What you want,” I say.“But Cuck’s not here.”“So much the better.”“But the idea was for…” She squeaks.I’ve reached out and lifted her dress. “Nice,” I say. “I’m glad you’ve done as I said, Pet. It tells me you’re up for this, whatever you may say.”“Cuck isn’t here,” she repeats, as if she’s lost for what to say.I stroll further into the living room, leaving her to follow, to stand shifting on her feet, wondering what to do. “Remember Monday evening?” I say.She nods, looking bashful ashamed. “That was then.”“And Wednesday, in my car, when you asked me when I was going to fuck you?”“But I thought…”“I’m not taking no for an answer, Pet. Before I leave here, I’m going to fuck you.”“Don’t do this,” she whispers.“Why not, Pet?” I say. I close in on her, stroking her neck with my fingers. “We both know you want it. We both know it will happen. You’ve practically begged me for it, after all.”“I have not!” she protests.“Pet, Pet,” I say. I grip her wrist. She tries to pull it away, but I just tighten my grip, pulling her so that she stumbles in my direction, in the direction of the couch.“Not here!” she gasps. “It’ll stain!”I grin. “See, Pet. We both know it’s going to happen.”She blinks. “If I let you… have your way with me. Will you leave me to get on with things?”“Of course!” I say, all generosity and expansiveness.“Kitchen,” she says, suddenly taking the lead. I follow her out of the room, a short distance down the hall. She’s already turned around to face me when I enter the kitchen. “What you said on Monday,” she says, then her eyes aim downwards as that bashful look comes over. “About… About licking…”“About eating you out?”She nods, not looking at me.“Oh I mean it,” I say. “I want to taste you very much indeed.” I step forward giving her a little push, forcing her backwards, then another, until she backs into the fridge.“What are you doing?” she gasps.“I really do want to taste your sweet little pussy,” I tell her. She’s not looking at me at all, her head aimed sideways as my hand shoots up under her dress. “But we don’t have time right now.” My fingers wriggle in between her petals, touching her, feeling her.“Just…” she breathes. “Just be gentle. I’m not quite ready.”I continue moving my fingers, teasing her entrance a little. “Look at me!” I bark.She turns her head, staring straight at me, wide-eyed and slightly frightened.“Don’t be afraid, Pet,” I whisper, my eyes locked onto hers. “I’m not going to hurt you.” My fingers keep moving, sliding, teasing. “But you should always be Karşıyaka escort bayan ready, because this isn’t the last time I’ll fuck you. I expect you to be ready at all times. Ready to be fucked.” I slide my finger up, teasing her clit a little. “Do you understand?”She nods.I pull my hand away. “Now, get yourself ready while I get my cock out. It seems to me you’re juicing up quite nicely.”She looks down at the floor as she pulls her dress up. Her fingers don’t do much of a dance, just stroke a little, but that’s her business. I unbuckle, dropping my trousers, then my underpants. I’m already good and hard just from wanting this“See how big and hard I am, Pet?”She forces herself to look. “Yes,” she whispers.“That’s how much I want you.”She just stares, suddenly as if she can’t tear her eyes away from my swollen cock.“Stand with your legs a little wider apart!”She complies. I pin her back against the fridge with one arm, grabbing my cock with the other and steering it to her pussy. She turns her head as I push up, encountering a little resistance, but not much, gradually inching my rod into her, enjoying her little squeaks as I do so.I grab her jaw with the hand I’ve just had round my cock, forcing her head round. “Look at me when I’m fucking you,” I tell her, inching right the way in, as far as I can. “How does that feel?”She looks at me with ambivalent eyes. “Just do what you came for,” she says.“Do what?” She swallows hard. She swallows again. Her eyes move to one side and I squeeze her jaw. “Look at me!” I demand.She looks at me, the tip of her tongue emerging. Then she says in a hoarse whisper, “Fuck me.”“See, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” I say, beginning to move back and forth.She just stares.“Don’t be coy, Pet. I know you want it. Your pussy’s growing wetter by the second.”“I can’t help it,” she whispers.I almost laugh out loud. Instead I silence myself by giving a good hard thrust, making Pet gasp, then keeping up the pace. “That’s because deep down you really want it,” I say, looking straight into her eyes. “Deep down you know you need a really good fucking, and I’m going to fuck you lots, Pet. I’m going to fuck that tight, luscious pussy of yours as much as I can.”I keep looking into her eyes, wonderful pools of reluctance and lust. I thrust a little harder, shoving my cock deep, as deep as I can, feeling her moisten still more. “Oh you’re loving this, aren’t you, Pet? My big hard cock in your tight, juicy cunt?” “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she breathes, “not without Cuck being here.”“I’ll fuck you whenever I damned well like,” I sneer, watching her eyes widen. “Cuck or no Cuck.” As if to accentuate this I slam my cock upwards and she cries out, though hardly in anguish. “Whenever I want you to open your legs and let my big cock in, you damned well open your legs!”She doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, her breasts bouncing ever so lightly under her dress and brassiere. It’s a look that needs no interpretation. I shove my cock upwards, inwards, I fuck her hard, making the fridge shake. She stares at me, her eyes betraying her completely now. “Like that do you, Pet?”“Yes,” she whispers. Then she finds her voice. “Yes!” she exclaims. “Yes!” she cries out.Our eyes are locked together as our genitals are. Her cunt tightens, squeezing the cock I relentlessly drive into her, stretching her out as her vagina does its best to tighten, her muscles doing their best to squeeze the cum out of me. “What’s happening to you, Pet?”She swallows, moans, gasps. “I’m being fucked.”“And you’ll be fucked whenever I feel like it,” I say.“Yes!” she screams as my cock dents the bottom of her cunt. “I want that!”I’m fucking her hard now, really hard, my cock racing back and forth in her. “And when I feel like cumming over your face, I’ll cum on your face. How’s that?”She stares at me, her eyes practically limp with lust now. “Yes,” she whispers. “Is that what you want now?”“No, Pet,” I say, “not now.” That was never my intention this time, and anyway, the starting pistol has just gone, the sperm sprinting from my balls along my shaft. “Look at me, Pet!” I shout. “Look at me when I’m cumming in your tight little pussy!”I bellow out loud as my cock explodes inside her. Amazed and gratified to hear her cry out, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”.But as soon as I’ve pulled out, she looks ashamed again, especially when a dollop of semen Escort bornova drops from her pussy onto the linoleum floor. “More cleaning up,” I say cheerfully.“Please leave,” Pet says. “I’ve got lots to do.”“Fine,” I say. “But two things. Firstly, I don’t want you telling Cuck anything about this until tomorrow.”She nods. I don’t know if I can trust her, but I have no choice.“Secondly, I want you to leave your panties off for the rest of the day. Will you do that?”Once again she nods, her eyes betraying her state of mind.“There’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of,” I say, but deep down I’m gratified that she does feel that way.Friday May 30 17:30That evening I go shopping. I say shopping, I mean I buy a bottle of plonk and a card for birthday boy before going for dinner. While I wait for the meal I fill out the card in block capitals, “TODAY I FUCKED YOUR WIFE AND FILLED HER TIGHT, WET CUNT WITH MY SPUNK. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CUCK.” I allow myself a smile as I remember the spunk dripping from Pet onto the kitchen floor.Since I’m in the middle of a pleasant interlude, let me take a moment to imagine how this tale might be being received. I like to think it divides opinion, as is always the case when one is unapologetic about what one does. I know what mainstream opinion says, that marriage is an estate of blissful exclusivity between two people, and I don’t see it. I don’t mean I don’t understand the theory, I mean that I don’t see it around me, not consistently. If you’re a half of one of those happily hymeneal couples, then great, but you’re in the minority as far as I can see.Me, I’m out for what I can get. I feed off dissatisfaction. Maybe you’re one of those men who would give me a good hiding for going after your wife, but if so, don’t worry, your wife’s not for me. Clandestine affairs don’t do it for me. But nor do ordinary affairs. I don’t do those. I’m sure the suffocating cloak of “normality” that permeates our society through an excess of psychobabble would have me down as “abnormal” in some way, not “mature”, or some such nonsense. Rubbish, I am what I am, and I don’t pretend. Besides, what would all those men do who secretly do want to share their wives if it wasn’t for people like me? If you’ve read this far, the chances are you are one of those men. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And if you’re the kind of woman who gets her panties all hot and steamy reading this, then all I can say is that you’re my kind of woman. But only if you’re married. Only if you have a husband who for whatever reason does not want you for himself – at least not sexually.And why should I apologise? It’s not as if I go behind anyone’s back. I fuck married women; and I do it with the full knowledge and consent of their husbands, that’s what I do. It’s a power trip, of course it is; I’m not going to deny it. If you think that’s immoral or not for you, that’s your prerogative, but it takes all sorts. I don’t judge monogamous people as irredeemably dull; I don’t expect to be judged as irredeemably wicked.Anyway, I digress. After shopping and a good meal, I make my way slowly to Cuck’s and Pet’s residence. I can hear voices from the back, but ring the bell anyway. Cuck answers the door, his face swinging from surprise to apprehension. “Who invited you?” he asks.“I heard there was a party,” I say, thrusting the bottle of wine and the card on him.He looks at me in disbelief, standing the bottle on a small side table, before opening the envelope. His face is a picture when he reads the card. “Is this true?” he stutters.“Ask your wife,” I say.Behind Cuck a ruddy-faced man appears. Hurriedly Cuck puts the card back in the envelope and turns. He doesn’t close the door, so I do it for him, walking down the hallway. I spy Pet, scuttling into the kitchen. She’s alone, so I sidle up to her. She glances at me nervously. I lean in and say in a hoarse whisper, “I can smell your naked cunt from here, Pet.” She blushes, and enjoying the reaction, I find my own way out into the back garden.I’m sure you know what these events are like. People are milling about in the garden in nice clothes. The men range from casual to suits, while the women are more varied. There’s a fair bit of cleavage on display, too. I pour myself a glass of wine and find myself somewhere to sit and observe, hardly drinking at all, just passing the time with one of my favourite üçyol escort games; imagining what people’s sexual proclivities are. Occasionally I slip into conversation with someone. It’s always the same. How do I know Cuck and Pet? Old acquaintances. What do I do? Something in computers. It doesn’t matter what I say. No one really cares, no one will remember.Then suddenly I’m exchanging pleasantries with a woman in a red dress with white polka dots which shows more of her breasts than it conceals. I’ve been watching her and the man I understand to be her husband for a while. Something about them intrigues me, tiny signs which only reveal themselves to one who has experience.“So,” she says smiling. “I haven’t seen you before.”“Old acquaintance,” I say. “But I’ve been living abroad.”“Doing what?”I regard her with my most serious expression. “I’d like to be able to tell you,” I say, “but…”“Oooooh!” the woman says, her eyes widening. “Hush hush is it?” I judge that she’s had a bit to drink, but not enough to not be fully aware of what she’s saying.“Sort of.”“Is this where you tell me you’d have to kill me if I found out what you did?” It’s jokily said, but obviously she finds the idea of clandestine activities abroad exciting.“Something like that,” I smile.The woman gives a secretive little smile, moistening her lips gently with her tongue. Her eyes flit briefly to her husband, then back to me. She’s sizing me up. I can see the hesitation before caution is defeated. “Wouldn’t a mild spanking suffice?” she asks.Now this is the kind of conversation I like. I make no secret of looking at her breasts when I say, “Oh, I never do things by halves.”“No,” she muses, “you don’t look like that sort of man.”“What sort of man do I look like?”She smiles secretively. “The kind who takes what he wants,” she says.“You’ve got me all wrong,” I say. “I don’t steal.” I make sure she catches me glancing towards her husband.“Do you borrow?”“Never without permission.”She considers this. “If someone doesn’t know you’ve borrowed something and you give it back in good condition, does it matter?”“That’s a good point,” I say. “But in my experience it’s never that easy.”“No?”“No. I’m much happier knowing that people are happy to lend me whatever it is I borrow.”“That’s very upright of you,” the woman says. “Are you a very upright sort of person?” The way she says it speaks volumes.“I rise to any occasion,” I reply.The woman stifles a giggle as I catch her husband looking across. Not jealously as many do, but with some kind of secret sorrow behind his eyes. The woman sees me looking.“He’s a good sort,” she says. “He’s my rock, in fact, and he’s great with the boys. But sometimes I wish…” Her voice trails off.“It’s not uncommon to feel that way,” I say.“Perhaps not,” she says. The she shakes her head and begins to twitter. “Please, pay no attention to me. I’m just an old chatterbox.” Then she sweeps away, to a small group a short distance away.I get up and pour myself another glass of wine, keeping away from people as much as possible. Eventually, perhaps inevitably, I find myself standing face to face with the red-dressed woman’s husband.“I hope my wife didn’t embarrass herself,” he says. He sounds cordial enough, but there’s steel in his voice.“Not at all,” I say. “She was perfectly charming.”The man looks me over, trying to get a handle on me. “Sorry,” he says. “It’s just… Sometimes she gets a bit tipsy and…”It occurs to me that the man has had a little bit more than might be good for him. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” I tell him, “but I do think you’re a very lucky man.”“Perhaps,” he says. “It’s just that sometimes my wife is a bit too friendly for her own good.”“Really?” I say. “That wasn’t the impression I got.”“No? Well, she must be on her best behaviour tonight, then.” He doesn’t sound as if he quite believes it.I say nothing, waiting him out.“It’s difficult,” he says at last. “You’re right. I am a lucky man. I just… Sometimes I wonder if she’s satisfied enough with me, if she’s happy.”I doubt that he’d be confiding in me like this if he hadn’t had a few drinks, but I’m not about to let that stop me. I give a shrug. “Happiness is what we make of what we’ve got.”The man blinks, thinks, then waves his finger at me. “You’re a wise man,” he says. It occurs to me that he’s drunk enough to be quite vulnerable.“I often think it’s unrealistic of us to expect just one person to fulfil all our needs,” I say.The man considers this. “You may be right,” he says, “but that doesn’t make things any easier, does it?”“Why complicate things unnecessarily?” I retort.The man shakes his head.“Anyway,” I say. “In my experience the best thing to do is to talk about things. Tell your wife how you feel.