Bob's Story (by Shortie)

Here goes the chapter two:

BOB'S STORY

By: Shortie

Chapter 2

Carol awakened before I did the next morning, and was in the shower when I
returned to the reality of my throbbing, burning rear end. As she entered
the room from the bathroom, she noticed I was awake and said brightly,
"Time to get up, relaxyhead. We have lots of places to see today."
There was something in the tone of her voice that was strikingly different
than anything that had been there before, and I turned my head to look
directly at her. She was standing there toweling her wet hair, completely
nude. Her magnificent breasts swayed seductively as her arms moved, and I
momentarily forgot about my discomfort as I gazed in rapt fascination.
Carol had never been prudish about her naked body, and I had seen her that
way many times in the past. This time, though, there was something
different, and I had the immediate thought that the different part was her
air of inner confidence. She had an air of "being in charge" that could
not be mistaken. I knew then that another part of our relationship had
been changed by last night's events.
I groaned inwardly as I struggled to move, and actually whimpered when I
came to a seated position on the edge of the bed. I quickly stood, hoping
to relieve the pain somewhat, and that actually seemed to help a slight
bit. I made my way to the bathroom, emptied my bladder, then stepped
under the shower. There's simply no way to describe the burning, itching
sensation I felt as the water ran over my butt, and the way it soon
changed to a soothing feeling. I stayed there as long as I thought I
could before at last soaping and rinsing, avoiding, of course, that part
that was burning with the fires of Hell.
The morning was one long session of continuous pain, beginning with trying
to sit in a chair at the restaurant as we ate breakfast, and followed by
endless hours of walking, feeling my trousers riding against my ravaged
flesh. Carol seemed to be oblivious to my discomfort, and I suppose I
can't blame her for that. After all, I'd done everything in my power to
get her to whip me, and if that whipping was now causing me second
thoughts, then I simply had to accept the responsibility for it.
We ate a late lunch, then returned to the motel for an afternoon nap.
Again, she told me to leave her alone, and I did so. Again, I lay on my
stomach trying to relax enough to fall arelax, but wasn't successful. My
wife had no trouble at all with relaxing, and seemed to rest peacefully
for at least an hour.
When she finally awakened, she yawned and stretched, then said, "Okay.
I'm ready to take you to the beach."
For several seconds, I had no idea what she was talking about, then
recalled what I had said she should do to me. I simply couldn't believe
she meant to parade me in public, with the welts on my ass visible to one
and all, and thought she was just attempting to scare me. That idea was
soon wiped from my brain as she stood and began to undress. When she took
her swimsuit from her suitcase, and began to put it on, I moved to do the
same. She said simply, "You can undress in the car when we get to the
beach."
I thought she meant to subject me to the semi-public offense of
undressing in our car in order to put on my bathing suit. However, as I
opened my suitcase to get my suit, she said quietly, "You won't need that.
Let's go." She walked to the door, never once glancing my way to see if
I were following. Her quiet confidence in my obedience seemed somehow to
make me want to do that, and so I left the room right behind her.
It was about ten blocks to the beach, and we drove in silence. I have no
idea what my wife's thoughts were, but I know mine were a jumble of
images, and they changed from being embarrassing to being arousing. When
I had envisioned this happening in my fantasy, the only thing I felt had
been excitement. The reality was that what was about to happen would be
very embarrassing to me. However, the idea of being humiliated in public
was at the same time very erotic. Those of you who share my fantasy can
appreciate that. The others will never understand it, no matter how much
I try to explain.
Carol parked the car in one of the spaces by the beach, then turned to me.
She said, "Okay, honey. Get undressed."
She said nothing more, simply sat there looking at me as I sat frozen. My
eyes shifted frantically from her to the beach, where I saw dozens of
people in various states of undress. There was a row of trees between the
parking lot and the street, so no one there would see me undressing.
However, there was nothing at all to obstruct the view of the sunbathers
in front of us. Finally, my hands dropped slowly to my shirt, and I began
to unbutton it.
Carol smiled as I began to remove my clothing, but said nothing. When I
was at last finished undressing, she reached to the back seat for a couple
of beach towels, then got out of the car, saying, "Okay. Let's go. I
wonder if it'll be as exciting for you as your whipping was last night."
As I got out of the car, I held my hands protectively in front of my
crotch, trying to shield it from all the prying eyes that I was sure were
staring at me. I looked around, glad to see that no one at all was
looking my way, but not feeling any less embarrassed. I hurried to
Carol's side, then said, "I'll carry the towels if you want me to."
She almost laughed, then replied, "No way, sweetheart. You wanted this,
and now here it is. By the way, keep your hands at your sides. You look
like a scared little boy when you try to hide your crotch like that." She
then walked away, confident I would follow, as before. And I did.
The walk from our car to a clear spot where we could spread our beach
towels was probably the longest of my entire life. It seemed every step
we took caused more heads to turn, and there was a palpable silence behind
us as everyone we passed saw my welted butt. I heard several whispers,
and knew if I turned my head, I'd see people pointing at me. Again, the
reality of being humiliated in public was far different than my fantasy.
When I thought of this happening, while masturbating in the privacy of my
home, my cock had been hard as a rock. Now, the poor little thing was so
shrunken as to be almost invisible.
We at last reached a clear spot in the sand, and spread our towels. Carol
lay down on hers, and when I lay beside her on mine, she said to me, "Stay
on your tummy. I want everyone to see what you're so proud of." I knew
she meant the red stripes she'd given me hours before, and also knew they
were still easily visible, since I'd checked them before leaving the
motel.
We remained at the beach for less than an hour, but it seemed like a
lifetime. I think my face was as red as my butt during the whole time,
and every time someone walked by and laughed, my sense of offense knew
no end. The most embarrassing part of all was when two women walked past,
arm in arm. They stopped and glanced pointedly at my backside, then one
of them said, "You go, girl! That's all men are good for, isn't it?"
Carol joined them in laughter, then said merrily, "This one is, anyway."
The two walked on, and I wanted nothing more than to just sink into the
sand, disappearing from sight forever.
When the time came for us to leave, she again carried the towels, after
instructing me to keep my hands at my sides. Again, that walk back to our
car was one of the longest of my life, and this time there was no doubt
that everyone was staring at my blazing butt.
I was allowed to put on my trousers in the car, just in case a cop stopped
us on the way back to the motel. She told me that I wouldn't need to put
on anything else, since it'd be coming off as soon as we were in our room.
I was sure I knew what she had in mind, and by the time we had returned,
my cock was no longer shrunken. By the time she said, "Get naked and get
on the bed," it was once-again rampant. By the time she had removed her
swimsuit and mounted me, it was bigger that ever before in my life. Once
again, the fantasy part of public offense had taken over, and it was
just about the most-exciting thing I could think of. The brain is an odd
thing, indeed.
_______________
I won't try to tell you that we quickly began to live the S&M life,
because that's not what happened. My wife did whip me again on a few
occasions, but it was never as exciting for either of us as it had been
that first time. We continued to have intercourse in the female-superior
position, and she continued to prefer reaching orgasm by riding my tongue
after I had climaxed inside her pussy. The other parts of my fantasy,
though, remained just that. She seemed to have no interest in completely
dominating me, as I wanted and needed.
Our lives continued in that manner for almost a year, and would probably
have gone on like that forever, but for a twist of fate. That twist
arrived in the guise of a telephone call one evening, from my older
sister. She had a favor to ask of us, and in granting that
seemingly-innocent favor, we set ourselves irrevocably on the road to
where we are now.
Sis said, "Bob, Mark is going to graduate from veterinary school next
month. He has to serve something like an internship with an established
vet before he can become licensed, and that's where we need your help.
He's been invited to join a clinic in your city, and has accepted. The
problem is that he needs someplace to stay until he can get settled. Can
he stay with you guys for a few days, until he finds someplace else?"
Of course we agreed to that arrangement, since we had two empty bedrooms
in our house. In any event, it would be for only a few days, so wouldn't
be all that big a problem to be accommodating. I told Sis we'd be happy
to have Mark stay with us until he got settled, and so the arrangements
were made.
I hadn't seen my nephew for several years, and was sure he'd be much
different by now. Sis was a few years older than my own 42 years, and
although I wasn't really sure of Mark's age, guessed he was probably
twenty years younger than I. I couldn't envision any problems with having
him as our guest for a few days, and actually looked forward to being able
to catch up with the family news that he'd know.
__________________
We met Mark at the airport at the appointed time, and even though he was
no longer the boy I'd known years ago, I was able to recognize him. He
had grown to be a handsome young man, probably three inches taller than my
average height of 5'-10". I'm sure he outweighed me by several pounds,
and judging by the size of his muscles, I would stay out of any wrestling
matches where he was involved.
It was his permisterality that was so engaging, however, and both Carol and I
found him a delightful permister. He and I shook hands, and then they hugged
in greeting. I saw Carol blush slightly as the hug lasted a few moments
longer than necessary, and it took her a few seconds to regain her
composure when they at last separated. I certainly couldn't blame him for
wanting to hug my wife as long as possible. She had recently passed her
fortieth birthday, but was still in prime condition. I knew that for a
certainty, for we'd had sex just the night before, and I could testify
there was absolutely no sag in her breasts, and her thigh muscles could
still squeeze my head until I feared it'd burst.
We returned home, and soon had Mark moved into one of the unused bedrooms.
He showered and changed clothes, then we sat in the living room sipping
before-dinner takes as the casserole heated in the oven. Again the
conversation came easily, and it was with reluctance that Carol finally
left us to check the dinner. When she announced it was ready, we all
cooperated in setting the table, and carrying food to it from the kitchen.
Mark was obviously tired from his flight, so we all went to bed early. As
Carol and I lay there in our bedroom, we talked quietly about how nice my
nephew was. We both agreed that he'd be a good catch for some woman, and
then she said something that absolutely stunned me. It was, "I think his
cock is the biggest I've ever seen on a man. He must have inherited that
from his dad's side of the family, because it certainly didn't come from
yours."
When I finally was able to reply, I asked, "How do you know how big he is?
You certainly didn't see him undressed, did you?" At the time, her
implication that my penis was small didn't register on my brain. That
came later, I guess.
She said, "Women check out men's crotches from the time they reach
puberty. I've been doing it for almost thirty years, and believe me when
I say that his bulge is among the biggest I've ever seen. I wish I could
see it hard. It must be a monster."
Again I was stunned, because at no time in our married life had my wife
ever given the slightest indication she had any interest in other men's
equipment. The other thought impacted my brain at that moment, and I
tried to deal with the new idea that she was of the opinion that my own
equipment was lacking. I guess it's just another indication of my
fucked-up brain, but that thought was more than a little arousing to me.
It seemed that here was another opportunity for me to be humiliated, and
my brain found that exciting.
I couldn't stop myself from asking, "Would you like to be in bed with him
right now?" As I said that, I placed my hand on her bare breast, and
found the nipple to be rock hard. It seemed the answer was right there,
and it was the opposite of what she said, which was, "Of course not. He's
the same age as our own kids, for God's sake. How could you even begin to
think I'd want to have sex with someone that young?" Again, her denial
was belied by her turgid nipples, and I was sure that if I dropped my hand
to her crotch, I'd find it to be more moist than usual.
The thought of my wife in bed with another man, especially one who had a
much-larger cock, was almost too much for me. The hardness of my penis
was a duplicate of her nipples, and when I began to suckle them, it seemed
to grow even more as I imagined Mark doing that to her. She actually
seemed to push my head toward her crotch, which was something she very
rarely did. It was obvious to me she was just as excited as I was, and I
felt certain we were both thinking of the same thing.
After I had licked her for a few seconds, she whispered, "It's not wet
enough for you. Turn over."
That was our "code" that meant she wanted to ride my cock until I
climaxed, then ride my tongue until she reached her own orgasm. I quickly
rolled to my back, and she just as quickly mounted my penis, burying it
deep inside her with one quick thrust. I had an instant flashback to that
night in the motel in California, when she had been almost desperate to
cum. It seemed that she was now feeling the same degree of arousal, and
her thrusts as she rode me were almost frenzied. It was almost as if my
body were waiting for her husky whisper to, "Cum, damn you!" When I heard
that, my balls began to empty, shooting spurt after spurt of semen into
her pussy.
She moved to my face almost before my last spasm had stopped, and her
desperation was evident in the frenzied way she powerd her crotch against
my mouth. As on that night in the motel, she almost growled as she said,
"Eat it! Oh, God! I'm cumming! Eat his cum!"
I truly thought she'd *** me before she at last released the death
grip her thighs had on my head. As I gasped for breath, she rolled to her
back beside me, and we both lay in silence as we returned to reality.
What she had said ran through my head over and over. I knew that her
thighs had been pressed tightly against my ears at the time, but I was
sure she had said, "Eat his cum," when she was climaxing. That simply
confirmed what I had already guessed: that she had been thinking of Mark,
and that in her mind it was his semen she was feeding to her husband. As
I understood all the implications of that, I realized my cock was once
again erect. Apparently it just couldn't resist this new fodder for
offense.
Carol usually rolled to her stomach and quickly fell arelax after she had
reached orgasm. That night, though, it was apparent she was still just as
awake as I was. When I rolled to my side, facing her, my erection pressed
against her hip. She placed one hand on the thing, and began to softly
caress it.
I began to duplicate her actions, with her nipples as my target, and was
surprised to feel them still just as erect as they had been a few minutes
before. There was no question that both of us were still aroused, and I
was sure I knew the reamister.
As I caressed and nuzzled her breasts, I whispered, "Something must have
really turned you on tonight. What was it?"
There was a long silence then, but at last she whispered back, "I don't
know. I guess I was just horny. It feels like you still are, too, aren't
you?"
I couldn't deny the truth of what she'd said, since she was holding the
proof in her hand. I simply replied, "Yes." I seemed to reach a resolve
at that point that would forever change our lives, and I knew that we
needed to be open and honest with each other. I continued by saying
softly, "The last time you were that hot was when you whipped me at that
motel in California. I didn't know it was possible for you to get as
turned on as you were then. Remember?"
It took her several seconds to answer, and when she did, it was obvious to
me that she had reached a resolve similar to mine. She whispered softly,
"Yes. There was something about doing that to you that reached a part of
me I didn't know was there. Hearing that belt hit your butt, and seeing
the red stripes it left, just made me hot as Hell. I think tonight I may
have been even hotter, though."
I asked, "Do you remember what you said when you climaxed tonight?"

She seemed to think about it for a few seconds, then replied, "To tell the
truth, I don't remember saying anything. All I could think about was how
good it felt when I started to cum. God, I wish all of them could be like
that." She paused then, before asking, "What did I say, anyway?"
I said simply, "You said you were cumming, then you tried to crush my
skull. The last thing I heard was you saying, 'Eat his cum,' and then my
mouth was so full I thought I'd drown."
Again we lay in silence, thinking about what had been said, and what we
were feeling. At last she said, "I didn't realize I'd said that. How did
it make you feel to hear that?"
With no hesitation, I said, "I loved it. All I could think of was you
sitting on my mouth, feeding me another man's cum from your pussy. I
think it made me hotter than it did you."
Her question then got to the heart of the matter. "How do you feel about
it now? Does it still make you hot?"
My short answer was only one word, "Yes."
Again we lay in silence, fondling each other. She at last broke the
silence by asking, "Would you really want something like that to happen?"
Again I answered, "Yes," then continued, "I've had fantasies about that
for a long time. I've wanted very much for you to make love to another
man. Do you think you could ever do it?"
After an even longer pause, she finally answered, "Yes, if you're really
sure it's what you want."
To say I was shocked would have been an understatement. Never in my
wildest imaginings had I thought my wife would say such a thing. All the
time I was fantasizing about such a thing happening, there was some small
part of my mind that knew she would never agree to it. Now that she had
said she would, it seemed to be me, more than her, who was hesitant.
I finally overcame my hesitation, and replied, "I want it to happen. It
seems like I've wanted that for as long as I can remember." I paused
then, before asking, "Mark?"
Her short answer was, "Yes." After her own pause to reflect, she
continued, "I'll ask you one more time, but not now and maybe not ever, if
you really and truly want me to do it. You'd better be thinking about
your answer, because whatever you say is the way it'll be. One thing
you'd better consider is this: if Mark really is as big as his bulge tells
me, then I won't have any more use for your little wee-wee. What that
means is, if he fucks me, you won't. Ever."
She then rolled over onto her stomach, giving me one last instruction.
"I'm going to relax now. Go ahead and jack off if you want to. Maybe
before much longer, the only thing you'll be fucking will be your hand.
Might as well practice now. Good night."
She said nothing more that night, and as her breathing evened, I was sure
she had fallen arelax. As for me, relax was hard to come by. Our
conversation played over and over in my brain, and each repetition seemed
to make my cock grow even harder. At last I took her advice, and my hand
brought me the relief I needed in order to also fall arelax.

To be continued . . .

fantastic......keep going
thanks

Wish you a lot of wanking Here goes the chapter 3...

BOB'S STORY

By: Shortie

Chapter 3

It didn't take long for Carol to ask that question, for the final time.
We had just barely climbed in our bed the next night, which was a Sunday.
Both she and I had slept in the nude for many years, and as I placed one
hand over her delightful breasts, her erect nipples once again mirrored
the state of my cock.
She cleared her throat softly, then said, "I hope you've been thinking
about your answer, because I need it right now." Again she cleared her
throat before asking, "Do you really and truly want me to have sex with
another man, with all that implies?"
I had been thinking about little else during the entire day, and have to
admit that I had surreptitiously done some "crotch checking" of my own
when Mark wasn't looking. What I'd seen confirmed her estimation that the
young man was well-hung, most likely much more so than I. By the time she
actually gave voice to her all-important question, I had practiced my
answer so many times that it must have seemed to her more like a speech
than an answer.
I began, "I've given it a lot of thought. I really and truly want you to
have sex with another man, even if it means you'll never again have
intercourse with me. I know you'd find more satisfaction in a bigger
penis, and I want you to have that."
We both lay in silence for what seemed like an eternity. I had even begun
to think she'd fallen arelax, but realized she was still very much awake
when she said, "Okay. In case you have second thoughts about it, you have
until I reach the door to change your mind. After that, it'll be too
late." She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, then
walked to the chest of drawers standing against the far wall. I could
barely make out her naked form in the light from the hallway, but the soft
sound of a drawer opening told me just exactly what she was doing, and
that knowledge almost made me pass out as a surge of lust swept through my
body.
Carol had started taking birth-control pills right after our second young
was born, since neither of us wanted more than two kids. As soon as she
was confident the pills had taken effect, she told me I wouldn't ever
again have to wear condoms, since we both felt that fucking bare was much
more enjoyable. The only problem was that when my cum began to leak from
her pussy after intercourse, it tickled so much that she couldn't stand
it. She had made it her practice to bring a handkerchief to bed before we
fucked, and then afterwards would ball it up between her legs to contain
my semen.
There was no doubt in my mind that when she had opened the drawer, she was
getting a handkerchief. That was confirmed as she walked to the door and
hesitated. As the nightlight softly illuminated her naked body, I saw she
was indeed carrying a folded piece of white cloth. When she turned to the
right, heading for the bedroom where Mark was staying, I thought my heart
would fail me.
________________
I had endured other periods of time that seemed endless, but none could
compare with that one-hour space of time while she was gone. I listened
as carefully as I could, but even in the late-night silence, could hear
nothing to indicate that my wife had actually gone to another man's
bedroom, completely nude, and carrying a handkerchief to hold his cum in
her pussy.
According to the clock on my nightstand, not much more than an hour had
passed when her body once again darkened the bedroom doorway. She walked
directly to the bed, then got on it, resting on her knees. She whispered,
"Hungry?" My throat was so tight that it was all I could do to croak,
"Yes." She replied, "Good. I brought your midnight snack."
With that, she straddled my head, pulled the balled-up handkerchief out of
her crotch, and settled in place on my mouth.
I could go on and on with endless descriptions of the taste and texture of
my nephew's cum mixed with my wife's pussy juices, but they would be
meaningless to anyone who hasn't come to enjoy, even crave, the taste of
creampie served directly from a woman's secret place. Suffice it to say
that it was simply the best tasting, most exciting midnight snack I'd ever
had. I licked and sucked in what must have seemed a frenzied manner,
never giving the slightest thought to her pleasure. That didn't seem to
matter to her, though, for her own excitement was surely the equal of my
own.
While she fed Mark's cum to me, she had been continuously whispering
things like, "Eat it. Suck his cum out of me. What kind of man would get
turned on by sucking another man's cum out of his wife's pussy? Swallow
his cum, you little wimp. Does it make your little dickie all hard to eat
a real man's cum? Does it turn you on to know that someone else has
fucked your wife, but you'll never again get to do that?"
After what seemed like hours, but couldn't have been more than a few
minutes, she began to moan. In a final spasm of joy, she pressed her clit
as hard as she could against my nose, and with a final cry of, "Eat it!,"
she began to climax. It is a mark of my own extreme arousal that at some
time during her orgasm, I also had mine, even though nothing touched my
penis. I've never before been unable to pinpoint exactly when my cock
began to erupt, but that was the case that night. I simply realized that
I had climaxed, with the evidence spread all over my chest and stomach.
Carol literally collapsed then, falling sideways onto the bed. With
lethargic movements, she straightened her legs and rolled to her stomach.
In a hoarse whisper, she said, "That's the third time tonight I've
climaxed. God, I feel like I'm dead. Good night."
I think I heard her say, "I love you," but it may have been just my
imagination. In any case, I whispered in her ear my fervent, "I love you
more than I ever thought possible. Thank you for doing this." I then lay
there in silence, trying to come to terms with what had happened. My
questing tongue continued to search for more of what she had fed me, even
licking my lips to find the last remaining traces of their juices.
My cock never softened one bit as I lay there, but continued to bob back
and forth as if it hadn't climaxed in several weeks. My fevered brain was
in a similar condition, and it replayed over and over Carol's question and
my answer. Again and again I saw her walking toward Mark's bedroom.
Again and again she returned with my midnight snack, positioning herself
above my face to feed it to me.
At last I had to again resort to masturbation before I could fall arelax.
I remember my final thought was to wonder if she really and truly meant
that part about never again allowing me to fuck her. As I drifted off, I
sincerely hoped not.
_____________
When the alarm clock rang at 6:00 the next morning, less than six hours
after I'd fallen arelax, it was almost more than I could do to get out of
bed and prepare for the day. The other two must have felt much the same
way, for they sat in relaxy silence at the kitchen table while I served
them black coffee and sweet rolls.
On one of my trips to the table, I noticed they were holding hands across
the tabletop, and I felt my heart skip a beat. Mark was sitting in the
chair at the end of the table where I always sat, with Carol close to him
on one of the other sides. When I approached them with my own coffee and
roll, Carol looked at me saying, "Honey, why don't you sit down there at
the other end after this. I think Mark should have this chair now, don't
you?"
I was frozen in place, and could make no other reply than to numbly sit
where she was pointing. I think that was the first time that reality
truly set in, and I began to realize that things had changed, and were
likely to change even more in the days, and nights, to come. Little did I
know at that time just how accurate my prediction was.
______________
That evening I was the first to return home, and found Carol busily
preparing a meal in the kitchen. When I asked what we were having for
dinner, she told me that she had cooked Mark's favorite, since he was now
the "man of the house." Again, my only reaction was stunned silence, and
I stood there until she told me to go get ready for the meal, since Mark
didn't like to be kept waiting. I left the kitchen to the sound of her
humming a love misterg while she went about her preparations.
Again the two lovers sat at their places at the table while I served them.
Again I took my place at the other end of the table, listening to them
conversing comfortably, trying to join in whenever the opportunity
allowed. It was apparent from the way they looked at each other, and the
way they held hands at every opportunity, that they were feeling a strong
attraction. What I was feeling was an almost overwhelming combination of
arousal, jealousy, excitement, and yes, even lust.
That last feeling was enhanced even further when Carol said, "Honey, I
baked a banana cream pie for Mark today, since it's his favorite. Why
don't you bring a piece to the two of us now? You probably shouldn't have
one, since you'll be eating your creampie later." Mark had been smiling
all the while she spoke, and when she said that last part, broke into open
laughter. My wife joined him, and then the two laughed even louder when
they looked at my blushing face.
That evening seemed to drag by, but at the same time the hours passed
quickly. Soon it was time for us to go to bed, and it was with an
overwhelming tightness in my chest that I followed them, walking hand in
hand, up the stairway. They parted long enough to go to separate
bathrooms, there to prepare for bed. Not knowing what else to do, I stood
in the hallway waiting for instructions from my wife.
She at last came out of the bathroom, completely naked. I was awestruck
at her openness, not that seeing her in the nude was so shocking, since
she often undressed in the bathroom before coming to bed. This time was
different, though, because her lover was in the other bathroom and would
probably see her when he came out.
That seemed to be her intention, because she stood beside the closed door
waiting for it to open. When it finally swung back, I saw that Mark had
also undressed, and was equally as nude as my wife. That was my first
look at his exposed penis, and to say it was impressive would be an
understatement. Even though it was barely semi-erect, it was easily three
inches longer than my 6" erection. The diameter of the thing, though, was
the most remarkable part. My first thought was that it was as thick as my
wrist, although I later revised that estimate somewhat downward.
He and my wife hugged and kissed there in the hallway, before she finally
backed away slightly and looked down to his thickening member. She said
in a voice heavy with emotion, "Isn't that just the most beautiful thing
you've ever seen, honey. God, I don't know how I could've put up with
your little dickie all these years. I guess I just never knew there was
something better out there." She looked directly at me then, saying, "I
know it now, though, and I'll never go back."
They walked to the bedroom door, but before they entered, Mark picked up
my wife as if she were as light as a rag doll. He said, "I think I should
carry you over the threshold, don't you? She laughed easily, then said,
"That's the way it's supposed to be done, lover. Better hurry, though. I
don't think I can stand to wait another minute."
As they disappeared through the door, I was frozen in place, with no idea
of what to do. Suddenly Carol's voice rang out, saying, "Bob, get in
here! There're things for you to do." That awakened me sufficiently to
allow me to walk through the door, where I saw the two naked lovers again
kissing and hugging.
When they at last broke the kiss, she said to me, "Turn down the covers so
Mark and I can get in bed now. Leave the light on, because I want you to
see how a real man fucks a woman. Although, now that I think about it,
it's way too late for that sort of thing to do you any good, isn't it?"
Again the pair laughed as I stood there blushing, at last stopping long
enough to take their places on the sheet.
After that, I was completely ignored for almost an hour. I saw then just
what my wife meant about me learning how a real man makes love to a woman.
Mark's attention to her every need was so far beyond what had passed for
lovemaking when I did it that it made me ashamed at my inadequacy. I knew
that by the time he had finally progressed to a point below her breasts, I
would have already shot my wad and been ready for relax. By the time he
began to nuzzle Carol's crotch, teasing her to the point she began to moan
in frustration, I would have already rolled over and fallen arelax. In
short, he knew how to pleasure a woman. All I knew was how to pleasure
myself.
Finally my wife could no longer stand the frustration, and placed her
hands on her lover's head and guided it to her pussy. At that point, I
would have started licking and sucking in a frenzy, completely lost in my
own lust. Mark, though, was able to control himself, and it was apparent
to me that everything he did was for Carol's satisfaction, not his own.
His slow licks up and down her slit, with a quick flick over her clitoris,
simply drove her wild. He spent virtually no time at all licking her
pussy hole, which was the complete opposite of what I did. He seemed to
know that her pleasure was derived from stimulations to the outer, exposed
parts of her vagina, and that's where he concentrated his efforts.
For the first time ever, I saw my wife's clit completely engorged. It had
never been any more than a hard little bump when I licked her, but after a
few minutes of Mark's ministrations, it had swollen to the point that it
actually looked like a miniature penis. Again, he had demonstrated what
was meant by the word "lovemaking," and again I understood just how
inadequate I had been.
At last Carol could no longer withhold her orgasm, and she lifted her hips
to his mouth and hissed, "Suck it!" That was his signal to draw her clit
entirely into his mouth, and suck with all his might. That his efforts
were successful was quickly demonstrated by her sharp gasp, and the
wordless cry that issued from her throat. It was easy to tell that the
orgasm she was then experiencing was very intense, and there was no
question at all that its duration was several times longer than any I had
ever given her.
I expected Mark to then put his massive organ inside her, and seek the
relief he so obviously needed. His cock had been completely erect since
they got on the bed, and by the time he began to perform oral sex, it had
been bobbing back and forth wildly, with pre-cum beaded on its tip. I
knew from experience just how powerful the need to cum could be when a man
was in that condition, and I marveled that he had been able to concentrate
on pleasuring my wife, rather than attending to his own pleasure.
With one last soft sigh, Carol settled to the sheet, and I again expected
her lover to begin fucking her. Instead of doing that, he continued to
direct all his attentions to her body. He effortlessly rolled her onto
her stomach, and began to rub and massage her back, at first very softly,
and then with more vigor. Her head was turned toward me, and as she lay
there with her eyes closed, reveling in the wonderful sensations she was
feeling, I could see her very great pleasure written on her face. I don't
recall ever giving her that sort of attention, and knew it was because by
that time I would have been totally spent, and ready to simply roll over
and fall arelax. Mark, though, knew instinctively that she needed more,
and he was providing it.
After several minutes of massaging her back, he began kissing it, starting
at her neck and slowly working his way down her body. By the time he'd
reached her waist, she was smiling in open appreciation, and her hips were
very gently thrusting against the bed. It was amazing to me that she was
again demonstrating signs of becoming sexually aroused, as such a
possibility had never occurred to me.
Mark began tenderly kissing her lovely bottom, all the while caressing it
softly with his hands. His attentions then took the form of licks, and he
covered every square inch of her rounded globes, before concentrating on
the crack.
He reached under her waist and very gently lifted her to her knees, with
her head still resting on the mattress. She was by that time sighing
regularly, and I saw that her lips were parted slightly, allowing her to
breathe more deeply. When he carefully spread her and begin to
concentrate his licks up and down her crack, her sighs changed to moans,
and I knew that she was once again approaching an orgasm.
He held her widespread with his large hands as his tongue slowly traced
its path from the bottom to the top of her crack, and then reversed
course. He seemed to sense when she needed more, and began to concentrate
his efforts on her puckered opening, licking it more powerfully and even
attempting to insinuate his tongue into her. Again, his attentions served
to increase her level of arousal, and I could see that her hips were
beginning to thrust, almost as if attempting to power his tongue even
deeper.
Even as fascinated as I was with what he was doing to my wife, there was
some small part of my brain that was watching in amazement. It had simply
never occurred to me that a woman would find pleasure in being serviced in
such a manner, but that Carol was finding pleasure was very evident.
Again, I knew how very lacking I had been in terms of being a lover.
I heard her gasping for breath as her lover probed her hole, and then she
hissed, "Now! Fuck me now!" That was the signal he had been waiting for,
and he quickly positioned himself between her widespread legs and guided
his monstrous tool into her pussy.

Her reaction to that was no less than spectacular. As the head
disappeared from sight, her hips began to buck wildly. If not for his
restraining hands around her waist, she would surely have fallen off the
bed, or at least dislodged his cock. Instead, he slowly drew her to him,
impaling her on his engorged penis.
It was unbelievable to me that her body could hold all of him, but that's
what it did. When at last his crotch met hers, none of his cock was
visible. She had accepted over nine inches of foreign flesh inside her,
and far from it causing her pain, it seemed to drive her to new heights of
lust.
Her hips thrust frantically back and forth, and his efforts duplicated
hers. Again and again his cock buried itself completely inside her, then
quickly withdrew almost all the way, before again disappearing from view.
At one point, she reached her hand out to me, and I quickly knelt beside
the bed and held it. That contact seemed to be what she was waiting for,
and with a final, "Oh, God!," she thrust against him one final time. Her
mouth opened as wide as possible, but no sound issued from it. Instead,
she inhaled sharply, and then her eyes glazed over as she once again found
that pleasure I could no longer give her.
Mark must have found his own release, for when I looked again at their
interlocked crotches, he had thrust forward on last time, then held his
body there while strongly pulling her hips against his. That moment
seemed to last forever, and I knew his balls were emptying their load of
cum deep inside her pussy, in a place where I had never been, and never
would be.
At last he relaxed his hold on her waist, and she fell forward, flat on
the bed. He rolled to the side and lay beside her, also gasping for
breath as he fought to regain control of himself.
After several seconds, the flush receded from their cheeks and their
breathing evened. Carol looked at me for a long time, then said quietly,
"That's what's meant by the word, 'lovemaking,' dear heart. Do you see
the difference?"
I was unable to speak, my shame was so great. I had indeed learned the
difference, and even though I was captured in the web of my own
unsatisfied lust, knew I was a failure as a lover. I would have wept in
frustration with my inadequacy, but my overpowering need to cum kept me
from doing so.
Seeing that I had no response, Carol dismissed me by saying, "Get me a
handkerchief, then cover us with the sheet, honey. We need to get some
relax." She then pointed to the nightstand, saying, "Mark, give him the
alarm clock."
I took the clock from her lover, then listened as she further instructed
me on my new duties. "Honey, you'll need to set this a little earlier
from now on. We want you to bring us coffee no later than 6:30, and then
have our breakfast ready half an hour after that. Now go to bed, so we
can all get some rest."
I stood there in silence for several seconds, unsure of what was expected
of me. Finally I asked quietly, "Where will I relax?"
She smiled faintly before replying, "That's up to you, sweetie. There're
two other bedrooms. Take your pick. Turn off the light on your way out."
She then turned to the other man and they relaxily began kissing and
hugging.
I got a handkerchief for her, then drew the top sheet over them. As I
left the room, I switched off the light. I went to the nearest bedroom,
wanting to be near them in case they called for me during the night.
After quickly undressing, I set the alarm clock, then got in the strange
bed. It took less than six strokes to at last give myself the relief my
cock had been demanding for over an hour, and then I fell into a deep
relax, there to dream endlessly of my wife being serviced by her lover,
while I watched in helpless frustration and shame.

To be continued . . .

Here comes the chapter 4:

BOB'S STORY

By: Shortie

Chapter 4

Our lives continued in that manner for several weeks. The two lovers
behaved exactly as if they were on a honeymoon, which in many respects is
probably a pretty accurate description of their mindset. They seemed to
be fascinated with each other, and as most newlyweds do, spent endless
hours exploring each other's bodies. In the first two weeks following
Carol's trip to Mark's bedroom, they fucked in every room in our home,
sometimes several times. I was usually in attendance, and it seemed I
never tired of watching them make love, and I especially never tired of
what was required when the act had been completed. I had truly found my
destiny, and it was to live as my wife's cum slave. There was nothing
more exciting to me than being "required" to lick and suck her delicious
pussy after they had fucked, and the taste, the smell, and the texture of
that part of her body quickly became my obsession. In short, it was the
only way I was allowed to give pleasure to her, and I loved doing it.
At night I would lie in my lonely bed, living for the moment when Carol
would call out my name. I would rush to their bedside, quickly falling to
my knees there. She would turn sideways in the bed, place her legs over
my shoulders, and say, "Eat it." Of course, I didn't need her command in
order to do that. I loved providing that service, and would have begged
to be allowed to do it. I seemed to have no greater mission in life than
to lick and suck my wife's freshly-fucked pussy, and would have gladly
done it every waking moment if that were possible.
The only sexual relief I was allowed was masturbation. Even given my age,
I seemed to need to cum at least twice a day, and even though my crotch
ached from overwork, I couldn't stop my hand from drifting down my body as
I lay alone in my bed.
I loved to provide every service I could to the lovers, and when the alarm
clock rang in the morning, I would hurry to the kitchen to prepare their
morning coffee, along with any special treat I could think of to serve
them. I enjoyed seeing them lying in their bed as I brought the tray to
their room, especially the many occasions when they would already be
awake. Mark seemed to especially like what he called "morners," by which
he meant intercourse before they got out of bed in the morning. Sometimes
they would allow me to watch as they engaged in their first lovemaking of
the day, and then as they drank their coffee and ate the sweet rolls I had
brought to them, Carol would allow me to suck my breakfast from her
stretched, dripping-wet vagina.
The only real change in our routine came about two months after the
beginning of their relationship. Mark had been required to attend a
statewide meeting of veterinarians, and was away from home for two nights.
Carol said she didn't want to relax alone, and had told me I could return
to what had once been my bed. My imagination ran wild until she brought
me back to reality by saying, "Of course, you won't be able to undress.
Mark doesn't want you in bed with me when you're naked. I agree, since
it'd probably just lead to more frustration than you already have."
I was devastated to learn that I would have to lie next to her naked body,
but would have to keep all my clothes on. Even though I knew what I would
experience then would be very hard to take, just the chance to be near her
was enough to make me look forward to that night with more anticipation
that I would have thought possible.
She allowed me to bathe her before bedtime, and the stimulation of
touching her delicate skin, of bathing her beautiful breasts, and finally
of soaping and then rinsing her exquisite crotch, was almost too much to
bear. By the time I had toweled her dry, and we were lying side by side
in bed, I was literally out of my head with lust.
Carol had left her bedside lamp on, and as she lay on her back, I simply
could not drag my eyes from the sight of her naked breasts, and the
entrancing curves of her lovely body. In the lamplight, I could see her
nipples were erect, and I prayed with all my might that indicated she was
sexually interested in me, and before much longer I would once again be
allowed to give her pleasure.
I very slowly reached out one hand to lightly touch her breast, and was
rewarded with an immediate slap as my hand was knocked away. She said
sharply to me, "Don't touch me! Mark wouldn't allow that! If you can't
keep your hands to yourself, you'll have to relax on the floor. Now
behave yourself."
I was desperate to be allowed to remain lying beside her, and apologized
over and over for what I'd done. She seemed to at last forgive me, and
said, "I know this has been very hard for you, honey, but it's what you
said you wanted to happen. You told me you wanted me to fuck Mark, and
now you'll just have to live with the consequences." She paused for
several seconds then, as if gathering her thoughts, before asking, "Do you
still love me?"
That simple question shocked me more than anything she'd said to me for
many months, if not years. My love for her was such an all-encompassing
thing, so overpowering, so very much a part of my being, that I couldn't
believe she'd ever question it. I told her over and over that she was the
most important thing in the whole world, that I loved her with all my
heart and soul, that I would do anything for her, and that I thought she
was the most wonderful permister that ever had existed.
She seemed to forgive me for my transgression, and then looked deep into
my eyes while her hands began to caress her breasts. She whispered,
"Would you like to watch while I play with myself?"
It was almost more than I could do to power my aching throat to say,
"Please." She smiled in a satisfied manner, then began to slowly move one
hand down her body, while the other continued to fondle, pinch, and pull
her erect nipples. When her questing hand reached her pubic hair, she
sighed and stretched, then parted her legs.
She whispered, "Get down between my legs so you can see better. I want
you to see how excited I get when I think of Mark doing this to me. If
you touch me, I'll make you get out of his bed."
I hurried to do her bidding, and soon my eyes were locked on the sight of
her fingers slowly sliding up and down her slit. After several minutes of
doing that, she brought down her other hand and spread her pussy wide open
to my view, while her other fingers continued to rub the tender flesh she
had exposed there.
She asked, "Do you like to look at my pussy?" It was almost more than I
could do to answer her, but was finally able to croak out my impassioned,
"Yes! It's the most beautiful thing in the whole world."
She laughed softly as I said that, then as she continued to pleasure
herself, asked, "Would you like to lick and suck it? Do you want to taste
it? Is that what you want to do?"
Again I powerd my throat to respond, and gasped out, "God, yes! Please
let me do that. I want that more than anything else in the whole world.
Please!"
She laughed again, saying, "Well, you can't. Mark said you are not to
touch me unless he's in the room with us. Since he's the one who now owns
my body, then his wish is my command. It's what you said you wanted, and
now you have it. I guess you'll just have to watch, and know that if you
were a real man, you could still fuck me and eat me."
My frustration at that moment was so great that I actually cried. That
seemed to drive her to even greater efforts, and her fingers moved faster
and faster as they rubbed her slit and her ever-growing clitoris. After
what seemed like an eternity, she moaned, and actually began to pinch and
pull her engorged bud of flesh. Her hips raised from the bed, as if
offering herself to me, and it was almost more than I could do to stop
myself from burying my face in her crotch. The sense of frustration I
felt at that time is still, in my memory, the greatest I've ever
experienced, and I was sure it would drive me out of my mind.
After what seemed an eternity to me, her hips slowly settled to the sheet,
and her breathing evened. She said, "Come up here beside me now. That's
all you get to see."
With a reluctance that was almost too great to overcome, I obeyed her, and
soon was once again lying beside her supremely beautiful, naked body.
After a silence that seemed to stretch forever, she said softly, "I'm
sorry I did that to you, honey. I don't know what it is that makes me do
things like that. I just can't help myself. There's just this urge to
make you suffer, to humiliate you, and I can't resist it. I'm sure you
must think I'm a bad permister, and sometimes I think the same thing about
myself. I'm sorry."
The shock that produced in my brain caused me to blurt out, "Don't ever
think such things! You're the best permister in the world, and I love you
with all my heart. You only do things like that because I drove you to
it. Don't ever think you're a bad permister."
She seemed to accept that, and lay quietly for awhile. Finally she said
softly, almost as if to herself, "You wouldn't think I was so wonderful if
you knew some of the thoughts I have. You'd think I was horrible, and
wouldn't want anything to do with me."
Again I protested, declaring my love for her over and over. I said,
"Nothing about you could ever be horrible. No matter what it is, I'd love
you even more than ever."
After another pause, she said again, "No. If you knew what I think about
doing to you, you'd hate me. Any man would. If you knew, you'd leave me
and never come back."
That produced yet another round of declarations of love, ending with me
saying, "Just tell me what you want to do to me, or what you want me to do
for you. I'll do anything. Surely you know that by now. Please, tell
me."
She seemed to be considering whether or not to be candid, and must have
finally arrived at the decision to do so. She began her tale, saying
quietly, "I can't stop myself from having fantasies about doing terrible
things to you. I can't explain why, but when you're standing by the bed
watching us make love, or kneeling there sucking his cum out of me, I have
an almost overwhelming urge to punish you, to hurt you as much as
possible. The things I want to do to you make your first whipping look
like young's play."
"One fantasy that I've been having every night for more than a week is the
worst yet. It starts with the three of us moving to a house way out in
the country, miles from town. The nearest neighbor is five miles from our
house, and we're surrounded by lots of big trees, so we have complete
privacy. You're not allowed to wear clothes, and anytime we see you with
a hardon, we whip it with riding crops we carry with us all the time."
"I've been trying to get you to do something for me for a long time, but
you refuse to do it. Finally I get very angry with you, and Mark and I
take you outside, to the front yard. There's a big tree standing there,
and I order you to stand under one of its limbs that's growing straight
out from the trunk, about ten feet above the ground."
"I order you to hold your arms straight out in front of you, with your
hands together, then tie a rope around your wrists. Mark throws the end
of the rope over the limb, then pulls on it to lift you off the ground.
We watch you slowly swinging there, trying to touch the ground with your
toes. As you feel your shoulders being pulled from their sockets, you
start whimpering in pain, and we laugh at you."
"I tell Mark to tie the rope to the tree trunk, then to take off his belt
and show it to you. It's made of heavy leather, about 2" wide. The
tongue has a metal tip on it, and there are lots of sharp metal studs
running up and down its entire length. I tell you that we're going to
teach you a lesmister about what happens when you refuse to do something I
ask of you, and when you realize what's about to happen, you begin to
whimper even more."
"We walk around behind you, and I say, 'Just remember this the next time
you think you can refuse a simple request I make of you. We're going to
teach you a lesmister you'll never forget.' I then tell Mark to whip your
ass as hard as he can, and not to stop until I tell him to do so."
"He raises the belt high above his head, then brings it down against your
butt with all his strength. Almost before you can cry out, a bright-red
welt is raised, and everywhere one of the studs broke your skin, small
droplets of red appear. Again he strikes your stretched butt with every
bit of power he can muster, and again you cry out in pain. Over and over
he whips you, each stroke making you scream louder than the one before,
and leaving a fresh welt overlapping the others. Soon your red is
dripping onto the ground beneath your body, which is jumping wildly as you
try to avoid the belt."
"Finally I tell him to stop, and we stand there laughing as you continue
to cry and whimper, still jerking wildly in an attempt to escape the
agonizing pain Mark has given you. After we quiet down, we walk around in
front of you, and I see your tiny little wee-wee standing up as hard as
possible, trying to convince me it's a real penis, and not just something
that should be hanging off a young."
"I order you to spread your legs and hold them there, saying that you
still haven't been punished enough. You begin sobbing as you realize what
is going to happen next, but I'm very proud of you when that doesn't stop
you from obeying me. Soon you're holding your legs out to the sides as
far as you can get them, trying to prepare yourself for what is about to
be done to you."
"I tell Mark to whip your crotch, but to not be as tender as he was with
your ass. He laughs, then again raises his belt high above his head.
It's deathly still then, as you're too frozen with fear to even whimper.
In the stillness, we all hear the sound of the studded leather as it
whistles through the air. The scream you make when the metal tip strikes
your worthless little dick is almost enough to make me cum right there,
and I try to concentrate on not climaxing, because I don't want to miss
even a single second of your whipping."
"Mark's second stroke comes up from the ground, and the sharp studs dig
into your little peanuts while the metal tip almost disappears into your
asshole. Your screams are continuous now, and they seem to drive Mark to
greater efforts to punish your weakness. Over and over he brings the belt
crashing down on your little weenie, or snaking upwards to tear into your
balls. After several strokes have landed there, I see that your sac has
been peeled away, and your little nuts are hanging down by their cords.
Mark begins to concentrate on them even more, and first one, and then the
other is torn free by the power of his blows."
"He then focuses on what remains of your penis, and I revel in the sounds
of the agonized screams tearing from your throat. Finally the sound stops
abruptly, and as I look at your face, I realize you've ******. I look
down just in time to see your legs slowly closing, and there's nothing
left of your cock and balls but a few redy shreds of skin."
She took a few ragged breaths then, trying to steady herself, before
concluding, "Now you know what I mean about being a horrible permister. No
wife could ever think of doing such horrible, disgusting things to her
husband. Surely you hate me now, don't you?"
It was almost impossible for me to speak, but after several attempts I at
last managed to say, "I love you even more now than I did before you told
me your fantasy. How could you even begin to think I wouldn't love you?
I think you're the most wonderful permister in the whole world. Just because
you want to punish me for not being a real man doesn't mean you're a bad
permister. I deserve anything you want to do to me, and when you do it,
it'll just make me love you all the more."
She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat before saying softly, "Thank
you, honey. Your love means the world to me. I hope you know, no matter
what I may do to you someday, that I'll always love you."
I assured her that I'd never doubt her love for me, and then asked in a
timid voice, "Do you love Mark?" That question had been foremost in my
thoughts for many days, but I'd never before been able to ask it. Now
that I had, I realized the answer was very important to me.
She replied simply, "Of course I love him. I love both of you with all my
heart. It's just that I think of you in different ways, I guess. The
English language simply doesn't have the right words to describe our
relationships, but I guess the closest I can come is to say you're my
'house husband,' and he's my 'sexual husband.' Does that make any sense
at all?"
I told her I was sure I knew what she meant by those terms, and it was
perfectly understandable that she would assign those terms to us. He gave
her so much pleasure, so much satisfaction, in terms of lovemaking, that
she couldn't help but think of him in anything but sexual ways. I, on the
other hand, was the one who was there for her in all other ways, the
"keeper of the house," so to speak.
She thanked me for understanding, then asked a question that literally
took my breath away. She asked, "Honey, would you like to cum now?"
As soon as I heard those words, I knew that I wanted to do that with every
fiber of my being. The arousal I'd experienced when bathing her lovely
body, combined with watching her masturbate and the supremely exciting
story she'd just told me, had my cock hard as a rock, and I could feel the
wetness leaking from it in my pants. The only word I was able to power
from my throat was a simple, "Please."

That was enough answer for her, apparently. She said to me, "Unzip your
pants and take out your little thing. I don't want to have to touch it
any more than necessary."
I hurried to obey, and soon my hardon was bobbing in the air, its head
glistening with the pre-cum that had been spread over it while in my
pants. Carol told me to raise my feet in the air, and even though that
completely mystified me, I did as she asked. She then grabbed both my
ankles and pulled my feet over my head, at the same time spreading my
knees. I began to understand what she had in mind as I saw my erection
pointing at my face, and that understanding just added to my already
raging lust.
She said, "Mark can get the whole head in his mouth, and says that any man
with a normal-size cock can suck himself. I see your little pecker is
still about four inches away, but maybe I can aim your cum where it needs
to go. Now open your mouth and keep it that way. I don't want you
getting cum stains in Mark's bed."
She then placed one hand on my penis and began to quickly stroke it.
Given my state of arousal, it took no more than half a dozen pumps before
my semen began to spurt, and she guided it as well as she could into my
wide-open mouth. The last spurt had fallen on my shirt, and after she'd
lowered my legs to the bed once again, she told me to wipe it up with my
fingers and eat it also.
As soon as she saw I had cleaned up any mess, she turned off the lamp and
settled into place on her stomach. She asked in a relaxy voice, "Did that
taste as good as Mark's cum?" I already knew the answer to that question,
because I'd been eating my own cum for several weeks by that time, in an
attempt to satisfy my appetite for the stuff, which had grown to be an
addiction. I replied, "What you feed me is much better. Your pussy juice
is so special that nothing can compare to it."
She said, "I thought you'd say that. I read a magazine article once that
said men who eat their wive's pussies for more than three months become
addicted to the taste and smell. It said that men who lose their wives
after having eaten them on a regular basis have a much harder time of
adjusting to the loss than men who don't eat pussy. I'm sure the same
thing is true for you, too."
I had no doubt of it, and told her so. I could tell she was falling
arelax then, and hurried to ask one last question, the one that was
quickly becoming increasingly important to me. I asked, "In your fantasy,
you punished me because I refused to do something for you. What was it
that I wouldn't do?"
She mumred relaxily, "Maybe I'll tell you someday, if you're a good boy.
Now go to relax. Good night." That was the last I heard from her that
night, and her regular breathing soon told me she was fast arelax.

To be continued . . .

BOB'S STORY

By: Shortie

Chapter 5

The following day was a Saturday, and I made every effort to "be a good
boy," so that my wife would tell me her secret that night. When we again
lay in bed after I had bathed her, and with me still fully clothed, I
asked timidly, "Will you tell me now what it was I refused to do for you
in your fantasy? You know: the misbehavior that powerd you to hang me
from the tree and have Mark whip me until my cock and balls fell off.
Please, sweetie."
She must have been ready for my question, for she began to answer it with
no pause, saying, "I had been trying to get you to do something else, when
I was sitting on your face, and you refused to do it. That's what made me
so angry with you."
As she had known, her answer only partially satisfied my intense
curiosity, and I begged her for more information, saying, "Please,
sweetheart. Tell me what it was I wouldn't do. Surely you know I'd never
refuse to do anything you wanted. Tell me what it was. Please."
She refused to tell me any more than what she already had, saying, "It's
just too disgusting to talk about. Maybe someday I'll decide to tell you,
or maybe I'll even tell you to do it. I guess we'll see then if you
really will do anything in the world for me."
I was sure I knew what she wanted me to do, because my masturbation
fantasies had been more and more concerned with me performing a further
service for her. I simply couldn't make my mouth form the words that
would tell her I knew what she wanted me to do, and that I longed to do
it. Finally, I again told her how much I loved and adored her, and I'd do
anything at all if she'd just tell me what she wanted.
Again she refused to be specific, but finally said, "I'm afraid that
someday I won't be able to hold back, because I seem to have an almost
overpowering compulsion to do it to you." I nodded my head in
understanding, and that seemed to be all the confirmation she needed that
I really did know what she meant.
She continued, "When I'm here alone during the day, I do lots of surfing
on the Internet. Several weeks ago, I found a chat room whose members are
women who are cuckolding their husbands, like I'm doing to you. There is
a sub-group of women who all seem to be just as interested in that
particular thing as I am. One of them said the other day that she thinks
it's an instinctive need women have, and that there's something about
having a cuckold under her crotch that makes a woman want to humiliate him
in that way. I don't know about the others, but it's certainly true for
me. Sometimes it's almost more than I can control, and I want to so bad I
can barely stand it. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to resist
that urge, and then you'll be so disgusted with me, you'll probably leave
and never come back."
Of course, that brought a further round of protestations of love and
adoration from me, which she finally cut off by saying, "That's enough
about it. Like I said, someday you may have to prove just how much you
want to serve me. Until then, let's drop the subject."
I had to accept her resolve to not speak further about something she
considered to be so unspeakable, for I knew that if I continued to press
her, she might order me from her bed. That was more than I could face,
and did everything I could to quell my curiosity.
She then asked, in a voice that was almost sad, "This has been difficult
for you, hasn't it? I'm sure when you were having all your fantasies
about other men fucking me while you watched, you never dreamed you would
have such a large amount of frustration to go along with your lust. I
wish I could think of something to do that would help you. I really do
love you, you know, and hate to see you suffering like I know you must be.
Maybe Mark and I can come up with a solution to your problem. I'll talk
to him about it when he gets back tomorrow."
I had been hoping she would once again let me watch while she masturbated,
and would then reward me by letting me cum in my own mouth, as she had
done the previous night. She seemed to have no interest in anything like
that, however, and simply turned off the lamp and rolled to her stomach.
She said, "God, I miss him. Good night, sweetheart."
After a few minutes, I knew she had fallen arelax, and I struggled to do
the same, because it was my only relief from the torment I was feeling.
She was lying between my eyes and the nightlight in the hallway, and I
simply could not power myself to turn away from the sight of her body
lying there, its wonderful, entrancing curves displayed for me to see. I
wanted to jack off, and finally could no longer resist that urge.
Gripping my erection through my trousers, I stroked it a few times, and
that was all that was needed to cause it to fill my undershorts with its
slimy load. I was then able to fall arelax also, and spent the night
dreaming of watching my wife masturbating and being fucked by an endless
parade of men, each with a cock larger than the one before.
________________
When Mark returned the next day, our life returned to what had become
"normal" for us. He and my wife slept in the master bedroom, while I took
to my lonely bed in another room. Occasionally they would let me watch
their lovemaking, but more and more my only participation would come when
Carol would summon me after her lover had filled her, and I would then be
allowed to remove his cum from her pussy so she wouldn't be bothered by
its dripping from her.
I would lay in my bed in unmoving silence, straining to stay alert for her
call, silently praying that he would hurry, and I would soon hear my
summons. My nights were usually restless, since I knew her call could
come at any time, and I wanted to stay awake so I could respond instantly.
I continued to awaken early, and to serve their breakfast to them while
they were still in bed. At those times, Carol seemed to take special
delight in displaying her naked body to me, all the while caressing Mark's
huge member, and telling me what a good lover he was. Again and again,
she would thank me for urging her to go to his room that fateful night,
for otherwise she would still be constantly frustrated by my small penis
and lack of lovemaking ability.
In the late afternoons, I would normally return home one or two hours
before the other man. Those short periods were the only times when she
and I were alone in the house, and I came to love them almost as much as
the times when she would summon me to their bedroom. It was then that she
would tell me how very much it hurt her to see my frustration and despair
that came from my enpowerd celibacy. She said on many occasions that she
and Mark had talked about possible solutions that would help me, and
before much longer maybe they could help me become more accepting of my
situation.
Mark was not away from home during any of the nights for the next several
months, and the opportunity to lie next to my wife was never presented. I
had come to think of those two special nights so long ago as very happy
times, since they had allowed me the opportunity to once again pretend
that we had a sexual relationship. In my heart, though, I knew that what
Mark gave my wife was so very much more than I ever could, and that she
would never give him over just to have me back in her bed.
That state of affairs continued during the months that preceded my
birthday. About one month before that date, Carol began to drop hints
that my 43rd birthday party would be an event I'd never forget. She kept
teasing me about making it extra special for me, but wouldn't ever give me
any more information than that. Given the nature of my fantasies, my
thoughts seemed to be constantly fixated on equating my birthday present
with some sort of sex with her. That made the intervening days drag by
very slowly, indeed.
________________
My birthday fell on a Tuesday, and after my last class was over, and I had
dismissed the students, I rushed home as fast as I could, eager to learn
more details about my extra-special birthday present. I parked my car in
front of our house, leaving the space in the garage for Marks' vehicle, as
usual. After hurrying inside, I went to the kitchen where I could hear
the sounds of my wife's activities.
We greeted each other, and I longed to take her in my arms and hug and
kiss her as we used to do when I returned. Now, however, I was not
allowed to touch her in any way when Mark was not present, and she always
observed that rule. She gave me instructions for helping her with
preparing the evening meal, and then after I had done those chores, we sat
at the table chatting.
About half an hour before Mark's return, Carol said, "Honey, tonight is
going to be very special for all of us. We've been planning it for a long
time, and I need you to tell me now that you won't spoil it for us by
refusing to do what I want you to. Can I have your promise?"
With no hesitation I made promise after promise that I would obey her, no
matter what she ordered me to do. There was no question whatsoever in my
mind that her slightest wish was my command, and I knew that no matter
what her requirements were, I would meet them.
She appeared to accept my promises, then said, "Now I want you to go take
a nice hot bath. Get squeaky clean for me. Before you get out of the
tub, I want you to shave off every bit of your pubic hair. Don't put on
any clothes. We want you to be naked tonight."
She said nothing further, and looked directly at me, as if waiting for me
to question her, or even to refuse her orders. That was the farthest
thing from my mind right then, and my only response was to say, "Okay,"
and then head for the bathroom to do as she had said.
It was impossible for me to interpret her orders in anything other than
sexual terms. It had been many months since I had been allowed to be
naked in my wife's presence, and the fact that I would be unclothed that
night caused a constant parade of erotic images to dance in my brain. All
the time I was bathing, and then shaving my crotch as smooth as possible,
I couldn't stop myself from thinking that maybe, just maybe, at last I
would be permitted to have sexual relations with her.
My cock obviously thought the same thing, for it seemed to be incapable of
deflating. That made it much easier to shave, of course, but as I walked
toward the sound of their voices, with the swaying, red-engorged thing
leading the way, I was embarrassed to show myself in that condition. I
hesitated outside the kitchen door for several seconds, then steeled my
resolve and entered.
They both turned to look at me, Carol's face breaking into a wide smile,
but Mark's holding a dark scowl. She said sweetly, "Honey, Mark doesn't
like it when you have a hardon in my presence. Please get rid of it right
now."
Of course, there was no way for me to control the traitorous thing between
my legs, and all I could do was hang my head and apologize. She then said
something that fueled my fantasies even further, still using her sweetest
tone of voice. "Maybe we'll have to think about finding a big tree after
awhile. Apparently there's no other way to make you behave yourself."
That brought an instant flash of memory of her very-exciting fantasy, in
which I was hung from a tree limb and whipped, and I could feel my cock
actually trying to grow even more. I'm sure my face was blazing red with
embarrassment, and I had no answer other than to apologize once again, and
then stand there in humiliated silence.
Carol finally announced that the meal was ready, and that she and Mark
would go to the dining room and wait for me to serve them. They left the
room arm-in-arm, and I hurried to dish up the food and carry it to the
table. As usual, Mark sat at the head of the table, with my wife seated
around the corner close enough to allow them to hold hands when they felt
the need for contact. After I had served them, I hurried back to the
kitchen for my own plate, then took my place at the other end of the
table. That was our usual procedure, and that meal was normal in all
respects, except for the fact that I was naked, with my penis in a
constant state of erection as we dined.
After the meal, I cleared the table as usual, then joined the lovers in
the living room, where we watched the evening news on TV. I have no idea
what I saw that evening, for my every thought seemed to be on what was to
come later, and my fantasies continued to run wild. My penis was never
less than 3/4 erect, and by the time Carol stood and announced it was time
for my birthday party, the case of blue balls I had was the worst in my
entire memory.
The three of us climbed the stairs, then entered the master bedroom. I
immediately saw a small package on the nightstand, wrapped in bright
paper, and with a large bow affixed to it. I assumed that was my present,
and waited for Carol to give it to me. However, she ignored the thing,
and instead said to me, "Honey, would you like to undress me? Since it's
your birthday, I thought that would be a nice treat for you."
As a matter of fact, I could think of nothing else I wanted to do more
than that, and nodded my head eagerly. She stood silently beside the bed,
and I finally summoned the courage to walk to her and hesitantly began
unbuttoning her blouse. Not a word was spoken by anybody as I removed
that garment, exposing her beautiful, full breasts to our view. I was
surprised to see that her nipples were almost fully erect, and in my
fevered brain, that was interpreted as a sign that she wanted me.
I quickly fell to my knees, and tried to untie her shoes while gazing in
rapt fascination at her crotch, which was only a few inches away from my
face. The scent that was coming from there, even though that part of her
was still fully clothed, was enough to drive me wild, and I know my
breathing was ragged and my hands were shaking.
At last I was able to remove her shoes and socks, and then with shaking
hands I fumred with the fastening on her jeans. At last they were open,
and I pulled them carefully down, revealing her panty-covered crotch. Her
scent became literally overpowering then, and I could think of nothing
other than my supreme need to bury my face in her, inhaling her essence.
She stepped out of her jeans, and then stood waiting for me to summon the
self-control to remove her frilly lace panties. I fought with my hands to
make them behave, then very slowly and carefully pulled her last remaining
garment to her feet, removing it when she raised her feet one by one. At
last she stood completely nude in front of me, and her overpowering
beauty, combined with the essence of her womanhood so near to my nose,
brought tears of longing to my eyes.
She took my head in her hands and raised my face to hers, saying softly,
"Honey, I want you to get me ready for Mark to fuck. I haven't had a bath
since yesterday, and he doesn't like to fuck a dirty, smelly pussy. Will
you clean it for him, please?"
Without waiting for an answer, which my completely-locked throat wouldn't
have been able to utter anyway, she lay back on the bed. She drew both
knees to her chest, then placed her hands on them to spread her crotch
wide and hold her legs in place. I needed no command or suggestion to
understand what needed to be done, and I fell to my knees and buried my
face in her.
I'm sure most men would find it disgusting to lick a woman's crotch when
she hadn't bathed for more than a day, and in the meantime had been fucked
by her lover once or twice. It simply never occurred to me to think
anything like that, and I licked and sucked her private place with all the
enthusiasm of a starving puppy eating from his dish. Over and over I ran
my tongue up and down her slit, pausing frequently to flick it against her
engorging clitoris. Again and again I pushed my tongue as deep as
possible into her hole, moving it rapidly to find any traces of her
juices.
At some point in time, she said, "Sweetie, that part's clean enough for
him now. Move down a little bit and do the other part."
No explanation was needed for my fevered brain to understand her meaning,
and my tongue immediately traced a path to her other opening. I slowly
licked up and down the length of her crack, as I'd seen her lover do so
many times. At last I concentrated on the puckered entrance to her body,
and licked its tight folds with all the strength my tongue could muster.
Finally I began to power it inside her, and was rewarded by her soft sigh,
and then her sweet moan that I loved to hear.
Just when I thought she was going to allow me to bring her to orgasm, she
said, "That's enough. Mark's the only one who's allowed to make me cum.
Get out of the way so he can fuck me."
Before I could react in any way, the other man pushed me roughly out of
the way, saying only, "Move!" I was surprised to see that he was also
naked, and realized that he must have undressed when I was cleaning my
wife's crotch for him.
I knelt there watching in frustration and lust as he grasped Carol's waist
and lifted her crotch to his. She reached down and guided his engorged
member into her pussy, then hissed, "Hurry! Oh, God! Fuck me fast! Make
it hurt!"
He seemed to know exactly what she needed, and rammed his monster deep
inside her in a single thrust. She cried out in pain and arousal, then
began to piston her hips in time with his own movements. In only a few
seconds, a sound began to issue from her throat that was more growl than
speech, and it abruptly cut off as her crotch made one last thrust against
him. Her fingers pulled her nipples so violently I feared she would harm
herself.
Her lover was obviously just as aroused as she, and his hips lunged
forward to meet hers as he joined her in orgasm. That moment seemed to
last forever, as he pumped his semen into her, and I watched in mindless
lust, knowing that my services would soon be required.

After what seemed an eternity, I saw her body relax, and as Mark gently
lowered her to the bed, his organ pulled free of hers, covered in their
combined juices. Carol sighed one last time, then said emotionally, "God,
you're good for me. No one can make me feel like that. I love you more
than I can say."
She then tore her eyes away from her lover and looked at me kneeling there
beside them. Mark knew what she wanted him to do, and moved out of the
way. She once again pulled her knees to her chest, opening herself to me.
I stared and stared, frozen in lustful anticipation, as his cum began to
slowly move toward her gaping opening. Just as the first gobbet was about
to drip from her, I resumed my place between her legs and once again
provided that service I had grown to love.
That was the first time I had been allowed to clean her so soon after
they'd fucked, and also with all the lights still on. Never before had I
accepted how truly huge his member was, but now the evidence was lying
there before me. Her pussy hole was stretched so far that I was sure my
whole hand could have easily fit in it, but it was my tongue that was
being used then, and again and again it licked fervently, bringing morsel
after morsel to my waiting mouth.
After what seemed a lifetime, I heard Carol say, "I think you got every
drop of it, don't you, honey? Let me sit up now, so we can talk." As I
moved away, she lowered her legs and came to a seated position on the edge
of the bed, then without pause drew me to my feet so I was standing in
front of her. Instantly a renewed surge of lust raced through my body as
I was assailed by images of her taking my penis in her mouth, and giving
me the relief I had to have.
However, instead of doing that, she asked sweetly, "Honey, would you like
to fuck me now?"

To be continued . . .

please continue! I love the fetish of husbands being powerd to only masturbate and not having any sexual contact

This story is all around excellent

I love this story! Please continue.

Tell us more, this is great!!!!!!!!!!
contdoc

Here we go:

BOB'S STORY

By: Shortie

Chapter 6

The confusion that produced in my racing brain stunned me, and it was only
after I was able to overcome it that I responded by pleading, "Please! I
want that more than anything. Please let me do it."
She replied softly, "I will, honey, one last time. But there's something
we have to do first." She then reached to the nightstand and handed the
gaily-wrapped box to me. She said, "Before you open it, look at the
pretty gift wrapping I got for you. Do you like it?"
Looking at the paper was the last thing in the world I wanted to do right
then, but I did as she asked. The wrapping was quite attractive, but
certainly not all that much out of the ordinary. The pattern consisted of
narrow silver stripes, separated by colored stripes that faded from pink
to blue, and then back again. I finally replied, "It's very pretty.
Thank you for selecting it for me."
She smiled, then said, "Did you notice how the colors change from pink to
blue?" At my nod, she continued, "The lady at the gift shop said it was
for "sex-indeterminate" gifts. She said that people who buy gifts for a
baby before it's born like that particular pattern, since the color will
be right no matter if it's a boy or girl. I thought it was particularly
appropriate for you, since in many ways you're no longer a man. Now go
ahead and open it. I think you'll be really excited by what we got for
you."
It's a measure of how low I had sunk by then that her description of me
had no effect. I suppose I shared her opinion of my sexuality, and also
didn't think of myself as a real man. It was for certain that I couldn't
measure up to my nephew when it came to sexual equipment or lovemaking. I
guess it was a case of her opinion being more accurate than not.
The box was quickly unwrapped, and then opened. What I saw exposed there
was both exciting and mystifying.
The first thing that caught my eye was a foil-wrapped condom, and that was
all the evidence I needed to believe that I truly would be allowed to fuck
my wife that night. My hands shook as I removed the thing from the box,
and I stood there in silence for several seconds, wondering if I was
expected to put it on my raging hardon, or if I should wait for
instructions from her.
She solved the dilemma for me by saying, "Put it on the nightstand, honey.
You won't need it for a few minutes. Look at what else we got you for
your birthday."
There were two other items in the box, and I took out the larger and held
it up to inspect more closely, having no idea what the thing was. It
appeared to be an oversized pair of pliers, but each jaw had two metal
prongs attached to its tip. I couldn't fathom what use I would have for
such a thing, since I had never been the handyman type. Finally I moved
my eyes away from it, and looked at Carol with my unspoken question.
She said, "I'm sure you don't know what it's for, do you?" I shook my
head, and she continued, "That's something Mark uses quite a bit at his
clinic. The real name is 'elastrator,' although he says most people just
call it a bander. It's used to castrate the naturals people bring in."
The shock that passed through my body then was greater than any I'd ever
felt, and I feared I'd pass out and fall to the floor. I'm sure the
expression on my face was laughable, but Carol didn't respond to it,
continuing in a very serious tone, "I've told you several times that I
wish there were some way to make it so you wouldn't feel so much
frustration that you can't fuck me anymore. Well, this is it. Mark says
if you're castrated, as soon as all the hormones leave your body, you'll
be much more accepting of your situation."
She then took my free hand in hers, kissing it before saying, "Sweetie,
it's what I want for you. It's what you need. Please say you'll let me
do that to you. Please, honey. We both want it to happen, I know. I've
thought of doing that to you ever since Mark told me about it, and just
the idea is enough to make me hot enough to cum when I squeeze my legs
together. Please let me do it to you. Please. If you do, I'll let you
fuck me one last time."
She continued, in the silence I was unable to break, "There's something
else I need to tell you now, and it's another, maybe even more important
reamister for you to be castrated. Mark and I want to have a baby, and he
says that you can't continue to live with us if you're still able to get
me pregnant. I know you'd never fuck me without his permission, but he
says he won't take that chance, and that either you or your balls have to
leave. Please, honey, let me castrate you so you can stay. Please."
I was too dumbfounded to speak, and stood there in silence as she reached
out and took my nearly-deflated penis in her hands. As she rubbed and
caressed it, my mind seemed to clear more with every fraction of an inch
it regained. By the time it was fully erect once more, I had already
arrived at my decision, and when she looked up to me and whispered, "Will
you let me castrate you?," I responded by nodding my head, then saying in
a whisper of my own, "Yes."
She said softly, "Thank you, sweetheart. I knew you'd say yes. It just
makes me love you all the more. Thank you."
With no further hesitation, she began to squeeze and pull my sac, trying
to loosen it. Not a word was said by anybody in the room as she worked
the thing farther and farther from my body, until she was at last
satisfied it was stretched as far as possible. She then took the
elastrator from me, saying, "There's a band in the box. Put it on the
posts for me."
I picked up the box and took out the one thing that remained in it. It
looked for all the world like a very heavy rubber band, light green in
color. With leaden hands, I placed the thing over the four metal posts on
the tool she was holding out to me. She squeezed the handles, which
stretched the band until there was an opening in it of almost three
inches. Nothing was said as she lowered the tool to my crotch, then
guided my balls through the rubber ring.
She said, without looking away from that oh-so-fascinating sight, "Mark,
is that the right position? Is that where the band should go?"
He replied, "It looks okay. I really shouldn't do anything to help you do
this, you know. I could lose my license just by being here. All he'd
have to do is say I helped you castrate him, and then I'd be out of a
job."
Carol said very seriously, "There's no need to worry on that score." She
then looked up to my face, saying, "Honey, if anyone asks who castrated
you, what will you say?" She paused, continuing to look directly at me,
waiting for my answer.
I knew what she wanted to hear, and said softly, "I'll say that I did it
to myself. I'll say I stole the thing from Mark, and castrated myself."
She gave me her most loving smile, then once again lowered her gaze to my
crotch. I leaned forward a slight amount, watching the fascinating sight
of my stretched sac and balls hanging through the band of rubber. Carol
didn't hesitate any longer, and began to slowly release the tension on the
handles. As the jaws closed, the band shrank in size, growing ever closer
to my scrotum, and the vital cords imprimistered within.
Very slowly the band shrank, until finally the metal posts contacted my
flesh, and the ring loosely enclosed my sac and cords. Taking a large
breath to steady herself, Carol used her other hand to carefully push the
band up and off the posts, and as it cleared those constraints, it shrank
to its former size.
The squeezing I felt was painful, and produced a strong feeling of
discomfort. As she removed the pliers, I had an unobstructed view of my
imprimistered balls, and saw they had ceased their constant writhing, and
were at last at peace. My brain wouldn't allow me to have a similar
peace, but seemed to have suddenly reverted to the state of arousal it'd
been in before my wife said she wanted to castrate me. Somehow, the pain
I was feeling in my crotch was translated to arousal, as strange as it may
seem. As I've said before, I'm a fucked-up guy. I don't deny it.
Once again, my only purpose and focus was to allow my cock to spurt forth
its semen, and I prayed that she would fulfill her promise to let me fuck
her, even if it was for the last time ever in my life.
She reached out to the condom and unwrapped it, then began to roll it down
my shaft. She said, "Mark says it'll take several days for you to be
sterile, so you'll have to wear this. Just think, if you'd have worn one
of these when we were dating, you wouldn't be in this fix now." She
laughed, but I was unable to join her. Deep within my heart of hearts, I
knew this "fix," as she called it, was exactly where I wanted to be. What
she had done by cuckolding me, and everything since, had been nothing less
than the answer to my most fervent prayers. Even though it had cost me my
balls, I knew it was worth it.
Carol then told me to get on the floor on my back, saying that Mark
wouldn't allow me to fuck his wife in their bed. I was beyond caring
about anything other than cumming by that time, and didn't react in the
least way. Instead, I dropped to the floor and got on my back just as
quickly as I could.
She got off the bed, straddled my crotch, and lowered herself while
guiding my little cock inside her pussy. As soon as she had settled all
the way to my abdomen, she said, "My God! I can't feel you at all. You
can't possibly be that tiny, can you? Are you sure it's in?"
She raised up a small amount, looked back between our bodies, then said in
wonderment, "It's really in me. I can't believe it. I used to think your
penis was just fine. Now I can't feel it at all. My God, how could I
have put up with that all those years? Now I love you more than ever for
sending me to a real man."
All the time she had been saying those things to me, she had been moving
her body up and down on my shaft. I had to agree that the stimulation I
was receiving from fucking her was much less than I remembered, although I
could certainly feel it, even through the sheath she'd put on me. I'm
sure that, given the state of arousal I was in, even the slightest breath
of air against my cock would have put me over the edge. The feeling of
her pussy enclosing me, even loosely, was the most wonderful thing in the
world right at that moment, and with a soft groan I raised my hips and
began to cum.
As soon as I had finished pumping my semen into the rubber she'd put on
me, Carol raised up and squatted beside me. She grabbed the tip of the
sheath and quickly slid it up my still-erect shaft. As she brought it to
my mouth, she said quietly, "Stick out your tongue. Don't swallow until I
tell you to. I want to look at your last cum that still has babymakers in
it."
The robot that was then living in my body opened its mouth and extended
its tongue. My wife began to squeeze out the contents of the condom, and
I felt the slimy stuff landing on its target. When she was satisfied the
thing was entirely empty, she bent close to my face and stared for several
seconds at the deposit she'd made there. At last she said, "Yuck! It
looks just like snot, doesn't it? Go ahead and eat it now." The robot
then closed my mouth and did just that.
Carol then stood and helped me to my feet. She took my hand and led me to
the door, while looking back over her shoulder and saying, "Lover, I'm
going to take him to his room now. I'll be right back for a long, slow
fuck. God, I'm so damned horny I may wear out your big cock before I'm
through with it! I won't be long."
As the two of them laughed together, she led me to my bedroom, turning on
the light as we entered. Through glazed eyes I saw that two lengths of
rope had been tied to the two upper corners of the bed, and the free ends
were laying coiled loosely on the bedspread.
There was a glass of water and a bottle of pills on the nightstand that
had not been there the last time I was in the room, but that and the ropes
were the only things new. She opened the bottle and shook out one of the
pills, then handed it and the glass of water to me. She said, "Swallow
this, sweetie. It'll help with the pain as your balls die. It'll make
you pretty relaxy, too, and maybe you'll even have some strange dreams.
Mark said it'll make you 'suggestible,' as he called it, so I'll have to
be careful what I tell you to do, I guess." She laughed softly at that,
then took the glass from me and replaced it on the nightstand.
Carol released my hand long enough to turn back the covers and top sheet,
then told me to lie down. She then pulled my arms toward the corners of
the bed, tying the ropes to my wrists to hold them there. She explained,
even though I hadn't asked, "We need to keep your hands away from your
crotch for the rest of the night. Mark says it'll take that long for your
balls to die, and if you remove the band before then, all my work will be
wasted."
She continued, "Actually, you'll need to leave the band there for a month
or more. That'll give your balls a chance to shrivel up and fall off, and
that'll be a much better way to do it than having to cut them off with a
knife. He says if you take the band off after only a few hours, you might
get red poimistering. That's why we have to have the ropes, honey. Okay?"
I could do no more than dazedly nod my head, and when she saw my
agreement, she continued, "I'm going to go back to bed now. I'm so damned
horny I can't think straight, and I need a couple of hours of fucking. Do
you want me to bring it to you when we're through?"
I didn't need to use any of the tiny remaining brainpower I still had to
understand what she meant, and answered by nodding and whispering,
"Please." She smiled sweetly at me, leaned down and kissed my cheek,
covered me with the top sheet, then left the room. She turned off the
light on her way out, and as I lay there in the darkness, feeling my balls
becoming increasingly numb, my mind was as close to a blank as it ever had
been.
_________________
My next memory is of knowing someone was in the darkened room with me, and
then feeling the sheet being turned down. No sound was made as she
straddled my head, then lowered her dripping-wet crotch to my mouth. I
was equally quiet as I performed the service that had become the center of
my life, licking and sucking with every bit of my energy, the only sound
in the room coming from my throat as it swallowed load after load brought
to it by my questing tongue.
To my surprise, my attentions to my wife's crotch seemed to be arousing
her, as they had earlier that night. That was unusual, since for the past
few months, she seemed to derive very little stimulation from my oral
services. This time, however, she began to sigh and moan very softly
before I was even halfway through my cleaning efforts. By the time I
could find no more to eat, she was pressing her crotch tightly against my
mouth, and I was sure she was on the verge of cumming, although she didn't
do it.
I heard her say softly, "I want to see them. I'm going to turn on the
light."
The light burst forth from the bedside lamp, illuminating her beautiful
body. The extreme distension of her nipples, and the way her chest
heaved, confirmed that she was indeed aroused. Even more confirmation was
provided when she quickly re-mounted my face, but this time facing my
crotch. I could feel a slight tugging on my sac, but that was the only
clue I had as to what she was doing. Again speaking barely above a
whisper, she said, "I think they're dead. Can you feel that?"
I said the only thing I could feel was a slight tugging, and then she
raised up enough to allow me to look between her legs. She said, "Look
what I'm doing to them, honey."
As my eyes focused on her hands and my sac, I saw that the thing was more
grey than pink in color, and parts of it were almost black. She had
separated my balls and was squeezing them between the thumb and forefinger
of each hand. I could see she was using so much power that her fingers
were actually touching her thumbs, and knew then that she was correct.
Surely if my nuts had been alive, what she was doing to them would have
caused me to pass out from the pain. Now, all I felt was a slight
tugging. I was sure the worthless things were dead, and rather than that
knowledge causing me any sort of grief, I simply dropped my head to the
pillow, hoping she'd lower herself to me once again.
She soon did that, and quickly centered her pussy over my mouth. I was
surprised when she reached both hands around her body and spread her
cheeks, then wiggled her butt until my nose was firmly in place against
her puckered opening. That sensation brought another sigh from her, and
then she whispered, "Put it in me there. Push your nose inside me."
I tried with all my might to push my nose into her as deeply as possible,
and actually got half the thing where we both wanted it. In my mind, I
was trying to push my entire body into her, where it would be absorbed and
become part of her forever. Again and again, I pushed my head against
her, but could gain no more entry than before.
She was obviously frustrated by my failure, and said sharply, "Use your
tongue, damn you! Do it! Put it in me!" She moved quickly forward until
her opening was centered on my mouth, and her pussy was riding my chin.
With no hesitation I stiffened my tongue as much as possible and began to
work it into her hole. Her sighs told me of her appreciation, and they
seemed to spur me to greater efforts. Soon it felt as if my whole tongue
had penetrated her, and I could feel her pressing strongly against my face
as she sought even more.

Her movements, her sighs, and her moans told me she was approaching
orgasm, and I intensified my efforts to help her achieve that goal.
Suddenly I felt her push even more strongly against my tongue, and heard
her impassioned cry, "Suck it! Now! Suck it out of me, you little wimp!"
As if under the direction of some exterior power, my tongue withdrew and
my lips locked around her opening. As she pushed her spinchter against
me, I sucked with all my might. I have no clear memory of the next few
moments beyond that point, other than knowing she was climaxing from the
stimulation my chin was providing to her clitoris, and the
so-very-exciting thing she was doing to me. My mouth realized there was
something in it, and it reacted by swallowing. I have no idea if that
happened once, or many times. The robot that was inhabiting my body was
in charge, and it seemed to have completely shut down my brain.
I had the exquisite feeling of her hand on my penis then, and knew she was
gripping it as tightly as she could, while pumping it rapidly. There was
only one possible response to that, and so my body made it. I felt my
hips lift off the bed with the power of my climax, and then the
indescribable ecstasy of cumming swept over me. I'll never forget her
words to me as my cock spurted. She whispered, "This needs to come off,
too. You want to be rid of it, and someday you'll beg me to take it off
you."
At some point in the future, she was sitting on the bed beside me. Her
hand was scooping up the small amount of watery cum from where it had been
spurted onto my chest and stomach, and slowly bringing it to my mouth. I
was mechanically licking it from her fingers and swallowing it. It seemed
my only reamister for existing was to dispose of whatever she chose to feed
me, and that was what I did.
I remember her speaking to me, saying, "I'm going to call your school in
the morning and tell them you're sick. I think you need some more of my
special medicine. Giving it to you was even more exciting that I'd
thought it would be. I can't tell you how much I love you for doing it.
It was better than I'd ever imagined. All the other women in the chat
room said it would be, and they were right."
She then covered me again with the sheet, kissed me good night, turned off
the light, and left the room. I think I closed my eyes, but am not sure.
At any rate, the next thing I remember is the alarm ringing, and being
unable to turn it off because something kept me from moving my arms. I
was devastated that I wasn't allowed to serve breakfast in bed to the two
most important people in my life, and hoped that Carol would soon release
me.
______________
So, there it is: the story of my life. You can take it or leave it; I
don't care one way or the other. You can see it as a cautionary tale, and
realize that if you think it would be very exciting to watch your wife
fucking another man, the same thing could happen to you. If you choose,
you can use it simply as another jack-off story, and that's fine with me.
It happened, and I have no regrets whatsoever. I'm now a eunuch, and I
serve my wife and her sexual husband in whatever ways they require of me.
If some of the ways I serve my wife seem disgusting to you, then that too
is your choice. I simply don't care; I love it.

The End

Wonderful story. any updates, Schultz