Don Jetman
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Posts: 3202
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#1 · Edited by: Don Jetman
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Jus Primae Noctis
by Don Jetman
It was our anniversary, and we wanted to do something special. We hadn't played with Dave, L.,'s very first lover, for a few months, and I knew my wife L. would be more than ready for another of our games. I emailed Dave and suggested a theme. He added a few ideas of his own, and the plan was set into motion.
L. and I were to play newlyweds, and Dave would play a powerful official in a future time when, by law, a new groom must surrender his wife to him to be used on their honeymoon night. While L. isn't a hardcore submissive, she does enjoy being powerd to submit at first, then losing control and fully surrendering herself to a powerful man. The idea came to me while watching an old movie set in feudal times when the king could employ "jus primae noctis", the right to "sample" a newly wedded wife on the first night of her honeymoon. I tried to imagine the feeling, the total offense a husband must have endured, to have handed over his virgin wife to the virile, powerful king on their wedding night, to know he would be the first man to take her, to anguish over whether she might find pleasure in the king's bed, and whether their firstborn might be sired by the king himself.
I reserved a suite at an expensive hotel in a nearby city. L. loved the idea, and packed accordingly, including her actual wedding dress, and some skimpy lingerie meant to make a new husband drool with excitement.
We checked in around 4:00 on a Saturday afternoon. The suite was amazing, just as I had been promised. There was a large bedroom, an even larger den/living room, and a bath. Sliding doors led to a small balcony that overlooked the enclosed pool and lounge seven floors below. I've stayed in a lot of hotels, but this - this was true luxury at it best. L. was thrilled, and couldn't wait to unpack. Her wedding dress looked a little bizarre hanging with the rest of her clothes, but it was a constant reminder of what we were there for.
After getting settled, I reminded L. that he wanted her in her wedding dress when he arrived. "You didn't watch me get dressed before our real wedding, did you?" she asked. "Nooo..." I answered, a little curious about what she was up to. "Why don't you go get us some ice while I get dressed," she suggested. "I could use a take." It was then I knew I had been cuckolded for the first time that night. I wasn't allowed to watch my own wife dress for him. It was hardly as if I was really giving my virgin bride to him, but I knew how much the dress meant to her and I could tell that agreeing to wear it for him symbolized the genuine surrender of an important part of her to him.
I left the room and wandered the halls in search of an ice machine. My imagination was churning overtime, thinking of her getting ready for him back in our room, slipping into her lacy, white wedding dress for him. I knew what she was thinking - how excited she must be as she prepared to be "taken" by a man other than her husband on her wedding night, how she would pretend to surrender her body to him as her husband stood by, watching helplessly, how she would first merely submit, then moan enthusiastically as she came in the stranger's arms.
When I found the small alcove with vending machines and ice, the ice machine was empty. It took visits to three more floors until I found a machine that worked. I filled the small plastic ice bucket and headed back up three floors to our room. Now my thoughts were on Dave's arrival, how he would want me to lead her to him and put her hand in his, my token acknowledgement of presentation. What would he do next? What would he demand of my "newly-wedded" wife, standing so beautiful and vulnerable before him in her white wedding dress, a blatant symbol of her virginity and purity? How many ways would he use her body tonight? And how quickly would the inevitable take place, her presentation giving way to the growing appetites of her small, hungry body?
All this and more was churning through my head as I returned with a bucket of ice, slid the key into the door, and went inside. Dave stood in the center of the room. L. was on her knees in front of him in her wedding dress. Although for the most part, the dress fit like she had bought it yesterday, her breasts had grown somewhat after she went on the pill, and were squeezed up and outward, almost spilling out over the top of the neckline. She played with his exposed erect cock with both hands, fondling it lovingly with her fingers as her eyes stayed glued to it.
Several emotions hit me at once. I was surprised to see him there, and somewhat disappointed that I was not part of his arrival, giving her to him as was our usual ritual. The scene before me was very erotic, but it was a scene that had begun to be played out in my absence. Was it chance that he arrived while I was out? Or had he and L. arranged it to surprise me? I found myself wondering what had happened before I returned - how did she greet him, and what did he say to her to put her on her knees with his cock in her hands? Once again, my excitement was tinged with a shade of fear, doubt, and jealousy. Fortunately, by this time I knew it would pass, and would only serve to enhance the degree of my involvement in our role-playing. I stood there watching for some time, until Dave broke the silence.
"You'd never know she's a new bride," he told me, giving me his best 'I've-taken-your-woman' look. "Except for the dress, of course. You probably saw yourself in my place tonight, your dick in her hands, your eyes on her tits as they spill over the top of her dress."
He stood there smirking at me, waiting for his words to sink in. His cock was inches from her face, her fingers now trialing up and down along the bottom of the shaft, cupping his balls for a few seconds, then returning back slowly. She hadn't glanced at me once since I had returned.
"Of course, you'll never know her as a new bride. Before the night is over, she'll be very used, and very satisfied, I might add. You can have her when I'm done, but you'll live with the fact that I've had your new wife first, on the very night of your marriage, and that the first orgasm she had as your wife was with me. You'll always wonder how much she loved having my cock in her, and whether yours would have made her honeymoon as memorable."
I knew, or thought I knew, what was coming, but I was still stunned. The scene in front of me was so powerful, almost paralyzing in it's symbolism. The stark white wedding dress, my wife's position on her knees before him, her attentiveness to his erection as he stood over her, gloating. She still hadn't given me a single glance. She was playing her part perfectly, knowing what would excite me, and lost in feelings of complete presentation to him.
He reached down, took her face in his hands, and tilted her eyes to meet his. "Put it in your mouth," he told her. She did it, so obediently, not quite eagerly, but without a second's hesitation. She held the head of his cock in her mouth as she continued to play with him, gulping now and then as her eyes closed. I guessed she was swallowing his precum as it leaked into her mouth. L. had never loved the taste of it, but she loved receiving his orders, and obeying him. Again I felt a tiny stab of jealousy - was she getting more pleasure from sucking him than she ever did sucking me, even if it was for a different reamister? I realized that as her husband I would never have the same effect on her as the "other man" would have, that the taboo of her presentation to a man other than her husband was what made her fantasy work. Still, the pang of jealousy was there, the knowledge that this was something I would never be able to make her feel. Then it hit me that what I was feeling made this work - that experiencing a tiny bit of what a normal husband would feel if powerd to surrender his wife on their wedding night made the effects of role-playing more authentic. My dick was practically bursting through my pants. Unbelievable.
After a few minutes of this, he took her by the shoulders and gently brought her to her feet. "Your husband can watch all he wants," he told her, keeping his hands on her bare shoulders. "But he mustn't interfere. He mustn't touch you, or speak to you tonight. Like a fly on the wall, he's to be ignored. Do you understand?" She said she did. The look she gave him was almost adoring. My stomach lurched again.
"Tell him," he said evenly but firmly. For the first time since I had returned with the ice, she turned to look at me. Her eyes were wide with excitement and her face was flushed. "You can watch us, but you can't interfere," she repeated seriously. "Ok," I croaked, feeling very lame and now genuinely helpless. I could tell she meant it, or she was at least playing her part so well it stung. She seemed to enjoy my reaction, and I remembered she had once admitted that she was excited by controlling some men and being controlled by others. Things were becoming very real.
He guided her to the sliding door, opened it, and took her out onto the balcony, she with her hands on the railing, he pushing closely against her from behind. His put his arms around her and began to kiss her neck. Her head fell to the side as she let him kiss and suck. I wanted to see more, and tried to get closer, moving to he side for a better view, but from the back I could only see hints of what he was doing to her, and very little of her response. He pressed harder against her, attacking her neck and ear with his mouth. It seemed as though she was just standing in front of him, submitting, exposing her neck to him. I wondered whether her eyes were closed, whether she was smiling or gasping for breath, whether she was wet under the wedding dress. To anyone observing from below, they must have looked like a newly married couple, oblivious to the rest of the world, so anxious for their honeymoon to begin.
He kissed her for what seemed like forever, over every inch of her neck, ears, and shoulders. Finally I saw her reach back over her head to him, her fingers slowly stroking and fondling his hair. Then, suddenly, I heard her say, "No, please don't." Just once. Then nothing. Just after her small protest, they came back inside. L. was agitated and rumpled. Her hair was damp and flat where it touched her neck. I stared in disbelief when I noticed he had pulled the front of her dress down, exposing her breasts. As the top of the dress gathered under them, her breasts jutted forward, now even larger and fuller than I had ever seen them, even after recent noticeable growth from her birth control. She stood there, trembling, I supposed from the shock of being exposed in public. Had anyone seen her? I would probably never know. She just stared blankly at me. It was a little disturbing. Had he gone too far?
He came up behind her again, reached around, and began playing with her nipples. She didn't resist, she just stared at me. Was she OK? I needed some sign from her, or I was about to stop the game then and there.
"A fly on the wall, remember?" Dave reminded her, his lips inches from her ear. It seemed to bring her around. She smiled at me and winked. "A fly on the wall," she repeated, looking directly into my eyes. She turned her back to me, they embraced, and kissed passionately. I breathed a sigh of relief.
"You probably think you have some time, that I'll play with her for a while before I fuck her," he said to me suddenly, still holding her in his arms. I grinned at him and said, "I hope so." I was never as good at immersing myself in the game as L. and Dave were. I caught myself breaking out of character and looked back at him with my best "helpless" expression, hoping I hadn't ruined the mood. Damn my practical nature!
His answer to my transgression was to sit her at the foot of the large king-sized bed. He told her to lie back. She did. He told her to raise her dress. She gathered as much of it as she could from that position and pulled it to her waist. I stared. On her left thigh was a white, lacy, elastic garter, much like the one she wore at our wedding. He pushed the rest of the dress higher around her waist to reveal a pair of modest light pink panties. Easing the garter slowly over her bare thigh and calf, he removed it and put it in his pocket. Then, very purposefully, without any noticeable emotion, he placed his hands along her hips and removed the panties in much he same way. It was a strange sight. From where I stood, the bunched mound of material from the dress completely blocked my sight of her from the waist up. He stood between her bare legs. Her sex yawned open, now surrounded by a new tangle of pubic hair, left in place at Dave's suggestion to simulate her "innocence and virginity". Then, unceremoniously, he lowered his pants, took out his cock, and buried it in her.
"You're mine tonight, aren't you?" he growled. He had stopped with the entire length of his cock inside her. I heard her whimper a quiet, "Yes." He pulled back, then entered her again firmly. "You want my cock all night long, don't you?" Another "Yes" from her. "You want me to show your husband how to make his new wife cum on her wedding night, don't you?" "Yes." He kept it up, making her tell him between strokes how much she wanted him, making her answer before giving her another, making her say the words, that she wanted a man other than her husband to be the first to take her on her wedding night.
Finally, after only a few preliminary strokes, he told her to get up, that he was "finished with her for now". She gathered her dress and lowered it, then got up off the bed. She was a little flushed and bewildered, but probably had anticipated what he would do by now. Dave loved to get her worked up, then leave her hanging. Much later, by the time he would finally make her cum, she would be completely out of control, a wild woman who would do anything for her long-awaited orgasm. Deprivation followed by reward. It was what he did best.
He told her to change for dinner, and told me to go to the other room. "You've seen enough for now," he said. I left the bedroom, turned the corner into the remaining room of the suite, and took a seat on the sofa. I couldn't hear them speak, just the movement and rustling sounds of L. getting out of her wedding dress and into something more presentable for dinner. I knew he was watching her, probably even unzipping the wedding dress and helping her out of it. Was he touching her? Stroking her belly or ass as she bared herself in front of him? Was he behaving as any new groom might, cupping her breasts, kissing her and holding her close when she was finally nude? Not knowing, not seeing, was ***.
Finally he told me I could return to the bedroom. They were standing side-by-side, holding hands. L. wore her little black dress, the same one she wore when we went to dinner with Dave months ago. She had fixed her hair and makeup. She was stunning. They really did look like a couple, maybe even a new husband and wife. He stood beside her, confident and protective, she with a look that showed she loved "confident and protective". Any resistance she was supposed to display had vanished more quickly than usual.
"Did you know your new wife was so easy?" he asked me. "Just look at her face. Who do you think she wants to share her bed tonight, me or you?" She looked at me, then lowered her eyes to the floor. Finally some display of shame, but it wasn't very convincing. I could tell she wanted him.
"You," I told him, trying to sound disappointed. "I guess she wants you."
"There's no guessing about it," he said. "I don't think I've ever seen an easier woman. Right now, she wants to fuck me more than anything. She's standing here beside me in her little black dress, soaked between her legs, enough to drench her panties, if she was wearing any. She's dripping wet because she wants a fuck she'll remember on her wedding night, a fuck she'll think about every time you put your hands on her, every time you make love to her in your bed."
My god, the scene was convincing. I truly believed he did own her at that moment. And L. wouldn't look at me now. I truly believed she was genuinely at least a little embarrassed, even if part of it was role-playing. Her small hand was engulfed in his, clutching it instinctively, clinging to him just as she clung to the hope he would give her what she wanted soon, so she wouldn't have to wait in a constant state of heat. She kept looking at the floor, her head down, her hair swept forward half-covering her face, hiding her eyes from me. Her body had already surrendered to him, helplessly, sorry.
"We're going to dinner," he told me. "You can watch us from another table, but keep your distance. I'm going to make your wife wait for me to fuck her. She'll sit across from me, her wet little pussy so hungry for my cock while I tell her what I plan to do to her tonight. You'll probably be hard just imagining what I'm telling her, because you want me to be the first to take her in your marital bed, don't you? You need a real man to give her a honeymoon fucking that will put a smile on her face for years to come, don't you?"
I waited for her to look up at me, then asked her, "Is that what you want?" She eyed me very seriously, then answered," I'm sorry, but I do. I want him." Again, it was hard to tell whether she was acting or serious. She stood so close to him, her hand still clasped so tightly in his.
"In fact, it's what you both want, isn't it?" he said to me. I managed to utter a quiet "yes". He led her to the door, ushering her through it, then closed it behind them. I gave them five minutes, then took the elevator to the dining room. He was right, as usual. I was hard just thinking of them together.
***
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Don Jetman
Member
Posts: 3202
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#2 · Edited by: Don Jetman
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Watching them through dinner was ***, but sweet ***. She looked so "owned", sitting quietly across from him, nodding as he did the talking, no doubt laying out the details of what he would do to her. I kept thinking how envious I would be if she was someone else's wife, her little dress hiked up far enough to show a scandalous amount of thigh, her nipples swollen to hard little points so easily seen through the thin fabric of the dress. From where I sat, I could watch the reaction of others around them. A few guys were constantly stealing quick looks at her, but by far the most interesting was an older man, about 65 I guessed, seated nearby with his wife. He kept staring at L.'s legs, seemingly unconcerned that she, or his wife, would notice. His wife must have seen this, but said nothing, ignoring his obvious attempts to get a better look up L.'s dress between her legs. From his line of sight, he must have had quite a view. I knew she wasn't wearing panties, and the tiny dress couldn't possibly have completely hidden her crotch from him. I just "knew" he was freely enjoying my wife's pussy, even if only in his imagination. That my wife felt so free to use her body to arouse every man in the room, that they were looking and more than likely imagining what it would be like to fuck her, that Dave controlled it all and I was completely helpless to do a thing about it, had my head swimming and my cock hard as granite.
L. gazed at Dave as though in a trance as he spoke to her, her presentation easily mistaken by an outsider for an adoring wife's anxious yearning for her new husband. It was bittersweet, having to watch her body respond to him, seeing her eyes truly and desperately beg him to put his cock in her.
He bought her lobster, her favorite. L. used to tell me that the taste of it, how it melted in her mouth, mixed with the rich liquid butter, made her warm all over and tingle between her legs. I knew first hand what it did to her on so many special occasions. She knew I was watching. I wondered if she knew what I was thinking, and whether I would remember the effect it had on her. The way she sucked slowly on the sweet white meat, all the while looking adoringly into his eyes, told me she did. It was the kind of teasing, or torturing, she had grown to love.
I can't begin to explain how excited I was during dinner. Although she looked absolutely ravishing, it was the psychological effect of seeing her so comfortable with him, or I should say, so genuinely eager to please him. Her body language, the little tilt of her head when she answered him, the constant shifting of her legs under the table as she took in each of his words as though it was foreplay - all of this showed she was ready for him, that she was clearly his in the midst of all those people. I had seen her taken by Dave in so many positions. I had heard her beg him for sex, and moan loudly as she came with him inside her. But this was more haunting, strangely electric with eroticism. My wife, so hungry for another man, so lost in her need for him in a public place that no one would have ever guessed her husband sat just across the room with a hard-on, watching her flirt with the man who would later take her upstairs and fuck her mercilessly. Somehow I knew it was one of those moments I would always remember.
I was careful to finish my meal first and to pay quickly, knowing I'd want to follow them when they left together. I sat and nursed my coffee, waiting, waiting - it seemed like a lifetime. When they left, he put his hand on the small of her back, a move I knew signified ownership. It was his trademark, his message to me that now he considered her completely his. I watched his hand lower over her ass as they left.
I rode the elevator up to our room with them. He hadn't told me I couldn't, so I edged through the doors at the last minute, just before they closed. They both stared at me as he played with her neck from behind. Eventually her eyes closed, her head rolling in slow circles as his hands massaged her neck and shoulders. He lowered his hands down along her arms, onto her hips, then behind her, lower, both palms pressing softly into her asscheeks, until her hips tilted and swayed voluntarily under his touch. Her dress rose slightly, revealing most of the front of her bare thighs, until it was stretched tightly across the firm little mound between her legs. His hands were moving under her dress from behind. I imagined how very wet she must be, how warm and slippery she must have felt to him as his fingers dipped into the honey that must be pouring from her.
"You love watching me do this to her, don't you, Don?" he asked me. He wanted me to admit it, to let L. know I had surrendered her. "Yes, I do," I told him. "And you want me to fuck your little bride?" he continued. L. gasped. I told him I did.
Back in our suite, the night was more L.'s than mine. Dave sat back in one of the plush chairs by the bed and ordered her to strip, slowly. She stood in front of him and did it, peeling the dress down over her body, then stepping out of it, dropping it seductively to the floor. She was naked, except for her black heels, but her body language was almost bold. She thrust her breasts at him, and opened her legs. The heat seemed to pour from her body. But he had other plans for her.
He had her go to the other side of the bed, put her hands up against the top of the four-poster, and stretch, as though she was tied there. "Close your eyes," he told her. "You're helpless there, naked, with your wrists tied tightly above your head. I could tie you, blindfold you, then bring in ten men from the bar downstairs. I could sit here and watch them take you, one by one. You'd never see their faces. You'd only feel their cocks inside you, moving in and out, then pounding you just before they come." He paused, waiting for her to visualize the scene, waiting for her to put herself into this new fantasy. "You'd do them all, wouldn't you? You'd let them have you, all ten of them. And you'd want more, wouldn't you?" I stared at her body, her arms stretch overhead, her nipples rigid and puckered. She did want them, all ten. At least in her fantasy. She answered him in a small, helpless voice. "Yes.....I want them."
He sat and watched her as she let herself into his world. I wondered what she was thinking, what outrageous acts were unfolding in her mind. Days later, she told me that she was doing those ten men, but that being ordered to do so by Dave was even more exciting.
He got up and went to her, taking a fistful of her hair at the back of her head. He pulled her head back, until she was powerd to look up at the ceiling. He put his other hand between her legs and guided her to the adjacent wall, where he powerd her against it. L. whimpered a little when he pushed her against the wall. I wondered if she was afraid, or if she let a whimper escape because she couldn't control the excitement of something so new and daring. He had never been this physical with her before. He held her there against the wall, working his hand between her legs from behind, making her crazy as she squirmed and gasped.
Then came the real shock. "You didn't think I'd let your husband be the first to take you there either, did you?" he growled. "You like it up the ass, don't you? Tell your husband something even he didn't know. Tell him you like it." She hesitated, but then told me, with her face away from me against the wall - "I like it." She squirmed a little more as he worked his finger in and out of her ass. I was astounded. We had tried anal sex, once, years ago, but L. hated it, so we let it go. It wasn't a big deal to me, so I didn't think any more about it over the years. Now, although it was just his finger, she was panting and gasping in heat.
"You don't just want those men from the bar to fuck your cunt, do you? You want them to fuck your ass as well. Don't you?" L. wouldn't answer, probably because she feared he might actually invite the men up to our suite. I knew Dave could be unpredictable, but never that crude. L., on the other hand, was so lost in her fantasy, she may also have lost a sense of reality. He kept growling at her, "Don't you? Don't you? DON'T YOU?" Finally, to my surprise, she whimpered, "Please don't. Please don't let them do that to me. I'll do anything you want. But not that. Please, not that." He chuckled, backed away from her and told her, "Someday, someday you will. Once you've had my finger up your ass, you won't be able to stop thinking about it. You'll want a cock there eventually. When you're ready, you'll let me know. You'll beg me for it." He walked away from her, after ordering her to stay against the wall. Ignoring me completely, he went to a chair across the room, sat, and watched her continue to squirm in heat, her arms still stretched over her head, her pale body and pretty face pressed tightly against the wall, waiting for his next command. I knew L. so well. She wouldn't do this, she wouldn't be manhandled and controlled like this unless she wanted it very badly. She truly loved this. I was absolutely sure of it.
He ordered her to get on her hands and knees and crawl to him, then to open his pants and play with his cock. She didn't object or hesitate. I watched as she crawled across the carpet, then pushed his legs apart and opened his pants. L. has repeatedly told me that his penis isn't "that much different" than mine. But we both know he's slightly thicker, and seeing her small hands and delicate fingers hold him, then gently caress him until he's hard as a rock always drives home the difference. She's just so damned intent, celebrating his erection as her eyes stay fixed on it. I always think to myself, "She's making him as big as she can, teasing him. No matter what she says, she wants him hard and very thick when he fucks her."
He let her go on for a while, until I could see he was having trouble holding back. She had both hands around his shaft, sliding up and down, milking and pulling at him, as though she was determined to make him cum. "Did you bring something sexy to wear?" he asked her. "Did you bring something that will make an innocent wife look like a whore for her honeymoon?" She admitted she had. He told her to put it on, then pose for him. She went to the bathroom, then returned wearing a long black nightgown. At first it seemed more elegant than sexy, but as she went to him and posed, I remembered it immediately. I had given it to her last Christmas, and she had posed for me that night. The entire gown was transparent when the light was right. It showed everything, her ripe breasts and pouting nipples, her smooth belly, the thick patch of chestnut hair between her legs, and those slim thighs that never ceased to drive me crazy. I remembered the night we had after she last posed for me in it. I wanted her, badly.
"Sit over there," he ordered. She went to the large wicker chair and sat. "Pull it up. To your waist. And spread your legs. Show me your pussy," he told her. Slowly, she hiked the gown up along her legs, bunching it in her lap. Now staring deeply into his eyes, she put her feet up on the matching footstool and opened her legs, shamelessly exposing every detail of her sex. My god, she was wet. Her pussy seemed twice it's normal size, swollen, red, and gaping open obscenely. "Lower the top," he ordered. "I want to see your tits." She slid the straps over her shoulders, and with the tips of her fingers, slowly drew the top down until her bare breasts jutted proudly forward. She was so damned beautiful. And it was all for him. She just kept looking at him intensely, stretching a little, opening her legs to him so seductively, playing with the lowered straps with her fingertips as though she wanted to show how impatient she was to get naked for him once again. He made her wait as he watched her. There were some long moments when no one made a sound. He watched, and she put herself on display. Time seemed to stand still.
"Do you want to go to bed?" he asked her. She nodded. "Do you want to lose your virginity to me or your husband?" She turned her head to look at me, giving me an expression that was half apology, half lust. Then she looked back at him. "If you want me, you can have me," she told him. At that moment, it was as if she had reached inside me and set fire to every nerve in my body. Her words, and the soft, yielding way she said them, struck at the very core of my fantasies. I knew she had probably rehearsed her answer to him, but I also knew she meant every word.
I stood at a distance as he stripped, turned out the lights, and led her to bed. I saw them hold each other under the sheets, hands moving over each others' bodies, mouths glued together in long kisses that seemed to end only when they needed to come up for air. When he rolled on top of her, settled in between her legs, and began to thrust, she groaned. Although it was fairly dark and they were under the sheet, I could see his butt rise, then push forward the first time, followed immediately by her groan. She must have been on fire, desperate for him to enter her. He fucked her for a good while, over half an hour, stopping, making her beg for more, then starting again. I stood by the side of the bed and watched in silence, fascinated by how quickly and completely she gave herself to him. She came with a long, low moan, as she usually did with him. Not long after, he grunted in the familiar rhythm that told me he was unloading inside her.
Afterwards, both still playing their parts, he told her, "Now you know what it's like to be taken by a real man. Every time you make love to your husband, you will think of me, the first man that entered your body, the first man to put his seed in you." She told him, "Yes, I will, I promise." I wondered how many times L. thought of Dave when we made love, and how his words might be more true than I imagined. But then, lately, L. had not been shy about telling me her fantasies, even during sex. In truth, these days she was more likely to fantasize about a young construction worker or office intern. I knew because she seemed to delight in telling me, and I loved to listen.
I listened for a while, watching the outline of their bodies under the sheets. Neither of them said a word, but I could see L.'s hand moving under the sheet, up and down over his chest and stomach. Before long she stopped and was very still, apparently fast arelax. I was so proud of her, proud that she was able to play the game so well, and proud that she felt comfortable enough to give herself to him so completely, without the slightest inhibition. She let me know days ago how much she craved Dave's body, but watching her hold him so urgently between her legs and hearing her moans and pleadings as he used her on what was supposed to be our marital bed, was undeniable proof that she felt completely free to enjoy sex with another man. This was my ultimate fantasy, and she was giving me everything I wanted and more.
When it was clear that he was done with her, I left them and stretched out on the leather sofa in the adjoining room. It was almost impossible to relax. I kept listening for a quiet word from one of them, or even a rustling sheet. My wife was relaxing with another man for the first time in her life. Granted, she had sex with him many times, but this was different. She was spending the night in his arms, available to him for the entire night. Now he would own her a little more, taking her for his own even as she slept beside him. To my surprise, this time I felt absolutely no angst or possessiveness at all, only excitement.
I dozed off and on, but I never really got much relax. The sofa was more for decoration than comfort, and the slightest noise startled me, I suppose because I hoped to catch them making the most of that big bed. Strangely, this time I really wanted him to use her repeatedly, to have sex with her as many times as possible throughout the night. I wanted something new for L., a record amount of sex and orgasms, an all-night marathon that would leave her dazed and drained the next day. If only I could see that look on her face, the trance-like stare from little relax and constant sex. If only I could see her naked just after getting out of his bed, the petit, firm body I knew so well covered with his semen, her pubic hair matted with it, her hair glued together in strands that hung along the sides of her pretty face where his cum dried in small crusty patches. I wanted her to slut for him in the worst way. And then I wanted her to come to me and tell me how much she loved it as she climbed on top of me, took me inside her, and milked me dry.
About 3:30 AM I heard noises in the other room and quietly went to investigate. There was just enough light to see that now the sheet was rumpled at the foot of the bed, and that Dave lay between her legs again, his ass humping frantically, his body making slapping sounds as he plowed deeply into her. L.'s bare legs were wrapped around his back, pulling him into her while her hips bucked desperately against him. I could just make out her tiny whispers in the darkness - "Please....please....yesss....please....yesss....". Dave said nothing. He just kept pounding, fast and hard, almost vulgarly. The harder he slammed into her, the more L. encouraged him with her whispers. I stood there, only ten feet from the bed, watching, listening, and masturbating, until finally I came with an audible groan. Either they didn't notice, or didn't care, because he went on for another ten minutes before L. released her recognizable long orgasmic moan. He came almost immediately, grunting in rhythm with his thrusts. Afterwards - silence, as they both fell back to relax. I returned to my sofa and slept soundly for the first time that night.
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