The series: I’ve been planning to start this series for ever but I’ve never been able to sit down and start from the beginning in a more structured way. Maybe one day. Until then I just litter everything hotwife, cuckold related in here with no chronographical order whatsoever. These are loosely based on the swinger adventures of my thirties but names have been changed (not that I remembered them anyway) and all shenanigans have been heavily embellished. Enjoy.
This chapter: it’s very raw and I was tempted to post it in ‘hardcore’ so just be warned. But a certain someone told me to pour more details in, so I did… Also apparently I’ve used up my ‘f’ word allowance for the next three stories so if you’re not into a bit of vulgar and coarse, it’s probably not for you.
We – I – don’t plan these weekends. It’s impossible to predict when the mood will strike me, but when it does…
First, I leave a subtle sign for you, like placing those boots on the stairs this morning; an undisguised hint that, this weekend, you are going to be the pet of the house, my dear. You refer to them as my ‘bitch boots’, and you have a delightfully entertaining love-hate relationship with them. They are kept for these very special nights – partly because it’s fucking impossible to walk in them! I can just about manage the few steps across the living room – looking glam and not breaking an ankle – staring into your uneasy eyes, while you’re sat on the sofa, hands tied behind your back.
These boots are very special, indeed, and have cost a fortune. Knee-high, black leather, smooth steel buckles – five of them, my favourite number – finished with a full-length front lacing, which I love to do up in front of you, sitting cross-legged while running the shoelace in an erotic slow-motion zigzag. I only do this to tease you because there is a full-length zip on the inside, but I want to reinforce the image that I won’t be taking them off tonight. Tying them in that fashion also reminds me of my ice-skating days back in high school, sitting on the cold, hard, wooden bench teasing my favourite hockey boys. I was a bit of a tomboy, playing ice-hockey with the lads, feeling like a badass skater. Now I’m a badass bitch. You’re taking in every detail, like the studded front and the little pocket on the side. I love everything embellished and exciting. I could say, I’m sophisticated and like the fine (and the very coarse) things in life, but the truth of it is that I have a short attention span and get bored easily.
As I approach you, a riding crop and a paddle in one hand, I playfully tap the crop on the rough leather of my kinky footwear. I love the sharp cracking sound it makes. God, I can’t wait to make you feel the bite of it. It won’t make the same sound on your soft moisturised skin, but I’ll enjoy it just the same. Unfortunately, you’re not into pain and I ought to try to go easy on your peachy bum. Peachy as in easily bruising and NOT round and soft. On days like this, I really have to restrain myself not to let the true sadistic bitch slip.
I instruct you to kneel on the floor, bending over the sofa, your strong masculine arms outstretched in front of you. Those sexy shoulders, I admire when they’re pinning me down, now rendered useless by my signature red rope. Your wrists are on display, held securely together by a double column tie. I yank your boxers down – those sexy black and red Ted Baker ones I got you last Valentine’s Day. You love it when I buy clothes for you because you say I have exquisite taste but I know that it is for a completely different reason you’d never admit to.
As a warm-up, I whack your butt with the paddle a few times – quite gently (in my opinion), but you’re already complaining in your sweet puppy voice. I tell you that, “You’re gonna do so many other things you don’t particularly like. But you will not safeword out, will you, honey? You’ll do them because they…” I grit my teeth and punish you with a full-on hard whack for emphasis, “fucking turn me on.”
This is my night and I love pushing your limits. I love fucking with you, just like you love fucking with me on other nights. It’s far from being revengeful though. Remember when we were kids and have thrown all sorts of things into the bonfire to see what melts and what explodes? It’s something like that.
I often reminisce about the first time I told you to suck James’s cock. How your sexy lips trembled slightly, inclined to say no. Something inside you – call it morals, gay misconception or blah – urged you to say no. I’m proud to say, I’ve broken that stupid within you. And what happened? Now, you love it. What’s not to love about a nice thick cock filling your mouth, being used like a simple hole of pleasure? I should know.
“Come ‘ere now,” I order you and turn you around yanking on your black leather collar. “Perk that red ass up in the air, I want to see it nice and glowing, as you lick my boots like the obedient little dog you are!”
I love towering above you in my six inches heels, but as you will be spending the evening on the floor, it doesn’t make much of a difference now. Getting comfortable on the sofa, facing you, I cross my legs to hide the fact that I’m not wearing any panties underneath my little black dress. I’m not into the idea of a full leather domina outfit just yet, but I’ve hoarded a few possible future purchases on my online shopping list for the days when I’ll decide that I want to experiment with how your tongue feels against latex-clad skin.
“I want to see your tongue on the metal buckles! I want them polished one by one! That’s it… nice and slow.”
I only recently discovered that I have a bit of a metal fetish and seeing your tongue licking and prodding at the stainless steel makes me even more snappy and cruel, because I can’t have what I want – just yet. My smooth and silky pussy sadly has to wait for its turn. When you’re done and the buckles are all nice and shiny, I offer you the thin stiletto heel to polish next and to suck on.
“Hmm, I love those puffy lips on my heels, baby… reminds me of James’s cock in your mouth. Of course, he’s much, much thicker. By the way, he will be here soon… I can’t wait to see you gag on his thick cock, honey.” I rub your cheek and encourage – force – your head up and down on the silver metallic heel. You glance at me – your eyes like amber lightning in a starless, pitch-dark night. You hold my gaze with black ink pooling into your dilated pupils, giving away just how much my words turn you on and how much you hate me for knowing your buttons.
I let a smirk dance around the right side of my mouth, which then morphs into a perverse grimace. “Fuck, it turns me on when you hate me.” My voice is the wicked offspring of a chuckle and a hiss and it sends shivers down your spine. I’m dying to drown your face in the hot spring, your wrathful eyes just created and the thought that I will most likely pay for this night dearly in the future excites me further… but James will be here soon and we have to get geared up.
Your cock cage needs to be inspected to ensure it’s nice and tight. Despite your very animated reluctance, I had to enclose you much earlier in the day, because as the night nears you are more and more likely to have a hard-on; an inevitable consequence of having been sex starved for almost two weeks now.
“Did you know that if you wear it too long your cock will shrink?” I mutter absentmindedly, holding your encaged pride and joy in my palm. “It’s barely average now,” (not true, but you like a sprinkle of humiliation on these nights); “maybe we should shrink it just a wee bit more.” Oh, the cruel, alas absolutely empty threats. You should see the look on your face, accompanied by the pathetic sobbing twitch of your tiny caged beast. The truth is that we don’t often have these nights and I like a nice pounding on any other night, so we’re keeping your good average size – at least for now.
But of course, you can never be sure with a cruel jokester like me. I inch you closer to the cliff of misery by asking, “Would you like that?” Your answer is a firm shake of your head and a barely noticeable twinge of your upper lip as you’re trying to form the word ‘red’. I stop you and put my fingers over your lips “Hush! It is my night and I can fantasize about whatever the fuck I want.”
Truth be told, it was almost this exact same scenario when I told you the very first time that the cage is not coming off and you’re not allowed to wank in James’s presence anymore. That ugly word ‘red’ thundered out of your lungs. I still masturbate to that image of you so ruffled and disturbed. Yet, sadly, now, just a few months later, that is your current situation.
Because I always get what I want.
I managed to work myself up to a state with that hot recollection and I must allow myself some relief. I’m ringing James and I order you to lick my pussy while I talk to him.
“James, babe, are you far?… Hubby has worked me up and ah uhm… now I can’t wait. Oh, hmmm I think…. I… can wait that long. I mean… I’ll tryyy. Mmmm, what? (giggle) Ohh, mmmm.”
He tells me to finger myself nice and deep and give you a nice taste… “Yes, I did…What now? Are you seeeerrrrious? (giggle) Ok, I will make sure, mmm, to let him know that.”
“He told me to tell you to give me a nice rimming too as he’s planning on popping my ‘big cock in butt’ cherry too.”
While you have no objection against the act itself; it is just something we haven’t tried in this scenario before. Considering my stud’s size, I should be at least slightly apprehensive but seeing your immediate obedient and enthusiastic reaction, I divert myself to concentrate on the now and how amazing your wet tongue feels against my little star. I wonder how it must make you feel to be doing something so dirty and humiliating, knowing I will be fucked in all holes while your manhood is locked away in its tiny restrictive cage. Ohh poor you.
James was either exaggerating when he said ten minutes or it must’ve passed super quick as I don’t even have time to submerge into those X-rated fantasy images of you just watching, drooling over us, and he’s ringing the doorbell already.
The sort of illicit snogging we engage in by the front door… I’m grateful for a wall blocking your view. It goes on for long minutes and I know you’re getting anxious imagining what we could be up to. It’s best you don’t know, honey. James is carrying a medium-sized black plastic bag, which grabs your attention straight away as he enters the room and you stare at me with alarmed eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I raise my arms innocently. “I really have no idea.” I really don’t.
“Jaaames, what’s in the bag?” I enquire reaching out for it curiously.
He slaps my hand away. “Later,” he says harshly.
I do enjoy my firm middle position in these power games…
We continue the unsolicited snogging, we started earlier, not having a care in the world that now we’re doing it in front of your watchful eyes.
I normally don’t do kissing with other men (my rule, but much welcomed by you), but we have played with James quite a few times now and we agreed that with him there were no limits or holdbacks. I let you believe that it’s because of this little cuckold setup. However, the truth is that I really am taken with him and no doubt, under different circumstances…
Having admitted that, you must know that I do love you, I am committed to you and I will never leave you, at least, not for another man. My unusual fascination with James has, most likely, more to do with dominance than anything else. So, I’m more than happy with this ‘anything goes’ setup and I can’t thank you enough. And I will. Later. Not now. Now, I’m His.
I let James cup and squeeze my face and force his lips onto mine, tasting every corner, every depth of me as if my mouth was a site of a fascinating deep-cave expedition. Without taking his lips off mine, he rolls up my dress revealing my tits adorned with very hard nipples, like glacé cherries on top of tall, soft cupcakes. He munches both like they’re going off the menu. Hubby – uh oh – forgotten, as we savour the momentarily permitted fruits of lust.
Clothes go flying off piece by piece while we kiss and bite every inch of naked skin that we can get a hold of. He’s my fast-spinning vortex and I’m his hollow core. We’ve joined to bring forth an unstable and possibly devastating tornado.
Despite your position and tied wrists, you’re watching us with the calm and power of an almighty God, secure in the knowledge that one word, a tiny three-letter one can stop all this crazy. I better grin at you and thank you with my eyes.
Or even better… I let you stick your tongue into my honey pot while James pulls on my nipples and rolls them between his fingers. I rodeo ride your tongue and it wouldn’t take much at all to cum if it wasn’t for James’s vigilance.
“Oh, no, no, no, you’re not coming just yet!” He grounds me.
“Please,” I beg. Probably not half as devoted as I should be. But I always believed that actions speak louder than words and I drop to my knees submitting to him.
“Keep licking me,” I growl at you with drunken hunger.
Without fail, James seizes power, grabs you by the rough studded collar and pulls you in, kneeling next to me.
“Hmmm,” I moan with a rejoice “the highlight of my night: sharing a cock with my hubby.”
“Is it so?” our master chuckles.
“Well, one of the highlights,” I correct myself with a grin, staring at his impeccable cock then at you as to say ‘get on with it already.’
“Nothing beats seeing one’s husband with such a delicious cock in his mouth.”
My use of the word ‘beating’ reminds me that I have a paddle close at hand to ensure, you’re doing a good job. Also, I’m not being a hundred percent satisfied with my bottom role; I need to take a bit of control back.
”Come on honey, swallow that cock for me, deep-throat it like a pro!” I dictate the rhythm and how long you need to keep it in, and if I’m not satisfied, I punish you with a mighty whack. James is also training you well by keeping your face on his rod holding your collar with both hands. At one point he keeps you gagging till your eyes tear up, telling you, “I’m so sorry, mate. It must be tough to be married to this sadistic bitch.”
That was funny. You should be laughing. Oh, only you can not as your face is so stuffed full of cock. I love it.
“I take that as a fucking compliment, thank you very much.” I pose with one hand on my hip, the other holding the paddle mid-air, ready to strike again.
“Do you want more, or will you swallow that fucking cock fully for me?” You are trying, trying so hard. You’re gagging so much. Your wrists are still tied in front of you, hands clutched, as if you are praying for more and James delivers that ‘more’.
“Pathetic!” I snap. “I’ll show you how it’s done!” I elbow you out of my way. At least you can catch your breath and mmm let me help you wipe the spit off your adorably messed up face.
“Charming,” I grin throwing your own words back at you from the nights when the roles were reversed.
I catch sight of James looking down at me biting his inner lip. By trying to chain his own animal he’s prodding mine with a flaming torch. ‘Don’t do that,’ my eyes beg him. There’s a rift in the frozen lake of his blue eyes and I’m skating right into it. Our eyes dart away simultaneously, too scared of what we’d find in the abyss.
I pull his foreskin back roughly, making him expect a vicious attack. When it doesn’t come and instead my tongue gently laps at his swollen and sensitive head, it leaves him wide-eyed and gasping for air.
I cup his tight balls and claw at them in agonising slow-motion, admiring my glossy black fingernails, shining and viscous as if they were dipped in wet tar – a colour of choice for these naughty nights. Sometimes I tame them with a diagonal glitter strip for office wear and I flaunt them all week as a constant memento of what I’ve been up to the past weekend. Every once in a while, a colleague makes a curious comment along the lines of ‘must have been a wild party’ and I just give them a murky smile.
I tease James with a slow rub of his shaft till his chest rises and falls to the rhythm of my hand and his breathing becomes laboured. I reach down and grab your pitiful cock too.
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful to feel that baby?” I provoke you by sliding my fingers up and down on your stainless steel prison, that is way too snug for you to feel much. “If only you deserved to be let out of your cage…” Fingers prodding through the metal bars. Black nails trying to penetrate the tiny holes seemingly desperate to reach your sensitive skin to yank up the volume button of your arousal. “If only,” I tease sticking my tongue out prodding your snake’s eye.
You throw your head back. The collar rises up and down on your sexy elongated neck as you’re gulping down some air. I lick you from nipple to chin leaving you panting for more.
Suppressing a giggle morphing into an evil laugh, I turn my attention back to my stud. I relax my jaw and let his shaft slide past my lips until the smooth head hits my tonsils, my throat muscles contract intermittently around his hefty size.
I always had a competitive streak, but I would’ve never ever imagined that I will challenge my husband to see which one of us gives better head. You’re enjoying the show wide-eyed, frustration burning an amber light in them and crimson flames on your cheeks.
Trying to impress both of you, I’m pushing my body past its sensible limits, gagging on James’s massive cock. I’m fighting a winning battle. Surfing on the intoxicating tsunami waves of endorphins is fucking addictive. The all-consuming tide overrides my sense of pain, clear thinking, sobriety, the whole physical world.
All I feel, all I care for, is feeding the deprived wendigo inside me.
I keep his cock deep inside me for the longest minutes (but who the fuck is counting?)
When I finally push him away, a river of saliva streams out of my mouth, I’m spitting, drooling onto the lush carpet ungracefully. “And this is what a delicious messy blow job looks like” I grin at you proudly then lift my eyes to James for further gratification.
I wipe my lips with the back of my hand in slow motion, sliding a finger between my puffy lips, parting them while staring at him with a ‘please fuck my face’ expression. As a punchline, I bite my lips in the same fashion as he has just done a minute ago. Flirting, as we do.
I turn my head slightly and twirl my ponytail around my fingers, because let’s admit it, there’s only one thing better than wrecking your own limits: when someone else does it to you.
Getting the hint, he grabs hold of my black locks at once, pulling me back onto his cock. My mouth is jammed full with his meat, yet I want more. My body is saying ‘enough’ and tries to repel him, but my mind is screaming for more. I’m choking on him. I swallow, breathe, inhale cock and I still want more. My hands are planted firmly on his thighs, ready to push him away if absolutely necessary.
But that need never comes. Riding those waves, I never want to come down. Instead, my nails dig into his flesh in my body’s defensive counterattack. If I cannot stop myself, someone has to stop me.
I’ve either hurt him quite a bit or his beast realised what I was doing because he barely lets me catch a breath and my face is stuffed again. And again.
Taking the drift that I can’t rely on him to save me from me, now I’m fighting for air, I’m choking on endorphins.
“Fuck you,” I spit between rounds of him trying to drown me on his cock. His reply is pulling my face onto him with both hands. His fingernails dig deep into my scalp penetrating not only my scull but my mind too. “Fucking hell”
He lifts my whole torso into mid-air by my hair, looking at me, expecting something.
“Thank you.” I manage to exhale through ragged breath.
“That’s much better,” he growls and releases me from his hellish grip.
As much as I want this to continue and never end, it is probably a cue that it’s your turn again.
I could write a book about how the two of you look at one another and it wouldn’t even scratch the surface. But neither of you have that wild, insatiable need in your eyes. And I want to know why the fuck not? This ain’t your first time. “Give me some fucking passion now. I want to see you really try. I want to see you gagging. And I want James to grab your hair like he did mine and rape your fucking face.” I’m sick of this experimenting bi-curious tepid bullshit.
“You’re still fucking shit, honey!” I hiss with a mocking emphasis on ‘honey’. I grab a fistful of your hair and force your cute face on the giant cock. Your soft Mick Jagger lips curl outwards around his girth. You lift your cuffed hands in front in defence. “Just hold your fucking breath,” I roar at you. “One – two – three. Yeah, that’s it.” I praise you with a ‘good boy’ and a kiss when I see James’s dick protruding out of your cheek. “That’s it, get on it!” That is much better – with a bit of encouragement.
The deep grunts escaping your lips around him as you stop fighting his size resonate the air around us and thrills me into near ecstasy.
“Give him credit,” James gasps for air when we’re taking a minute break, “he’s quite good – for a man,” he chuckles.
“That’s enough for warm up now,” he declares and orders me to lie on my back and positions your face between my legs; your tongue on my needy slit as he taps and flicks my clit roughly. He then goes on to finger me ferociously, commenting on the ‘good job you’ve done’ making me wet and ‘fuckable’. Next off, he directs your head lower. “I hope you got my message over the phone,” he tells you requesting to give me a nice rimming before he gets on top of me. Pinning my arms down he slides into me in a teasing unhurried motion.
Once again, I’m glad you can’t see us; the way he eats my face and how he covers my mouth to muffle the depraved, cum-thirsty sounds I cry when he finally fills me up.
The rhythmic massage of my G spot, James’s lips on my ears breathing heavily into them, your tongue lapping, prodding my little star and all the filthy images of the day, starting with locking you in your cage this morning: all join for an unstoppable tide and I come screaming into James’s palm. I bite into the soft pad under his thumb that he answers with a slap on my face. I grin like a drugged Cheshire Cat as he continues ramming his cock into me.
I honestly don’t know how the words come out of my mouth through my disturbingly jaw-locked grin. “Youu nooot cumming jus ye aaaar ya?”
“We haven’t even fucking started,” he grunts, rocking into me with every syllable. “You were not meant to either, you know! You greedy slut” He slows down, almost to a halt.
“I’m fine.” My lips attempt to cover my teeth somewhat, but they fail miserably. I’m still grinning like a horse in a candy store. “I’m fine,” I repeat. And by fine, I mean I’m still riding that big fat ‘O’ and please don’t fucking stop.
“She’s fine,” he muses. “Not for long, you won’t be.”
“Mmmmmm. Threaten me mooore! Please, James!” I’ve never heard that voice nor that purr before. Like a siren’s song coming from underwater. It’s making him smile and kiss me on the lips. So cute and almost romantic. Oh wait…
“Now, for the surprise…” He gets up leaving a cosmos sized black hole inside me and walks away to retrieve that black bag. He pulls out a slightly intimidating black strap-on. I’ve never used one in my life.
I gawk at him with a raised eyebrow. “He’s not going to let me do that,” I say in an annoyed tone “I’ve already tried.” Numerous times actually. Even without looking at your face, I know you’re shaking your head, rolling the safeword on your lips. But no one pays attention to you now.
“I don’t think you understand, love.” James says with a kind but somewhat patronising smile as if explaining it to a little girl. “I don’t really care what he’s about to say, he already won me over with that tone and by calling me ‘love’. It is not for you. It’s for Quinn. It’s a face strap on.”
I still don’t quite get it, so I continue staring at him. I’m far from vanilla but I’ve never seen one of those or at least not in real life. I’m willing to give almost everything a go once though, unlike you. Your hard limits list is like three fucking pages long.
I sit up and I’m glad to see your face covered with my juices. “I think you’re enjoying my taste a bit too much. James is right, we need to deprive you of that joy.” I say all this while rubbing my wetness all over your face, lips, even rubbing it into your hair. Best hair wax ever. Goes well with your sweat to spike up your cute black strands at front. When I’m finished with your ‘hair and make up’ I give you a few gentle slaps across both cheeks.
Now, relaxed in the knowledge that the black dildo is not going in your virgin ass you’re happy to play along.
James offers me the honour to strap the harness onto your face, but I refuse. “I want to see you do it.” I love feasting my eyes on the two of you playing with each other, touching each other, in any way possible. And this, this is new and utterly fascinating.
Your eyes are so wild, yet so submissive when you reluctantly take the inside, smaller dildo – serving as a gag – into your mouth. At this point, I know you would do anything. Part of me is tempted to ask for that North European cruise I always wanted. Or I could ask for other things, things you’ve scribbled on your hard limits list but disappointingly crash with my ‘fantasies’ list.
James clips a leash to your collar and leads you to the middle of the room instructing you to lay on your back. This scene is like having a peek into the set of a fetish porn clip, and I find it astonishing that I’m starring in it.
As I lower myself onto the black silicone dildo sticking out of your face in reverse cowgirl, I tongue your straining cock in its cage. It still had a bit of room to grow. It looks like, we definitely have to downsize.
“Nice. Black looks good in you, baby.” James calls out. “I have a couple of Nigerian mates, I might invite them over next time…”
I can clearly picture your face in front of my eyes, how your eyes probably roll back into their sockets hearing that. We have talked about that scenario many times, mostly stirred up by you. So far I’ve been reluctant to go there, scared of what kind of Kat-devil we might unleash again.
I’m not saying I will never dip my toes into that, but I do need to draw the line somewhere for now. Otherwise, where the hell will all this lead to? My good Catholic parents would already get a heart attack seeing me like this (mum definitely, dad – remembering his VHS porn taste – maybe not so much): I’m face sitting my husband’s black dildo face strap on while another man is lubing up my ass for his monster cock. I’m pretty sure, I’m satisfied with this picture and don’t toy with the gangbang fantasy idea much. Just yet.
On the other hand, what’s a girl gotta do when she happened to marry a perverted fuck? I already had a failed marriage and I can’t afford another divorce. I better fucking please this one, don’t I?
“I’m sure hubby would love it!” I grin. I’d ask you but you’re chewing on two inches of a silicone cock-gag under my full body weight.
“Ready baby?” James asks after bathing my butt in half a bottle of lube.
“Uhh hmm,” I moan, knowing full well that I never ever will be ready for that length to go into my ass. He gently pops the head in and I’m already split in two.
“Fuck, you are tight,” he hisses.
“Maybe I’m not tight, maybe you’re just too fucking huge!” I cry out.
He covers my mouth with both of his palms making me arch my back as he pulls me up, my hands losing their footing. “Jesus fucking Christ,” I scream into his hand as he proceeds to invade me millimetre by millimetre. I try to relax and regulate my breathing. Does fuck all. Hurts like hell, so maybe I shouldn’t have come. I’d want this more, I’d be more enthusiastic.
I wish there was pain only and solely, then I could tell him to stop, to halt my assault. But I can’t, because beyond the barbed wire of pain there’s the promise of that intoxicating full feeling the insatiable slut so craves.
“You ok?” he asks with a twinge of concern in his voice letting go of his gridlock over me.
“Mmmmm yeah, just maybe… Mmm just slow down… A bit… Mmmm maybe.” I raise myself onto my fingertips arching my back, then lowering myself down onto my knuckles climbing that damn spiky fencing. I breathe on your engorged balls and your hips rise and fall in sync with my breathing which is following the rhythm of James’s slow penetration. In and out. With every gentle rocking of his hips, he impales me further and further. As he inches in, hearing me whimper, your cock strains against the tiny restrictive cage.
I notice you have been leaking. A lot. I always knew you get off on my pain. But I never ever managed to make you admit to it. Now I have proof. I wish I could say something. I wish I could care. But at the moment I’m damn too busy trying to satisfy my bull and get his massive cock up my tight little butt that’s only used to your much smaller size. “Mmmmm, fucking hell!”
I claw your swollen balls in desperation. You grunt and shudder underneath me. Have you just cum? Not that I care.
You are so insignificant. If your pathetic caged penis wasn’t in my face I’d completely forget about you. Even that eight inches dildo on your face doesn’t do much. That stretching full feeling takes over and I don’t feel anything anymore.
“Ride his face, just nice and slow,” James snarls into my ear. He stops thrusting and lets me dictate the rhythm. I’m grunting, moaning, meowling like an animal as my body and mind clash again.
Farmhouse in the middle of nowhere or not, I reckon sooner or later, we should probably invest in some sound-proofing.
“Oh fucking hell, babe, I can’t. You’re just too big.” I’m ready to give up. Then the realisation hits me. “We need more lube”
James knows better than to pull all the way out so he just reaches across the bed to grab the lube, which he goes on to rub around his girth. This time slowly but steadily he rams his cock home.
The pain slowly fades, giving way to the amazing full feeling. “Fucking well done,” James growls reaching for my tits, rubbing my hard nipples. “I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”
Rocking back and forth softly now I can pay attention to you too. The pool of precum (or cum?) on your crotch has gotten to a size of a large spoonfull and your balls seem much softer. Have you just cum in your cage for the first time? That is so sad and pathetic, but I fucking love it! Pity I’ve missed it. I had better things to concentrate on.
I dip my tongue into the pool of your sweet semen and lap it up grunting and purring bringing the cum-thirsty devil to the light again.
“Are you going to fill me up with your cum?” I thrill to James. You told me once that when I use this voice, it’s unrecognisable and it sounds like I’ve been possessed but in a fucked up sexy way.
No reply just an elongated guttural moan from my bull.
“Mmmm, I want to feel your hot spunk filling me up, leaking out of my butt, running down the dildo and onto Quinn’s face.”
You also said that no one can ever resist that voice. James is no exception and he shortly shoots his seed into me and it oozes out of me hot, like a stream of lava.
Sometimes I think my obsession with James all stems from the fact that he is the only one we – I – chose to do bareback with. I love cum play too much to give up on it in a threesome only for the sake of safety.
As James unclips the face harness, it leaves a fucking sexy imprint on your cheeks. I scoop up some of your cum and his that has leaked onto the dildo and I feed it to you while telling you, “You were a very, very naughty boy for cumming in your cage and without permission. I think you will need to be punished, pet!” I continue to thrill on that voice while licking my fingers clean teasingly.
“I think, maybe next time, you need a bit more action, honey?” I suggest brushing my finger against your butthole.
You push yourself up onto your elbows to hiss at me, “That will never happen!” Oh look who’s found his voice.
“You look adorable with the strap on imprint on your face, you know.” Do you not realise that you ceased to have a say in things on these nights?
“Pass me the key please,” I tell James pointing to the chest of drawers at the top of the bed.
He tosses the key that was hanging on a large ring at me and suggestively hands me the strap on dildo while talking to you “I wouldn’t say no to her if I were you.”
I prop the dildo against your butthole and I hold the key in the other hand dangling it in front of you. “I don’t think we’re finished here, are we? I think you’re rather desperate to have a proper ‘O’. Isn’t that so?”
“Bitch,” I hear you mumble under your breath throwing first your head then your whole torso back onto the bed.
”What the fuck did you just say, you little shit?” I’m spitting every one of those words out but I’m laughing at the same time. “You’re so gonna pay for this!”
James is lying on his side sipping a can of Redbull I gave him earlier watching my next move with great interest. I can’t wait to munch on his sexy lips again. But I force my attention back to you. I stroke your thighs and abs with the key teasingly, all the while pressing the dildo against your little star. “So, do you want me to open the cage or not?”
Your chest rises heavily with a huge sigh. “I take that as a yes. Lube, please, James!”
Special thanks to cbears for the final edit and leftlingula for helping me turn a flash story into this 6k monster.
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