Once all the trauma and dramas of divorce were over, I considered myself the luckiest man alive. My ex-wife moved interstate to pursue new interests. Alas, she took with her almost every cent I had been able to scrape up, but I was happy with the deal. I was a free man at last. I had custody of our three sons and I also managed – but only just – to retain possession of the family home. The mortgage was now something like the national debt of a third-world company – that’s what happens when you realise equity in order to pay off a demanding shrew! – but my practice continued to flourish and I was confident that my finances would improve over time.
So what does a single father in his mid-thirties do? If he’s anything like me, he counts his blessings and moves on. Of course, the biggest plus for me was that the children continued to live with their dad. Sure I had to get household help and occasional babysitters, but life was far better than it had been previously.
Another blessing was that I was still relatively young and able to enjoy a more active social life. No more accounting for every second of my day. And my sex life – so long an arid wasteland of fidelity without reward – soon became satisfactorily busy. On rare occasions, if work took me to the big city, I would seek out like-minded men for an anonymous blow-job and sometimes more. Most of the time, however, I was kept occupied by a succession of local ladies who were bored or unhappy in their marriages.
I believe I have mentioned previously that sex affects me very deeply. I don’t merely participate – I live in the wonderful moments when I am joined in some way to another human being; I become oblivious to all that is around me; my focus is solely upon the giving and receipt of pleasure.
It is not surprising, therefore, that there came a Saturday evening when I was in the upstairs bedroom of a neighbouring house, feasting on an attractive older woman whose husband was away on a business trip. We had left the overhead light on in order to better appreciate each other’s bodies. All the oral preliminaries were completed and I was happily pounding my cock into Jo-Ann when a voice materialised behind us.
“Very nice” said the voice.
I recognised it immediately. It was the husband who was supposed to be miles away carousing with colleagues at a team-bonding weekend.
Of course, I stopped as if shot. My cock went from hero to zero in just a few seconds.
“Don’t let me stop you” Peter drawled. “If it’s all the same to you two, I’d like to watch. I find this highly erotic.”
“Jesus Christ” I whispered to Jo-Ann – who lay beneath me with my dick still inside her, but shrinking rapidly – “Is this something you two deliberately set up?”
Obviously, I hadn’t whispered quietly enough.
“No” Peter said glibly. “The work session was cancelled at the last minute. I’m glad. This could be far more entertaining.”
It peeved me that this dude had a clear view of my ass and my balls while I couldn’t see him at all. It’s hard to be dignified from such a perspective. So I rolled off Jo-Ann, covered my essentials with a corner of the bed-sheet, and faced this strangely unperturbed husband. He wasn’t exhibiting any of the emotions that would reign if I’d ever caught a man screwing MY wife.
“You want to watch me fuck your wife?” I asked incredulously.
“Sure. Why not? It adds spice to what’s left of our marriage. Jo-Jo is bored with my attractions and I am equally tired of hers. I want to watch. And then I plan to fuck her in your juices. That will ease the boredom somewhat. What do you say, David?”
“What do I say?” I expostulated. “I say go to hell. I don’t perform for an audience.”
“Pity” he sighed. “What do you say, Jo-Jo?”
The lady had yet to say a word. I began to wonder if this screwball scene was a common occurrence in their marriage.
Jo-Ann’s answer was a prime example of actions speaking louder than words. She ripped away my flimsy covering and bent forward to take my cock in her mouth. Meanwhile, Peter pulled a chair out from the dresssing table, straddled it and continued to watch us with an interest that I found strangely exciting.
Despite the weirdness of it all, I found myself rapidly growing hard again. I was embarrassed but I was also more than a little aroused by this bizarre scenario. My chagrin was not because I have reason to be ashamed of my junk or my ability to use it skilfully. My problem was that this was something entirely new to me. I am not accustomed to guys watching me fuck their wives and, I also worried that he might have plans to shoot me dead in mid-fuck and then claim provocation when the cops turned up. I watch far too many crime shows. It has left me with a vivid imagination.
Jo-Ann hadn’t missed a beat. She gives excellent head. I was definitely erect. My mind was far from being at ease though. Perhaps this is what people mean when they claim to have been scared stiff!
Peter’s loving wife pulled me toward her. Almost reluctantly, I moved to a position atop her and between her legs.
“Raise her legs and put them around your neck” Peter said. It wasn’t quite a command but it wasn’t a polite request either. “I want a clear view as you screw her.”
We did as he asked. I heard a strange sound escape his lips as I placed my dick at her entrance and began to slide inside. It was midway between a hiss and a sigh.
Now, Jo-Ann is blessed with a wonderfully tight pussy and she has excellent muscle control as well. The walls of her vagina felt exceptionally toned and talented. It wasn’t long before I was lost in the moment again and enjoying a truly magnificent fuck. I’d almost forgotten Peter’s presence in the room but then I suddenly felt his hand groping around the area where his wife and I were joined. I felt his fingers on my cock each time I withdrew in order to plunge inside once more. I also felt his hand cupping my balls as they bounced against Jo-Ann’s body.
This was a bit disconcerting. I’d had some encounters with guys previously so I had no prejudice against being touched by them, but it felt distinctly odd to be manhandled while I was busily fucking a woman – not just any woman, moreover; this was the man’s wife!
“I can see the attraction, Jo-Jo” he drawled. “You’ve always liked them big, you wicked little slut.”
I wondered if this was dirty talk aimed at spurring us on or whether he really did consider his wife a slut.
Jo-Ann supplied the answer.
“Yeah” she shouted. “The bigger the better. Much better than your pathetic little wiener. I can hardly tell when you’re inside me. I like REAL men.”
So this was a scene they’d enacted before. I got a sense that it had been scripted from the very beginning. The only variable was me, and Jo-Ann had every reason to suspect that I’d be sufficiently adventurous to go along with it. After all, she and I had enjoyed some highly athletic and imaginative couplings on other occasions. She knew how easily aroused I am; how amenable to experimentation and role play.
I can be quite a stayer at times but this was not to be one of those times. I was finding the presence of an audience highly erotic, not to mention his hand tugging at my balls and generally adding extra stimulus to our activity.
He could tell I was approaching climax by the way I breathed and by the way I slammed into his wife harder and harder. Jo-Ann was already well away – screaming her orgasmic delight to the rooftops – and I was soon about to join her.
“Go on” he exhorted me. “Plug her deep. Blow it all inside her!”
So I did. His hands tugged at my balls as I blew. It was an exquisite feeling and I pumped spurt after spurt of cum into the deepest recesses of his wife’s cunt.
When it was over, I disengaged and rolled away. Peter was suddenly on the bed between us. At some stage he’d removed his clothes. He pushed his head between her thighs immediately and began tasting my cum as it leaked out of her. What didn’t flow out, he retrieved with deep tongue thrusts. Jo-Ann was in ecstasy. So was Peter. I, on the other hand, found it a bit off-putting. No way would I ever eat out another guy’s jizz.
Peter then put Jo-Ann’s legs in the air once more and began to fuck her just as I had. I noticed that she had not been exaggerating. He truly did have a rather puny dick. And his balls were practically non-existent. I know one’s scrotum lifts with arousal, but his had almost disappeared.
It was a very quick coupling. I doubt that more than three or four minutes passed before his wad was blown inside her. I guessed that this was probably one of the reasons she needed other guys. The ‘slam, bam, thank you Ma’am’ approach has little to recommend it to a woman seeking satisfaction.
I was keen to get out of there once Peter had got his rocks off. I had only stayed till then out of some warped sense of politeness. He had other plans however. As I moved off the bed to gather my scattered clothes, he spoke again.
“No. Don’t leave now, David. The night’s still young. Don’t you want to screw Jo-Jo again while she’s full of cum?”
To my astonishment, I DID want to do just as he suggested. One moment I was anxious to leave; the next I was desperate to fuck in another man’s jizz. Suddenly I could think of nothing in the world that would be more erotic.
“Suck his cock, Jo” he commanded. I felt as though we were receiving direction from a porn movie producer.
Jo-Ann did as he asked. She did so with her usual enthusiasm and skill.
“Mind if I take a turn?” asked Peter, and he placed his mouth very close to where his wife was working her magic on my grateful dick.
Before I could reply, Jo-Ann removed her head and my cock was in her husband’s mouth instead.
My only real reservation about having Peter’s mouth on me was that I prefer not to blur the edges of my sexuality. I might play around with guys on visits to the state capital, but I am determined to play it straight closer to home. But it’s difficult to maintain such reservations when a man is expertly deep-throating you. So I went with the flow. It felt so good that it was impossible to pull away. I found myself reasoning that it was unlikely that Peter and Jo-Ann would ever blab anyway. After all, he was the one doing the servicing. I hadn’t laid a finger on the man and had no desire to do so.
Jo-Ann positioned herself so I could access her snatch with my tongue. I could see her husband’s cum trickling out of her. It was exciting stuff but not sufficiently exciting to attract my mouth. Instead – while Peter gave me a highly-skilled blow-job – I kept his wife happy by manipulating her with my fingers. I could feel Peter’s juices on my fingers and I watched as more flowed out of her when my hand was withdrawn.
The head at my groin ceased its movements. Peter’s voice sounded oddly muffled as he spoke with his mouth full.
“You want to fuck her again, don’t you?” he asked. “You want to make my whore of a wife happy, don’t you?”
“Yes” I admitted.
It was true. However satisfactorily he was working my cock, what I really wanted was to slam-fuck this slut of a woman until she screamed for mercy. I realised that there was anger inside me – anger at being tricked like this. And I also wanted to humiliate Peter by showing him how a real man operates. I wanted him to watch as my thick eight-plus inch dick treated his wife to the ride of her life; I wanted him to see how a real man can prolong a fuck until the woman is shrieking and moaning and drowning in the mightiest orgasm ever; I wanted him to envy my balls as they slapped against his wife. Oh yeah – I was definitely fired up.
For a while longer, Peter continued to work his mouth on my cock. It felt good. I went back to working my fingers in and out of Jo-Ann’s well-lubricated pussy. That felt good too.
Peter transferred his attention to my balls, taking them in his mouth one at a time and sucking on them gently while his hand stroked my shaft.
“OK” he said. “You can fuck her again but I don’t want you to cum inside her. When you’re close, I want you to pull out and let me take over.”
“And then” he continued, “I want you to fuck me while I’m inside Jo-Jo.”
This was definitely brand new territory. Sure, I’d fucked guys before, but never while they were servicing someone else, and only when I felt sufficiently attracted or excited by them. Peter is not a particularly attractive man. Prior to this particular evening, we’d only had a few very brief conversations. He’s a member of the local Country Club – as am I – but he sees himself as lord of the manor and is incredibly condescending towards those he sees as beneath his station. I’d never lost any sleep over this. If a real estate agent – however wealthy – wants to see himself as socially superior to a qualified health professional, then I’m content to leave him with his delusions.
So – did I really want to fuck this guy? My head said no, but my dick had its own point of view. It had remained stiff when he made his suggestion. Now – as he continued to fondle my balls and circle his fingertips through the pre-cum leaking out of me – I began to warm to the idea. And I told myself that I could always ‘cheat’ anyway. I’d fuck Jo-Ann with pleasure and there was no way he could stop me from ejaculating inside her. After that, well I could just say I had no more to give. After all, it would be my second blow in less than an hour and he wasn’t to know how quickly I can recover if I want to.
I neither agreed nor disagreed with his proposaal. I said nothing. I simply manoeuvred Jo-Ann into the right position to be fucked doggie-style and then I plunged into her once more.
I was far more aware of Peter’s presence this time around. He provided an appreciative and erotic running commentary – like “Yeah. Slam it into her” and “Ram that big cock into the whore’s cunt.” Additionally, there was the feel of his hands all over us, sometimes slipping a finger inside his wife as my dick glided past, sometimes grabbing my balls and grasping at my shaft, and sometimes getting underneath us both in order to use his tongue as extra stimulus. I had never had my balls sucked while fucking before. It was a VERY nice feeling.
Then Peter really pulled out all the stops. I suddenly felt his mouth at my ass and his tongue probing at my ass-hole as I bucked back and forth. I was definitely OK with this. As long as he didn’t try to slip anything else inside me, I was content to be rimmed for days.
He was able to tell, of course, when I was getting close to shooting my load. The elevation of my balls and my heavier breathing were obvious to someone observing closely, and this guy was about as close as one can be. There was no discussion about what happened next. He suddenly nudged me off-balance and out of the way and threw his own dick into his wife. Jo-Ann was already in a state of bliss. This exchange of cocks seemed to send her to a whole new level. Given the size of his dick – a skinny five-incher at best – I can only assume that it was sheer sluttishness that spurred her on to even greater heights.
I moved to stand at the end of the bed. From there I had a good view of them both. His ass didn’t particularly attract me but I HAD been close to the point of ejaculating only moments before. Moving almost like an automaton, I got on my knees behind him, parted his butt-cheeks, and rammed my dick in to the hilt. No lube – nothing. He squealed in protest but made no move to escape. And I made no move to ease his plight. I immediately began to fuck him hard and vigorously.
I both felt and heard Peter blowing his wad. It made it harder to move inside him for a few moments but I kept right on going. And, now that he wasn’t fucking his wife at the same time, I was able to establish a really powerful rhythm – out almost to the tip and then – SLAM! – straight back inside him again; out almost to the tip and then – SLAM! … repeatedly. He was slumped on Jo-Ann’s back while she continued to whimper and moan. That woman sure knows how to express her feelings!
I felt the usual sensations that overwhelm me when I’m just about to ejaculate. That delicious rush when every nerve ending seems to have stampeded to my cock. There was no going back. And this time there was a heightened intensity. I was still mightily pissed off with this guy and his tiny dick and his gigantic ego. Hell, I was angry with Jo-Ann too. I’d been set up for this. I might have been deriving pleasure from it – okay; let’s be honest; I was LOVING it – but I resented having been ambushed.
So I shoved my dick up the bastard’s ass like there was no tomorrow. I wanted his ass to feel utterly destroyed. I hoped he was in agony and that he was going to cry like a baby when my cock swelled to the max and decorated his rectum with all the boiling hot cum that anger generates.
I spread his cheeks wide when the big moment came. I wanted him to feel every inch. I shoved myself deep within him one last time and then exploded. And he did cry. He even screamed. And Jo-Ann sounded pretty shattered too. I loved it. I stayed in there until every last drop was drained from my balls. I ignored their murmurs of protest. Too bad if they were uncomfortable or cramping up. I was on top and I was determined to stay there until I was good and ready to withdraw. For the first time that night, I felt I was in charge.
I pulled my cock out at last. I wasn’t gentle. I was still semi-erect and I wasn’t going to allow this guy the luxury of a soft withdrawal. I hoped it would hurt him, and I think it did.
I quickly started dressing myself. I didn’t even glance at the happy couple. I just wanted to get out of there. The evening hadn’t been anything like I’d expected. I’d got my rocks off, sure, but I felt used and more than a little embarrassed about the whole scene.
No words of farewell. I showed myself out. Having raced down the stairs and slammed the front door shut, I hopped into my car and turned the key. Nothing. Not even a gentle whirring sound or a click. I suddenly relaised that I’d left the headlights on. Damn. That’s what happens when you’re rushing to fuck an insatiable woman. I kept on trying but I knew it was no use.
A hastily-dressed Peter appeared at my window.
“Flat battery, huh?”
“Yeah. You got jumper leads?”
“No. But I can give you a lift home and get a mechanic to come by in the morning.”
“Thanks, but no” I said. “It’s not far to my place. I’ll walk.”
“Nonsense” he replied. “Come on. I’ll have you home in no time.”
I was silent on the drive to my house. It’s true that we don’t live far apart, but distance is a relative term in rural areas. All the locals are on reasonably large plots of land. Peter and Jo-Ann had built on a five-acre lot and my own house is on a bit more than eight acres. So houses are not exactly cheek by jowl in this neck of the woods.
As we drove up the long driveway to my home, Peter went into real-estate mode.
“Nice house. I’ve often admired it. I hear your divorce just about cleaned you out. Young fellow like you – kids to feed and clothe – must be a battle to keep up the payments. I could get you a good price for this.”
“And get yourself a good commission too” I snarled. “No thanks, Peter. My finances are my concern and nobody else’s. And this house suits the boys and me just fine.”
I felt his condescending glance as we neared the turn-around at the end of the driveway. I gritted my teeth. This guy really irritated me.
When the car drew to a halt, I asked Peter to kill the motor as I wanted to show him some landscaping work recently carried out around our pool. I think he took this as a sign that I might be interested in selling after all.
As soon as he was out of the car and into the shadows at the rear of the house, I grabbed him from behind and put him into a headlock. I’m not usually a violent man – far from it – but I positively hated Peter at that particular moment. I’d recently sampled angry fucking for the first time in my life … and I was still mighty angry. I hated his patronising ways. I hated his pathetic little dick. I hated his slut of a wife. I hated everything about him and wanted to humiliate him on MY home turf and with me calling the shots.
His resistance was feeble as I forced him into the pergola and lowered him face-down over an outdoors chaise-longue. I quickly ripped down the track pants he’d donned before coming downstairs to my car. My own trousers and briefs were hastily lowered and my cock was free. Like me, it was angry and proud. No lube was necessary. I knew he still had my last load inside him. I wouldn’t have used lube anyway. I wanted this guy to suffer.
At a tad more than eight inches, I know my dick is far from being the biggest in the world – not when compared to those I’ve seen in porno movies and magazines – but it’s plenty thick and it packs a punch where it counts most.
Peter attempted to stand up so I whacked the back of his head and pushed him downwards. When he squirmed again, I hit him even harder.
“Stay the fuck where you are, you pathetic, snivelling snob. I’M in charge now. It’s my turn to stage the scene.”
He subsided. I doubted he’d been punched for a very long time. High time he was taught a lesson.
I roughly pushed one and then two fingers into his ass-hole. He was foolish enough to wince. So I added a third finger and then a fourth. I thrust them into him with the delicacy of an enraged bull. His head reared upwards in protest. I smacked the back of his skull with my free hand and told him to stay quiet and stay still. I was hoping he had tears in his eyes.
I removed my fingers, pulled his buttocks wide apart and rammed myself home. I felt his intake of breath as my cock bullied its way inside him, but he made no sound. Then I began to fuck him with a rapidity and a viciousness that surprised even me. The only sound was the slapping of my balls against his thighs. He gave a brief sob, so I punched him again because the only sounds permissable were those made by me as I fucked him. He got the message.
If it were possible to kill this guy by fucking him, then that’s what I wanted to do. Failing that, I just wanted him to know – forever afterwards – that there is at least one man in the neighbourhood to whom he is NOT superior; that – should he ever choose to blab about that night’s events in his bedroom – there is at least one man who could tell the world what a pathetic, whining, minimally-endowed, cock-sucking pussy he is.
My dick felt longer and thicker than ever before in my entire life. It felt as big as me. It was as if I was plunging my entire six-foot plus body inside him. It mattered not that I had already blown twice that evening. My body, my balls, my cock – my entire being was a fury of raging, cum-filled antagonism and primitive lust for vengeance. As I rampaged within his rectum, ravaging and bruising his insides, I was intent upon delivering the biggest load of jizz in history. I wanted his ass to overflow. I wanted him to drown in a sea of my ‘peasant’ spunk.
And that’s how it felt when the moment came. No- he didn’t overflow. Nor did he drown. But I filled him up alright. Spurt after spurt of cum – deep, DEEP within his ass. I didn’t think it would ever stop. It was visceral and gut-wrenching and almost bestial. And I stayed in place long after the last drop of jizz had drained out of me. I wanted to reinforce my dominance by keeping him beneath me.
“Don’t you ever patronise me again, shithead. You got that? You’re my bitch right now. If I ever again choose to screw you and that slut you married, then you’ll be my bitch again, just as she is. OK?”
“Yes” he whispered. “I’d like to go now.”
“I want you gone too, but not before you kneel down and lick my dick and balls clean. Not before you kneel before me and worship the cock that gave you so much pleasure.”
He started to murmur, as if in protest.
“Oh no.” I said. “You got pleasure out of it. You’d probably die rather than admit it to the world, but don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy being taken like a whore or an animal. You loved it. Go on – say so. And then you will kneel and lick me clean.”
I could sense the reluctance in his voice, but he did as I asked.
“I loved it” he whispered.
And then he was on his knees. I spread my legs wide to give him easier access. There was a symbolism in this. As he obediently licked at my balls, I felt them begin to relax; I felt my scrotum lower into its usual position and I wanted him to admire me.
“They’re real balls, aren’t they, shithead?”
He nodded his head while continuing to suck on my left testicle.
“Much bigger than yours, huh?”
He nodded again before moving on to the right testicle.
“You can clean up my dick now. And lick it good, shithead. I want it scoured from tip to base.”
Now, my cock had even less common sense than I do. If it’s paid any attention, it grows. No matter how weary and well-used it might be, it will swell at the slightest touch. As Peter’s tongue lapped its way around and along the shaft, edging ever-closer to the well-defined glans, I felt my cock grow hard yet again.
I hoped that this might make Peter apprehensive; that he might fear I was about to rape him again. But then I sensed movement and realised that he was jerking his pathetic little dick. This guy was far from apprehensive. He was being optimistic!
“Stop that” I commanded. “Let the whore finish you off when you get home. If you’ve finished cleaning me up, then it’s time for you to go.”
Peter started stroking my dick with just the tip at his lips. I took great delight in moving away and zipping myself up. I wanted to leave him horny and unsatisfied. I wanted to leave him on his knees craving more.
“Thanks for the lift home” I said. “I’ll organise a mechanic for tomorrow morning. Maybe he’ll be a real hunk who can give Jo-Ann a quick tumble. He might even want to give both of you a quick grease and oil change. Now – fuck off or I’ll have you for trespass.”
And I walked away, leaving him to stand up alone and take himself off my property. The last he heard of me was the back door closing and the sound of it being locked from the inside.
Before bed, I took a long shower. I felt sweaty and cum-stained and dirty. I had just plumbed depths I had never previously imagined.
Once I felt clean enough, I emerged from the steam, wiped the condensation from the bathroom mirror, and checked to see if my face showed any signs of the depravity I’d been wallowing in that night. But there was no apparent change. It was the same seemingly wholesome and regular face that was always there. My eyes betrayed no hidden depths, no dirty secrets.
I slept well that night. No anxieties, no guilt, no regrets.
Next morning, I awakened with the usual morning erection. As I said before, my cock has even less common sense than I do. Further adventures undoubtedly lie ahead of us.
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