UNLUCKY CUCKIES
Joe was completely naked, kneeling in the hall outside his bedroom. Or rather, his wife Chrissy's bedroom. She had thrown him out of there four months ago, which was two months after she cut him off from sex, which was one month following their wedding. She had told him bluntly, "I'm sick and tired of having to feel your little baby-dick inside me. Or should I say, NOT feel it inside me. And even if it was worth anything, you always shoot off way too soon. So from now on you can keep my pussy happy by getting your mouth down there and licking me until I finish." In case he had any doubts that she was serious, she had grabbed him by the hair, dragged him to the bedroom, and made him do exactly that. He had never performed the act before, had never had any desire to, but after that it became a regular event. Even if she didn't want the full treatment, she would still make him kiss her mound 'good morning' and 'good night', just so he didn't forget his place in their marriage.
But what was happening now was much worse. The reason she had kicked him out of the bedroom was because she started having a lover come and visit her. He was a tall dumb jerk named Stick, a guy she had dated before she married short bright Joe. Chrissy had gotten all the dates she wanted when she was single. Was it because she was cute, with big tits, and had a sweet voice? No, it was because she was a total tramp. But when she came on to Joe it wasn't because she wanted to get laid. He was just a meal ticket to her, the source of an easy life. The only reason she allowed him that first month of sex after they wed was because she didn't want him to have the marriage annulled. Chrissy wasn't sure how long they had to be together before he couldn't do that anymore. It worked out well, though, because now he knew what he was missing.
After she brought home Stick, she always made her husband strip down and crawl from the guest room, where he had to sleep on an uncomfortable cot, even though there was a perfectly good bed in there. He would get onto his hands and knees when he heard the door to her bedroom close, and proceed quickly to a spot outside the door. His wife made sure to be loud when she told Stick how glad she was that he was there to fuck her, how eager she was to do anything he wanted ("How about a blowjob to get started, honey?"), and what a huge improvement he was over her wimpy, small-dicked spouse. Joe would kneel there, sniffling and feeling sorry for himself, while she got busy with the long-limbed lothario. She gave her lover encouragement, telling him, "Slam that big tool into me, baby. Hammer me. Show me what a real man can do." All of that just made Joe feel worse.
As he listened to his wife's mounting excitement, heard her words being reduced to grunts and growls, he would always break down. The poor sucker would start to sob and then cry, finally blubbering uncontrollably, mostly saying, "No. Please. Not again, Chrissy." She loved hearing him fall apart like that. It got her wildly aroused and made her orgasms so much better. The slutty woman had developed a powerful taste for making her husband suffer. She would have noisy climaxes and congratulate Stick on what a superior job he had done. By then Joe would be in a heap, hugging himself and muttering weakly. It was during one of her husband's post-coital breakdowns that she had her best inspiration yet. He heard her saying something to her stud in a soft voice and the big ape answering, followed by the pair sharing a nasty laugh. Then...
"Hey, Joe," she hollered, "get your sorry ass in here. Let Stick see why I need a real man to keep me satisfied." The emotionally battered husband couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had never confronted her lover, only seen glimpses of him. Chrissy always said that Stick had a bad temper and might use Joe for a punching bag. Plus, the harried husband was still fully unclothed. He stood up uncertainly, not wanting another man to see him that way. He put a hand over his immature genitals and sniffled, but at the same time reached out and gripped the doorknob.
When he opened the door, Joe had to look at his wife, stretched out comfortably, her big boobs on display, next to her bedmate, his muscular arms covered with tattoos. He had a long face with a prominent, sharp nose, high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and a pointed chin. Joe shuddered. Chrissy said, "I just had the best idea, husband mine." She snickered. "You're so good at eating my pussy, I want to see what it feels like if you eat it now." His look of stunned incomprehension made her amplify, "Now, stupid, after it's just been drilled by Stick. While it's full of his gooey cum. It'll be like you're drinking a protein shake. Or something." The lanky man next to her said, "Let's go, shit-for-brains. If I have to get out of this bed to make you, you're not going to like how I do it."
The disbelieving husband hesitated. Stick began to move. Joe noted how powerful he looked. Joe started to move. Chrissy's plump hand went to her lover's cock and gave it a squeeze. Then she sat up, got a handful of Joe's hair, and rubbed her palm over his face, getting a mix of male and female sex fluids all over his features, making sure to wipe some under his nose. She flopped back down, making her tits roll. Her legs moved further apart, giving her spouse a better look at her gaping snatch, with Stick's mess leaking out of it. Joe swallowed with difficulty. The last of his pride was gone. He got onto the foot of the bed on his knees and brought his face close to her used sex. A retching noise escaped his throat and the amused couple laughed at his distress.
"Go to it," Chrissy ordered. Joe could delay no longer. He pressed his lips to her labia and kissed, ran his tongue along her slit from the bottom to gather up some of the copious slime. Feeling wretched, he swallowed down his first sample of cum before he resumed licking. She made him suck her clit as well. Chrissy began to get heated up from his efforts. Just to remind everyone of whose property she was, Stick rolled toward her and gave her an unrushed kiss. After he broke away he got up on one elbow and said, "That's how it works. I kiss them lips and loser boy kisses those other lips. The ones with my gunk all over them." That satisfied his need to assert his dominance, so he laid back down and gave her another probing kiss. She squeezed Joe's head between her fleshy thighs and moaned. The obedient husband was bringing her closer to a climax. Stick fondled her full bust, going from one breast to the other and back again, taking his time, toying with her nipples.
Joe could roll his eyes upward while he kept his mouth working. He could see how the other man was enjoying his wife. He wanted to start crying again but knew that would only enflame their passions, and probably incite them to further cruelties. He kept slurping, kept swallowing, and soon put his wife over the top, giving her a bucking, shouting finish. She settled back down and instructed him to keep licking while she rode out the tail end of her pleasure. Joe thought about stopping, trying to salvage some scrap of his pride, and probably making Stick angry. The unassertive husband continued. His wife drifted into a half sleep, so he gradually withdrew, only occasionally placing light kisses on her puckered nether lips. She eventually awoke enough to say sleepily, to no one in particular, "That was just too damn good. From now on out, every time I get screwed, I want my pussy eaten after its done." She yawned and then repeated, "Too damned good."
******
Bettina never missed an opportunity to ridicule her husband Scott. The raven-haired, busty, big-butted woman was doing that right now, with three of her girlfriends in the room. Scott had to stand there, in just a pair of jockey shorts that were two sizes too small and bright yellow, while she told the other sexy females, "You can see by how tight his undies are that my husband's pecker isn't worth talking about. And it's definitely not work having in your box." They all laughed and Scott's cheeks flushed bright pink. He wanted to run away but, if he did that or anything that was against her wishes, his wife would tell her boyfriend, Chuck, who would then slam Scott against the wall and hold him there with one broad hand on his chest, threatening to commit mayhem on him, and making him apologize endlessly, at the same time promising to be a 'good little boy' and to pay some other penalty, like cleaning the soles of her shoes with his tongue every time she came home for a week. So Scott just stood there and took it.
Then his wife strode right up to him, so close that her huge bust was touching his narrow chest. He could feel the warmth of her through the thin sweater she wore. He felt the outline of one hard nipple against his soft chest. She didn't have on a bra. She reached down and rubbed his pudgy belly. Then blew into his ear. He whimpered and felt himself starting to grow hard. His wife chortled and moved her full thigh against his crotch, bringing him to full erection, which wasn't difficult to do because he hadn't been allowed to ejaculate for over three weeks. She stepped back and pointed to the front of his silly looking underwear, saying, "See that little bump? That's his poor excuse for a hard-on." There was more laughter and Scott wrung his hands, wishing this was all over. But he knew she loved to extend his suffering, and that every indignity committed on him would raise her sexual temperature, get her more ready for when Chuck arrived, make her hungrier for his cock, which was so much more impressive than her hubby's 'extra finger', as she liked to jokingly call it.
"Come on, wimpy," she snapped. "Give the girls a show. Let them see how freakishly tiny your thing is." He cringed at those words. It was bad enough to have to display his out-of-shape physique and to let them see the outline of his unimpressive member. But to have to expose his shortcoming would be unbearable. Again the idea of Chuck assaulting him came to the forefront of his thoughts. Scott's desire to protect what remained of his self-image was overridden by his urgent need to avoid physical punishment. His wife had already seen him pushed and slapped and pinched by the bigger man. She had witnessed Chuck making her groom get on his knees and say he was sorry for things he hadn't even done, look up at Chuck and concede his alpha male status, even thank him for giving Bettina the kind of loving she craved, which Scott had to confess he was incapable of providing. So at that moment he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and tugged them down, letting his silly erection spring free. The sight was greeted with gales of laughter.
His wife made him parade around the room, giving each woman a good view. The ladies, all of them dressed sexily for the occasion, flicked their tongues at his stiffness, reached for it but never quite touched it, and made lewd suggestions about how they'd like to have it stuffed into their hot wet pussies -- if only it was about twice as big. After they had their fun he was sent to the kitchen to fetch ginger ale and the whiskey bottle, so they could make 7 and 7's. He reluctantly did it, knowing that once they got alcohol into their systems, they would treat him even more heartlessly, maybe even making him serve them in demeaning ways. He brought back the selected items and made a second trip to get glasses and a small, insulated bucket of ice. The women made themselves drinks and took their time sipping them, chatting about clothes and their favorite TV shows, with an emphasis in male actors they found attractive. Soon Scott sensed that they were about to put him through some new humiliation.
He was right. One of his wife's friends, Sophia, a Latina with overly full curves, and his favorite among them, stood up and barked at him to come to her. When he was directly in front of the curvaceous lovely, she ordered him onto his knees. He dropped instantly, fearing the worst. She turned her back, paused for effect, and raised her long flowing skirt to expose her jutting bottom, whose halves were as wide as basketballs. Her action also revealed that she had on no panties. Scott gaped at the expanse of desirable flesh for a few seconds before she dropped the skirt over his head, enclosing him with his face inches from all that hot flesh. He couldn't see what she was doing but he sure felt it as she reached around, gripped his head with both hands, and bent forward to thrust her substantial cheeks back, jamming his features into the valley of her ass. He gasped and raised his hands reflexively, but caught himself before he could grab at her wrists and try to escape. Instead, he moved his hands behind his back and stayed where he was, docilely, while she rubbed her backside all over his face, vocalizing a rhythm, bouncing to the beat, grinding herself back harder until his mouth and nose were as deep as they could go.
"What's the matter, boy?" she said complainingly. "Don't you want to give me a kiss? Hey? I always catch you peeking at my big sitter. Now's your chance. Or would you rather I knock you onto your back and stomp on your balls? Maybe that would be better. It's not like you're allowed to use them, or anything." Rather than let her carry out that threat, he puckered up and kissed her waiting asshole. His tongue came out and he licked and then, though it was the last thing he wanted to do, penetrated her. She said something in Spanish and wriggled her ass appreciatively. Sophia said, "Hey, you'll have to loan Mr. Ass Kisser to me sometime so I can give him a real workout, and sit on his stupid face, and like that." As Scott was considering the sickening possibilities of that scenario, he heard the front door open and he froze.
"Yo," Chuck's voice boomed. "You having a party without me?" His heavy footsteps sounded as he approached. Bettina said, "Look what we got going on, baby." Chuck laughed uproariously. When he regained his composure he said, "Damn, you've got the little wussy eating ass, right in front of everybody." "Hey," Sophia objected, "I'm being a lady and all. I got my skirt over him." There was more laughing and Chuck announced that he was going to the fridge for a beer. He came back and Scott heard the sound of the can being opened. Chuck took a long noisy swallow, sighed, and said, "Come over here, Tina," which is what he called Bettina. "The best thing to go with a beer is a big wet kiss." Scott heard them kissing. He halted what he was doing and Sophia slapped the top of his head, telling him, "Don't get distracted, ass licker. I want to feel you go deeper." He did as he was told, struck by the painful irony that Chuck was kissing his wife while he was kissing another woman's ass. Sophia said, presumably to Chuck, though it was hard for Scott to be sure with his head covered and his face buried in that sweaty cleft, "He wasn't squeamish or anything. He was eying my rump and licking his lips and, when I told him to make a meal of it, he just got right in there."
Bettina said, "I'm jealous. I should have been the one to take his ass eating virginity." More laughter. Deeper shame for Scott. "But now that I know he's so good at it, that he's a natural ass muncher, I'll take advantage of that all the time. Could be good foreplay. Get me all wet for Chuck's monster cock." Chuck contributed, "Yeah, I could do you standing up in the hall while ass-face has his taster up your poop chute. I'll bet he'd REALLY get off on that. What a freaking pervert you married." "Right," she agreed, "but he still brings home a half decent paycheck. So what the hell. I think I'll keep him." And once again -- plenty of laughing.
******
Carlton was wearing a short black nightie with white lace shoulder straps. His medium length hair was teased up and sprayed, making it look like something between a punk rock style and some kind of misdirected attempt at modern fashion. On his feet were ballet slippers. There wasn't a single hair visible on his body anywhere below his eyebrows, which were plucked, not a lot but just enough to thin and shape them to the point where they looked somewhat UN-manly. His wife Gretchen, a stunning, buxom blond with a sturdy farm girl build, was looking at him critically, saying, "Your look needs something else. One more..." Her eyes lit up. "I know. Just a smear of lip balm. It'll give them some shine." She rummaged through a jumble of cosmetics in her unorganized dresser drawer and found what she was seeking. Holding the tube up, she read out loud, "Pink," and then commented to herself, "Yeah, this'll give your mouth just a hint of color. It'll really bring out the sissy in you." She guffawed at her cutting remark. She had on a tiny skirt and a snug sleeveless top, which showed off her overripe curves.
"Please, honey," Carlton pleaded. "I don't want to be seen like this." "What? You don't want my boyfriend to see my husband as he really is? As a wimp sissy?" She reached under the hem of the nighty and found her spouse's small penis, grabbed it, and gave it a painful twist. "You think if he sees you in trousers, that'll change anything?" He winced as she reversed the direction of her punishing manipulation. "Any guy with a dick this tiny is going to be a sissy wimp no matter what he's wearing. All I'm doing is to make you look like what you really are. It's good to be honest. Isn't it?" She let go of his member and closed her hand around his scrotum, applying threatening pressure as she asked, "Am I right or am I right?" He whimpered and, in a strained voice, conceded, "You're right, darling. You're always right. I'm wrong. Always." Gretchen tightened her fingers even more, grinding his balls against each other until he groaned and was about to weep. To his relief she finally released him and put her face close to his, her lower lip thrust out pugnaciously. "So now that you understand how matters stand, how about if you put your pretty make-up on your sweet mouth?"
With distress written all over his face, Carlton nevertheless accepted the tube and checked himself in the mirror. His hand trembled as he brought the balm up to his face and carefully applied it. It wasn't as obvious as lipstick would have been, but it was still impossible not to notice. His wife watched approvingly, enjoying what she was putting him through. She never tired of reminding him about how small his penis was. No matter what arguments he tried to make about regaining his sexual rights, she could trump them by simply pointing out his major inadequacy. Or rather, his MINOR inadequacy. As he stood there trying to calm himself she slipped her hand under the back of his nighty and caressed his bare bottom. "Mmmm. So smooth. Isn't it wonderful that I don't let you have ANY hair on your body? Don't you just LOVE being so pink and satiny?" He wanted to tell her that he hated being kept that way, but knew she would either mention how easily she had turned him into a sissy, talk about how quickly he had always finished back when he was permitted sex, or maybe just resort to physical punishment. That last option was the most frightening. He didn't want her to put him over her lap for a spanking. Or make him kneel on the bed so she could shove a butt plug up his fundament. That last possibility would be the worst. So he answered her, "Yes, Gretchen. I really appreciate that you keep me this way. It's how I should look. It... suits me."
She chuckled at his surrender. Then she said, "But you still should have answered quicker. I shouldn't have to wait. So, get yourself up onto the bed. On your knees, girl. Time for a nice fat stopper in your tight little ass." He was going to be punished anyway? It was so unfair. He was thinking that and mentally answering her back as he got onto the mattress and raised his nighty to expose her target. Gretchen opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and dug through the collection of handy devices, to which she was always adding. There were vibrators, chastity cages, cuffs, nose rings, gags, jaw spreaders, bells to hang from various parts of his anatomy, leashes and much more. She selected a bung plug, one that was wide on the ends and narrow in the middle. He shuddered as she pressed it to his tightness. "Should I use lube, Carlene?" she wanted to know. He was immediately upset that she had switched to his feminine name. At the same time, she was giving him one of those choices she enjoyed, where either answer was bad for him. If she didn't apply lube it would hurt more getting the thick knob of rubber into him. But if he took the coward's way and asked for something to ease the passage...
"Yes," he said, u*********sly beginning to use his Carlene voice. "Please use lube when you cram that plug up my rump." He knew that abasing himself, by describing what she was about to do in blunt terms, amused her. Maybe his voluntary display of cooperation would make her go easier on him. But he was having no such luck, he realized as she went into yet another drawer and produced a large tube of jelly and a rubber glove. The problem was that the glove wasn't one of those made of super-thin latex, but a thick kitchen model with ridges on the fingers for better gripping. He looked back in dismay as she squeezed a large dollop of the slippery stuff onto her index finger. And then more onto the middle digit. And still more onto the next one. Two fingers had always been the limit previously. Her idea of greasing him up involved taking her time, slipping in one digit, then two, and at last all three. Then she worked them around unnecessarily, prolonging his shame and discomfort as long as she could. He squirmed and moaned and tried not to break down and beg her to stop. When she was finally done she quickly took the plug and forced it in with one firm effort, so that the lube didn't actually save him much pain. The narrow section allowed his body to close around it, while the larger portion inside him kept it from sliding out, and the wide section outside prevented it from slipping all the way in.
He got up cautiously, feeling overly filled by the invading device. She made him bend forward so she could get a look at it, adding to his loss of dignity. Gretchen said, "Stroll around a bit, girl. I want to see how you walk with that thing in you." He took careful steps, feeling unwanted stimulation in his nether regions. His wife patted the protruding portion of the plug, giving him a jolt. He knew that anytime he bent forward in his short garment, it would reveal the fact that he was butt-plugged. Gretchen told him, "You look charming. All ready to serve Rock and me." He hated it when her boyfriend visited and got to see him in his Carlene role. Having to wait on the man who was humping his wife was sheer torment. He was dwelling on that painful reality when the front door opened. Of course, Rock had his own key. He was a big man who took what he wanted. He strode up to Carlton's wife, wrapped her in his long arms, and gave her a burning kiss. She returned his passion and ground her pelvis against his crotch.
"Damn," he said, "I can't wait to get you in the sack. My cock needs a good suck and a tight pussy." She assured him, "I've got plenty of both... for YOU." He said, "Terrific, but first I have to tell you about this web site I found. It's called Fictionmania and there's this writer on there, some guy who calls himself Throne. He's a real sicko. They have a shitload of stories by him, and some of them have great ideas for crap we can do to Carlene over there." He acknowledged my presence by snarling, "Get me a beer, bitch. And don't shake it up." As her spouse hurried away, Rock said, "Your sissy husband walks like he's got a frozen taco jammed up his back door." She told him, "Close. I've got one of his butt plugs stuffed in there. You know it gets me extra hot when he's suffering constantly." "Yeah, works for me too. Guess I'm just an alpha dog who has to rule over all the weaker mutts." Carlton returned and gingerly handed him the beer. Rock opened it and took a long swallow. He licked his lips and grunted with pleasure, then went on to Gretchen, "Anyway, some of those stories by that Throne pervert, they have the word cuckold in the title. I went to them first because that's what Carlene is. And a sissy. So I looked for that word, too. Anyway, I found enough nasty scenes in there to keep us busy with your man-wife for a long long time." She smiled at him and said, "So let's get started."
But what was happening now was much worse. The reason she had kicked him out of the bedroom was because she started having a lover come and visit her. He was a tall dumb jerk named Stick, a guy she had dated before she married short bright Joe. Chrissy had gotten all the dates she wanted when she was single. Was it because she was cute, with big tits, and had a sweet voice? No, it was because she was a total tramp. But when she came on to Joe it wasn't because she wanted to get laid. He was just a meal ticket to her, the source of an easy life. The only reason she allowed him that first month of sex after they wed was because she didn't want him to have the marriage annulled. Chrissy wasn't sure how long they had to be together before he couldn't do that anymore. It worked out well, though, because now he knew what he was missing.
After she brought home Stick, she always made her husband strip down and crawl from the guest room, where he had to sleep on an uncomfortable cot, even though there was a perfectly good bed in there. He would get onto his hands and knees when he heard the door to her bedroom close, and proceed quickly to a spot outside the door. His wife made sure to be loud when she told Stick how glad she was that he was there to fuck her, how eager she was to do anything he wanted ("How about a blowjob to get started, honey?"), and what a huge improvement he was over her wimpy, small-dicked spouse. Joe would kneel there, sniffling and feeling sorry for himself, while she got busy with the long-limbed lothario. She gave her lover encouragement, telling him, "Slam that big tool into me, baby. Hammer me. Show me what a real man can do." All of that just made Joe feel worse.
As he listened to his wife's mounting excitement, heard her words being reduced to grunts and growls, he would always break down. The poor sucker would start to sob and then cry, finally blubbering uncontrollably, mostly saying, "No. Please. Not again, Chrissy." She loved hearing him fall apart like that. It got her wildly aroused and made her orgasms so much better. The slutty woman had developed a powerful taste for making her husband suffer. She would have noisy climaxes and congratulate Stick on what a superior job he had done. By then Joe would be in a heap, hugging himself and muttering weakly. It was during one of her husband's post-coital breakdowns that she had her best inspiration yet. He heard her saying something to her stud in a soft voice and the big ape answering, followed by the pair sharing a nasty laugh. Then...
"Hey, Joe," she hollered, "get your sorry ass in here. Let Stick see why I need a real man to keep me satisfied." The emotionally battered husband couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had never confronted her lover, only seen glimpses of him. Chrissy always said that Stick had a bad temper and might use Joe for a punching bag. Plus, the harried husband was still fully unclothed. He stood up uncertainly, not wanting another man to see him that way. He put a hand over his immature genitals and sniffled, but at the same time reached out and gripped the doorknob.
When he opened the door, Joe had to look at his wife, stretched out comfortably, her big boobs on display, next to her bedmate, his muscular arms covered with tattoos. He had a long face with a prominent, sharp nose, high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and a pointed chin. Joe shuddered. Chrissy said, "I just had the best idea, husband mine." She snickered. "You're so good at eating my pussy, I want to see what it feels like if you eat it now." His look of stunned incomprehension made her amplify, "Now, stupid, after it's just been drilled by Stick. While it's full of his gooey cum. It'll be like you're drinking a protein shake. Or something." The lanky man next to her said, "Let's go, shit-for-brains. If I have to get out of this bed to make you, you're not going to like how I do it."
The disbelieving husband hesitated. Stick began to move. Joe noted how powerful he looked. Joe started to move. Chrissy's plump hand went to her lover's cock and gave it a squeeze. Then she sat up, got a handful of Joe's hair, and rubbed her palm over his face, getting a mix of male and female sex fluids all over his features, making sure to wipe some under his nose. She flopped back down, making her tits roll. Her legs moved further apart, giving her spouse a better look at her gaping snatch, with Stick's mess leaking out of it. Joe swallowed with difficulty. The last of his pride was gone. He got onto the foot of the bed on his knees and brought his face close to her used sex. A retching noise escaped his throat and the amused couple laughed at his distress.
"Go to it," Chrissy ordered. Joe could delay no longer. He pressed his lips to her labia and kissed, ran his tongue along her slit from the bottom to gather up some of the copious slime. Feeling wretched, he swallowed down his first sample of cum before he resumed licking. She made him suck her clit as well. Chrissy began to get heated up from his efforts. Just to remind everyone of whose property she was, Stick rolled toward her and gave her an unrushed kiss. After he broke away he got up on one elbow and said, "That's how it works. I kiss them lips and loser boy kisses those other lips. The ones with my gunk all over them." That satisfied his need to assert his dominance, so he laid back down and gave her another probing kiss. She squeezed Joe's head between her fleshy thighs and moaned. The obedient husband was bringing her closer to a climax. Stick fondled her full bust, going from one breast to the other and back again, taking his time, toying with her nipples.
Joe could roll his eyes upward while he kept his mouth working. He could see how the other man was enjoying his wife. He wanted to start crying again but knew that would only enflame their passions, and probably incite them to further cruelties. He kept slurping, kept swallowing, and soon put his wife over the top, giving her a bucking, shouting finish. She settled back down and instructed him to keep licking while she rode out the tail end of her pleasure. Joe thought about stopping, trying to salvage some scrap of his pride, and probably making Stick angry. The unassertive husband continued. His wife drifted into a half sleep, so he gradually withdrew, only occasionally placing light kisses on her puckered nether lips. She eventually awoke enough to say sleepily, to no one in particular, "That was just too damn good. From now on out, every time I get screwed, I want my pussy eaten after its done." She yawned and then repeated, "Too damned good."
******
Bettina never missed an opportunity to ridicule her husband Scott. The raven-haired, busty, big-butted woman was doing that right now, with three of her girlfriends in the room. Scott had to stand there, in just a pair of jockey shorts that were two sizes too small and bright yellow, while she told the other sexy females, "You can see by how tight his undies are that my husband's pecker isn't worth talking about. And it's definitely not work having in your box." They all laughed and Scott's cheeks flushed bright pink. He wanted to run away but, if he did that or anything that was against her wishes, his wife would tell her boyfriend, Chuck, who would then slam Scott against the wall and hold him there with one broad hand on his chest, threatening to commit mayhem on him, and making him apologize endlessly, at the same time promising to be a 'good little boy' and to pay some other penalty, like cleaning the soles of her shoes with his tongue every time she came home for a week. So Scott just stood there and took it.
Then his wife strode right up to him, so close that her huge bust was touching his narrow chest. He could feel the warmth of her through the thin sweater she wore. He felt the outline of one hard nipple against his soft chest. She didn't have on a bra. She reached down and rubbed his pudgy belly. Then blew into his ear. He whimpered and felt himself starting to grow hard. His wife chortled and moved her full thigh against his crotch, bringing him to full erection, which wasn't difficult to do because he hadn't been allowed to ejaculate for over three weeks. She stepped back and pointed to the front of his silly looking underwear, saying, "See that little bump? That's his poor excuse for a hard-on." There was more laughter and Scott wrung his hands, wishing this was all over. But he knew she loved to extend his suffering, and that every indignity committed on him would raise her sexual temperature, get her more ready for when Chuck arrived, make her hungrier for his cock, which was so much more impressive than her hubby's 'extra finger', as she liked to jokingly call it.
"Come on, wimpy," she snapped. "Give the girls a show. Let them see how freakishly tiny your thing is." He cringed at those words. It was bad enough to have to display his out-of-shape physique and to let them see the outline of his unimpressive member. But to have to expose his shortcoming would be unbearable. Again the idea of Chuck assaulting him came to the forefront of his thoughts. Scott's desire to protect what remained of his self-image was overridden by his urgent need to avoid physical punishment. His wife had already seen him pushed and slapped and pinched by the bigger man. She had witnessed Chuck making her groom get on his knees and say he was sorry for things he hadn't even done, look up at Chuck and concede his alpha male status, even thank him for giving Bettina the kind of loving she craved, which Scott had to confess he was incapable of providing. So at that moment he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and tugged them down, letting his silly erection spring free. The sight was greeted with gales of laughter.
His wife made him parade around the room, giving each woman a good view. The ladies, all of them dressed sexily for the occasion, flicked their tongues at his stiffness, reached for it but never quite touched it, and made lewd suggestions about how they'd like to have it stuffed into their hot wet pussies -- if only it was about twice as big. After they had their fun he was sent to the kitchen to fetch ginger ale and the whiskey bottle, so they could make 7 and 7's. He reluctantly did it, knowing that once they got alcohol into their systems, they would treat him even more heartlessly, maybe even making him serve them in demeaning ways. He brought back the selected items and made a second trip to get glasses and a small, insulated bucket of ice. The women made themselves drinks and took their time sipping them, chatting about clothes and their favorite TV shows, with an emphasis in male actors they found attractive. Soon Scott sensed that they were about to put him through some new humiliation.
He was right. One of his wife's friends, Sophia, a Latina with overly full curves, and his favorite among them, stood up and barked at him to come to her. When he was directly in front of the curvaceous lovely, she ordered him onto his knees. He dropped instantly, fearing the worst. She turned her back, paused for effect, and raised her long flowing skirt to expose her jutting bottom, whose halves were as wide as basketballs. Her action also revealed that she had on no panties. Scott gaped at the expanse of desirable flesh for a few seconds before she dropped the skirt over his head, enclosing him with his face inches from all that hot flesh. He couldn't see what she was doing but he sure felt it as she reached around, gripped his head with both hands, and bent forward to thrust her substantial cheeks back, jamming his features into the valley of her ass. He gasped and raised his hands reflexively, but caught himself before he could grab at her wrists and try to escape. Instead, he moved his hands behind his back and stayed where he was, docilely, while she rubbed her backside all over his face, vocalizing a rhythm, bouncing to the beat, grinding herself back harder until his mouth and nose were as deep as they could go.
"What's the matter, boy?" she said complainingly. "Don't you want to give me a kiss? Hey? I always catch you peeking at my big sitter. Now's your chance. Or would you rather I knock you onto your back and stomp on your balls? Maybe that would be better. It's not like you're allowed to use them, or anything." Rather than let her carry out that threat, he puckered up and kissed her waiting asshole. His tongue came out and he licked and then, though it was the last thing he wanted to do, penetrated her. She said something in Spanish and wriggled her ass appreciatively. Sophia said, "Hey, you'll have to loan Mr. Ass Kisser to me sometime so I can give him a real workout, and sit on his stupid face, and like that." As Scott was considering the sickening possibilities of that scenario, he heard the front door open and he froze.
"Yo," Chuck's voice boomed. "You having a party without me?" His heavy footsteps sounded as he approached. Bettina said, "Look what we got going on, baby." Chuck laughed uproariously. When he regained his composure he said, "Damn, you've got the little wussy eating ass, right in front of everybody." "Hey," Sophia objected, "I'm being a lady and all. I got my skirt over him." There was more laughing and Chuck announced that he was going to the fridge for a beer. He came back and Scott heard the sound of the can being opened. Chuck took a long noisy swallow, sighed, and said, "Come over here, Tina," which is what he called Bettina. "The best thing to go with a beer is a big wet kiss." Scott heard them kissing. He halted what he was doing and Sophia slapped the top of his head, telling him, "Don't get distracted, ass licker. I want to feel you go deeper." He did as he was told, struck by the painful irony that Chuck was kissing his wife while he was kissing another woman's ass. Sophia said, presumably to Chuck, though it was hard for Scott to be sure with his head covered and his face buried in that sweaty cleft, "He wasn't squeamish or anything. He was eying my rump and licking his lips and, when I told him to make a meal of it, he just got right in there."
Bettina said, "I'm jealous. I should have been the one to take his ass eating virginity." More laughter. Deeper shame for Scott. "But now that I know he's so good at it, that he's a natural ass muncher, I'll take advantage of that all the time. Could be good foreplay. Get me all wet for Chuck's monster cock." Chuck contributed, "Yeah, I could do you standing up in the hall while ass-face has his taster up your poop chute. I'll bet he'd REALLY get off on that. What a freaking pervert you married." "Right," she agreed, "but he still brings home a half decent paycheck. So what the hell. I think I'll keep him." And once again -- plenty of laughing.
******
Carlton was wearing a short black nightie with white lace shoulder straps. His medium length hair was teased up and sprayed, making it look like something between a punk rock style and some kind of misdirected attempt at modern fashion. On his feet were ballet slippers. There wasn't a single hair visible on his body anywhere below his eyebrows, which were plucked, not a lot but just enough to thin and shape them to the point where they looked somewhat UN-manly. His wife Gretchen, a stunning, buxom blond with a sturdy farm girl build, was looking at him critically, saying, "Your look needs something else. One more..." Her eyes lit up. "I know. Just a smear of lip balm. It'll give them some shine." She rummaged through a jumble of cosmetics in her unorganized dresser drawer and found what she was seeking. Holding the tube up, she read out loud, "Pink," and then commented to herself, "Yeah, this'll give your mouth just a hint of color. It'll really bring out the sissy in you." She guffawed at her cutting remark. She had on a tiny skirt and a snug sleeveless top, which showed off her overripe curves.
"Please, honey," Carlton pleaded. "I don't want to be seen like this." "What? You don't want my boyfriend to see my husband as he really is? As a wimp sissy?" She reached under the hem of the nighty and found her spouse's small penis, grabbed it, and gave it a painful twist. "You think if he sees you in trousers, that'll change anything?" He winced as she reversed the direction of her punishing manipulation. "Any guy with a dick this tiny is going to be a sissy wimp no matter what he's wearing. All I'm doing is to make you look like what you really are. It's good to be honest. Isn't it?" She let go of his member and closed her hand around his scrotum, applying threatening pressure as she asked, "Am I right or am I right?" He whimpered and, in a strained voice, conceded, "You're right, darling. You're always right. I'm wrong. Always." Gretchen tightened her fingers even more, grinding his balls against each other until he groaned and was about to weep. To his relief she finally released him and put her face close to his, her lower lip thrust out pugnaciously. "So now that you understand how matters stand, how about if you put your pretty make-up on your sweet mouth?"
With distress written all over his face, Carlton nevertheless accepted the tube and checked himself in the mirror. His hand trembled as he brought the balm up to his face and carefully applied it. It wasn't as obvious as lipstick would have been, but it was still impossible not to notice. His wife watched approvingly, enjoying what she was putting him through. She never tired of reminding him about how small his penis was. No matter what arguments he tried to make about regaining his sexual rights, she could trump them by simply pointing out his major inadequacy. Or rather, his MINOR inadequacy. As he stood there trying to calm himself she slipped her hand under the back of his nighty and caressed his bare bottom. "Mmmm. So smooth. Isn't it wonderful that I don't let you have ANY hair on your body? Don't you just LOVE being so pink and satiny?" He wanted to tell her that he hated being kept that way, but knew she would either mention how easily she had turned him into a sissy, talk about how quickly he had always finished back when he was permitted sex, or maybe just resort to physical punishment. That last option was the most frightening. He didn't want her to put him over her lap for a spanking. Or make him kneel on the bed so she could shove a butt plug up his fundament. That last possibility would be the worst. So he answered her, "Yes, Gretchen. I really appreciate that you keep me this way. It's how I should look. It... suits me."
She chuckled at his surrender. Then she said, "But you still should have answered quicker. I shouldn't have to wait. So, get yourself up onto the bed. On your knees, girl. Time for a nice fat stopper in your tight little ass." He was going to be punished anyway? It was so unfair. He was thinking that and mentally answering her back as he got onto the mattress and raised his nighty to expose her target. Gretchen opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and dug through the collection of handy devices, to which she was always adding. There were vibrators, chastity cages, cuffs, nose rings, gags, jaw spreaders, bells to hang from various parts of his anatomy, leashes and much more. She selected a bung plug, one that was wide on the ends and narrow in the middle. He shuddered as she pressed it to his tightness. "Should I use lube, Carlene?" she wanted to know. He was immediately upset that she had switched to his feminine name. At the same time, she was giving him one of those choices she enjoyed, where either answer was bad for him. If she didn't apply lube it would hurt more getting the thick knob of rubber into him. But if he took the coward's way and asked for something to ease the passage...
"Yes," he said, u*********sly beginning to use his Carlene voice. "Please use lube when you cram that plug up my rump." He knew that abasing himself, by describing what she was about to do in blunt terms, amused her. Maybe his voluntary display of cooperation would make her go easier on him. But he was having no such luck, he realized as she went into yet another drawer and produced a large tube of jelly and a rubber glove. The problem was that the glove wasn't one of those made of super-thin latex, but a thick kitchen model with ridges on the fingers for better gripping. He looked back in dismay as she squeezed a large dollop of the slippery stuff onto her index finger. And then more onto the middle digit. And still more onto the next one. Two fingers had always been the limit previously. Her idea of greasing him up involved taking her time, slipping in one digit, then two, and at last all three. Then she worked them around unnecessarily, prolonging his shame and discomfort as long as she could. He squirmed and moaned and tried not to break down and beg her to stop. When she was finally done she quickly took the plug and forced it in with one firm effort, so that the lube didn't actually save him much pain. The narrow section allowed his body to close around it, while the larger portion inside him kept it from sliding out, and the wide section outside prevented it from slipping all the way in.
He got up cautiously, feeling overly filled by the invading device. She made him bend forward so she could get a look at it, adding to his loss of dignity. Gretchen said, "Stroll around a bit, girl. I want to see how you walk with that thing in you." He took careful steps, feeling unwanted stimulation in his nether regions. His wife patted the protruding portion of the plug, giving him a jolt. He knew that anytime he bent forward in his short garment, it would reveal the fact that he was butt-plugged. Gretchen told him, "You look charming. All ready to serve Rock and me." He hated it when her boyfriend visited and got to see him in his Carlene role. Having to wait on the man who was humping his wife was sheer torment. He was dwelling on that painful reality when the front door opened. Of course, Rock had his own key. He was a big man who took what he wanted. He strode up to Carlton's wife, wrapped her in his long arms, and gave her a burning kiss. She returned his passion and ground her pelvis against his crotch.
"Damn," he said, "I can't wait to get you in the sack. My cock needs a good suck and a tight pussy." She assured him, "I've got plenty of both... for YOU." He said, "Terrific, but first I have to tell you about this web site I found. It's called Fictionmania and there's this writer on there, some guy who calls himself Throne. He's a real sicko. They have a shitload of stories by him, and some of them have great ideas for crap we can do to Carlene over there." He acknowledged my presence by snarling, "Get me a beer, bitch. And don't shake it up." As her spouse hurried away, Rock said, "Your sissy husband walks like he's got a frozen taco jammed up his back door." She told him, "Close. I've got one of his butt plugs stuffed in there. You know it gets me extra hot when he's suffering constantly." "Yeah, works for me too. Guess I'm just an alpha dog who has to rule over all the weaker mutts." Carlton returned and gingerly handed him the beer. Rock opened it and took a long swallow. He licked his lips and grunted with pleasure, then went on to Gretchen, "Anyway, some of those stories by that Throne pervert, they have the word cuckold in the title. I went to them first because that's what Carlene is. And a sissy. So I looked for that word, too. Anyway, I found enough nasty scenes in there to keep us busy with your man-wife for a long long time." She smiled at him and said, "So let's get started."
11 years ago
