Fifth Anniversary
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10th Anniversary free porn video
You wanted a whore, you got one
It was our tenth anniversary. We had married young and we were the typical couple, two k**'s two cars, and a high ranch in a nicely kept development in the suburbs, thirty-five miles north of New York City. Greg was holding on to his middle management position at an investment-banking firm on Wall Street. My career came to a sudden end when the retailer I worked for as a buyer merged with another national retailer and my position was eliminated. So I put the k**s on the bus in the morning and then either moped around the house, watching daytime soaps or went shopping. Don't get the wrong idea though, I did go to the gym a couple of times a week and although not a workout junkie, my figure did get some attention. At 5'6", 110 pounds and a larger than average bra size, I have always known that I am attractive to the opposite sex.
Our sex life had gotten stale like most will after ten years and I knew my husband Greg was bored. I was a bit bored too. So when he brought up the idea of watching me with another man, I played along. Adding spice to a relationship is not a bad thing, I had read. I also had been up late reading things on the web that led me to believe that my husband's fantasy was not unusual. I knew that it would remain a fantasy so no harm.
Greg started mentioning our son's best friends in our fantasy, asking me if I noticed that every time we were together at a neighborhood function, Deacon seemed to gravitate to wherever I was or would be looking off in my direction. I denied that I noticed but, in fact, I had. In fact, it seemed hard to believe that Greg would mention Deacon as I had noticed. I did not have a clue that Greg was aware that Deacon had been paying more attention to me than I thought appropriate. But it was always when Greg's attention was diverted or he was out of the room. Or in the last instance, the most overt and obnoxious instance, when Greg was not even at home.
The first time Greg mentioned Deacon, I was in a compromising position, if you know what I mean. I was in our bed, on my back, naked, legs spread with hubbies tongue massaging my clit, waiting for my orgasm to slowly start building. Greg had introduced the term "hot wife" weeks ago and he was moaning over and over that I was going to be his hot wife and who we would pick and I was trying to get into the fantasy and then he mentioned Deacons name. I heard it and my mind snapped to last Thursday morning and the few instances prior to that and the picture of me last Thursday, how embarrassed I had been, how I could not even mention it to my own husband and then now, with his tongue pushing up my pussy, he mentions Deacons name. My mind whirled for only a second and then an explosive orgasm wracked through my body. I can't recall having an orgasm like that ever, or at least in years. Greg did not seem to notice the effect his mention of Deacon's name had had on me. And I did not have too much time to think about it as Greg slid upward as I knew he would, as he always does as soon as I orgasmed and slid his penis into me and began the short strokes, usually 10 to 15, before he tightened and I felt his semen seeping into my vagina. Perhaps anticlimax is appropriate as Greg climbed off and went to use the bathroom as he always does. The vibrations deep in my womb were still subsiding as he came out minutes later, shut off the light, murmured "night" and shut off the lights.
I lay there thinking about Deacon. We had known each other as parents of c***dren that had grown up together. Deacon was big, about 6'5" and about 220 pounds and worked out. He looked like a football player. I had fantasized about him for years. Ladies do that. All of us. We don't admit it but we do. Never intending to do anything about it but when things get boring, in the middle of the afternoon, well..
I had noticed, in particular over the last six months that Deacon had started to look at me in a different way when the neighbors got together. Ladies do notice that too. Then at the school concert, which Greg was not able to attend, Deacon sat next to me in the auditorium at the school. I thought it was my imagination when he started a conversation as soon as I walked in, explaining that Audrey, his wife, who by the way is also very attractive and I consider a friend, would not be there. When it was time to take our seats, Deacon followed me down the row and sat in the seat to my left. Greg had said he would try to get there, even if he was a little late so I was a little concerned that a seat had not been left open but could not think of a polite way to ask Deacon to move one sea down. The other problem was the sweater that Greg had bought me as an anniversary gift. It was too small but Greg insisted it complemented my large breasts and really turned him on and, as a way to stop him from begging, agreed to wear it. It was medium blue, button down. The buttons were a bit too far apart and after I sat down and the concert started, I noticed Deacon staring at me. Not really at me, but at my breasts. The k**s were up there on stage and singing there little hearts out and Deacon was not even being sneaky. I looked over at him and he looked up at me, then right back at my sweater. I looked down and noticed that between the buttons, the sweater bulged outward. Obviously, Deacon was enjoying looking at my breasts, encased in the bra I wore under the sweater. He leaned over, as if to say something to me and I leaded toward him, almost without thinking and he whispered in my ear that I looked great in black. I turned toward him and whispered, "thank you, then straightened my head and consciously turned my attention toward the concert. I could tell that Deacon continued to look at me, look over at my breasts, encased in this too tight sweater, throughout the concert. And he said I looked great in black. It was not dark in the auditorium. My blouse was blue, my slacks were tan. As his knee made contact with my leg, it finally clicked. He was complimenting me on the black low cut bra I was wearing under the blouse. The bra Greg gave me with the sweater for our anniversary.
The bra was low cut, really low cut. If I did not tug it up before I put a blouse on over it, I noticed my areolas would start to show over the top of the cup. Actually, once I tried it on, I realized the top webbing felt good against my extremely sensitive nipples and decided I liked the bra. But now, looking through the buttonholes of my sweater, what was Deacon seeing? My nipple definitely had worked their way up over the top. As they stiffened, I could feel the bottom of my now erect nipples scr****g the top of the cup. As I looked over at Deacon again, he smiled a very wicked smile. Involuntarily, I looked down. His pants formed a tent in his lap. A very large tent!
The concert ended shortly thereafter and I made a hasty exit. Greg met me at home and apologized that he had run late. Nothing more was mentioned and although it was erotic at the time, it was mostly forgotten a week later when Greg had asked that I come into the city with him to attend a gathering of his pears.
Greg had started to take some pictures of me, again, all part of his hot wife fantasy and since he was coming back to the house to pick me up for the gathering, he wanted to snap some pictures as I dressed. I did not approve of the pictures he was taking but they were not nude, not even topless so I again gave in. The k**s had a school conference day so they were off playing at a friends house and so when Greg asked me to shower and get my make up on, my new bra, panties, heels and nothing else, I thought nothing of it. Greg wanted some pictures in our formal dining room so I came downstairs looking very formal, hair up, makeup on, black thong panties and black pushup bra barely containing my breasts. My breasts were really impressive, I thought as I descended the staircase and walked past the living room, holding nothing but the pantyhose that Greg was going to film me slipping on, and then I saw something and my head snapped right. There standing in the middle of my living room was Deacon. I turned to face him as both hands shot up, holding the pantyhose in front of my breasts. I then reached down to hold my hands over my panty covered crotch, then reacting by instinct alone, returned both hands to cover what I could of my breasts. Looking down, both nipples peeked over the top of the bra cup.
What the fuck are you doing in my house, I yelled" He really startled me. I don't usually use that kind of language but I was startled. He put his finger over his mouth as if to shush me and speaking low, said that he had come in with Greg and Greg was in the garage now getting it. He was moving toward me, which he had to do to exit. He smiled as he looked down at my breasts. I might as well have been topless. In fact, as I looked away from Deacon, my eyes rested on our wall mirror, which was opposite where I stood, and there I was, looking back, my areolas high atop the cups, my nipples resting on the rim of the bra cup. I was transfixed for only a moment and then Deacon was beside me, His mouth was at my ear, saying he was sorry. He stood there, next to me, his body so close to mine. His mouth remaining at my ear. I thought he was going to say something else and I waited, transfixed. I finally looked up and he was staring at my uncovered breasts, held high in the pushup. I actually thought he was going to, lean down and take a nipple in his mouth but then it was over as he moved past me. I did not turn around as the door opened and closed. I slowly made my way back upstairs and continued to dress. When Greg came up a few minutes later, I was already dressed. He asked why I had not waited to take pictures and I could not tell him that I had been seen practically topless by another.
Weeks went by and nothing was said. Greg kept talking about Deacon during our lovemaking and playing with me, telling me all the while that Deacon would love to do this or wouldn't Deacon like to suck my big nipples. It started to turn into a fantasy for me as well, my secret apparently safe and I had no further contact with Deacon so it seemed that what had happened had been a isolated incident and he was probably as embarrassed as me. Surely, he had no intention of uprooting his marriage. nor did I.
Greg had introduced a new word into our lovemaking. Cuckold. I am so naive; I thought it was a new way of jerking him off. He started talking about having a bull service me while he watched. He talked about 11" cocks and even showed my pictures of a really big cock. I did not believe it was real.
Weeks went by, our fantasies continued and then on July 4th weekend, my parents took the k**s off to the Jersey shore. That night, I made a candlelight dinner for two, two bottles of wine later we were mellow and laying on the couch together when Greg asked if I was ready for my bull. Sure, I said, I am always ready. I hope so he answered cause you are going to get stretched by that 11" cock you have been looking at. I figured he bought me another toy so I asked where it was and Greg answered that it was in the garage. I told him to go get it and he said, no way, I don't want to get fucked by it tonight, you go get it. I rose from the couch and Greg said, not like that, take off your blouse. I did and he again said not like that, go put on my favorite bra. "You're k**ding me", I answered, "you are going to make me go all the way upstairs to put on that stupid bra you bought me". Greg sat up, a bit wasted but very serious, "I didn't buy it for you and your bull will be upset if your not wearing it". OK, I will play along I thought as I climbed the stairs. I almost fell, a bit wasted but in my bedroom, slipped off my blouse and old bra and put on the new one and came back downstairs. What did he mean, he did not buy it I thought as walked toward the garage door off our kitchen, hooking the back clasp as I opened the door. I froze.
What was waiting for me in the garage may be obvious from the story but it was not obvious at all to me. Standing just inside the garage, in the tiniest black brief, a hole cut in the front and the biggest cock I had ever seen was Deacon. I screamed. WHAT THE FUCK. He stared at me and said in a voice so low but so strong "honey, you the fuck". I just stared into his eyes. I am going to kill my husband. I marched back into the living room and there was Greg, sitting right where I left him but now sitting upright, hands folded in his lap. He was now naked.
I must have been feeling the effects of the wine to some extent because as I stared down at my naked Greg, I had no idea what to say. He had a look on his face that was almost pathetic. In a way, he looked like a little boy who had just been caught stealing a cookie out of a cookie jar and in a way, he looked like some kind of pervert, sitting there with his hand around his penis. As I said, I was taken completely off guard and was at a loss for words. Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was probably seconds, I finally found my voice and, shaking my head, spat out "how could you, what were you thinking". With that, I whirled around, intending to retreat upstairs to my bedroom. As I said, the wine must have had an effect because I had not even sensed that I had been followed back into through my house.
As I whirled around, I whirled right into Deacons big hairy, muscular chest. I actually bounced hard into him but he did not move. Uh, I gasped as the wind was suddenly knocked out of me. As I steadied myself, with the help of Deacons arms, which had reached around to steady me, I became immediately aware of sensations emitting from my breasts, actually from my nipples and also something very hard wedged hard against my pelvis. I looked down between my breasts, which were pushed up high above the bra cups that I could not even see, served up for this stranger as if my nipples were delicacies for this mans enjoyment, down further between my breasts was his huge 11" member. This pole was not pressed up against his stomach, or down between his legs but stood straight out with a power that can only be compared to an iron rod.
When I had gone up to change into my new bra, I had also slipped off my slacks and slipped into a rather ugly pink pajama bottom. Cotton, a size to big, woman reading this might understand that we dress one way to be sexy and one way to be comfortable. I did not believe any guest was joining us. This was definitely comfortable. Also vulnerable.. My panties were rolled up inside the slacks upstairs. There I am, suddenly thrust into a strangers arms, and his hard cock is pressing right into my most private area, only a cotton pajama bottom and my tightly clasped legs separating him from what he wanted.
I pulled back but he held me, his hands at the side of the bra, his palms on the bra cups, slowly pushing my breasts together. No.. Noooo. Stop! I looked over at my husband but he had not moved, his expression the same. His hand continued to slowly massage his dick. I looked back at Deacon and he was looking down. I looked down and my breasts were on full display. the only thing the bra was serving to do now was act as a shelf to display my breasts. Again, I turned to Greg; he is seeing me naked, I half yelled, hoping my husband would react. There was no reply from Greg but Deacon's lips were suddenly at my ear again, as they had been weeks ago at the concert. "I have seen you naked many times". I looked into his eyes. What? "Greg has been sharing your pictures with me for almost six months, he half laughed. "I have seen every little part of you." I just stared back into his eyes. He had a smile on his face I will never forget. I looked over at Greg again. He looked even more pathetic. "Did you buy that bra so he could see it?", I asked Greg. Deacon laughed. "He did not buy you that bra. I did". I looked into his eyes. "You did?". "Yup" "You lie, How did you know what size I wear". Again Deacon laughed. "Greg told me, he bragged about your breasts and then I talked him into showing me your pictures and then I made him show me all your bras and all your panties". "We laid them all out on your bed". I could not believe what I was hearing. Deacon laughed again, and I noticed that his hands were not so much holding me to him as they had moved around and under the cups were now holding even higher the cups of the bra, forcing my breasts upward even more. I could have stepped back but I did not. Looking back, I don't know why.. I do remember Deacon saying "34D, when Greg told me 34D and bragged that they don't even sag, I knew I had to hold them. I was not pulling back at all.
Standing there, this iron rod pressed hard right between my legs, a sensation began building.
I was talking to no one in particular; I was staring off into space. I did not want to look at Deacon and I was now too pissed off to look at Greg. You took him into my bedroom; you opened my life to this stranger... You invaded my privacy. How many emotions were running thru me and Deacon was stoking the fire, .. in more ways than one..
Again, Deacon let out that evil laugh. "Greg did more than that". You telling me you did not notice the white stains all over your new bra? I stared back, unknowing where this was going. I stared at this stranger. His thumbs had now moved upwards and were just barely flicking over the button of both nipples. I looked down and they had become erect. His hips were also moving ever so slowly, bumping the head of his erection against my almost unprotected pubic mound.
I had notice white stains on a few of my bras and panties, especially the dark colored ones. I thought I had used too much detergent. Or the washing machine did not rinse properly. I looked up. "Greg invited me to jerk off in your bedroom a few times". No, no, this cant be true. Deacon had turned us slightly so my back was now to Greg. When I looked over my shoulder, Greg would not look at me. Also, as I turned, my left breast pushed further into Deacons hands. I pulled back but he held on, tweaking my left nipple again, sending a shiver thru me. "Its true, Deacon said". "In fact, he helped me, if you know what I mean." Suddenly Greg seemed to come out of his stupor. "That's enough, we said we would not talk about that". Greg was looking up now from the couch. Deacons voice was menacing now.. "I will talk about anything I dame well feel like, you fucken cockold". The word hit me, now I knew where that came from. Deacon went on, a laugh in his voice. "We not going to talk about how you stroked my cock as I shot a gallon of cum into your wife's bra, how you whimpered as I made you keep stroking me or how I made you lick it out after I was finished jerking off into the bra I bought your wife."
I stood in shock. This was too much. I could not take it all in. Probably because as Deacon was revealing acts I could never even dream my Greg would ever dream of, Deacon had begun to rub my bare nipples between his thumb and forefinger and shock waves were shooting through me. As my mind tried in vain to process all that was happening, I became aware of yet another sensation. Deacon had succeeded in moving his 11" pole slightly down and u*********sly, my legs had parted just enough to let this mans cock move between my legs. Deacon was moving his hips slightly, very slightly, forward and back, forward and back. What felt like the huge top of an iron pole was rubbing up and down, up and down, pressing inwards, against the very soft fabric of my cotton pajamas, which was the only thing between Deacons hardness and my vagina.
I stopped writing last week out of shame for what I had done but the desire to confess is overwhelming. Therefore, I will continue.
I stood with Deacon now behind me, looking at the most pathetic husband any woman could ever imagine. I was desirable, I knew that from the looks I would occasionally get from other men but I was also true to my marriage. Now I find that my husband had not been the man I thought he was. He had shown naked pictures of me the Deacon, had brought him into my bedroom and violated my trust, showing him my most personal possessions. Deacon even said my husband had stroked his member, for gods sake. My head spun. I looked down. Deacon held my breasts about the top of the bra now, my large breasts resting in the palms of each of his hands, his fingers now openly massaging my large light pink nipples. Something caught my eye and I looked further down, between my breasts, below my flat stomach. There, below the waistband of my pajama bottom, Deacons member protruded from between my legs, disappearing as it pulled back, then protruding again, at least a few inches before once again pulling back. I looked at my husband in front of me and imagined what a sight we must be. He must be repulsed, I thought, he must not know it that the waves of pleasure were starting to course through my body.
As I stared at the couch, at my husband, still slouched there holding his penis, not moving, his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head. I thought he was having a stroke for a second and then his penis moved slightly and then began to pulse as cum began to ooze from the head of his penis.
I felt Deacons mouth at my ear. Look at that wimp, he said loud enough for my husband to hear. He just came all over himself. I was too stunned to say anything but I remember that Deacon pulled back and for a minute, he let go of my breasts. I actually remember leaning back, missing the pressure of his member between my legs. By the time I felt his hands at my side, pushing down, it was too late. My pajamas landed between my legs and his pole was once again at my ass, now my bare ass, trying once again to work its way back between my legs.
Nooooo, I grunted but the pressure against the back of my legs, was strong. His pole was moving between my legs, no matter how strong I held my legs together. His hands were back at my breasts and it felt good. Really good. I became aware of my husband now whining, telling Deacon to stop.
I really thought that Deacon was trying to slip his cock between my legs as it had been. Deacon had other ideas
The feeling of Deacons fingers on my breasts was overwhelming. I was nearing an orgasm. As Deacons cock moved between my legs, my moisture made it easier to slide. My mind told me that he was going to slide between my legs, as he had a few seconds ago but Deacon was now bending his legs as he pushed forward each time and suddenly his pole pushed up against my opening. He pulled back and pushed again and this time the pole slid the length of my slit and slid over my clit. It was electric. He pulled back again, and when he pushed forward again, the head of his cock, feeling as wide as the top of a can of soup, slid inside of me.
UGH, I must have grunted as the head of his cock entered my vagina and stretched my opening, then pulling it back and then pushed forward again. This time he did not stop at the head. He pushed what seemed like a foot of cock into me before sliding half way out. This time, I pushed my ass backwards, not wanting him to pull it out. All this was not done fast. It was like slow motion. He was being gentle. He pushed forward again and this time it felt like more than double the cock I had gotten on the last thrust. He held it there, not moving. I had never felt anything like that before, I was completely filled. My pussy felt like it was tearing for only a minute, then the hurt began to turn to fireworks throughout my body. His huge balls were hitting my ass as he fucked me. I looked over at my husband and he was still slouched over on the couch, not five feet away. Tears were in his eyes. He was saying something but he was whimpering, low, almost talking to himself. I finally understood what he was saying. "No, stop, you were not supposed to fuck her". It was too much. I was standing straight, not five feet from my whimpering husband, completely naked except for a bra pulled low under my breasts, a bra Deacon had picked out for me, getting fucked from behind by this man, practically a stranger, as my husband watched. Twenty minutes ago I was a good wife and mother. Now I was a whore. And I loved it. My orgasm started deep in my womb, in my pussy, in my cunt. It was the strongest orgasm I had ever had. It started slow and then blasted through me like nothing I had ever felt. In the middle of the orgasm, I turned my head back and Deacon leaned down and our lips met. His tongue was in my mouth, and we kissed as I had not kissed in a long time. My orgasm began to subside and as I turned back, my husband was now standing next to me. Stop, he said, almost forcefully. I looked into his eyes but had no idea what to say. I was no longer in control of my body.
I became aware of Deacon, groaning behind me and then a hose went off inside my pussy as Deacon jettisoned load after load of hot cum deep in my pussy.
Being married for awhile, things become routine. Also, we follow certain routines. I think we all do. All our lovemaking sessions take place in our bedroom. Greg initiates it. Usually about once a month. They always occur just before going to sleep, right after the large flatscreen TV in our bedroom goes off, which is normally around 11:15 at night. If the news is particularly interesting, 11:30. We start with him eating me a little, normally not long enough to orgasm, and then we reposition so that I am lying across his legs, where I lick and then suck his penis. Sometimes he lasts long enough to change position again, in which case, I sit astride him and he fucks me. Most times he cums in my mouth.
After the most passionate lovemaking session, which by the way, you may be able to tell from my description, we have not had in awhile, we always follow a certain routine. Greg always lies in bed afterward while I go get a washcloth for him and then close the door and shower before returning to bed.
Awkward is not a strong enough word to describe what followed in my living room that night. Deacons cum shooting deep in my pussy had unleashed another orgasm that was as powerful as the first. He moved back, slipping out of me and I could feel his seed seeping out and sticky on my outer pussy lips, which seems swollen and engorged. There was Greg, standing there silently, staring at me with a disgust I had never seen before. And there I was, completely naked except for my bra, still hooked, straps pulled down, rolled up over my flat stomach, my large firm breasts standing bare and proud.
Greg and Deacon began to argue. Deacon was insulting and Greg was not winning. Deacon was prodding him, telling his to eat some cream pie and telling him he did not deserve a woman like me. Greg kept on telling Deacon to leave and Deacon was saying he would leave whenever he wanted. All this time, I was picking up my clothes and trying to make a retreat back upstairs.
Nobody was even paying attention to me so I backed up, holding my clothes in front of me until I felt the railing. I turned and slowly started climbing the stairs, feeling juices continue to drip from my pussy. I was about half way up the stairs when I heard Greg, half shouting that he was going to do to June what Deacon had just done to me. Deacon's voice boomed. "You will never touch my wife, you won't even talk to her, if you do, I will kill you". Greg retorted, his voice allot lower, you showed me her pictures, I saw her naked just like you saw Sue. Deacon laughed. "That was pictures I pulled off the net" "My wife is not the whore you made your wife into". "June is a lady". She would never do what your whore did".
So he traded me, I thought. That moron. My hand u*********sly went to my pussy and wiped way a glob of cum that had just exited my pussy lips. I put it to my mouth and licked it off.
I was not mad, I was red hot. I reached behind me and unhooked the useless bra and tossed it aside. Stark naked, I walked back down the stairs and the discussion stopped as I approached. I walked right up to Greg, who was still naked and stood close, so close my pink nipples sc****d across his check. I leaned forward even more and kissed him on the lips. He responded and tried to put his hand on my hip. I stopped him and stepped sideways, in front of Deacon. I knelt down so that his beautiful cock was directly in front of my face and, reaching up, began to stroke it. As it hardened, I opened my mouth and began to suck him back to hardness.
"What are you doing", Greg shouted?
"You wanted a whore, you got one, I retorted."
"I want seconds!"
It was our tenth anniversary. We had married young and we were the typical couple, two k**'s two cars, and a high ranch in a nicely kept development in the suburbs, thirty-five miles north of New York City. Greg was holding on to his middle management position at an investment-banking firm on Wall Street. My career came to a sudden end when the retailer I worked for as a buyer merged with another national retailer and my position was eliminated. So I put the k**s on the bus in the morning and then either moped around the house, watching daytime soaps or went shopping. Don't get the wrong idea though, I did go to the gym a couple of times a week and although not a workout junkie, my figure did get some attention. At 5'6", 110 pounds and a larger than average bra size, I have always known that I am attractive to the opposite sex.
Our sex life had gotten stale like most will after ten years and I knew my husband Greg was bored. I was a bit bored too. So when he brought up the idea of watching me with another man, I played along. Adding spice to a relationship is not a bad thing, I had read. I also had been up late reading things on the web that led me to believe that my husband's fantasy was not unusual. I knew that it would remain a fantasy so no harm.
Greg started mentioning our son's best friends in our fantasy, asking me if I noticed that every time we were together at a neighborhood function, Deacon seemed to gravitate to wherever I was or would be looking off in my direction. I denied that I noticed but, in fact, I had. In fact, it seemed hard to believe that Greg would mention Deacon as I had noticed. I did not have a clue that Greg was aware that Deacon had been paying more attention to me than I thought appropriate. But it was always when Greg's attention was diverted or he was out of the room. Or in the last instance, the most overt and obnoxious instance, when Greg was not even at home.
The first time Greg mentioned Deacon, I was in a compromising position, if you know what I mean. I was in our bed, on my back, naked, legs spread with hubbies tongue massaging my clit, waiting for my orgasm to slowly start building. Greg had introduced the term "hot wife" weeks ago and he was moaning over and over that I was going to be his hot wife and who we would pick and I was trying to get into the fantasy and then he mentioned Deacons name. I heard it and my mind snapped to last Thursday morning and the few instances prior to that and the picture of me last Thursday, how embarrassed I had been, how I could not even mention it to my own husband and then now, with his tongue pushing up my pussy, he mentions Deacons name. My mind whirled for only a second and then an explosive orgasm wracked through my body. I can't recall having an orgasm like that ever, or at least in years. Greg did not seem to notice the effect his mention of Deacon's name had had on me. And I did not have too much time to think about it as Greg slid upward as I knew he would, as he always does as soon as I orgasmed and slid his penis into me and began the short strokes, usually 10 to 15, before he tightened and I felt his semen seeping into my vagina. Perhaps anticlimax is appropriate as Greg climbed off and went to use the bathroom as he always does. The vibrations deep in my womb were still subsiding as he came out minutes later, shut off the light, murmured "night" and shut off the lights.
I lay there thinking about Deacon. We had known each other as parents of c***dren that had grown up together. Deacon was big, about 6'5" and about 220 pounds and worked out. He looked like a football player. I had fantasized about him for years. Ladies do that. All of us. We don't admit it but we do. Never intending to do anything about it but when things get boring, in the middle of the afternoon, well..
I had noticed, in particular over the last six months that Deacon had started to look at me in a different way when the neighbors got together. Ladies do notice that too. Then at the school concert, which Greg was not able to attend, Deacon sat next to me in the auditorium at the school. I thought it was my imagination when he started a conversation as soon as I walked in, explaining that Audrey, his wife, who by the way is also very attractive and I consider a friend, would not be there. When it was time to take our seats, Deacon followed me down the row and sat in the seat to my left. Greg had said he would try to get there, even if he was a little late so I was a little concerned that a seat had not been left open but could not think of a polite way to ask Deacon to move one sea down. The other problem was the sweater that Greg had bought me as an anniversary gift. It was too small but Greg insisted it complemented my large breasts and really turned him on and, as a way to stop him from begging, agreed to wear it. It was medium blue, button down. The buttons were a bit too far apart and after I sat down and the concert started, I noticed Deacon staring at me. Not really at me, but at my breasts. The k**s were up there on stage and singing there little hearts out and Deacon was not even being sneaky. I looked over at him and he looked up at me, then right back at my sweater. I looked down and noticed that between the buttons, the sweater bulged outward. Obviously, Deacon was enjoying looking at my breasts, encased in the bra I wore under the sweater. He leaned over, as if to say something to me and I leaded toward him, almost without thinking and he whispered in my ear that I looked great in black. I turned toward him and whispered, "thank you, then straightened my head and consciously turned my attention toward the concert. I could tell that Deacon continued to look at me, look over at my breasts, encased in this too tight sweater, throughout the concert. And he said I looked great in black. It was not dark in the auditorium. My blouse was blue, my slacks were tan. As his knee made contact with my leg, it finally clicked. He was complimenting me on the black low cut bra I was wearing under the blouse. The bra Greg gave me with the sweater for our anniversary.
The bra was low cut, really low cut. If I did not tug it up before I put a blouse on over it, I noticed my areolas would start to show over the top of the cup. Actually, once I tried it on, I realized the top webbing felt good against my extremely sensitive nipples and decided I liked the bra. But now, looking through the buttonholes of my sweater, what was Deacon seeing? My nipple definitely had worked their way up over the top. As they stiffened, I could feel the bottom of my now erect nipples scr****g the top of the cup. As I looked over at Deacon again, he smiled a very wicked smile. Involuntarily, I looked down. His pants formed a tent in his lap. A very large tent!
The concert ended shortly thereafter and I made a hasty exit. Greg met me at home and apologized that he had run late. Nothing more was mentioned and although it was erotic at the time, it was mostly forgotten a week later when Greg had asked that I come into the city with him to attend a gathering of his pears.
Greg had started to take some pictures of me, again, all part of his hot wife fantasy and since he was coming back to the house to pick me up for the gathering, he wanted to snap some pictures as I dressed. I did not approve of the pictures he was taking but they were not nude, not even topless so I again gave in. The k**s had a school conference day so they were off playing at a friends house and so when Greg asked me to shower and get my make up on, my new bra, panties, heels and nothing else, I thought nothing of it. Greg wanted some pictures in our formal dining room so I came downstairs looking very formal, hair up, makeup on, black thong panties and black pushup bra barely containing my breasts. My breasts were really impressive, I thought as I descended the staircase and walked past the living room, holding nothing but the pantyhose that Greg was going to film me slipping on, and then I saw something and my head snapped right. There standing in the middle of my living room was Deacon. I turned to face him as both hands shot up, holding the pantyhose in front of my breasts. I then reached down to hold my hands over my panty covered crotch, then reacting by instinct alone, returned both hands to cover what I could of my breasts. Looking down, both nipples peeked over the top of the bra cup.
What the fuck are you doing in my house, I yelled" He really startled me. I don't usually use that kind of language but I was startled. He put his finger over his mouth as if to shush me and speaking low, said that he had come in with Greg and Greg was in the garage now getting it. He was moving toward me, which he had to do to exit. He smiled as he looked down at my breasts. I might as well have been topless. In fact, as I looked away from Deacon, my eyes rested on our wall mirror, which was opposite where I stood, and there I was, looking back, my areolas high atop the cups, my nipples resting on the rim of the bra cup. I was transfixed for only a moment and then Deacon was beside me, His mouth was at my ear, saying he was sorry. He stood there, next to me, his body so close to mine. His mouth remaining at my ear. I thought he was going to say something else and I waited, transfixed. I finally looked up and he was staring at my uncovered breasts, held high in the pushup. I actually thought he was going to, lean down and take a nipple in his mouth but then it was over as he moved past me. I did not turn around as the door opened and closed. I slowly made my way back upstairs and continued to dress. When Greg came up a few minutes later, I was already dressed. He asked why I had not waited to take pictures and I could not tell him that I had been seen practically topless by another.
Weeks went by and nothing was said. Greg kept talking about Deacon during our lovemaking and playing with me, telling me all the while that Deacon would love to do this or wouldn't Deacon like to suck my big nipples. It started to turn into a fantasy for me as well, my secret apparently safe and I had no further contact with Deacon so it seemed that what had happened had been a isolated incident and he was probably as embarrassed as me. Surely, he had no intention of uprooting his marriage. nor did I.
Greg had introduced a new word into our lovemaking. Cuckold. I am so naive; I thought it was a new way of jerking him off. He started talking about having a bull service me while he watched. He talked about 11" cocks and even showed my pictures of a really big cock. I did not believe it was real.
Weeks went by, our fantasies continued and then on July 4th weekend, my parents took the k**s off to the Jersey shore. That night, I made a candlelight dinner for two, two bottles of wine later we were mellow and laying on the couch together when Greg asked if I was ready for my bull. Sure, I said, I am always ready. I hope so he answered cause you are going to get stretched by that 11" cock you have been looking at. I figured he bought me another toy so I asked where it was and Greg answered that it was in the garage. I told him to go get it and he said, no way, I don't want to get fucked by it tonight, you go get it. I rose from the couch and Greg said, not like that, take off your blouse. I did and he again said not like that, go put on my favorite bra. "You're k**ding me", I answered, "you are going to make me go all the way upstairs to put on that stupid bra you bought me". Greg sat up, a bit wasted but very serious, "I didn't buy it for you and your bull will be upset if your not wearing it". OK, I will play along I thought as I climbed the stairs. I almost fell, a bit wasted but in my bedroom, slipped off my blouse and old bra and put on the new one and came back downstairs. What did he mean, he did not buy it I thought as walked toward the garage door off our kitchen, hooking the back clasp as I opened the door. I froze.
What was waiting for me in the garage may be obvious from the story but it was not obvious at all to me. Standing just inside the garage, in the tiniest black brief, a hole cut in the front and the biggest cock I had ever seen was Deacon. I screamed. WHAT THE FUCK. He stared at me and said in a voice so low but so strong "honey, you the fuck". I just stared into his eyes. I am going to kill my husband. I marched back into the living room and there was Greg, sitting right where I left him but now sitting upright, hands folded in his lap. He was now naked.
I must have been feeling the effects of the wine to some extent because as I stared down at my naked Greg, I had no idea what to say. He had a look on his face that was almost pathetic. In a way, he looked like a little boy who had just been caught stealing a cookie out of a cookie jar and in a way, he looked like some kind of pervert, sitting there with his hand around his penis. As I said, I was taken completely off guard and was at a loss for words. Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was probably seconds, I finally found my voice and, shaking my head, spat out "how could you, what were you thinking". With that, I whirled around, intending to retreat upstairs to my bedroom. As I said, the wine must have had an effect because I had not even sensed that I had been followed back into through my house.
As I whirled around, I whirled right into Deacons big hairy, muscular chest. I actually bounced hard into him but he did not move. Uh, I gasped as the wind was suddenly knocked out of me. As I steadied myself, with the help of Deacons arms, which had reached around to steady me, I became immediately aware of sensations emitting from my breasts, actually from my nipples and also something very hard wedged hard against my pelvis. I looked down between my breasts, which were pushed up high above the bra cups that I could not even see, served up for this stranger as if my nipples were delicacies for this mans enjoyment, down further between my breasts was his huge 11" member. This pole was not pressed up against his stomach, or down between his legs but stood straight out with a power that can only be compared to an iron rod.
When I had gone up to change into my new bra, I had also slipped off my slacks and slipped into a rather ugly pink pajama bottom. Cotton, a size to big, woman reading this might understand that we dress one way to be sexy and one way to be comfortable. I did not believe any guest was joining us. This was definitely comfortable. Also vulnerable.. My panties were rolled up inside the slacks upstairs. There I am, suddenly thrust into a strangers arms, and his hard cock is pressing right into my most private area, only a cotton pajama bottom and my tightly clasped legs separating him from what he wanted.
I pulled back but he held me, his hands at the side of the bra, his palms on the bra cups, slowly pushing my breasts together. No.. Noooo. Stop! I looked over at my husband but he had not moved, his expression the same. His hand continued to slowly massage his dick. I looked back at Deacon and he was looking down. I looked down and my breasts were on full display. the only thing the bra was serving to do now was act as a shelf to display my breasts. Again, I turned to Greg; he is seeing me naked, I half yelled, hoping my husband would react. There was no reply from Greg but Deacon's lips were suddenly at my ear again, as they had been weeks ago at the concert. "I have seen you naked many times". I looked into his eyes. What? "Greg has been sharing your pictures with me for almost six months, he half laughed. "I have seen every little part of you." I just stared back into his eyes. He had a smile on his face I will never forget. I looked over at Greg again. He looked even more pathetic. "Did you buy that bra so he could see it?", I asked Greg. Deacon laughed. "He did not buy you that bra. I did". I looked into his eyes. "You did?". "Yup" "You lie, How did you know what size I wear". Again Deacon laughed. "Greg told me, he bragged about your breasts and then I talked him into showing me your pictures and then I made him show me all your bras and all your panties". "We laid them all out on your bed". I could not believe what I was hearing. Deacon laughed again, and I noticed that his hands were not so much holding me to him as they had moved around and under the cups were now holding even higher the cups of the bra, forcing my breasts upward even more. I could have stepped back but I did not. Looking back, I don't know why.. I do remember Deacon saying "34D, when Greg told me 34D and bragged that they don't even sag, I knew I had to hold them. I was not pulling back at all.
Standing there, this iron rod pressed hard right between my legs, a sensation began building.
I was talking to no one in particular; I was staring off into space. I did not want to look at Deacon and I was now too pissed off to look at Greg. You took him into my bedroom; you opened my life to this stranger... You invaded my privacy. How many emotions were running thru me and Deacon was stoking the fire, .. in more ways than one..
Again, Deacon let out that evil laugh. "Greg did more than that". You telling me you did not notice the white stains all over your new bra? I stared back, unknowing where this was going. I stared at this stranger. His thumbs had now moved upwards and were just barely flicking over the button of both nipples. I looked down and they had become erect. His hips were also moving ever so slowly, bumping the head of his erection against my almost unprotected pubic mound.
I had notice white stains on a few of my bras and panties, especially the dark colored ones. I thought I had used too much detergent. Or the washing machine did not rinse properly. I looked up. "Greg invited me to jerk off in your bedroom a few times". No, no, this cant be true. Deacon had turned us slightly so my back was now to Greg. When I looked over my shoulder, Greg would not look at me. Also, as I turned, my left breast pushed further into Deacons hands. I pulled back but he held on, tweaking my left nipple again, sending a shiver thru me. "Its true, Deacon said". "In fact, he helped me, if you know what I mean." Suddenly Greg seemed to come out of his stupor. "That's enough, we said we would not talk about that". Greg was looking up now from the couch. Deacons voice was menacing now.. "I will talk about anything I dame well feel like, you fucken cockold". The word hit me, now I knew where that came from. Deacon went on, a laugh in his voice. "We not going to talk about how you stroked my cock as I shot a gallon of cum into your wife's bra, how you whimpered as I made you keep stroking me or how I made you lick it out after I was finished jerking off into the bra I bought your wife."
I stood in shock. This was too much. I could not take it all in. Probably because as Deacon was revealing acts I could never even dream my Greg would ever dream of, Deacon had begun to rub my bare nipples between his thumb and forefinger and shock waves were shooting through me. As my mind tried in vain to process all that was happening, I became aware of yet another sensation. Deacon had succeeded in moving his 11" pole slightly down and u*********sly, my legs had parted just enough to let this mans cock move between my legs. Deacon was moving his hips slightly, very slightly, forward and back, forward and back. What felt like the huge top of an iron pole was rubbing up and down, up and down, pressing inwards, against the very soft fabric of my cotton pajamas, which was the only thing between Deacons hardness and my vagina.
I stopped writing last week out of shame for what I had done but the desire to confess is overwhelming. Therefore, I will continue.
I stood with Deacon now behind me, looking at the most pathetic husband any woman could ever imagine. I was desirable, I knew that from the looks I would occasionally get from other men but I was also true to my marriage. Now I find that my husband had not been the man I thought he was. He had shown naked pictures of me the Deacon, had brought him into my bedroom and violated my trust, showing him my most personal possessions. Deacon even said my husband had stroked his member, for gods sake. My head spun. I looked down. Deacon held my breasts about the top of the bra now, my large breasts resting in the palms of each of his hands, his fingers now openly massaging my large light pink nipples. Something caught my eye and I looked further down, between my breasts, below my flat stomach. There, below the waistband of my pajama bottom, Deacons member protruded from between my legs, disappearing as it pulled back, then protruding again, at least a few inches before once again pulling back. I looked at my husband in front of me and imagined what a sight we must be. He must be repulsed, I thought, he must not know it that the waves of pleasure were starting to course through my body.
As I stared at the couch, at my husband, still slouched there holding his penis, not moving, his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head. I thought he was having a stroke for a second and then his penis moved slightly and then began to pulse as cum began to ooze from the head of his penis.
I felt Deacons mouth at my ear. Look at that wimp, he said loud enough for my husband to hear. He just came all over himself. I was too stunned to say anything but I remember that Deacon pulled back and for a minute, he let go of my breasts. I actually remember leaning back, missing the pressure of his member between my legs. By the time I felt his hands at my side, pushing down, it was too late. My pajamas landed between my legs and his pole was once again at my ass, now my bare ass, trying once again to work its way back between my legs.
Nooooo, I grunted but the pressure against the back of my legs, was strong. His pole was moving between my legs, no matter how strong I held my legs together. His hands were back at my breasts and it felt good. Really good. I became aware of my husband now whining, telling Deacon to stop.
I really thought that Deacon was trying to slip his cock between my legs as it had been. Deacon had other ideas
The feeling of Deacons fingers on my breasts was overwhelming. I was nearing an orgasm. As Deacons cock moved between my legs, my moisture made it easier to slide. My mind told me that he was going to slide between my legs, as he had a few seconds ago but Deacon was now bending his legs as he pushed forward each time and suddenly his pole pushed up against my opening. He pulled back and pushed again and this time the pole slid the length of my slit and slid over my clit. It was electric. He pulled back again, and when he pushed forward again, the head of his cock, feeling as wide as the top of a can of soup, slid inside of me.
UGH, I must have grunted as the head of his cock entered my vagina and stretched my opening, then pulling it back and then pushed forward again. This time he did not stop at the head. He pushed what seemed like a foot of cock into me before sliding half way out. This time, I pushed my ass backwards, not wanting him to pull it out. All this was not done fast. It was like slow motion. He was being gentle. He pushed forward again and this time it felt like more than double the cock I had gotten on the last thrust. He held it there, not moving. I had never felt anything like that before, I was completely filled. My pussy felt like it was tearing for only a minute, then the hurt began to turn to fireworks throughout my body. His huge balls were hitting my ass as he fucked me. I looked over at my husband and he was still slouched over on the couch, not five feet away. Tears were in his eyes. He was saying something but he was whimpering, low, almost talking to himself. I finally understood what he was saying. "No, stop, you were not supposed to fuck her". It was too much. I was standing straight, not five feet from my whimpering husband, completely naked except for a bra pulled low under my breasts, a bra Deacon had picked out for me, getting fucked from behind by this man, practically a stranger, as my husband watched. Twenty minutes ago I was a good wife and mother. Now I was a whore. And I loved it. My orgasm started deep in my womb, in my pussy, in my cunt. It was the strongest orgasm I had ever had. It started slow and then blasted through me like nothing I had ever felt. In the middle of the orgasm, I turned my head back and Deacon leaned down and our lips met. His tongue was in my mouth, and we kissed as I had not kissed in a long time. My orgasm began to subside and as I turned back, my husband was now standing next to me. Stop, he said, almost forcefully. I looked into his eyes but had no idea what to say. I was no longer in control of my body.
I became aware of Deacon, groaning behind me and then a hose went off inside my pussy as Deacon jettisoned load after load of hot cum deep in my pussy.
Being married for awhile, things become routine. Also, we follow certain routines. I think we all do. All our lovemaking sessions take place in our bedroom. Greg initiates it. Usually about once a month. They always occur just before going to sleep, right after the large flatscreen TV in our bedroom goes off, which is normally around 11:15 at night. If the news is particularly interesting, 11:30. We start with him eating me a little, normally not long enough to orgasm, and then we reposition so that I am lying across his legs, where I lick and then suck his penis. Sometimes he lasts long enough to change position again, in which case, I sit astride him and he fucks me. Most times he cums in my mouth.
After the most passionate lovemaking session, which by the way, you may be able to tell from my description, we have not had in awhile, we always follow a certain routine. Greg always lies in bed afterward while I go get a washcloth for him and then close the door and shower before returning to bed.
Awkward is not a strong enough word to describe what followed in my living room that night. Deacons cum shooting deep in my pussy had unleashed another orgasm that was as powerful as the first. He moved back, slipping out of me and I could feel his seed seeping out and sticky on my outer pussy lips, which seems swollen and engorged. There was Greg, standing there silently, staring at me with a disgust I had never seen before. And there I was, completely naked except for my bra, still hooked, straps pulled down, rolled up over my flat stomach, my large firm breasts standing bare and proud.
Greg and Deacon began to argue. Deacon was insulting and Greg was not winning. Deacon was prodding him, telling his to eat some cream pie and telling him he did not deserve a woman like me. Greg kept on telling Deacon to leave and Deacon was saying he would leave whenever he wanted. All this time, I was picking up my clothes and trying to make a retreat back upstairs.
Nobody was even paying attention to me so I backed up, holding my clothes in front of me until I felt the railing. I turned and slowly started climbing the stairs, feeling juices continue to drip from my pussy. I was about half way up the stairs when I heard Greg, half shouting that he was going to do to June what Deacon had just done to me. Deacon's voice boomed. "You will never touch my wife, you won't even talk to her, if you do, I will kill you". Greg retorted, his voice allot lower, you showed me her pictures, I saw her naked just like you saw Sue. Deacon laughed. "That was pictures I pulled off the net" "My wife is not the whore you made your wife into". "June is a lady". She would never do what your whore did".
So he traded me, I thought. That moron. My hand u*********sly went to my pussy and wiped way a glob of cum that had just exited my pussy lips. I put it to my mouth and licked it off.
I was not mad, I was red hot. I reached behind me and unhooked the useless bra and tossed it aside. Stark naked, I walked back down the stairs and the discussion stopped as I approached. I walked right up to Greg, who was still naked and stood close, so close my pink nipples sc****d across his check. I leaned forward even more and kissed him on the lips. He responded and tried to put his hand on my hip. I stopped him and stepped sideways, in front of Deacon. I knelt down so that his beautiful cock was directly in front of my face and, reaching up, began to stroke it. As it hardened, I opened my mouth and began to suck him back to hardness.
"What are you doing", Greg shouted?
"You wanted a whore, you got one, I retorted."
"I want seconds!"
Anastasia
- 09.05.2021
- 30
- 0
