Kolchak The Nylon Stalker Yule Tide Me Over A Stalking Stuffer
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We Need To Talk Chapter 3 free porn video
Chapter 3
A few days after our conversation my wife beckoned me to the living room
right as I got home from work. She pointed to the floor before her where
I quickly took my place with my head bowed. She lifted my chin with her
finger until our eyes met and sat back against the back of the couch
crossing her legs.
"It's no longer a secret what I'm doing while you're hear toiling away on
your chores, is it?"
"No ma'am."
"Well cuckie, as you probably expect I get a lot of stares when I walk
into a club. I can't help but notice all the guys staring at my legs, my
breasts, my face. I know if I turn around I'll catch them staring at my
hot ass as I strut past them. The problem is, not as many guys are
approaching me as I think should be. I think some of the men are just way
too intimidated by a hot sexy woman, but I also think a lot of guys see
my wedding ring and think I'm a committed wife just out for free drinks.
There's not much I can do about the guys too intimidated to talk to me, I
don't really think I need another submissive little man in my life
anyways, but I do think it's time I stop giving the false impression that
I'm a devoted wife who's not willing to put out, so the real men will
have no reason not hit on me. Don't you agree my devoted little husband?"
I can't help but to look at her left hand resting on her thigh, the large
diamond glimmering in the light.
"Yes ma'am," I reply meekly as a flood of emotions once again take over
my body.
"I want you to take your off your ring and hold it in your right hand,"
my wife says cheerfully.
I had no idea what was going on. A sense of panic flooded my soul as I
was lead down a path only she knew the destination of. It took everything
I had to fight the paralysis taking over and take off my ring. My wife
removed the symbols of her faithfulness from her finger, grabbed my left
hand and placed her engagement ring and wedding ring on my ring finger
like I did to her so many years ago.
"Do you promise to be faithful, and to love, cherish, and to obey me from
this day forward?" my wife asks holding her rings on my finger, staring
down into my eyes; into my soul.
"I do," I said meekly, looking up into her gorgeous eyes, more of my
manhood being taken from me.
"I now pronounce us cuckold and wife," she says with an incredibly wicked
grin.
"You may now kiss your goddess."
I began to move forward to kiss my wife on her lips like I did so many
years ago when we were pronounced man and wife.
"No silly," she laughs, snapping her finger pointing to her foot.
As I begrudgingly lowered my face to once again take my place at her feet
she laid out new rules I was expected to follow without question.
"You will wear your husband ring when you're outside the house, and you
will wear your wife's ring when you are in the house. I had the ring re-
sized just a little so it would fit you. The ring you're not wearing will
be placed lovingly before our wedding pictures. The first thing you will
do when you enter the house from now on is to exchange rings, and the
last thing you will do before you leave the house is to exchange your
rings. Now go ahead cuck, go place your ring before our wedding picture."
I got up, turned around and looked to the mantle that's displayed our
wedding pictures prominently in the living room; I almost broke into
tears when I saw a small statue where our wedding pictures sat since we
moved in this house, that feeling in the pit of my stomach growing as
fear and dread flooded my soul.
"I didn't want the men I brought home to feel uncomfortable so I put the
picture in your room, I hope you don't mind. Now come on, we'll perform
your first ring exchange together."
WHAT THE FUCK!!! She's bringing men HERE???
She grabbed my left hand and led me to my room. My legs felt like jelly,
there would have been no way I could have made this trip alone. Nothing
seemed real. Our wedding pictures were set in a 3 frame display with her
on the left, me on the right, and me kissing the bride at the alter in
the center. She has switched the pictures so that I was on the left, she
was in the center, and we were to the right. A tiny silver tray sat in
front of the pictures.
"You will kiss my picture before you place the ring."
She grabbed a tube of lipstick off my dresser, grabbed my cheeks with her
other hand so my lips were pushed out and began transforming my lips. She
looked so sexy as she puckered up to mock me. She pressed her lips
together blotting her imaginary lipstick, I followed her lead...blotting
my very real lipstick.
"I want you kiss a different part of the picture of me every time you
place your ring on the mantle. Start in the upper left corner and work
your way across and then down...just like a calendar. And just think how
many times you'll get to kiss my face...and then one lucky day each month
you'll get to kiss me on my lips," as her finger traced the outline of
her lips on the picture.
I went to reach for the picture.
"No dear. You will show me the proper respect, even if it is just a
picture. Curtsy and on your knees."
I did as instructed, and as I was trained. After I dropped to my knees I
reached up and gently, lovingly, pressed my soft lips to the hard glass.
The sound of a gentle kiss seemed to echo through the room. I still have
not gotten used to the humiliation at the sound of my lips kissing
inanimate objects. The site of my lipstick stain left on the corner of
the frame, not unlike the lipstick stain on my lips so many years ago. I
glanced at the picture of us, my strong hands gently holding my wife's
slender waist. Her delicate arms draped across my strong shoulders. Our
lips together in tender embrace. I will never forget how she looked up to
me before I kissed her that incredible day, there is absolutely nothing
like a woman's eyes as she stares up at the man she loves. I see how
beautiful she looked back then; I remember how much I loved her back
then. I can't believe how much more beautiful she is today, and how much
more I love her today.
"I love you," I say.
"I know," she says.
I turn my head to look up to her, to look into her eyes. Me, my heart, my
soul, cannot be contained within me...my god....is she seeing in my eyes
what I saw so many years ago.
"No Diane. I truly, deeply, love you with all of my heart, all of my
soul, all of me. I was so in love with you the day we got married, and I
love you a thousand times more today."
My wife looks down at me, compassion showing through her normally
indifferent eyes. She softly places her hand against my cheek.
"I know you do Richie," starring down at me for an eternity.
"You may hold me if you wish."
I quickly turn to face her and wrap my arms around her slender waist,
pressing my face tightly against her stomach. It's difficult to hold her
tightly with my arms raised like they are; I feel like a little boy in
this position. The feeling of her hand rubbing my hair brings me comfort.
The awkward feeling of her diamond digging into my right arm; I don't
want to be reminded of my new reality. I try ignore the fact that my wife
didn't reciprocate my affirmation of love for her, and embrace the
tenderness and warmth of the moment.
"The reason you love me so much is because I have embraced who you are,
and celebrate it. You would have been so unhappy living the typical
mundane vanilla life. The reason you love me so much is because I give
you everything you need, fulfill all your desires, bring your fantasies
to reality, and then I take you beyond what you've imagined. I once heard
that a woman's job is to bring out the greatness within a man...to bring
out his essence. I believe I've done that."
I begin sobbing into my wife's stomach while tender hands cradle and
caress my head and back.
After I have settled down she pulls me to my feet and places her hands on
my waist, forcing my hands to rest upon her shoulders. The look in her
eyes so different today, a predator looking at her prey. Her lips softly
touch mine as she gives me a gentle kiss. I quickly become breathless as
she stares into my eyes, her head slowly approaching mine for another
kiss. Soft lips again touch mine as a tender kiss is shared between
husband and wife. She pulls back and looks deeply into my eyes before her
beautiful face slowly approaches mine, she gently caresses my cheek as
her soft lips gently touch mine, her tongue invades my mouth as her
other hand softly caresses my ass. She breaks the kiss, smiles
seductively while staring deep into my soul. My eyes close as she
approaches me, her lips ever so gently against mine again, her tongue
swirling slowly around my lips. Pain slowly welling within as her teeth
clamp down on my lower lip and she pulls away taking my lip with her
before letting it slap against my teeth, her hands manhandling my ass.
She knows without a doubt the affect this is having on me. She quickly
and effortlessly transforms my pain and doubt to overwhelming desire,
culminating with her hot wet tongue invading my ear.
"At least one of us will honor our vows of obedience and faithfulness,"
my wife whispers in my ear, her hot breath sending shivers through my
body.
"Hurry up and get changed. You need to help me get ready so I can go
consummate our relationship," she states as she walks out of the room.
A couple weeks later I got home from work, but before I could begin my
ritual my wife beckoned me to the living room. She pointed to the floor
where I quickly kneeled and took my place before her, my eyes fixated on
the key dangling from her anklet.
"Do you think it's fair for that guy's always to pay every time we go on
a date?"
"No ma'am."
"Good, then you'll need to get a part time job. You'll work Friday
evening, Saturday and Sunday. Every dollar you make will go to either pay
for my dates with other men, or to buy clothes to seduce them."
"But we make more than enough for you to buy dinner and drinks," I say.
She bends forward and pulls my chin up and stares into my eyes and
whispers lustfully, "It makes me so fucking hot to know you'll be toiling
at some shitty job to pay for my dates. Thinking of you sweating and
suffering for me will make me scream out in an uncontrolled orgasm as
some guy fucks me after I've bought him dinner and drinks with your
money. And what really makes it hot is I won't let you fuck me, you can't
fuck anyone else, and fuck...you can't touch. or even see my silly
little dicklette. Poor little boy - humiliated, suffering, and always
horny. God this is so fucking hot! Is my little dicklette trying to get
hard?"
"Yes ma'am it is."
She reached down and slowly pulled her first and middle fingers between
her legs while letting out a gasp, then she seductively wiped her wet
dripping fingers under my nose and on my lips the same way, leaving
behind a thick trail of her juices. She snaps her finger and points to
her crotch. I immediately bury my face into her dripping wet cunt. She
grabs my hair and grinds my mouth and nose deep within her, my well
trained tongue rubs against her clit. After a minute she quickly pulls my
hair back so I'm forced to look up to her.
"I've already set up an interview for you at the The Sanctuary on 4th and
Market. The manager is expecting you in 15 minutes, and you better get
this job. Don't you dare wash your face. Now run along while I take care
of this itch."
I can feel my face soaked in her juices.
I rush down to The Sanctuary and ask the cute young maitre d' for an
application. There's no escape from the musty smell that is engulfing my
senses.
"Are you Richie?" the young woman asks?
"Yes, but please call me Rick."
"Sure," she says smiling. "Come with me."
She escorts me to a small table in the kitchen and hands me an
application.
"The manager will interview you when she's ready."
What the fuck!
I have head hunters calling me!
I interview companies, they don't interview me!
What do you mean when she's ready???
We had an appointment now!
I filled out the application and I waited. I waited, and waited.
About an hour later an incredibly beautiful woman walked toward me and
reached out her hand. "Hi Richie, I'm Ms. Benoit."
I stood up and shook her hand. "Hello Ms. Benoit. Nice to meet you."
She escorted me back to her office. After we sat down she asked me if I
was there for the dishwasher job. The whole conversation was very
humiliating. I was very self-conscious as I wondered if she could smell
my wife's pussy juice. She asked me tell her why I wanted the job, and
why she should hire me. I wasn't ready for any of this...but somehow I
convinced her that I would be a great dishwasher, that I would work
really hard, and do everything I was told to do.
I could barely look her in the eyes as she told me what my duties would
be, how hard I was expected to work, what I was expected to wear, that I
would make minimum wage, that I should never be seen in the restaurant
area by the customers...and that I needed to work on my personal hygiene,
and I was hired. I began to sweat, my face felt like it was on fire as I
nodded in agreement. After I thanked her for the job she simply stated
"You'll start tomorrow at five thirty."
Fuck, I wasn't ready for any of this. I needed time to comprehend what
was going on. I would have to rush from my job to get here. While
everyone else would be looking forward to relaxing and having fun after a
long week of work, I would be dreading a long weekend toiling as a lowly
dishwasher.
"Thank you ma'am," I replied.
Fuck, what the hell was that? I never called anyone but my wife ma'am!
But the way she was talking to me...at me really, the way I had to
almost beg for the job, just put me in my place. She just gave me a
subtle smile that signified the meeting was over.
A week after I started my job I received my first check. When I came home
my wife called me into the dining room before I had a chance to start my
ritual. I was exhausted and I just really wanted to shower and go to bed.
When I turned the corner and saw my wife I froze. She was dressed in one
of her many dominatrix outfits. My eyes lowered to the tips of her calf
length, open toe and open heeled boots. I was speechless as I slowly
looked up from her leather boots to her well toned nylon clad thighs, one
of which was concealed by her knee length leather skirt, the other side
fully exposed by the slit in her skirt. I felt myself grow ever weaker
as I took in her sexy black leather jacket which was offset by her white
blouse. Leather gloves holding a riding crop. I just stood there like an
idiot, unable to move or say anything.
She walked the rest of the way across the room and grabbed me by my cheek
like a teacher would grab a little boy. "Strip down to your girly things
and present me your check bitch," she ordered sensually, waking me out of
my trance.
After my clothes were removed and neatly folded in the corner I kneeled
before her, head bowed and both arms raised with the check resting on my
hand. I caught a glimpse of her key clipped to her boot zipper. I stared
at her sexy toes poking out of her wicked hot boots. My neck hurt, my
arms were struggling as they held out my paltry offering.
After a moment her sexy boots disappeared from my site, quickly followed
by the weight of her legs pressing down on my back.
"How do you like your new job boy?"
"I hate it ma'am. It's very hard and demeaning."
I was struggling to stay in position. I could hear the sound of a
magazine page turn as she relaxed on the couch, her legs resting on her
ottoman.
"You smell like garbage," she stated.
I can hear her sipping her drink and flipping pages of a magazine.
"You better do whatever it takes to keep this job. If you lose it I'll
make your life a living hell," she stated.
"Do you wonder what I'm doing while you're toiling away? God, it must
really suck working your ass off while your imagination runs
wild...wondering where your wife is, wondering what she's doing,
wondering who she's with....wondering....who....is....fucking....
your.....wife," she says very sensually, sexually. Her voice soft and
husky.
My arms begin to shake as they struggle to stay up. I can smell the musky
scent of her feminine juices.
"Oh my god, I can't believe how fucking hot this is. I feel like I'm
going to have an orgasm without even touching myself!" she says
excitedly.
She finally grabs the check from my hand and I lower my aching arms.
"Worship my boot bitch, and don't you dare let your lips touch my toes,"
she states, plopping a boot right in front of my face.
I pay reverence to her boot with my lips. The pressure immediately begins
to build as her little dicklette tries to swell in the unrelenting steel
tube. I hear the envelope being ripped open and the check being removed.
"Wow, this is pathetic. This won't even cover dinner and drinks."
She drops the check and a pen on the floor.
"Sign it cuck. Sign over all your hard earned money so I can take some
stud out on a date. After you sign it kiss the key to your cummies and
then present your check. This is going to be our new weekly ritual."
My life is made up of hundreds of these little rituals. Rituals which
reinforces my status and our dichotomy, rituals made to get me turned on,
rituals made to emasculate me, rituals made to relive my humiliation over
and over again, rituals that feed my kinky desires, rituals that keep me
beholden to her.
One of the rituals we used to have is that every time I worshiped her
shoes I would get an orgasm. So not only was she allowing me to engage in
one of my fetishes, but using it to condition my mind to equate kissing
her shoes with getting to fuck her. I have long ago stopped getting laid
after every time I kiss her shoes, but her silly little dicklette will
only get touched after I properly worship her shoes and feet. She has
effectively conditioned my mind to equate kissing her shoes and boots
with getting an orgasm, just like our making-out did so many years ago.
After she removes the check from my hand she grabs a fistful of hair and
shoves my face between her legs. I can't believe how hot and wet she is
already. The mixture of her juices and the smell of leather heighten my
already overloaded desire. Times like this are the only times I'm allowed
to touch her and I can't help but to reach up and stroke her well toned
thighs. All my desires, all my passion, all of who I am emanates from my
groin and comes out of my tongue, my hands.
"You're dismissed," she says as she pushes my head away from her before
I'm able to bring her to an orgasm.
I carry my uniform and shoes to my bedroom and begin my routine of
exchanging rings. I'm exhausted, devastated, and incredibly aroused. I
reach down between my legs and rub my hands against the infernal steel
plate; my heart drops into my stomach as I hear the garage door opening
and my wife's BMW starting up. I can't fucking believe she's going out
dressed like she is, and I know she's incredibly horny...every fucking
guy in the city will be lining up for a chance to talk to her, a chance
to grind their disgusting crotch against her's on the dance floor...a
chance to fuck her. I, however, will not be one of those guys. The only
guy in the whole fucking city that has absolutely no chance to fuck my
hot wife...is her husband.
I take off my nylons before I take a quick shower to wash away the slime
from work. I take at my room as I put on my teddy, wondering if it's
possible to be any more humiliated, emasculated. I crawl into my stupid
princess bed and pull the pink sheets over me noting how sexy the sheets
sliding against my smooth skin and silky teddy feel. A movie plays in my
mind, replaying the scene I just experienced. The way she looked, the way
she smelled as vivid as a few moments ago. She's so incredibly beautiful,
smooth silky thighs against expensive leather, sexy hot boots that show
off her naked toes, her naked heel. Fuck it's amazing how sexy those
boots are. God I want her SO FUCKING BAD!
I can't help but to rub the steel plate with two fingers in a feeble
attempt for any stimulation, any sexual relief. My heart sinks as my mind
places her in a nightclub surrounded by men. I curl up into the fetal
position and my heart sinks yet again as my wife's engagement rings digs
into my knees, and yet again as I remember how fucking horny she was when
she left the house. I don't have much time to wallow in the realization
of my existence as physical and emotional exhaustion overtakes me, and
the images fade away...only to be replaced by vivid dreams.
Virginia
- 11.02.2021
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