Striking Midnight

[Don Jetman]

Striking Midnight

by Don Jetman



~1~

It had been a years of firsts for us. L took a regular lover at work, something she was formerly reluctant to do. Later, she
seduced a very large bodybuilder-type at out gym, then went to bed with both him and his friend. They let me watch that, tied
to a chair, my favorite fantasy. After many years of hotwifing, L discovered random sport-fucking was both fun and freeing,
and finally felt confident enough to let the bad-girl inside her run wild. It was also a year of ups and downs. Each time L
pushed the envelope, we later went through an equally long stretch of convention. It was as though we consumed every drop
of libido in the blaze of each adventure, then cooled to a total loss of interest for an equal amount of time. Such was the case
with the holidays approaching, and finishing last minute projects at work left little time for sex at all. We didn't think too much
about it. We always travel to the neighboring state to visit relatives during the holidays anyway, so not needing another man
in L's bed seemed to come at the right time. Until Dave reminded us we did.

Dave is L's very first lover, a guy we've become friends with over the years, and who repeatedly reenters our lives at just the
right times. Three days before New Year's he emailed L and asked if we wanted to party at his place on New Year's Eve. His
parties are legendary (at least in our book), so we accepted his invitation, cut our family visit short, and flew down to stay with
him for a few days. The chemistry between L and him is always hot, I think because by now they're so comfortable together,
and one of my favorite pastimes is watching him parade her around at parties as though they are truly a couple. And, well, he
bought our tickets at the last minute which couldn't have been cheap. It also meant he had plans for L (or just really missed
fucking her).

When we arrived that evening, I discovered he really had plans for me as well - especially for me. After a few drinks, he
explained that this time he wanted me to give L up to him completely. I said I couldn't think how to do that in a way I hadn't
done before. I had not only watched Dave fuck her, in his bed, buy the pool, hell, just about everywhere, but had watched
several of his friends do the same, once in front of a select group of couples at an after-party. I had willingly let him "own" her
for stretches of time when she visited him alone, and found her still his "slave" for a while even after she returned. What more
could I do?

That's when he brought the small box to L and told her to open it. It was gift wrapped in Christmas paper, with a big red bow
and small card attached. L read the card, couldn't suppress a grin, and opened it. I guessed she was a co-conspirator as she
tried to fit the small plastic tube over my dick. Dave gave her instructions while she knelt in front of me, my pants hanging at
my knees, her fingers spreading cold jelly-like material over my dick. She struggled a bit (L was never mechanically inclined),
and eventually found parts that fit after trying what seemed like every plastic piece in the box. It didn't help that I kept getting
hard while she worked, but after lots of trial and error, I was wearing my first cock-cage. These things always looked like they
would be uncomfortable. I was right. Sleeping with the thing on me was like a kick in the nuts at times the first night.

Dave explained that his truly owning my wife while we were there meant I had to make the ultimate sacrifice. "I have no
doubt that you masturbate while I'm fucking her," he told me. "Not that I don't appreciate you giving her to me every night -
but to me, it's just not truly giving her to me if you get sex from it too. You like it too much. You get off on it, on imagining me
fucking her, and that's not really giving up everything she is to you. You still get sex with her, in your head. I want all of her
when she's here, Don. I won't allow you to use her in your fantasies to get off. You can love her as a husband while you're
here, but you can't be part of her sex life in any way. I want you to be more of a brother or friend to her while you're here,
and I think L would like that too while she and I are together."

I couldn't see through the expression on L's face. I never know how much of these things are planned between them, but I
guessed L was now playing this partly on her own. I doubted she even knew what a cock-cage was before Dave shared his
plans with her. She looked, not shocked exactly, but maybe a bit confused, or at least undecided. She was sitting beside him
on the sofa. I sat across from them, watching him hold her hand. The jeans I had worn were too tight to get the plastic
contraption inside, so my jeans and belt were open with the cage exposed. The humiliation was instant and intense. He had
my wife. They were a couple. And for all intents and purposes, I was their eunuch, waiting for my wife to admit she wanted
me castrated, at least for the length of our stay.

"I know how worked up you get," she told me. "But can you try this, at least while we're here? I think Dave's right. I don't feel
like he and I are totally together when I know you're in your room masturbating while he and I have sex. You know I love you,
but sometimes I fantasize about him as my husband and you as our friend. It's just fantasy, but I do. I've helped make your
fantasies real - can't you help make mine real this time?"

Had I not been part of Dave's games in the past, it would have been too much. But I knew L had been more aggressive the
past year, enough so that she'd easily fall into the part he had her play. Her teasing had become more real, more to the core
of the humiliation I was growing to crave. She had learned to play the slut convincingly, even throwing things once taboo to
her in my face. She was fucking a guy at work at the office after hours and taking two bodybuilders at once, moaning while I
watched. Was it so hard to believe - that she sometimes fantasized about Dave and me in opposite roles, him her mate and
me her loving "friend"? She was piling on in her usual devious way, and I partly loved the way it stung. It sounds bizarre, but it
was working. I didn't know exactly why.

[Don Jetman]

~2~

It had been a long night for me. Turning the wrong way as I slept put my nuts in a vise until I found a position that worked. Out
of pure frustration, I quietly climbed the stairs to the hallway leading to Dave's bedroom, saw that his door was open, and
leaned against the wall six feet from the door.

There was a light on in his room, but I was too far away to peer in. All was quiet. Just as I was wondering how long I might
have to stay there to hear them, L walked through the door and into the hall. She made a little noise when I startled her, and I
heard Dave ask if she was OK. She just smiled at me, looked down where the cage made a large mound in my shorts, then
answered that she just tripped in the dark. Then she put a finger to her lips (shhh) and continued down the hall to the stairs. I
inched back along the wall and ducked into a second bedroom, hoping Dave wouldn't follow her.

She came back carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses, paused to take a look into the room where I was hiding,
smiled again, then returned to his room. So, she wasn't going to out me, or chase me back to my room. But would she tell
Dave I was there, secretly making their conversation not as private as it would have been had I not been spying? There was
really no way to tell. So I stayed, eventually making my way back into the hallway not far from the open door. I knew the mix
of silly and sexy L got from champagne, and felt the cage twitch.

"Do you really plan to keep him in that thing until we leave?" I heard her ask.

"Let's see how he handles it," he told her. "If I read him right, he's more submissive than he lets on. You need to play to that.
It's what we've been working on, isn't it? Besides, I think you love it - you can be such a mean little bitch -"

The champagne cork popped, and after that things got quiet. Soon I heard little gasps and "mmmm"s from L. Soon after that
the light went out, and I listened to them fuck. I found that the small tube of the cage was not the only erection killer - the
rings clamped against my balls as my cock strained inside the tube, and that was enough to kill my hard-on for the foreseeable
future. It was then that the full force of the game hit me. Hearing them fuck was exquisitely exciting, but knowing my erection
would never happen in spite of it made me feel so useless, in fact, more like a loving friend to L than a sexy husband. All that
happened in those minutes as I stood against the wall. It was very strange, and more foreign than any thoughts I previously
had of what it might be like. But I still couldn't move or walk away.

It was then I heard Dave say, "Are you married, you little slut?" Jesus - he was panting and growling when he talked to her.

"No - " I heard her tell him. Her voice was throaty, the word cut off by a sudden gasp.

"You don't have a husband?" he went on.

"No - " she told him a second time.

"You belong to me now?" he asked.

"God yes - only you..."

I stayed and listened until they both came, and listening to the sounds they made, I was sure they came at the same instant. L
and I come together now and then, but I wondered - could he do that every time he fucked her? Was he that good? I thought
back to those times with her, and how she did love it when I exploded inside her at the moment of her own orgasm. It always
took things up a notch for her the second I came - the sudden thrashing of her head, her hips bucking against mine at double
the usual ferocity. But L never confessed that he had this particular skill in bed, only that he was very skilled. I had always been
more interested in the size of her lovers, not whether they could come on demand.

I'm not sure whether I had heard more than I had wanted to hear, or that I just felt guilty for spying, but I had had enough and
returned to my own room to try to sleep and forget. Although the cage didn't help me sleep, it did remind me that what I had
heard was about the two of them, and not about me at all. I remembered Dave's words - "Let's see how he handles it...".
Strange as it sounds, I resolved to handle it just fine, to be the watcher while we were in his house, and to give him L willingly
and completely. At a certain level, I refused to be a pussy, to give up, whining and complaining - not that many men would
understand that. Maybe it was a piece of my manhood I refused to sacrifice.

[Don Jetman]

~3~

The party was pretty much as I expected. We've been to a lot of these, and by now know many of Dave's friends. That means
they also know L and me, and about our relationship with Dave. Still, there are always a few new men to ogle L and to take
their chances with her, predictably learning that I'm her husband but that she's her own woman. It's the best part for me.
Who will seduce her? Hell, it could just as easily be the other way around these days.

L's only lament about our trip was that she didn't have time to buy a new party dress. Dave took care of that. They were up
and out of the house early the morning after we arrived, before I was even awake. She left a short note:

Don,
Went shopping with David.
Thanks for being patient with me.
L.

She had drawn a little heart after her initial. Cute, but loaded with intentional ambiguity. I didn't know if the salutation was
her idea or Dave's, but I didn't care, much. I understood the game by then.

They returned by noon with bags and boxes, no doubt all clothes for L. Dave did love dressing her, and frankly has been
responsible for her much sexier wardrobe these days. She was wearing things in public she would never wear at my
suggestion before. It bothered me at first, that he could change her attitude so easily when I couldn't. But I learned to
appreciate the change in her, and how men loved to undress her with their eyes wherever we went together. God knows what
kind of attention she got when she was on her own. She didn't even have to speak. She could flirt with her body as though it
was a weapon no man could defend against. Clothes were just additional decoration on the bait, and the total package was
mouth-watering.

I wasn't the first to see L in the new clothes Dave bought her. He had a habit of secreting her away before these parties,
especially when he took credit for dressing her. It was only after everyone had arrived that he led her down the stairs, hand in
hand for everyone to see. It certainly played to his Svengali image (which he loved to promote), but the undertones were clear
to L and me. He knew the ambivalence it created in me; watching their entrance showed everyone he owned her, that she
was in fact a vision of his making for the evening. Yet it excited me to recognize the expressions of so many people who knew I
was her husband. There were, by now, all the knowing smiles of couples we had met before, along with the predatory gaze of
men who had yet to discover she was my wife. Then there was L's adoring smile as she held his hand, descending the stairs in
clothes I had never seen, clothes that always revealed the best of her, a body decorated for attention, flirtation, and sex. I was
merely a name on his guest list, maybe even less. I had no chance of seducing her, only the opportunity of watching other
men try their best. And on that night, the cage reminded me that fantasies of seducing her myself were farther from reality
than ever before.

Her dress was red - not a shade off of fire itself. L never dressed in red. She'd tell me it wasn't her color. Dave convinced
everyone it was, in an instant. It was almost too much to take in at first - the tiny dress, her stunning body, bright, shining eyes
that feigned modesty but betrayed her excitement and adoration for the man beside her. There was so much skin. The deeply
cut V plummeted nearly to her navel, opening wide enough at the shoulders to display the delicate lines of her collar bones,
and just below, an enticing view of the inner curves her breasts. The dress flared from the cinched waist, rising and dancing as
she took each step down the stairs. High on the stairs, I was sure I'd be able to tell whether she was wearing panties - the
hem barely covered her upper thighs. I suppose I wasn't quick enough, or the light wasn't right, but I could never quite tell.
Maybe any one of the other men had seen between her legs at the right moment, but it hadn't been me. Or perhaps my
attention had been on her face then, searching intently for signs she may have been completely owned by him, or at least
deliriously happy. Her eyes practically guaranteed both at the same time.

Dave and L mingled as I had seen them do on many other occasions. The couples who knew her greeted her warmly; the men
L met for the first time openly flirted with her, even with Dave beside her. I had seen Dave stand his ground against the best
players at the height of their game, but knew that later, when L was alone, a few of the more persistent ones would be
sniffing around her, testing the territory, some even offering her the best cock she's ever had. There was a time I detested
these types. These days, honestly, I envied them a little. They had no fear, and most had the physiques and good looks to
hedge their bets. L's shield against the most talented players, her claim that she needs a certain chemistry for a first-time fuck,
eventually fractures and fails when she meets one of these types, especially these days. I can never predict it - the time, the
place, or the guy. It's a chink in my armor that I've learned to accept, even when I don't like her surprising choice.

I watched her later, from a safe distance, after Dave left her to her own defenses. They approached her almost right away,
one by one, predictably winning her attention with confident, handsome smiles and easy banter. The worst of it was not being
able to hear how they tried to manipulate and flatter her, trying their best to dip their cocks into her by the end of the
evening. The best was seeing her eyes light up when I thought the chemistry might be working - how her soft, welcoming
touches encouraged them, signaling her potential physical surrender.

A tap on my shoulder interrupted my fantasies as I watched L and her suitors. She was tall, easily my own height, with straight,
dark hair that fell nearly to her waist. We met at a previous party - well, perhaps "met" is a much too formal word for our time
together back then. Jing and I watched together as a well-muscled guy fucked L during a very late night orgy of sorts, right
there in Dave's living room. She was a biochemist, and I remembered how our first meeting began - two scientists skirting the
obvious sexual attraction with tech-talk, with me thinking her inner geek was equal to my own. Her thoughts, I would
discover, were much more exotic. Her husband was many years older, and suffered from frequent impotence that went hand-
in-hand with his age. So he willingly shared her and she skillfully cuckolded him, an arrangement that apparently worked for
them. The swift, practiced shift from articulate academic to wicked Domme had won me over in seconds, and my cage filled a
bit as I recalled the sensation of her silky thighs and breasts under my fingers.

"I know watching her is half the fun, but don't you want to play too?" She had an uncanny talent for the perfect first words.

I tried to back away a bit as she hugged me, but she pressed against me and refused to let go. To my embarrassment, I
guessed she felt the cage, and was then was sure of it when she whispered in my ear, "I see she's locked you up. Have you
been a bad boy?" She pressed harder against me, moving her hips slightly, working the cage back and forth as my dick began
to rage inside it. She finally backed off and looked at me, smiling at the painful bulge in my dress pants. "I can't say I blame
her," she told me. "You must learn to behave - you know that, don't you?"

We talked for a while. The white sheath she wore exposed every inch of her long legs when she sat. It was so thin and tight
against her slim torso I was sure she was naked under it. Every time I turned my head to look across the room for L she'd turn
me back with her hand against my cheek, always with some brief remark.

"She wouldn't want you spying on her."

"Don't look - you could never compete with him."

"Why torture yourself?"

I told her it was hardly torture - that I loved watching men hit on her. (What I didn't tell her was that the only torture was the
damned cage cutting into my nuts.)

"Oh, my sweet boy, the real torture will come when you realize that all these men can satisfy her more completely than you
can - eventually she'll only want them to fuck her. That's why she put you in the cage."

It was "Domme talk" - I knew that. But she made it sound so real, so sexy, that it cracked my confidence a bit, slicing into it as
though she was able to extract the tiniest sliver of defense guarding what I needed to be true. Was L preparing me for chastity
while she so easily sport-fucked these days? Of course not. But for a few seconds, Jing actually made me feel it may happen.
She didn't know L at all. But the seed was planted. And the damned cage was a constant reminder.

Jing eventually joined her husband, I went back to spying on L from my spot at the bar, and Dave took L under his wing again,
holding her close with an arm around her waist. There seemed to be more intimacy between them. I watched her rest her
head against his shoulder now and then, look up at him and smile when they were alone, and eventually raise her open mouth
to kiss him for just a second before they stopped and turned to talk to another couple.

When the magic hour came, I was overwhelmed when L showed up beside me, delivering the deepest, longest kiss she had
given me in months - or maybe even the entire waning year. I had thought about standing by myself at midnight, watching
the others celebrate with passion, maybe even watching L and Dave embrace as I was sure he'd want to do as a show of
ownership, and although I'm not overly sentimental, the prospect did foreshadow some sadness on my part. I don't know why
I ever doubt L, although Dave's games sometimes make it easier, especially when she appears to be so completely taken by
him. I often think she knows me better than I know her, or maybe I'm just more transparent. In any case, she never fails to
remind me that she has her limits, and always considers what mine might be as well. As much of a nagging reminder the cage
had become, for those few minutes, I didn't mind it at all, even when she closed her hand over it as we kissed.

As the party wound down and the guests left, it appeared that although the wolves had tracked, cornered L, and licked their
chops during the night, the very last of them vanished without dipping their cocks into her after all. I wondered whether she
had fended each and every one of them off, or whether Dave's protective intimacy had chased them away. I also wondered if
I'd ever really know for sure.

After the last guest departed, the three of us sat in near darkness, L beside him on the sofa, me in my usual chair across from
them. My head was swimming a bit from raiding his best single malt scotch through the night (a favorite I knew he stocked for
my benefit), but I had taken care to pace myself. L was tipsy as well, but appeared more relaxed and happy than intoxicated.

Then, after a prolonged silence, more pregnant with anticipation than awkwardness, Dave said, "Well, maybe we should go to
bed and leave all this for tomorrow." He took L's hand and headed for the stairs to his bedroom. But then he stopped, looked
back at me, and said, "You can come too. I know you like to watch."

And follow them I did. He didn't give any instructions or orders. He just began undressing L, and I soon found they were both
ignoring me. I didn't know quite what to do, so I backed away quietly and watched. This was the room where he took her so
often, maybe even where she imagined she was his bride, and he her husband. It was the room where he took photos of her,
naked, posed to entice his special friends to devour her at his next party. She had shared this bed with him while I was in his
basement guestroom and when I was a thousand miles away those times she visited him alone. I was sure she knew this room
so well. But it was a fabled place to me, where so often I imagined her cries and moans echoing off the walls, her orgasms so
intense and frequent that even Dave had lost count of how many times she begged him to finish her.

I watched them fuck. No one would have mistaken it for "making love". She sucked him so lovingly, then soon with purpose
and determination. She never once looked at me, but stopped several times, gripping his cock tightly at the base, staring at it,
as if to show me what she had done, promising what it would do to her. She rode him with her back to me, her round little ass
plunging up and down on his cock without a hint of modesty or inhibition. He fucked her on her hands and knees, slowly,
violently, every way I could imagine him doing her. With her hips in the air, taking whatever he gave, she lowered her cheek to
the pillow and moaned - again and again.

"Don - come over - come closer." He had stopped fucking her and knelt on the bed between her legs. I had turned a chair
from his desk to face the bed and had opened my pants to try to relieve the pressure of the cage after what I had watched
caused some weak-kneed dizziness. I went to the foot of the bed, not knowing what he had in mind.

"Touch her, Don. Feel how wet she is."

Jesus - her head was still resting on the pillow, her ass in the air with knees apart, and I could see she was swollen and soaked.
She shivered when I put the tip of my finger inside her.

"Oh, go ON, Don. Feel inside her. Don't be such a pussy. You've had your fingers inside her before, haven't you?"

My finger went into her like I was dipping it into water. She was dripping onto the duvet as I pushed all the way into her, so
much so I wondered if he had come in her. When I moved it lightly over her labia and clit, she moaned again.

"Be honest, Don. Has she even been that wet for you?"

It was a gaming question, one right out of an old script that had been written and recited a thousand times. I was supposed to
submit to his prowess, admit I had never made her this wet, and we'd go on. So, I confessed out loud - "No, she's never been
this wet with me." Was it a lie? Actually, I wasn't quite sure.

"Go on, Don. Play with her a little. Show me how good you are at what she likes."

Now it was my turn. I ran my finger up and own over each of her swollen outer lips and watched them twitch. I went all the
way inside her with two fingers and pressed down firmly, toward her belly, and she moaned again. I withdrew, opened the
same two fingers slightly, and eased them along each side of the rubbery stalk of her clit.

"No! Nooo! Pleeease! Don't!" she sobbed suddenly. She was shivering more violently, and I realized she was trying with
everything she had to hold back her orgasm. I pulled away quickly and looked at Dave. He was smiling.

"That's for me, Don. She wants that from me now - from my cock. And I think she wants you to know that. Yours is quite
unavailable at the moment, isn't it?"

There wasn't much to say. I slipped off the bed and headed back to my chair.

"Oh, I think you've seen all we want you to see tonight, Don. You know I'll take good care of her for the rest of the night, don't
you?"

Shit. I even begged him to let me stay. I appealed to his ego, claiming to want to learn how he fucks her so much better than I
do. Could I watch the more intense orgasm she has with him, just so I might remember after we leave? But my best begging
wasn't good enough.

"Didn't you hear her, Don? She doesn't want you here when she comes. She wants you to imagine it, to obsess about it, but
she'll never let you know what it's really like when she comes with me tonight. You might be sorry if you knew."

Dave could be an ass at times. Well, maybe not an ass, but he could get under my skin when I least wanted it. Maybe I
couldn't get relief while we were here, but I thought the least I deserved was to see L satisfied. I couldn't get myself off, or
even get hard, but I wanted to take away the image of her face when she came, that instant when it felt like I had given her at
least part of the joy she experienced in those few unforgettable seconds. It was a new form of frustration I wasn't prepared
for.

"Good night, Don. And don't let us catch you hiding in the hallway again. L wouldn't like it - she tells me everything."

I spent the first night of the new year banished to my room, trying my best to imagine how well my wife was being fucked, out
of sight and sound, two floors above me. Dave's always had this way of unwinding L's fantasies, then mine, twisting them into
his own, spinning all three into some game L and I expect but never completely imagine. He pushes us, too far sometimes.
Later, hindsight tells us it was just far enough. The cage still hurt, but I found it was nervous frustration that would keep me
from sleeping most of the night. I could stay in the game - I was sure of that. I just wasn't sure whether later, when it was
over, "too far" would still be "just far enough".

[Don Jetman]

~4~

It's late and a little dark, and he leads us to a booth in the back corner. It sits alone alongside a narrow passageway that
separates it from the end of the bar. It's secluded from customers, but not from the waiters and waitresses using the passage
to go back and forth to the kitchen carrying trays of food out to the main room.

L slides in first, then he beside her. I sit across from them after they take their seats - like a friend, a third wheel on their date -
but already know where he'd want L. He's chosen her clothes (and probably dressed her with his own hands) while I imagined
them together in his bedroom. She's wearing a simple white, long-sleeved blouse, short gray skirt, and matching silver-gray
heels that make her calves tighten into little balls when she walks. Her hips sway just enough to make my mouth water. Across
the table I can see the outline of her nipples through the blouse. It's unbuttoned halfway down the front, enough to tease me,
but not enough to let me see more than a little of the upper curves of her breasts.

He orders drinks for the three of us, martinis all around. It's not my drink, and I doubt L has ever had one. It's his drink, and it's
clear it's his game, his rules. L takes a sip and wrinkles her nose. I take a sip, recall the unwelcome taste, the sharp piney sting
and salty olives, a memory from the long past. He looks at me, unflinching, with a hint of a satisfied smile.

"I suppose it's been hard on you this weekend. I mean, we've never locked you up before when L and I are together. Is it close
to what you expected?"

We've stayed with him in his home before, L sharing his bed while I slept in a downstairs guest room. "Owning her" had meant
letting him have her, letting him dress her, letting him parade her in public, letting him fuck her repeatedly in his bed, and at
times letting him share her with his friends. Yes, the pangs of submissiveness and humiliation were delicious. Yes, I jerked off
in my room while they fucked. And yes, sometimes I'd get to watch, even when his friends that took her were men neither L
nor I knew for more than a few hours before they enjoyed her body. But this time was different. He and L had obviously
planned it, or L was at least an accomplice. That night, when she slipped the small plastic cage over my shrinking penis, L
looked fascinated, and just a little too pleased as she closed the cold, hard contraption and fastened the lock with a miniature
key.

"It's - it's more uncomfortable than I expected, that's for sure," I answered.

"I know how excited you get when L and I fuck," he said, "so how was it when you couldn't play with yourself when L and I
were alone together?"

I can't even describe it with words. By the second night a kind of nervousness had set it, and by the third I was knotted up
inside, trying to find some way to find relief. After a while the beginnings of erections, repeatedly crammed into the hard
plastic, began to subside even before the cage confined them, as though somehow the little guy knew it was futile. I leaked
pre-come everywhere - more than I thought possible. But the nervous frustration was relentless, and my thoughts were
always about L and him together. The more time passed, the more perverted the acts I imagined them enjoying. But the cage
became an erection killer, refusing to let the mental obsession manifest itself in any kind of physical pleasure. It's more than I
can explain to him, especially in a public place.

"I'm, um, just really nervous, and I guess mentally exhausted," I told him. "I guess I've never given her up to you so completely
before. It seems so - final."

I look up to see our waiter standing at the table, for how long I'm not sure. He moves our drinks from his tray to the table and
asks sheepishly if he can get us anything else. Has he heard me? He's staring at L, waiting for her answer. Dave lets him stare
for a few seconds, then dismisses him.

"Open another button on your blouse, L," he says.

She looks slightly startled, and asks, "Really?"

"For me, L," he tells her.

And she does it. No pause, no objection - just a quick twist of thumb and finger to expose another two inches of skin. It isn't
indecent. The fabric of the blouse simply falls against her, the button hiding behind the edge of the material.

"Now another one, for me and your husband," he says.

And she obeys him again, this time letting her blouse open halfway between her nipples and navel. This time it is obvious. The
open edges pucker and fall away from her, showing me the deep inner curves of her breasts across the table. I imagine the
view from the side, her nipples on display for anyone who passes. My nervousness is amplified as I glance around the room to
see if our waiter is nearby. I finger my glass, my stomach in knots, worrying that he will get more than a fleeting look inside
her blouse when he returns.

"I hope you know how fortunate you are," Dave tells me after downing the last of his drink. "I've been surprised for years now
how hungry she is for sex. Always. When we first met, I assumed she was just neglected, or maybe had these fantasies she
needed to act out. But I think it's more. The things she does to a man, the way her body responds, no, not responds, pursues
and attacks are better words. She's a natural, so adept, so quick to suck it all in, every obscene act I can think of, then spit it
right back out at me again with a vengeance. Well, and then there's her pussy. Over all the years you've been married, have
you appreciated how tight she is, how she can grasp a cock inside her like a fist, milk it, and show such pleasure on her pretty
face while she does it? I've just never seen another woman like her - especially a married one whose husband is willing to give
all that to another man."

I can see L's nipples harden under her blouse, and my cage is straining under a renewed pressure I hadn't felt for at least a
day.

"Why don't you tell her? Let her know how much you appreciate her? Let her know how sexy she is to every man who looks at
her? Take this opportunity, Don. Tell her to open another button. Put your heart and soul into it."

She's blushing now, looking straight into my eyes for the first time tonight. I realize she wants this. She'll risk public
embarrassment, taunting a young waiter she's never met, humiliating me in front of him, why? Because it pleases Dave? It's
become everything to her tonight - maybe everything much more often than I care to imagine. I picture her using her body in
the ways he describes, in contortions, with the "vengeance" Dave claims, a vengeance I may possibly have never seen. So I tell
her.

"Open another button, L. Please?"

Again there is no hesitation. In fact, she seems to take even more pleasure in it. Her fingertips seem more sensuous, slowly
massaging the smooth button through the yielding slit. And then, does she tug slightly at the open seam, or does it open on its
own, baring her to her navel? Her breasts nearly pour out into the dim overhead light. I search for a hint of modesty or
embarrassment on her face, but she's looking at him, not me. Is she breathing more deeply intentionally to flaunt her breasts?
Or is it her adoring worship of him that's quickening her breath, making her wet, making her desperate for his hard cock inside
her at that very moment as I watch? I know how I see her - my wife, so fresh, so loving, so tempted by him to do everything he
asks. I know how he sees her - my wife, out of control, hungry for sex with him, openly slutting in front of her husband. If only
I knew her mind, whether she sees herself as he does or I do, or someone else entirely.

She sees the waiter approaching again and pulls her blouse closed. Still, she can't hide that the buttons are undone, that she's
undressing for someone. He brings a second round of drinks, and I catch him staring at her again. Surely he can see inside her
blouse; I just can't tell how much he sees. She looks up and smiles at him, then again at Dave. She's enjoying this, teasing all of
us with her body, knowing how it affects us, yet I'm guessing she's more proud of her submission to Dave than anything. My
god she's beautiful.

The waiter leaves us, and Dave smiles at me, almost a sneer.

"She's wet, Don. Do you know how I know?"

"I guess she's not wearing anything under her skirt," I answer, assuming he's kept her naked under her clothes as he likes to
do in public.

"Well, that - and I have my fingers in her, up to my third knuckle."

She squirms a little, and I wonder how I missed the signs - how she's leaning back in the booth, her right leg shifted toward
him, his left arm flexing just slightly under the table. Her face flushes, and the blouse opens again, a little more with each
breath. I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone's looking, but no one seems to notice. I wonder how far Dave will take us
tonight. My stomach stiffens and sickens slightly just thinking about it.

"Do you wonder why she does this, Don? Takes so many chances, exposes her body to others, lets me finger-fuck her, all in
front of you, in fact, in front of the entire restaurant?"

I tell him, as quietly as I can, that I do wonder, but think I understand by now. In fact, I expect almost as much, but never quite
everything he wants from her. But yes, I do wonder to myself - always - how she can be anything, anyone he wants her to be,
so easily, anywhere he decides to show her off.

He brings his hand into view and rests it on the table. It's sopping wet, to the knuckles, as he promised. I stare, and L watches
me stare. Then she leans toward me over the table, her blouse hanging open, breasts falling forward and down, into the light
in front of me, and tells me as though it's a truth she's known forever.

"I do it because he wants me to," she says, her confident, dreamy eyes targeting me, "and because you don't. But you know I
love you. I know you like to hear that when, well, when I'm with him - when he fucks me so often and you can't."

When we leave I follow them, his hand on the small of her back - his prize. But he hasn't just won her tonight. She's his every
minute they spend together, and has been for a long, long time. The little gray skirt twirls and flares when they stop near the
door and she turns suddenly to kiss him. Everyone looks. His hand drops to her ass, his fingers digging into the pleats that run
from her narrow waist to mid-thigh, and he pulls her closer, crushing her hips against him. Everyone looks. I know she's naked
under the tiny skirt, and I imagine her shaved mound rubbing against his erection, her wet little slit desperate to get him
home. They hold the kiss, and everyone looks.

Everyone knows he'll fuck her tonight, that she'll moan for him and beg for more, that he'll turn her inside out before
morning. Everyone knows I wish I was him, that I'd give anything to be the one to get his cock inside her tonight, and that I
have no chance at all of doing it. They all watch us, and they all know. But they don't know she's my wife. They don't know she
flaunts her infidelity in front of me. They don't know about the cuckold who's watching his wife and her lover, or about the
punishing cage that keeps me in my place and how hard I'd be if they would only set me free.

~end~

[SutterKane]

I can't believer that I didn't coment on this story back when I read it. Don, you truly do know how it feels to be the cuck and have your wife and her Bull both push your buttons. My wife and I both love all your stories and hope/pray that you will keep writing them! Can't wait till the next one!

[Frenchie]

I agree : A very good one !!

[Don Jetman]

Thanks, guys. This one's a bit more extreme than our usual play (maybe second to the most extreme), but we still had lots of great memories (and sex) when we got back home. No more cages though - if I have anything to say about it. Damned uncomfortable!

Don

[OOAA]

VERY HOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thanks for sharing

[goodjob]

Very well written.

Obviously, you do this for your wife. I presume it took years for you to get to this point. Talk about pushing limits.

[Don Jetman]

Very well written.

Obviously, you do this for your wife. I presume it took years for you to get to this point. Talk about pushing limits.

Developed over an excess of ten years, it's behavior that's hard to explain. 98% of the time (when we play at all) we do a fairly vanilla hotwife thing. L meets a guy she likes and fucks him, then gives me the details when we role play in bed together. Could be a couple of times a month, or every two or three months. But we both reach an inexplicable point when we crave the extreme, usually after we're overworked or stressed for long periods with little relief. We both tend to crave submission, and a visit with her longtime Dom is the answer. We tend to lose control at times in his environment, and he's very talented at giving us just just enough (or a bit more) of what we think we want - along with the help of a little alcohol or recreational pharmaceuticals.We push the envelope, have our catharsis, then return home to our regular routine for months or longer before our next visit.

L and I both are pushed to do things we're reluctant to do sometimes in this environment, but always have the right of refusal. I do some things for her (and her Dom) that I'm nervous about, and she does the same for me (and her Dom). The important thing is that L and I both get what we need with no harm or regrets. We can be a bit shell-shocked immediately afterward, but always love reliving it in bed together after we come home. It is a bit like a drug - the more he pushes us, the more we grow to expect. I know - it's very weird.

Don

[Ben_Bradman]

But we both reach an inexplicable point when we crave the extreme, usually after we're overworked or stressed for long periods with little relief. We both tend to crave submission, and a visit with her longtime Dom is the answer.

@Don - You write exceptionally well and I am certainly a fan!

It'd be great if you can give us a more in-depth description of who Dave is and what he is like. I've got tons of questions about how old he is, what he looks like, what he does for a living, was he married at some point or not, does he have a regular GF, how many other couples he serves as bull to, etc, etc...

[goodjob]

Thanks for the added explanation. It's awesome that the two of you have someone you can fully trust to take you to your limit and beyond. Even more amazing than that is the teamwork that you and your wife display in your writing.

[goodjob]

I would love to hear the "most extreme" experience you have.

[Don Jetman]

I would love to hear the "most extreme" experience you have.

Are you sure?

I have it somewhere - I'll see if I can find it.
Don

[Don Jetman]

But we both reach an inexplicable point when we crave the extreme, usually after we're overworked or stressed for long periods with little relief. We both tend to crave submission, and a visit with her longtime Dom is the answer.

@Don - You write exceptionally well and I am certainly a fan!

It'd be great if you can give us a more in-depth description of who Dave is and what he is like. I've got tons of questions about how old he is, what he looks like, what he does for a living, was he married at some point or not, does he have a regular GF, how many other couples he serves as bull to, etc, etc...

Well, I have to be careful how much I tell. But much of it is already out there. Dave was L's very first lover, her choice when she first became a hotwife. We met him at a friend's party (we almost didn't attend because L was tired that night and didn't feel like spending time in a crowd of strangers). We both liked him, but L was especially taken with him. He did hint at having a predilection for B&D - nothing outrageous, just little jokes. After that night we role played for a good while pretending I was him in bed and I could tell L was more excited then usual - more so than the other "pretend" guys she fantasized about when we fucked. She finally told me one night after sex that she thought he might be the one, if I was serious. Big decision during those few seconds - was I as ready as my imagination led me to believe?

He had given us his card at the party. L called him and invited him over. I let them have lots of time alone, and they ended up in our bed with me beside them holding L's hand. There wasn't much intimacy between them, just fucking, and I actually kissed L on the mouth as she came. I think we both knew there was more to come, and there was, but only with Dave for quite a while. Then I was relocated, and we moved over a thousand miles away. L began to find occasional lovers on her own, but we needed (and still do) what he gave us, so we travel to stay with him 2-3 times a year, usually for about a week at a time. Now and then L visits on her own when I can't get away.

Dave is a bit of an enigma. He's late 40's/early 50s, salt and pepper hair, distinguished looking but also has a kind of carefree smile and attitude. He's an editor at a publishing company, and has written at least one book and is working on his second. Intelligent (a must for L), imaginative (I suppose because he's a writer), but aloof in a way. We don't know a lot about his private life, other than he seems to be the organizer of a small group of swingers who attend most of his parties. He's been single ever since we've known him, but there are clues that he's been married before. We have no idea if he has a steady SO. He made it clear early on that we're to keep our relationship with him friendly, but not too intimate. As much as he seems attached and sexually attracted to L when we're there, he's very careful to avoid long term emotional attachments. He does remind us of that all the time. He can be stern when we role play to the extent of being just a little frightening, but then can take me aside later and ask me if I'm OK, if he's gone too far, and reassure me that L loves me in spite of what he or she may say or do when the BDSM starts. He's unpredictable but respectful, which is what we love about him.

From those we've met, his swinger group consists of about six couples. Only one couple does cuckolding, but none of the others have anything against it. In fact, they often seem fascinated by what we do. NIce, normal, good-looking people who are comfortable having sex together. He's tried to "bring us into the fold" now for a few years, but L is insistent that she can't tolerate me having sex with another woman. That's fine - it's what I signed up for years ago and it works for us. But a few of the other wives have made a game of trying to break me, and they are very, very attractive women. It's a challenge I've been able to resist, so far, except maybe for an incident or two with this gorgeous Asian Domme with a submissive husband who "gets" us and can't give up. No penetrative sex, but there have been emissions...and I've been forgiven for that.

Dave's sex life? I've only ever seen him fuck L, none of the others. He absolutely may when we're not around, but L is his pet when we're in his home. Oh - cock size? About the same as mine. Average length but a bit more girth according to L. Guess I'd agree. But it's his manner that she loves, his control, his imagination and dry wit. And as much as they are into each other for the sex (and she really likes him), it's a relief to walk away knowing there are no strings - ever.

Guess that's about all I can say. Most of it is in my accounts here and there. I do wonder if we hadn't met him that night, if L would have ever become a hotwife. Even if she would have, the ride would never have been so hot and so much fun for us. I'm more grateful to him for that than anything else.

Don

[goodjob]

I would love to hear the "most extreme" experience you have.

Are you sure?

I have it somewhere - I'll see if I can find it.
Don

I'm absolutely certain! Thank you

[Don Jetman]

I would love to hear the "most extreme" experience you have.

Are you sure?

I have it somewhere - I'll see if I can find it.
Don

I'm absolutely certain! Thank you

It's up, but it ain't pretty. Through the Looking-Glass.

[goodjob]

Thank you!!! I will read every chapter.