Beyond Teasing by Mascarasnake

[mattyg_2671]

Someone on another discussion asked me to post a Mascarasnake story on here, I hope it’s ok. I don’t think it is copyrighted. This is Part 1.

The first time it went beyond teasing, Timmy got a little huffy. It was difficult for him, for sure, she knew that. But once it happened there was no going back.

They’d been playing this game for a while. A few months anyway. Sharon being a cockteaser. They found it heightened their own desire, intensified their own love-making. They’d discovered it at an office party, when one of her co-workers had started coming on to her. She hadn’t really set out to attract another guy’s attention, but she was still young, still pretty, and she liked to dress a little hot—what was wrong with that? And when the guy, after dancing and flirting, had half-jokingly asked her to go down the hall with him, she’d almost done it. It had been really exciting. The whole situation—him being aggressive with her, turned on by her, not carrying she was married, excited by it in fact. Both of them excited by it—the idea of her cheating on her husband.

She’d turned him down, of course, though he’d kept after her a bit. On the drive home Tim asked her what was going on with Ron. She told him Ron had made a pass at her. She could tell it made him hot. It made them both hot. Back in bed that night she’d never seen Timmy so turned on.

So they started doing it on purpose. Dressing her up sexy, then going out to the clubs and seeing what developed. A mild flirtation, a dance or two with someone else, then back home for sizzling sex. Pretty innocent, at first.

They were playing with fire, though. They both knew that, if not necessarily in the same way. Timmy worried about some kind of confrontation. What if some guy decides he won’t take No? he said. He wasn’t prepared to get in a fistfight or something. But it was exciting, it got them going so hot, and she didn’t want to stop. And for her part, she knew the fire she was playing with was her own. Increasingly, the thought of crossing over the line fascinated her.

The fact was, she’d gone further than Timmy knew, a couple of times.

It was fun to be a cocktease, but it was also, she felt, a little unfair to the guy. Especially after she started—secretly, without telling Timmy—touching, not just teasing. The thrill of it, the first couple of times, was exhilarating. A guy who’d been dancing close with her, and had gotten hard against her as they sometimes did. Men were so cute, that little antenna down there that they had no control over. This guy, Jimmy, had looked at her, both of them knowing what that was between them, and knowing that was her husband over there at the table. Excited at the idea. And, feeling a lovely little letting-go thrill, she let her hand slide down in between them. She felt a tingling all over her, as intense as the first time she’d ever touched a guy as a teenager. Her hand approaching—both of them so aware—and then sliding up onto the warm, nice, throbbing thing.

Just a tease, in the end. The guy wanted her, definitely, she told Timmy while the guy was in the Men’s, and before he came back they made their escape, giggling like naughty children. They fucked like bunny rabbits when they got home.

What if it had gone the other way, though, she kept wanting to ask Tim. Her mind returning again and again to that moment when she’d been naughty, let her hand slide down between the guy’s legs, cupping the warm, throbbing thing he had there.

“You like that?” the guy had said, and she just smiled. “Will you come out to my car with me?”

She smiled, a sweet excitement trickled like hot honey through her. “Later, maybe. If I can get away from my husband.”

Just a tease, of course, but a new level, and she didn’t think Timmy would understand. So she didn’t tell him.

It scared her, a little, what she was feeling, the lack of resistance. A couple more outings, a couple more close calls. One big guy she wasn’t sure she liked very much pulled her into an empty service-way and started kissing her. She found herself moaning and opening her lips, her thighs going weak as his hands slid up onto her tits.

“We can’t,” she gasped, “I’m married.”

“Yeah, as if.” Strong fingers squeezing her nipples sharply, rhythmically, and her hips shifting in response, little urgent, twitchings. The female signaling her readiness to mate to the male. She could feel how wet she was against the shifting material of her panties. He grunted, a knowing sound. Her hand floating down under its own volition, cupping him. His hands on her shoulders and pushing down, gently, just a suggestion.

“Oh god,” she heard herself moan, her knees going all weak and trembly and she sank as in a dream. Except not a dream—gritty concrete under her knees —what was that going to do to her stockings. Moaning against him, feeling him pulse against her lips through his tight jeans, his cock throbbing against her lips.

“God,” he whispered. “God you are hot aren’t you.”

Yes, that was what she was, what she wanted to be, wanting to lose herself in the moment: hot little married slut on her knees.

Moaning with the thrill of abandoning herself to it, she unzipped him, started doing what they both wanted.

Then an aluminum door scraped concrete and a guy in a suit laughed and said “Hey! Time to get a room, folks, you can’t do that here, we got carts coming through.”

How embarrassing that was, but also how naughty, how kinky. What that man must have seen when he came through the door: the woman on her knees, looking up angry and startled, eyes filled with lust and irritation at being stopped.

She found herself masturbating about these things. Dressing up as for an Outing when Tim wasn’t around, teasing herself with how she looked, using her vibrator and a secret toy she had. A realistic dildo she’d ordered online. Using it to relive the thrill of putting her hand on that guy in the back hallway. Whispering “I want it. I want your cock.” Whispering “I want it, I want cock,” as she kissed it, mouthed it. Embarrassed at herself, later, but in the moment it was like feeling something break its chains inside her, a rush of edgy, sexy excitement at letting go of all propriety, being completely wanton, completely slutty and bad.

She considered warning Tim, letting him know things were starting to slide out of control and if he knew what was good for him he’d better put a stop to it. But she couldn’t seem to find the moment, the right words. He enjoyed it much as she did after all, the flirting, and she told herself she could stop it before it went too far.

[mattyg_2671]

Part II.

It was Darren who finally pushed things over the edge. Part of it was just the perfect way he came on to her. But part of it—the tipping factor, embarrassing to admit in this day and age—was the fact that he was black.

It was the first time a black guy had flirted with her. In fact, she knew him slightly. He worked in another division at her firm. The danger of running into someone you knew when you were playing—it had happened before a couple of times and always they just aborted. Pretended they were just out together having a good time, picked their moment and left the club. But this time… no. Darren seemed to know, to sense what they were up to, right from the start. Her short skirt, blocky black shoes and pretty white thigh-highs, the flash of satiny skin between hose and hem. She felt terribly exposed, trembly, nipple-tingling and excited, right from the moment he looked her over, up at the bar—the long moment before they recognized each other, his gaze down and up, her tips crinkling in response, like they already knew, well before she did—little antennae detecting signals and responding affirmatively.

He’d taken charge of them right away, insisting they hang with him, guiding them to a booth he was sharing with some friends.

The friends were fun, a mixed crowd, black and white, and Darren shined among them, humorous, at ease, very much the center of the group. After they finished the round of drinks, the others brought up the idea of heading to another other club, something they’d been discussing before she and Timmy had arrived. And Darren said, “You all go on, I’m going to stay with these two for a while.”

Which might have surprised the others but not her, because of the secret only she and Darren shared. Which was the fact that for some time Darren’s hand had been caressing her thigh under the table.

Something had clicked, this time. From the moment she saw him, felt his eyes on her, that serious, hungering look, she’d felt something different. Lots of guys looked at her that way, but a black guy—something about that. The stereotypes, yes, all very bigoted or whatever but also, in the moment, just exceedingly risky and hot. Good looking guy, too, big and black and looking at her like she was candy.

And the moment she felt his hand slide over onto her leg under the table she was caught. He hadn’t waited for her to start teasing, flirting. He had simply taken note of the signals of her availability and asserted his right to touch her, leaving it up to her to accept or reject his advance. A faithful wife would have pushed the hand away instantly, but somehow the moment for that response came and went. She tried it a minute or so too late, trying to push his hand away under the table, and he had taken her fingers in his, squeezed them in a friendly but admonishing way, and moved her hand aside, returning to what he was doing. She felt herself giving up, letting him caress her intimately, erotically, just enjoying the smoothness of her thighs, his fingertips going up under the hem of her skirt and her husband right there across from them.

The hottest, sexiest lassitude filled her as she let him claim her. Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes they’d all sat there joking and chatting while he was secretly touching her. His hand sometimes going away to gesture, make a point, pour beer into his glass. Then returning, reasserting its claim. This one move deftly reversing the terms of the game. It was supposed to be, Is she a slut? The guy wondering, Sharon teasing him with advances and retreats, Sharon in control and the guy at her mercy. Instead, here was Darron assuming she was a slut and leaving it up to her to disprove it. Which she was quite clearly and thrillingly failing to do.

At one point, when Timmy’s attention was distracted, Darren deliberately cooled two fingertips on an ice cube at the bottom of a glass sitting on the table, fetching the ice out to crunch on it. Then those two fingers descended between her legs under the table and the deliciously chilly, insinuating fingers slid up her inner thigh and traced right along the leg-band of her panties. A cool wet trail so close to her sex, which by then was hot and plump and hypersensitive with arousal. Gasping, sure he was going to touch it this time. But no, not touching it, ohhh, no, not quite, but making the point, making it sexual, making her shiver and quiver and want to be taken with a fierceness she’d never felt before. A wicked, teasing move that said so much about what he would be like in bed.

She found herself looking at Tim differently. He couldn’t stop this. It was the first time she had this thought. Primal, ugly really, and she pushed it away. But it wouldn’t fully recede. Darren had claimed her, now, and Tim couldn’t stop it. It was like she’d broken through the cool surface of normality into some more primitive level and was struggling to keep from going under. And failing. The stronger male had claimed her. What could Timmy do about it? Nothing.

After the others left, things began to get more obvious. The giddy feeling that Darren was in control, that this time it was the guy who was in control. Did Tim feel it, too? Yes. She was sure of it. Did he want it? No, at least not in any way he could admit to himself. But she could see it in his eyes. The fascinating conflict: so sexy, so scary, letting the situation tilt giddily toward loss of control. A little pleading look, but pleading for what? His pupils dilated and excited.

Darren taking her out on to the dance floor, leading her, guiding her, her body had never seemed to move so naturally to the beat. Back at the table, flirting openly, starting to touch her openly. Things getting blurred in the heady mix of drink, sex and risky adventure. How much did Timmy realize what was going on? Back at the table, Darren’s hand kept sliding up under her skirt, and oh god he was touching her sex now, little zinging fingertip passes that had her panting and pressing at him, tilting her cunt up in invitation and biting her lip to stop from crying out. Timmy was looking at them now, and did he know that the guy was doing it to her, to his wife, under the table, touching her under her skirt? Big blunt fingertips, powerful yet delicate, sliding lightly across her clitoris. Making her gasp and squirm, she couldn’t help it, and the angle and movements of his arm no longer disguised, and both of them staring at her husband as he did it. Timmy’s upper lip damp with sweat, a blush spreading across his features. Surrender, that’s all, she thought at him, just surrender to this, don’t stop it, poor Timmy, too late too late, does he know that? She couldn’t pretend any more, her cunt had never been so sensitive and excited and she was biting a finger, making little helpless squeaking sounds deep in her throat at the clitoral touches that kept shocking her and pushing her deeper and deeper into helpless surrender.

Tim just staring—what was he thinking?—as Darren took possession of his wife right in front of him.

Like some instinctual pattern had taken hold of all three of them, she thought. The female gravitating to the stronger man, the alpha male; the alpha male taking what he felt entitled to; the other male deferring, superficially distressed but obeying the deeper impulse that made him excited at this, helpless to stop it.

It wasn’t just her, she told herself. It was Timmy’s own fault this was happening. If he wasn’t man enough to interfere, then the stronger man was going to have her.

After a while, Darren chose to stop, lifting his hand above the table, passed his fingertips beneath his nostrils, all the while looking directly at Tim. Took a smiling drink from his beer glass, finishing it. By now she’d stopped pretending—she’d sunk against him as he had played with her; head on his shoulder like they were the couple, not she and her husband.

Finishing the beer, Darren put his glass down. “Listen. You two have anything you need to discuss, you better talk about it now. Got to go to the Men’s,” he said, rising. “I’ll be back.”

His departure left an awkward silence between them. This was the point at which, before, they would have run off, leaving the guy high and dry and having playful randy sex, all charged up by their little adventure. Instead, this buzzing floating feeling, at least on her part, the liquid melting arousal between her legs, the electric thrill of letting go, letting this dangerous exciting thing happen.

She reached out and took his hand. Squeezed it as she looked into his eyes. Put all her love for him into that look. Beaming it at him: I need this, don’t stop it. If you love me, don’t try to make it stop.

And that was just how they were a minute or two later, when Darren returned. They hadn’t seen him pushing through the crowd; suddenly he was just there, standing, holding his hand out to her. Somehow she was already sliding out of the booth, rising to him. Staring down at Timmy, holding his hand till the last, their arms stretching out. Then Darren circled her waist, pulled her toward him.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” she said, looking down at her husband, then up to Darren for confirmation: “Isn’t that right?”

Darren said, “That’s right, baby. You be with me tonight.” His eyes on Timmy’s. “We’re just going to have a little fun together, that’s all.”

Receding—she felt Darren drawing her away. Darren’s hand sliding down the trim curve of her waist to rest on her rear as they turned, began making their way out. Her head floating, her whole body buzzing with the thrill of abandoning herself to this. She could feel Timmy’s eyes on them as they walked away, Darren squeezing her tight little rear, just once, sampling it for the first time as they headed toward the door.

[mattyg_2671]

Part III

“There doesn’t have to be a problem if we don’t make it into one.”

She said that several times over the next few days with Tim. He was confused. Well, so was she, to a point. But his confusion took a different form from hers. Dithering about what they’d done. What he’d allowed to happen. All very well in the moment, after all that drinking and flirting and whatnot, but different in the cold light of day. Had she lost respect for him, would she see the guy again, all those kinds of knotty questions. He couldn’t seem to let go and just accept what had happened, that things had changed.

She didn’t really want to spoil things by talking about it. Especially when he got pushy, asking “How was it—did you and he…?”

Well, of course they had, what did he think, they’d just had a nice talk for six hours? As for “how was it,” the only honest answer really was “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.”

Sex, after all, wasn’t just who did what to which body part. It was all in the context, the seduction, the surround.

And nothing she’d ever imagined had been as thrilling as leaving with another man, succumbing to this elemental impulse, the stronger man taking possession of her in front of her husband, all of them succumbing to it. The interracial thing exciting too, not just for her but for Darren as well, offering a kind of scenario, a role to play out on both sides, unspoken for the most part but very much in the air nonetheless.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she’d said as they drove away in Darren’s BMW.

“Oh, no, clearly not,” he laughed.

“My husband—“

“—can’t give you what you need,” he finished for her. “I know. He’ll be all right, take my word. You don’t need think of him now. Less you want to.” Taking her hand, pulling it up onto his leg. “But also, you want to think about this.”

Oh, she gasped.

In her experience, the cock always seemed bigger when you first put your hand on it—the whole thing of guys having something like that sticking out off of them was so funny and curious and fascinating to begin with. But this had been different.

“Oh,” she gasped again, running her hand lightly along it, then daring to squeeze it a little. “Oh my god.”

Darren laughed. “All yours, darlin. All for you.”

Part of it was just experiencing the power of him, the alpha-male confidence, thrill of being seduced by that, and here was the source of it, this heavy, slowly clenching thing under her palm.

“My god,” she kept whispering, for it was simply an amazing cock, and while the idea of putting that thing in her was scary, her cunt wanted to try it, it was tingling and wet and slick and saying yes yes yes between her legs.

“Can I take it out,” she said in a small voice. “I want to see it. Can I?”

“Oh yes. Whatever you want baby. You just please yourself.”

And so she’d gone down on him, on the ride to his place, her first time fully over the line, wedding ring sparkling in the shifting streetlights, the cock just slightly, elegantly arched, rising astonishingly long from his loosened trouser front, stretching out beyond her clasping fingers—look how lovely, how long, how thick and nice and hard for me, oooohhh. Her head softly bobbing and exploring, servicing him, worshipping him with lips and tongue as he threaded the BMW through the city streets.

He’d fucked her with it three times that night. She’d never experienced such power. To be lifted and fucked against the wall in a complete haze of lust when they entered his apartment, all that build-up flaring into frantic action. Not even wanting to wait to get to the bedroom—he’d started kissing her in the entryway of his big top-floor condo, and then his hands were up under her skirt, stripping her panties, cool air on the wetness between her legs. Then he was lifting her, her thighs parting, knees at his waist. He was so strong and she’d never been taken like this. Scared but weightless, helpless, and crying out as she felt him coming up underneath her, fear and wonder as to its size, was she wet enough, was it going to hurt. Then his hands eased and her own weight began pressing it into her and she cried out at the touch of it, the huge thick push, hips shifting so her slick lips split around it and it bulged in, his hands letting her sink down onto it.

Oh. My. God.

The huge probing thing pressing in, tight slick resistance and her cunt stretching in the most deeply satisfying way. A moment of near-pain, then a kind of pop as the head pushed in and she sank down onto it, both of them making a little ooh sound, a little satisfied grunt of acknowledgment that he had penetrated her, he was in her now.

Thus, technically, adultery.

The thought thrilled her—cheating little fuckslut—and her cunt tightened, gripping against the resistant thing, then spasmed and she cried out and came. Panting and holding on—she’d never come so easily and he’d hardly begun to fuck her.

It was a scary thought—she was always so sensitive after coming, and they’d hardly started. No way to deny that thing what it wanted, though, no way. Gasping as he pushed her against the wall and thumped, once, experimentally. Then again, again, and she wanted to shriek, she couldn’t stand it, but then she could, it was so tight, it felt so different and she’d never been so hot.

And then he was banging her against the wall, hard to fuck like this, all she could do was hang on as he banged her and surrender to what he was doing to her, the post-orgasmic sensitivity transformed into something else, beyond what she’d ever experienced from fucking, almost laughing or crying as she came again, again, again. Feeling herself become weakened, like her brain was being stunned by the repeated shocks of it, just giving herself over, becoming a cunt for the thing, a helpless cunt. Multiple orgasms, she thought, wondering, multiple orgasms, my god.

And then his desperate sounds and his hip movements going stiff, the thing becoming even stiffer in her and she knew he was going to climax, going to come in her, and she cried Yes, yes, do it, oh god, give it to me, fuck, god, yes. And he grunted like a bull and she felt a rush of heat, then it was going all hot and slippery down there and she knew he was spurting in her, coming in her and she climaxed again, almost losing consciousness with the intensity of it.

Then later, from behind on the bed. On all fours, and Darren standing behind. The submissive, animal position, back arched, proper posture of the receptive female, exciting in itself. Reaching back to guide him in, shocked again at the surprising size of him. Tickling the wide underside of it as it pressed in, pulled out slick with her wetness, pressed in again. The long push and pull, like waves lifting her, accelerating. Exciting to feel how big it was, to know that was going in her. Alternating between feeling it, exciting herself with the size of the thing fucking her and diddling herself. Darren liked that, started teasing her with his cock as she did it. Pulling way back, just popping the bulbous head in and out, then going long, the thing pushed deep in her and throbbing as she fingered herself to a sharp, shocking climax. “Coming,” she gasped, “god, coming.” He spanked her at that, sharp hand-smack on her ass making the orgasm sizzle through her rear and thighs. Shivering with it, body writhing on the stiff resistant thing thrust up so deep in her. She wanted to stop, just rest a second but her orgasm pleased him, excited him, and he began fucking her hard, holding her hips to make her move on him, like a toy, a cunt he was using to make his cock feel good, make his big cock stiffen and spurt in her. When it was good and ready. Meanwhile, just a cunt for it, a tight slick little…. Oh… and she came again. Diddling herself as he fucked and fucked and fucked her. Slow, deliberate strokes to say, mine, mine, mine, this cunt is mine. The thought making them both furious and speed up into fast angry fucking. She was making sounds she’d never made, saying things—Fuck me, fuck my cunt, you give me that cock, big fucking cock in me, fuck me hard—things she’d never said, his big cock making her scream and gasp, her cunt clenching the resistant shaft as she rose toward climax again. Then she felt him tighten and swell all rigid in her and his movements going all stiff and machinelike again and she blazed into still another orgasm, sexual supernova that he began firing his own salvos into—somewhere in the midst of her incandescence she felt spurt, spurt, spurt, the massive clenching of his buttocks and the heavy pulsing of the thing, jets of heat, liquid fire down there, and her own voice crying yes, yes, yes as she felt him claim her again, felt herself being taken and possessed in this most primal manner.

And then yet one last time, just as the sun was coming up. She awoke to feel him against her back, holding her in his arms, his cock already stiff against her butt. She felt him shift as he sensed her awakening, seeking entry between her legs. She lifted her thigh.

This time in the rising light of day, not the dark anonymity of night. Almost surprising to her that he would just assume his right to her—a silly thought, given what they’d done. But still, there it was, and yielding to it felt like giving herself to him all over again, on some level beyond what had happened in the night. He seemed to sense it too, going slow and gentle, stroking her as he fucked her, feeling her tits and tummy and thighs, caressing her, owning her, these things that were supposed to be for Tim alone and he was savoring his possession of them, exciting himself and her with his ownership of her body.

It was several days before Darren called and said he wanted to be together with her again.

A bad few days, really, in which her own confusion had reigned. Tim getting a little huffy about it until she pointed out that he’d sat there as Darren took her from him and hadn’t tried to stop her when Darren led her away. He retreated into talking about how it was just a one-time thing, how he could see it if it was just this once. At the same time he couldn’t seem to leave it alone; he kept pressing her for details. Like it excited him in spite of himself on some level. It really did.

Weird. It intrigued her that his feelings could be so confused, that he could be so excited and so distressed at the same time.

For her part the confusion was more about what her relationship with Darren was. She’d never just fucked, like that, just for the sheer animal pleasure, the thrill of surrendering to the moment, doing something wild and wicked.

She didn’t argue with Tim about it being a one-time thing, but she knew she would want to do it again. That feeling when Darren took her from her husband, circled her waist with his strong arm and drew here away with Timmy watching it all happen had been narcotic, electric. The thought of never experiencing that again left her feeling empty and hollow.

She thought maybe it would cool with the passage of days, but it only seemed to get more intense. Why didn’t he call, claim her again. She wanted him to, he had established his rights, his ownership, she was his—didn’t he want her?

By the time Thursday rolled around she was sick with fear that Darren didn’t want her. Perhaps he just liked taking, then moving on. Things he had said implied he’d done this before, gone with another man’s wife—a white girl. He’d indicated that it was kind of a pattern he’d seen and availed himself of before. Perhaps that was what he liked: to put her in thrall to him, then leave her, her hunger for the thrill he had given her never to be satisfied. Was that why he didn’t call? She thought of calling him. She had looked his number up in the office directory. The idea of going to him as a supplicant, letting him know she was available, he could use her whenever he wanted. Such an act of self abasement was a strange temptation, one she emphatically did not discuss with Tim.

Nor did she discuss the feeling of power, sharing in Darren’s power, as she had looked down at her husband sitting at the table in that moment when Darren drew her away. Timmy’s look, helpless, fearful, excited. The idea that somehow this was good for him too, the best thing really. A weird thought but she couldn’t entirely dismiss it.

[mattyg_2671]

Part IV

It was Friday when Darren finally contacted her.

Her heart started thudding when she saw his name in her email in-box. The spasm of jangling nerves melted into a warm tingling feeling all over as she read what he said. He wanted her, that was the key thing. But the where and how was another matter. How would Tim respond, how could she talk him into this?

Trying out various formulations in her head on the way home. “He wants to see me again. Alone. Tonight. He wants to take me out, like a date. He wants you to let him start dating me.” And the things in the email she couldn’t possibly say—could she? “He likes it that you know. He liked taking me away right in front of you. He liked that.” Well, obviously not. Not yet. Still—nervous. Could Tim accept this? What kind of woman was she, what kind of man would just let his wife…. On the other hand, if he couldn’t, if he said “No,” could she live with that? She didn’t think so. She knew in her heart she couldn’t. She’d end up going behind his back. Cheating on him. Which was not at all what she wanted, what Darren wanted for that matter. What any of them wanted.

Perhaps Tim understood, on some level. The look in his eyes as she informed him that Darren had contacted her, wanted to take her out. That she wanted—needed—to see him again. Did he understand? It wasn’t about leaving him. It was just about… needing this. Yes, he said. It’s strange, but I want you to be happy, he said. I want you to see him. His face blushing furiously. What a shameful thing for him, for a male, her husband, to admit.

Dressing for her date with Darren. Nothing had ever felt like this. Getting ready for a date with another man, and Tim watching her. On one level, all very matter-of-fact, since this was something they’d agreed on. On another, it was hot, kinky, naughty. Trying on various underthings. In fact, she knew which ones she probably wanted to wear, but it was exciting to dally over her choices, teasing Tim with the knowledge that it was Darren who was going to be lifting up her skirt and discovering what sexy, stretchy, filmy little thing she had on under there. Something she’d chosen as a frame and an enticement for this trim sleek little married cunt he was going to fuck.

Darren had liked it, too, that she was shaved down there—something she’d done for Tim. Tonight she had used the expensive depilating cream and lotion to make sure she was nice and smooth down there. For him, for Darren, for her lover.

Going out the door to him when he arrived, when his BMW horn tapped twice, smartly, outside in the driveway—was it more exciting than when he’d taken her from Tim in the bar? It was different, that was for sure. Nothing to drink, for one thing; and where that had been unexpected, spontaneous, this was planned, deliberate, anticipated.

Kissing Tim at the door—unable to disguise how excited she was, how eager to be off. Her panties were already wet—she was wet for her lover already.

“Don’t wait up,” she whispered. “I’ll call.”

Moaning for Darren. On her knees, worshipping him. This was back in his apartment. He’d taken her to dinner somewhere. “Want to show you off,” he said. She looked good, she looked hot. It made her feel sexy to look hot. Wedding ring on her finger, none on his, and the waitress had noticed, gave her that knowing little girl-to-girl smile when Darren wasn’t looking. Darren teasing her, not letting her put her hand on him under the table the way she wanted to, batting her hand away, but feeling free to caress her thighs during drinks, between courses.

There’d been dancing, too, somewhere. Nice club, very exclusive and upscale. But she didn’t care. By then she was almost speechless with desire for him. So that when he finally brought her back to his apartment all she could think about was wanting to please him. His hand on her hip in the elevator, then turning her to face him and his hands down on her ass. And kissing. Wide, generous mouth, his tongue. Sucking on it—tippy toes in her heels, her little skirt lifting. Feeling the hot, weighty thing against her as his hands went up under her skirt, seizing her, squeezing her, controlling her.

Then they were in his apartment and she was on her knees to him. Falling to her knees as they entered the semi-dark living room, city lights pretty out there. Wanting to show him her need and her appreciation of him. Demonstrate what a good girl she was, a good white girl, a good little married slut, her husband dutifully at home while she did this. Kneeling prettily and frantically unbuckling, unzipping and unbuttoning. Then holding it, oohing and ahhing over it, her wedding ring sparkling prettily on the hand holding his cock. Kissing up and down its length, just losing herself in how big and commanding and magnificent it was. Demonstrating her worship, devotion, submission.

This time he was rough with her. A little experimentally at first—like, wanting to be sure she was okay with it, that this was what she wanted. She hadn’t really thought about it before but suddenly it was really exciting, the idea of being taken, used, little slutwife fucktoy. Darren seizing her a little roughly, angry with passion, lifting her, moving her around like a big doll to play with. Stroking her delicately, like a pet, then sharp smacks to the backs of her thighs, her ass. Even—and she was crying out with excitement by now—sharp, precisely measured smacks on her slick, bare, adulterous little cunt. The wet sound, the tingling rush of feeling after the sharp little pain, and just the thought of what he was doing was intensely exciting.

After he’d fucked her the first time, they lay around for a while in a haze of post-coital pleasure. She was relaxed and dwelling in a state somewhere between satisfaction and hunger. His seed warm in her; he seemed to come for ever. So she was puffed up and slick and ready for him again, and she knew he would take her again; they were just waiting for the batteries to recharge a little. Her legs draped across his—he’d taken her from behind, lying on her side, his strong arm and hand holding her foot high as he slid that thick, long, and superbly stiff cock into her. His hand now warm on her thigh, dallying there. Just feeling her smoothness—her tanned, terrific thighs.

“Do you need to call him?” he murmured, rousing her from her doze.

“Huh?”

“It’s like 1:30. Do you need to call him? Your husband.”

Something in his voice made her turn her head to look at him.

“Go ahead. Just to let him know you’re okay, whatever.”

“I’m not sure he’d appreciate….”

“I’m saying,” his voice firm, “call him. You know?”

She was afraid she did, and the thought scared and excited her. “My phone’s over on your side.”

Coolness as he rolled away from where they’d been pressed together. The bed shaking gently as he leaned over, fumbled in her bag.

Then she was pecking the tiny buttons with the preset code for her home phone, and then the sound of the ring at the other end was burring in her ear. And while she waited for her husband to answer, her lover was kissing her shoulder and sliding a warm hand along her naked flank. Up from her thigh along her hip, along her rib cage, cupping beneath the undercurve of her breast.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Hey. Hi. I… I didn’t know you were going to call.”

“Well… I thought, it’s late and maybe I should let you know I’m… all right.”

“Okay.”

An awkward pause. Made a little more awkward on her side by the fact that Darren was lightly, teasingly stroking her breasts. Her nipples very erect.

“I’m… uhm… Having a good time. You know?”

“Is he… are you coming home soon?”

“Maybe in a while. We’re still….”

“Is he there? Is he with you?”

“Actually, yeah. Yes. He is.”

Fingers pinching her nipple, sharp and deliberate. Hard not to cry out. Her clitoris erect and sensitive. Perhaps he would cunt-spank her again.

“So… you’re had—have—having a good time?”

“Uhm, yeah. Really sweet—I mean, a good time. Dinner, and now we’re, oh….”

Because his hand had left off pinching her nipple and trailed down to her wet slick slit. He was slowly sliding a slick finger in her, his palm cupping hard against her citoris.

This caused a certain lull in the conversation. Yet neither she nor Tim hung up.

“So he’s… I mean, right now, are you….?”

She struggled to speak. His long finger sliding easily in the hot oiled slickness, long out and in, his palm clasping her cunt and his finger deep inside, arching to press hard against her hot spot.

“I uhm… god. Yes. He’s… His fingers. He’s got… oh god.”

“Right now?”

“In me. So hot, god.”

“Listen, Shar, I don’t… I don’t know if I can….”

But she was unable to focus on what he was saying because Darren was lifting her leg again and she could feel his hardness swelling against her rear. Some part of her remained aware as he lifted her leg, maneuvered into position, slid the hard head of his cock in her slipperiness, and slowly began inserting it into her that she was on the phone and must keep up her end, which mainly consisted of whimpering sounds and little gasps of “Oh,” and “Oh god,” and “Mmm, yes, oh.”

“Oh god,” she gasped, louder, as he started moving. “Oh fuck!” Losing it.

Darren took the phone from her numb fingers. Careful not to disconnect, he laid it on the bed next to her. And then he began fucking her.









Part V

“I know it was kind of cruel, but it was hot, too, wasn’t it.” A day later, discussing it with Tim. “I mean, you listened, you knew what we were doing. It made you hot, didn’t it?”

Yes, he nodded glumly, admitting it, a blush creeping into his features.

“He wants to visit me here.”

Timmy looking up at her, features still red, fear and something else in his eyes. This funny feeling of power she got—like she was sharing in whatever it was that Darren had. His big cock—that was hers, now that she was his possession. It gave her this power, heady and exciting. Partly Timmy didn’t want this—she had to be firm with him.

“I told him I’d ask you if he could come by tomorrow night.”

Timmy looking distressed, licking his lips nervously, but not going into rejection or denial.

“Do you think you’d be okay with that?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“It makes me feel… weird. Sick. But… It’s like I… I mean, I still can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”

“But it’s exciting, isn’t it. The idea of him coming here. Of you letting him see me here. I feel it. Don’t you?”

He was sort of staring, like looking inside rather than outside, and he was blushing pink.

“It excites you, doesn’t it? I was hoping you could just sort of go with that. If we just focus on it being exciting. How wild it is. I never felt this way. I want to share it with you. I want us to see where it goes.”

“I was hoping it would stop.”

“We can’t though, not yet. He wants—he thinks we’re… He said we’re perfect for him. Us, not just me. And I want you to be… I need you to do this for me. He said—“ she drew a deep breath, taking the plunge “—he said he knows about this, how it is for you. He said he can help us, help you. To work on it, help you so you can accept it, enjoy it better. What’s best for you.”

“I see,” he said. That funny inward look. It was interesting that there could be so many new feelings in this—her own as well as his. This feeling of, like, power over him. She felt the moment turning. Things could so easily go either way; you had to push them the direction you wanted.

She was wearing a short terry bathrobe—she’d just come out of the shower and they were lying on the bed. He was in his weekend shorts and t-shirt. It seemed to her that there was a little tent in those loose khaki shorts. She eased on her side, letting the robe draw up her thighs. He loved her legs. She reached over, teasingly drew two pretty fingers up his leg, then slid them into the loose shorts. He gasped as she took hold of what she found in there.

“Tell you what,” she said, squeezing him, touching him in a way she knew he liked. “Shall I tell you something?” His stiff little soldier in there, standing so earnestly at attention. Trying so hard. She couldn’t help making the mental comparison. So different from Darren. His nice, proper husband cock. Absolutely correct for him, and nothing like her Darren. How heavy Darren felt, the width of it filling her hand. That massive cock she could take her own pride in. Her lover’s cock; her husband’s cock.

“What…?” he said, all breathy and weak.

“Take these off, and I’ll make you feel nice while I tell you.”

He was all trembly, fumbling in his rush to get the offending material off and out of the way.

She took him in her mouth, making him cry out with surprise and pleasure. She did it better than anyone, he always said.

“Can you guess,” she teased, looking up at him from down there. “Can you guess what I want to tell you about?”

“No. I can’t guess.”

“Sure you can. What I’m thinking about. What do you think I’m thinking about?”

“I dunno. Probably him. His… his, you know…”

“Say it.”

“His c… His cock.”

“That’s right. Good,” her voice all light and approving. Fingernails tickling along him. “Good for you, baby. His cock. Shall I tell you about it?” Taking him in her mouth again, making him groan and squirm. Then lifting off again. He was rigid, a little spike, and it wouldn’t do to have him go off prematurely.

Yes, he nodded, looking down at her. Unable to say it, but wanting it with his eyes.

“I laid my whole hand on him, like this.” She demonstrated, the base of her palm at his root and her fingertips—mauve polish she had put on last night, for her lover—along the shaft, her small hand extending almost exactly the length of him. “See?”

Yes, he nodded.

“Only yours stops where my fingers do. And his…”

“How… how big? Is he… bigger.”

“Oh, darling. Oh my yes. I should say.”

“Oh,” he said, more of a groan than a word.

She giggled, enjoying this. “Should I tell you? I can make you feel nice while I tell you what a big thing he has. Would you like that?”

“Ooohhh.”

Licking and kissing, then taking him in again. Careful—not too much now.

“Such a nice little one you’ve got, though. I like it.” More kisses, little kitten licks. “So different, you know? Like it’s not the same thing—like there shouldn’t be the same word.” She felt the dark energy gathering. She liked this feeling. Wanting to push it. “I think you could sense it, you know? I think that’s why it happened, why you just let me go with him the first time. Guys can sense it somehow. What do you think?” But she prevented him being able to answer, sliding her mouth down over him again. Just little choking sounds from up there. So close. “I wish I could show you. But when he comes over tomorrow, if you’re good, maybe you’ll get to see it.”

“Uhhnnn!” he gasped and his hips started moving that way, urgent and rigid.

“We need a different word.” she whispered, licking long underneath, the way he loved. Feeling the clenching spasms as his climax began. “Not a cock. No. It’s a cock-ette. A nice. Little. Cock. Ette!”

[WACouple]

So good! Love to read more if you’ve got it…

[mattyg_2671]

Part VI

“Do you need to calm down, or can we discuss this rationally now?” she asked.

Timmy mumphed something. He had suddenly risen and fled the room, interrupting the nice mood that had developed between the three of them. Well, perhaps she’d pushed a little too hard, too fast. But that was no excuse for being rude. Now Darren had to wait down the hall in the bedroom, alone, while she dealt with this.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that. What?”

“I just… I can’t believe you want me to… you were expecting me to….”

“But we discussed it.”

“No we didn’t. Not that.”

“Well, okay, not in so many words. But you promised you’d focus on just feeling nice about things, didn’t you.”

“Yes, but—“

“And you said you’d make an honest effort, even if something seemed a little beyond what you were prepared for.”

“But I can’t… a guy can’t just do that.”

“Okay, okay, calm down.” She petted the back of his head soothingly. Such high cheekbones he had. He’d really looked cute back in the room; she’d really thought he’d just naturally fall right in and do it. “Can I ask one question though? And you’ll promise to answer honestly?”

“Okay,” he said.

“You were hard, weren’t you. You were very erect. I could see it. Can you admit to that at least?”

“I… I guess. Yes. But…”

“I thought, My god, he’s as excited as I am about this. You really turned me on. It’s not just Darren—you have a part in this too. You were turning me on so much. Helping us. Undressing him like that. You seemed so into it. And your little guy was so stiff. I thought you just needed a little push.”

Silence on his part, but she felt maybe she was making a little dent in his armor. “You liked it, at first. When I put your hand on it.”

Yes, he admitted again.

“You looked fascinated by it. It excited me that you liked it. It’s a wonderful cock—why shouldn’t you be as excited by it as I am? Especially if there’s something, you know, instinctive about it. That’s why I wanted you to try it. I think part of you wants to do it, experience it that way.”

Still unresponsive, but he was getting that inward look again.

She knelt by the couch. She was stroking his leg now, rising toward his little thing. He tried to push her away but she wanted to feel if he was already hard now. And he was.

“It felt so nice, didn’t it. So big and heavy and hard. We talked about it, him and me. How it would be if you did that for him. And feel how hard you are. It’s not so strange, really, is it? Little one all excited by a big one. It doesn’t seem strange to me; it seems natural. Part of you thinks so too.” She squeezed it. “Feel how hard you are.” He groaned, a kind of lost, helpless sound. “Little cockette,” she said, her voice going kitteny and playful, speaking to the object in question. “Pretty cockette. Knows what’s nice. What’s good for you. Stubborn old Timmy.” She leaned down and took him in her mouth, making him groan and squirm, then pulled off again. “I bet if we got you really close, made you all hot so you were just about to come but not not not letting you climax, you’d stop trying to be so stubborn about it. What do you think? Should we try?”











Part VII

Sharon stretching in the dawnlight, pushing back the covers. She needed to go pee. The bed shifted as she got up but Darren didn’t wake—good. And there was Timmy, sleeping a little awkwardly in the big chair where he’d been sitting, his face mushed childlike against one of the wings. She felt a warm rush of love toward him. He’d come through for her last night. Things were different now.

When she came back from the bathroom, he awakened, looking a little groggy-eyed.

“What time is it?”

“Shh—you’ll wake Darren,” she whispered. She scrunched into the chair with him. “My sweet darling,” she whispered, kissing him. “My best pet.”

They cuddled and kissed for a while, the windows slowly lightening from blue to gray.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. “You were so good last night.”

“Last—? oh,” he said in a small voice, as if just remembering. “I… That was just…”

She put a finger to his lips. She knew what he was going to say—this funny idea of his, this concept of there being “just a one-time thing,” whatever that was. She didn’t want to hear about it. It was important not to let him slide back into ways of thinking that weren’t good for him.

It was best for him to be like he was last night, after their little talk. After he followed her obediently back into the bedroom.

~*~

“He wants to apologize,” Sharon had said, leading him in by the hand. Darren looking up from the magazine he’d found on the side table—one of Tim’s, about cars or something.

“He’s ready to show you he’s sorry, and wants to help.”

Darren maintained a dignified silence. They approached the bed where he sat upright, sheet across his lap, pleats and folds in the percale outlining the shape of the big thing he had. Relaxed and flopped serpentine across his thigh.

“Look, Timmy. It’s gone all soft again. That’s your fault.”

Yes, Tim nodded.

That inward look, she noted approvingly, and though he was blushing his briefs were tented out in front. He seemed almost hypnotized. It was a delicate state—she felt her power in the tension of the situation—it was her handling of him that maintained the delicate balance here.

“You want to do something about it, don’t you,” she suggested. “Come here, sit down,” she patted the bed next to her where she’d perched. “I’ll help you.” He sat, obediently, hands primly on his knees, his little thing poking up—not much of a tent in that position, despite how hard he was.

She sat behind him, her body curved parallel to his. She took his hand, lifted it off his knee and drew it over toward the big shape under the sheet.

Soft fabric sound, an ohhh from Tim and a little grunt from Darren as she laid Tim’s hand down on Darren’s cock.

The thrill of it, that first touch. Timmy had never done this before, she was quite sure. Had he been thinking about it, these last days? She had. For some reason it excited her terribly to think of him doing it. A way to share this with him, within the fascinating power relationship that had developed around Darren and his presence in their lives. A fierce little rush. Touch his cock, honey. My lover’s cock. See? See how big? How exciting see? For you too. Exciting. Her hand holding him to it. Made him squeeze it, again, again.

“Isn't that nice?" she whispered. A little catch in her voice--so excited. "Just hold it,” she said. “He doesn’t mind. He knows about this. This is good for you, you need to do this.” Little whispers, reassuring him she was with him in this, her hand keeping his cupped across the thing as it firmed under the sheet. “Feel it,” she said. “Feel how big he is.” And Timmy was being good, he was just letting himself be made to do this, letting his little dickette stick up straight in his briefs, and his hand starting to make little movements on its own. Little convulsive squeezings, confirming the growing hardness of the thing, little shifting movements, gestures toward the possibility of sliding along it, stroking it. “Poor baby,” she said. “You just have to let go.” Yes, he nodded, accepting this wisdom. She felt she could trust him now—like teaching a little kid to ride a bike—gingerly lifting her hand from his and, yes, he kept it there. Eyes wide, looking down in disbelief at his own hand, which slowly began moving, as if on its own, squeezing, touching along it.

“Oh god,” he whispered, and she thrilled at the wondering tone—this was what she wanted for him, to feel that same letting-go feeling she had felt and still felt with Darren.

Watching Tim hold her lover’s cock intensified that feeling for her. She had this little theory about how it must get to him on some deep level, in spite of his conscious attitude about things. Anyway, it was thrilling to watch, so hot that he could be made to do this. Make it feel nice—her lover’s cock.

She kissed the back of his neck, slightly damp with nervousness, let her left hand trail down to his jockey shorts.

“Oh,” he gasped as she held him. His happy, rigid little dickette. Happy and hard as he touched her lover’s amazing cock. “God,” again, a catch in his voice. Letting himself do it. “God. Oh.”

Kissing his shoulder, his neck, pushing with her body against him. Her hand on his stiffness, her body urging him forward and down. She felt fierce with arousal. Impatient. He’d essentially agreed, now let him do it.

“Just kiss it once,” she said. “Just try it. You can do it.”

Magically, in a dream, his waist bending—his will bending. The sheet fabric shifting visibly over the thing in his hand—it was clenching, throbbing as it swelled. He leaned down and forward under her pressure, a little moan growing in his throat.

After a little while, she felt she could move away, find a more comfortable position to watch and if necessary guide and direct. Pulling back from him. He was moaning, a tiny little rapturous sound, as he experienced it for the first time—the electric thrill of kissing a cock. She knew as a woman how exciting that was; how ever so much more intense it must be for a man. His head moving gently as his lips pressed again and again to the thing, feeling it throbbing under the sheet. Little moans as if he was marveling that he could be doing this, that doing it could feel like this. Panting, too, his own cock very hard as he did it—she was afraid to stimulate it any more lest he have an orgasm and break the spell.

She gave him a little complimentary squeeze, released him, then took the edge of the sheet and began drawing it down.

“Oh god,” Timmy moaned, muffled against the thing, feeling the cloth being irresistibly pulled away. He didn’t resist, when the moment came—the sheet sliding away and now the naked cock in his hand. Helpless moan as he leaned forward and kissed again, now on the thing itself. He heard her gasp, too, a deep pleasure sound. She was so hot—what he was doing was making her so hot. She had leaned forward to look more closely, birdlike curiosity, fingers pressing herself between her legs. “Is that nice? Isn’t it nice? Do you like it? Show me. Do it to him baby.”

[54321]

Amazing writing! You have a great talent! Please share more with us!

54321

[mattyg_2671]

Amazing writing! You have a great talent! Please share more with us!

54321

Hi. I’m glad you’re enjoying it but please don’t give me any credit, this is an old story written by “Mascarasnake”. They’re some of the best I’ve read alongside some on here. I have a few complete stories I can post if there’s any interest, provided I’m not breaking any rules. Thx

[mattyg_2671]

Part VIII

It was probably natural that for a few days after, Tim started fussing about what they’d done and trying to change his mind about everything. He just didn’t think he could handle so much, all at once, he said, and couldn’t they go back to the way things were before. At least try.

Darren was going to be out of town for two weeks and that would give them some distance anyway. Perhaps the genie would return to its lamp. She was skeptical, but she didn’t want their marriage to fall apart—it wasn’t about that at all. She resolved that if Tim was going to be this upset, she’d have to try to be good.

Still, there was no way of avoiding the way Darren's shadow fell across them when the idea of making love together arose. Over the next week, they tried a couple of times. The first time was okay, if pretty lackluster by recent standards. Still, it was all about reestablishing trust and intimacy on their former terms wasn’t it, so the quality and intensity weren’t the point.

The second time, Timmy failed. He just couldn’t get erect and stay that way. The third time started going the direction of the second, and she sensed there could be a real problem here.

His eyes looking vulnerable, a little scared looking down at her as she kissed and played the way he usually liked. His thing remaining stubbornly floppy and unresponsive.

“Know what I liked best? The other night, with Darren?” she said, chancing it.

Uh uh, he shook his head.

“You putting him in me. Getting him ready and then putting it in me.” She demonstrated, taking him in her mouth. He gasped, and she felt it firming a little.

“Want me to tell you about that? How it felt, having you do that for me?”

“Yes,” he said. He was noticeably firmer in her hand.

"It excited me terribly. Seeing you do that. I've never been so hot."

In fact, this was the truth—it had excited her terribly. It was one of those moments of sharing Darren’s strength and redirecting that energy onto Tim. Like she was a transmitter for this powerful force that Tim couldn’t resist. To share in her lover’s masculine power, to wield it over another man, her husband. Exciting. Her hand on the back of his head as he sucked the cock, keeping him there, reassuring him that this was right, this was correct for him to do. And when she couldn't stand to wait another second, taking it away from him—he’d been so lost in it, but she wasn’t going to let things get too carried away. Her hand joining his around the base of the thing, pulling it away from him. Kissing and licking, showing she was good at this too. And then she said, “I want him to fuck me with this now. ‘Kay?” And he had said “Okay,” and she had guided his hand to the base of it, directing him to hold it nice and upright for so she could mount it.

“Made me so hot,” she said now, thinking about these things. And darling Timmy firming up nicely as she described what they'd done. “So sweet to help. I liked fucking him like that, with you there.” She treated him to more heat and warm slippery pleasure from her mouth. He was getting quite hard now. “Fucking him in front of you. Did you like that?”

“Oh,” he whispered, sounding sad and lost, but it was obviously working on him physically. “His cock so big in me. So tight and thick and hot. I never felt that before. It feels so good. Such a big one he has. You're so cute and small and he's so big.” She was getting a bit lost in it now herself. It felt scary and tingly talk to Timmy like this, to torment him just a little with the comparison.

Feeling a big surge of love and desire for him she got in the position she’d taken with Darren the other morning, swinging her leg across Timmy and easing herself down on him.

But even as she began moving on him it was there between them: that this wasn’t as good for her. He could never be as good for her this way as Darren was. There just really was this shift in their relationship; they’d gone to a place that couldn’t be returned from.

Poor Timmy, he looked a little panicked when he failed again, Sharon pulling off; Timmy whimpering Sorry sorry, miserable at his failure. But she didn’t take that view at all. She loved him and she was determined to make this work. She cuddled and cajoled, and talked about how it wasn’t so bad, if he’d just come to terms with it. Accept it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he protested.

“Oh, you know. That it’s different now. That it’s changed. If you’d just not fight it, if you’d just accept it, things could work out just fine for us. For all of us.”

He looked confused.

“Let’s try an experiment. Kay?”

“Okay.”

Snuggling up again, she moved her hand down to his soft and disappointed little member. “Just listen to me. Trust me. Kay?”

Yes, he nodded.

Holding him, she put her lips close to his ear, whispering. “Little cock. Little dickette. Not nearly as big as my lover’s. Little dicklet. So stiff, wasn’t he, when Timmy put Darren’s nice big hard cock in me.” Timmy rolling up his eyes, but he didn’t make her stop. “Little dicklet. Little cockette. Loves watching me with a big one, doesn’t he. He doesn’t he.”

“Jesus Sharon.”

But she giggled. He was getting hard in her hand. “Think about that nice big cock. My lover’s cock. So exciting having you hold it for me. Kiss it. Put it in me.” He groaned but there was pleasure in the sound as well as pain. And he was very stiff in her hand. "I loved watching you do that for me."

Looking at him, trying to think what to say next. He’d looked so cute with Darren’s cock in his mouth; she wanted to tell him that. He’d been so nice. Why couldn’t he be like that all the time?

“I can make you come like this,” she said, stroking him. “Would you like that?”

Yes, he nodded, desperately.

“Which is fine. I like doing this to you, and you like it, too. But…”

“What?” he gasped.

“Well… I need something else, too, don’t I. I need a big hard cock in me, sometimes. Don’t I.”

He turned his head away, but the needy, yearning sound he was making didn’t stop.

“Don’t I.”

He nodded. She stroked and diddled, rewarding him for his answer. His hips began shifting impatiently, like a kid needing candy. She lightened her touch. The head of his penis was tight with excitement. Nothing like Darren's when he was close. The same phenomenon, but so different. Darren's thing so wide in her grasp, fingers barely reaching around it.

“So it’s not fair is it. Specially since it excites you too, like this.” Her hands going very slow, left finger and thumb ringing the base of his cock, squeezing tight, and the others just trailing delicate little figures, too light to bring him off.

“Do you want me to make you come?”

“Yes,” he gasped, elbow across his eyes.

“Because I’m happy to please you like this. But I need Darren to please me, too. To please me like a man.” Tracing the pad of her index finger slowly along the line of nerves below the head of his penis.

“Please,” he gasped. “God, Sharon, please….”

“If I have Darren, too. Darren for making love. For cock. For fucking. And you—“ letting her fingertip becoming a whispery fluttery thing right where he needed it—“for… other things." He groaned. So funny the way guys were when you played with their cocks like this. "Okay? Okay?”

His head nodding manically, eyes still covered by his elbow.

“Then come for me.” Diddle diddle diddle. “Show me you want what I want. Come for me sweetest. There. Oh there, there, yes." Squirt, squirt, squirt, then ahhh, and a little dribble. She lay alongside him, still holding his softening dickette. "So good, darling. Such a good boy to come so sweetly for me.”








Part IX

It was a couple of weeks later, and for her part she thought that things were really working out quite well. She had the best of two worlds—a warm, loving spouse and a hot, sexy lover with whom she could completely lose herself in the throes of passion and arousal.

Darren was slowly taking her to places she’d never been, sexually. She loved the feeling of being powerless, being made a slave to her own furious arousal, and he fed this need in her, used it to undermine her resistance and take her to new heights and depths.

One afternoon she was on her knees to her lover in the living room, ankles and wrists tied, and begging him to let her make him come with her mouth. They’d both denied themselves the use of their hands—Darren standing at parade rest, hands behind him and his big thing hanging out into space in front, bobbing and swinging in response to her efforts, and she was giggling and panting and chasing it with her mouth when Timmy came home and found them that way.

Somehow, coming home unprepared like that, it surprised and upset him—she could tell by the way he behaved. He knew she’d prefer if he stayed and witnessed, but instead he just muttered “Excuse me” and went into the kitchen. Made a drink and took it to his den. Well, this was just the one flaw in the whole picture: that Timmy seemed to still have these moments of holding back, of resisting. This part of him that knew it was not “manly” to have accepted the arrangement they had.

She made a suggestion and Darren untied her. They’d gone hand-in-hand down the hall and knocked on the door of Timmy’s little refuge.

“Can we come in?”

“I guess.”

She didn’t like him to sound like that. She didn’t want him to be unhappy about things. Plus it was unfair to spoil her fun. She squatted on her haunches next to his office chair, trying to jolly him out of his little pet. I’m sorry we started without you. Are you very upset? Doesn’t it excite you though, just a little? No? You don’t really want to be all soupy and sad do you?

All the while, Darren standing behind her, fingers in her hair, his big thing hanging next to her face. At some point her flow of reassuring chatter slowed to a stop. She’d been idly toying with the Cock as she spoke. Now she began kissing it lazily, without removing her gaze from her husband.

“You haven’t played with us very much recently, have you” she said, fingers cradling the stiffening Cock, eyes gauging the look in Timmy’s eyes. Fascination, sadness, fear. She kissed the Cock again. So smooth, so lovely, long and strong. So nice to explore that with her soft lips. “Maybe we should make you. Maybe you’d like it if we made you do something.”

He made a little sound, a throat-clearing that ended in a kind of sigh.

Suddenly that fierce feeling rose in her, the funny way tenderness could suddenly harden into furious desire. She was uncomfortable squatting like this. The Cock was hers and she would have it, she decided. Her licking became demonstrative, lascivious rather than merely sensual, her eyes on Tim’s. Timmy would watch, she decided. Timmy would watch and like it.

Rising—ow! knees too long in that position—she led Darren over to the small leather couch in Tim’s office. Pushed him down so he sat there, his big thing standing straight up from his lap. A nice thing to sit on. She turned to face Tim, legs in a vee outside Darren’s knees. Stretchy stretch for a minute—pull the kinks out—tits lifting as her arms reached toward the ceiling, then down. Tim looking hurt, excited. That roller-coaster-at-the-top look. Oh no, oh dear, oh help. He was the one who should be kneeling, she decided.

“Will you do something for me, sweetest? Something nice?” Yes, he nodded. “Come closer. I want to kiss you.”Chair squeaking as he got up, moving in a dream. A tender, almost chaste kiss. She giggled. He was fully dressed; here she was all naked with her lover the same. She whispered in Tim’s ear. “I want you on your knees, right here.” Hands on his shoulders, urging him down. “Right here darling. So you can share with us.”

Timmy unable to resist touching her, sliding his hands along her smooth legs. Darren’s hands on her hips, pulling. Her hands down to the Cock, finding it, setting it at the right spot, the correct angle. The thick-stretching press as it bulged into her.

“See? Isn’t that nice? Tell me you think it’s nice.”

He nodded, breathing a sigh of assent. Just kneeling there staring at her Cunt. Her Cunt and its Cock.

She lazed back, looking down over tits and tummy, the smooth rise of mons, enjoying the feeling of the thing in her and Timmy’s eyes on it. Made it so hot, so naughty, that pained but fascinated gaze. Look at it, baby. Look at the big Cock in me.

Darren began making little movements with his hips. Guys so impatient once their cocks were in there, all that nice tight and wet and hot. But she felt lazy, imperious. Queen of the moment. She didn’t want to have to work at this. They should do the work for Her.

Propping herself with one arm, she reached out to Timmy with the other. Tousled his hair. Pulled him close.

Closer.

Kiss, baby. Kiss me there. You know what I like. Make me feel nice.

His lips traveling the smoothness of her inner thighs, her mons. Tentatively moving down to dabble at her clitoris. Which was tight with excitement. Lover’s cock, husband’s tongue, all together in her nicest places.

“Yes,” she gasped. “God you’re so good at that, sweet. There, like that. Nnnnnnn—OH!”

Goodness, a little flashing sparkling orgasm. This was good for her. She liked it like this.

“Soft now,” she whispered, her clit too sensitive after that. But it would pass. Timmy kissing here and there, tongue on ultra-smooth skin of thighs and mons. Meanwhile Darren excited, hands on her hips and pushing Unng, Nnggg, Nggg as much as he could. She lay back in his arms, a little drained from her first O. Timmy knowing she liked attention to the area around her opening when she’d just had a cum, that it was best to have more attention to labia and inner places until her sensitivity faded and she was ready for his tongue at the top again. “Yes,” she whispered, feeling his tongue move down there, a little hesitant because, after all.... And then Darren grunting at the contact, thrusting a little in response. So lovely, so nice, she thought, fingertips toying in Tim's hair. So nice to have him do all the work for them like this. She was a massively Cock-stuffed Cunt and her husband was doing just what he should. Darren grunting, pulling his hips back, exposing the long underside of the Cock. Offering. And Timmy accepting, his head lifting and falling, liquidy heat on her and then… not on her. Darren groaning, pulling back, holding as long as he could for the nice attention, then shoving angrily in.

Timmy moved up to her clit again and she was ready for it again, she liked that but… She pushed him back down with her hand. “Down there. Do him. I like it even better when you do him.”

Darren grunting, growling. Pulling out long, holding… holding… then shoving fiercely back in. Then out long again and Timmy making sounds too. Oh god. Mmm, ohhhh.

“Just like that,” she whispered. “Just like that.” His hair tickling her thighs as he did whatever he was doing that was causing Darren to make those angry sounds. The sounds he made when he was getting up to the edge. Sudden shove, then pulling long, long, just barely in her.

“Oh god,” she gasped. “Oh Timmy he’s gonna come. Make him come. Don’t stop. Whatever you’re doing he’s… so hard, so hot… ahhhhhh”

And Darren’s sounds mingling into hers and Timmy making a little squeak in the back of his throat and she felt it going all hot and liquidy down there, cock just barely in, then shoving deep, jetting jetting and spearing in once, twice, again, holding and grinding deep at the last, finishing deep inside her.

[hornedhubby]

Damn. In terms of pushing my buttons, this story is as hot as anything I've read. And I've read many, many. Very few as good as this one. Well plotted and written as well.

Thanks, mattyg. You're an ace. Best wishes.

[safira]

twice, i haven’t made it past Darren putting his arm around her waist and taking her away with him.
damn, you can write.

[54321]

Wonderful!

Is there more?

54321

[hornedhubby]

Interesting to me, as a fan of the heroine of the "Jane's Adventure" thread, how much this piece rhymes with Jane's episode with her own Darren.

I hope Jane happens to read it. Her thoughts would be fascinating (as they always are).

[wittol]

This is definitely one of Mascarasnake’s best stories, but there are about 10 or so others that are in the same league. I used to have them all saved, but a hard drive crash took care of that. (You can find them if you look). BTW, it’s likely that “Mascarasnake” is a couple, which would explain why the woman’s voice is so strong. Thanks for posting, Matty.

[mattyg_2671]

twice, i haven’t made it past Darren putting his arm around her waist and taking her away with him.
damn, you can write.

I haven’t written it, I wish I had! It’s an old Mascarasnake story that I’m reposting.

[mattyg_2671]

Part X

They discussed it later, after Darren went home. These things were hard for him, she knew. Harder still to understand why he was so in thrall to them, when at the same time—or especially afterwards—they filled him with such anguish.

She said, maybe it was a little like when Darren spanked her, either with his hand or using the leather whip she’d bought for him as a sign of devotion. The sharpness of the feeling—one didn’t want to call it pain, exactly, though the sting was there, especially when the smacks fell directly on her cunt—that sharp feeling followed by the flood of pleasure, blood and endorphins rushing to the sensitive spot, the nerves tingling. Maybe it was kind of an emotional version of that.

Tim agreed that maybe it was, but the problem was how to handle all those difficult feelings when he was not any longer in the moment. Especially at work or out doing errands or just during any other context where… where he found himself confronted with how, well, strange it was. How, you know, really kind of debasing. How it didn’t really fit at all with any image of himself as, like, a real man.

Looking very sorry for himself, which tugged at her heart but also annoyed her no end.

She got these feelings more and more, now that she had Darren. That she was entitled to what she wanted. That at least where her husband was concerned, Darren’s Cock was her Cock and deserved respect. Obedience, put it that way. She felt herself expanding into all these new areas of feeling and experience.

And so she brought up the idea that had crossed her mind a few times, and that increasingly struck her as kind of a fun thing to do but also useful, helpful for Timmy. She’d been thinking for some time, she told him, about whether there wasn’t something they might do to help maintain him in that proper, accepting frame of mind more continuously. The question was whether those negative feelings were something he just wanted to wallow in, or did he really want to work at this, at adapting himself more fully to his situation and eradicating them. Because there might be something that might help.

“Like what,” he asked, that apprehensive look that both aroused and irritated her. Didn’t he trust her to know what was best? Tender feelings mixed with the new, strong, cruel ones. She felt like the bad queen in one of those Disney things. Imperious and sexy. She would take control of this little…

But sweetly. Tenderly.

There were a couple of things that might help, she told him. Little things, but the more she’d thought, the more she liked the idea. The problem was this “real man” nonsense. What business did he have tormenting himself about what a real man would think or do? She didn’t say that directly. But she did suggest that if that was the problem he was having, the answer was to work more diligently at developing this other, newer side of himself, just as she was reveling in the changes she was going through. She’d always felt that he was a really pretty guy, a certain androgynous cast she’d always found attractive. What if they worked at bringing that out a little more in him. Developing the part of him that was not Darren, not Cock, not… well, male exactly. Maybe just to start, he would have some physical change, some constant reminder, something secret, just for him. She kept herself shaved and smooth for Darren; why couldn’t Tim do the same for her. The more she thought of it, the more funny and appropriate it seemed. Kind of like the feeling she had watching him go down on Darren’s Cock. If he kept himself all smooth down there—it would feel different, it would be with him all the time, whenever he went to use the bathroom, whatever. They could try it, see if it made a difference. They could use her things. Being all smooth, he’d want to have something smooth and silky to wear against that newly sensitive skin. Something girlish. Something cute. They could spend an afternoon fixing him up, finding him something appropriate.

“What a pretty ass you’ve got, sweetheart,” she said when they’d settled on something suitable. And the dicklet, the cockette looked appropriately happy in its new accoutrements, standing up stiff and diminutive against the shiny, stretchy material.

There was, after all, a kind of logic to it all. The thing she’d intuited from early on, when Darren and Darren’s Cock had first entered their lives and, Jupiter-like, became their center of gravity. On the one hand, Man. The Man and His Cock. On the other, increasingly… the Unmanned. Her own femininity enhanced in respect to Darren’s Manhood; her access to Manhood infusing her relationship with her more beta-male husband; her husband partaking more and more in the Feminine now that she had possession of the Cock and his maleness had been supplanted in their relationship. A kind of natural, inexorable progression, once you looked at it that way. Painful for him, so perhaps he couldn’t see it as clearly as she could. But pleasurable too, since it simply was the way of things. Hers to help him along the path, then. Clearly he was disturbed about all this, but fascinated too, the both of them staring down at the happy dicklet in the Victoria’s Secret “Boy Briefs” they’d eventually settled on. She adjusted the waist just a trifle. Slipped her hand down to cup a cheek. “Mmmm,” she whispered. “I like you like this.” Smack!—and he jumped a little. “Such a nice ass. We’ll go online and get you a whole set to wear. I don’t want to see you in anything else. Clear enough?”






Part XI

It was like there was this other dimension of themselves that people had access to, once they had moved past the conventions and behaviors of their normal roles as husband, wife, professional. This was what Darren had opened up for them, a mysterious realm he had drawn Sharon into, and it was her place—her joy, her duty, her own path of self-realization—to draw Tim in with her. That was how she saw it, and it gave her the inner strength to be firm with him when he was being difficult or reluctant. There were no hard and fast rules in this place, just instincts and pleasures. Above all, the pleasure of moving from the outward, accepted roles of the normal world into the dark, secret world of their new adventure; the playing off of one against the other.

And so she didn’t mistrust her own feelings or resist the transformation she herself was undergoing. This shedding of old skins that were too confining, the need to grow and accept these other dimensions of herself that were so strange and exciting. It was harder for Timmy, for some reason—well, for obvious reasons, of course, but not only the obvious ones. But that was why it was a sign of her love and generosity that she wanted to be his guide, his helpmeet in all this.

Or to put it another way, it excited her to be a little cruel, and it was clear that these things excited him as well, even though—or perhaps because?—there was so much inner conflict for him.

For instance, when Darren loaned her to two of his friends for the weekend.

If Timmy had a duality of feeling, she had at least that many dimensions going. The thrill of submitting to Darren, letting herself be used, combined with the thrill of superiority toward Timmy, the strange insoluble mixture of submission and power, liberation and enslavement.

When she told him about it, Timmy was all… “So, I mean, who are these guys? Isn’t this kind of…. Aren’t you a little—I mean, what if they’re not, well, nice about things? This whole set up seems just kind of risky.”

Well, yeah. Her first reaction, she’d been a little hurt in fact. The thing with Darren was supposed to be just sex, but she hadn’t realized how much her affections had been engaged. She knew better than to object, but she couldn’t keep the look out of her eyes when Darren had informed her of his intention: I’m yours, are you saying you don’t want me? I’ve given myself to you completely.

Of course it only took a few moments to realize that that was precisely what this was about. A little test of it, really. If I own you, Darren was saying, then you are mine to do with as I will.

And so it was with just a lovely little cunt-tingling thrill, kneeling there on the carpet in his apartment, that she had whispered “Yes,” dropping her eyes with proper submissive decorum.

“They’re good people. Friends. Kind of a little club we have. They understand how it is for you, what this is about.”

“Will there be… is there to be… remuneration, of some kind?” He’d hinted there was some kind of compensation involved. Money or… The idea both repulsed and intrigued her. Enough to risk questioning him, risking a punishment. But he was indulgent towards her and pushing the limits a little was part of the game.

He took her by the chin. “You’d prefer it if there were, wouldn’t you.” She held his eyes. Her knees on the carpet, a lovely trembling tingle in her cunt. “Sometimes, yeah, with this kind of thing. Larger party, especially. Much as a grand per. You like that?”

“It’s… It interests me. To think about. Yes.”

“Well, this time, no, not as such. Just an exchange of favors. But you’ll do it?”

She lowered her eyes.

“Good. You are a sweet thing. Now what do you want for your reward?” He moved closer to her, the tent shape in his loose silk boxers growing.

Reaching up, childlike, she took it in her hand, her engagement diamond twinkling in the low light. “Can I touch it? Can I kiss it? I want to kiss it till it spurts.”

The discussion with Timmy, of course, was of a rather different tone. This too was a thrill. To exercise the power that submission to Darren seemed to confer on her.

“They’re going to come here. Darren said they’d be willing to take a hotel room but it would be nicer if they could come here. I said that would be fine.”

“God,” he whispered. “God.”

“Yes, well. But then there’s this, isn’t there,” sliding her hand up his leg. Under his sober looking work pants, slippery-slidey material, and inside that, the bump of his erection.

“Come on,” she said, tugging down his zipper. “Let’s get these off. We can discuss what you’re going to wear while I make you feel nice down here.”

The thing about the clothing, the dressing up they’d been doing, was that even though it was rather embarrassing for him—he’d been teased about looking effeminate, even as a kid—it also helped him get a certain distance from things. “It’s more like I’m, I dunno, just playing a role or something,” he’d admitted. “Like it’s not really me, so it’s… easier.” This was a good thing, particularly in this case because with two strange men she’d never been with it was harder to know what to expect. Darren had told her a few things, at least as to what their expectations would be. He had said they “understood this kind of thing,” but what that actually meant was, well, a little different from her own view of the situation between her, her husband and her lover. This thing with Kishan and Jason, Darren had explained, was kind of like an informal club, a sort of party group they had. It was not an uncommon thing, really, and they, like, shared—that was kind of the deal.

“What’s not uncommon?” she wanted to know.

Well, that certain white women, married white women, got off on black men. Not racism or at least, not exactly. In a way it was, but both sides got off on it. Not a secret that Darren had done this before—though, as he hastened to add, “You the best, baby. By far the best.” And sometimes, as he and Kishan and Jason and their lovers over the years had discovered, it was nice to share. For all parties involved. The men enjoyed it, for obvious reasons, but the woman too. A level of intensity that you really had to experience, according to Darren.

“You a little nervous, that’s okay. That’s part of it—you should know that by now.”

“Well, yes.”

“Just, I think it’s time to take it to the next level,” he said. “I think you’re ready for that.”

“I mean…”

“The wife needs to be brought in, brought up, educated a little. That’s all. That’s what this about. To them, you’re like, you know, a woman got the hunger. The need. Spite of being married. They come in to give a taste what that’s really all about. I’ve brought you along but now it’s their turn, is how they’ll see it. You still mine, but you want to treat them like you treat me. Understand? All that sweet obedience. For them too.”

“But… I’m not sure I can…”

“Don’t you worry. Once it starts, you’ll see. They’ll treat you right. First time, she’s always a little nervous. But I never met one didn’t want to do it again.”

He was right, of course; she could already feel the tingle, the thrill of it, that giddy feeling she loved. But, “What about Timmy? I mean, if it’s at our house…”

This was not an issue, he explained. “Sometimes she wants hubby to be there. For safety; also for, you know, other reasons. They know about that. Long as he stays out of the way, does what he’s told, that’s all good. Show proper respect, what it’s all about. You prepare him right, like you been doing, he’ll do okay.”

[mattyg_2671]

Here is the final part…

Part XII

It was certainly different. To be used this way, a pure sex toy, an object for the two men’s enjoyment. With Darren, after all, there was a relationship. Though she was presumed to be always available, always worshipful and wanting to please, there was a real history between them—the madness they’d both felt that first night, the excitement of the initial seduction and developing relationship since then.

With Kishan and Jason it was completely different. For all that they were fun to be with—cute, funny, even sweet at times—they also understood her to be a complete slut, a white wife who craved the thrill of going with black men and wanted to be used like the slut she was. No preliminaries necessary.

Funny thing: her primary feeling, the motivation she kept coming back to over the thrilling, exhilarating, exhausting weekend was hoping Darren would be proud, that he would hear great compliments from them as to how well she had served them.

Even funnier, that Timmy too seemed caught up in that spirit. “Will he be pleased with me, too, do you think?” he asked, late the second night after a particularly difficult episode. The hope in his eyes, so touching—she didn’t have the heart to say “Honestly, honey, I don’t think he cares.” Which wasn’t strictly true. Certainly Darren would have been very displeased to hear that Tim had been anything but willing, helpful, and accommodating. Even eager.

Which was, in fact, something that the extremity of the whole event seemed to bring out in him. Being dressed up helped—he’d told her that before. Helped him get out of himself, like he was playing a role, let him feel like it was all happening to this character he was playing if he needed to. Mostly they’d ignored him for the first twenty-four hours or so, except insofar as he could be put into service bringing drinks and other refreshments. The guys seemed to take his outfit in stride. It wasn’t too much, just a rather girlish belly-tee and the boy-briefs she thought he looked cute in. He had the right, slender build and he’d always had what she considered one of the cutest butts she’d ever seen.

Watching her with the two guys had clearly done something to him, too. Since he couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t possibly stop it or pretend to some last remnant of regular manhood under the circumstances, there was really no choice but to let himself be forced further and further along. The guys were strong, well-built and determined; his wife for her part was enjoying her role, acting the part her lover had directed her to play. And so all he could do was surrender to his own appointed role in the drama. Dickette mostly standing up rigid and defiant of any resistance he might still harbor, its state at all times evident in the slippery elastic fabric chosen to mark him as the least among them.

And so Saturday night, actually Sunday morning by then, there’d been this little session where the guys wanted to see her demonstrate her control over Timmy. By then, tired from so much fucking, this was exactly the right thing to get everyone’s waning batteries charged up again.

“You like it when he does that?” Kishan asked, fascinated. “You like watching him do that.”

Yes, she nodded. It was, god knew why, deeply thrilling to her to order Timmy down on his knees. To make him do this thing so contrary to his conscious nature, to submit to his darkest impulses as a demonstration of love for her. For his part the recipient, Jason, hardly seemed to mind. His cock rigid despite the hard use it had been put to over the last 24 hours. She loved the look of it, the arched length and gleaming head, and above all the look of helpless confusion on Timmy’s face, the manifest excitement he felt, his dickette obviously erect in the stretchy material of his Boy Briefs as he worked at bringing Jason off.

“Do like that, Timmy? Is that what you like?” she asked, kneeling beside him, kissing and petting as he worked at pleasing Jason. He made a deep moan, sad and hungry at the same time. “I love seeing you like this,” she reassured him. “It’s best for us like this. So sweet for me.” He pulled back, staring at the thing rising so huge and rigid from his hand. Her hand joining his, supplanting his, making the rising-falling ring the cock needed. Jason surging under her manipulations, the cock already so close. Timmy content to watch. But she wasn’t. Look at that Cock, honey. Look at it. Jason groaning and the thick vein underneath swollen taut, the head swollen taut. Timmy’s lips still parted and she guided him forward, her free hand on the back of his head. “Just… yes… like that while I…” And the heat was enough, apparently, that and the stark perversity of the act, to push Jason up and over the edge. Timmy choking, shocked, eyes going to hers in helpless questioning and her love going out to him so strong as felt the heavy spasms, holding him and whispering yes, yes darling, so sweet for me, look at you.

Still, nice as that was, the darkest, deepest, sweetest time came late Sunday afternoon, when her two new lovers both fucked her at the same time.

By then she had become the thing she’d been pretending. An animal of lust and hunger for Cock, for big Cock, for Big Black Cock.

“That right? That what you want baby?” Kishan—who consistently took the lead in things—asked. A successful software engineer in his regular life, he was quite capable of sounding like the Ivy League grad he was when it suited him. But it didn’t suit him just now. “You want it black, yeah? You don’t like nothin else, that right/”

Yes, she nodded eagerly. Yes, yes, whatever you say, just do it, do it now, oh god.

Because she was already seated down firmly on Jason’s cock, the two of them on the floor, Jason on his back and Sharon sitting with her back to him, facing Kishan. Her legs spread for Kishan, and Jason’s cock slowly throbbing and stretching her rear in the most deeply satisfying way. And this was impossible, she couldn’t do this, it would hurt her, injure her, surely—but they’d been so sweet, so reassuring and loving and bringing her along slowly. “Only if you’re ready, only if you want it,” they said. Caressing her, their deep chocolate-sweet voices speaking endearments, what a good girl she was, a good pet, warm hands petting and stroking. “We’ll go slow. Only if you want it. Only if you’re ready.” And yes, she’d said, okay, god, it scares me though.” “Hush, now, hush, just relax, nothing gonna hurt, we done this before. You let go, you’ll love it, promise you baby.”

And so this: giddy with fear and excitement, Jason all hard and tight in her lubricated ass and Kishan getting into position, moving his erection down to slide the bulbous head up and down in her slipperiness, so wet, she’d never been so wet.

Sliding like that, using her own juices to slick himself up, and then starting to push. And oh god, he couldn’t, there wasn’t, uh, wasn’t room, there was just this…. Oh god, tight push and press, like….

And his voice, soft at her ear, reassuring, a trainer reassuring a nervous filly. “Just relax,” he said. “Just let it happen. Don’t be scared. You want it to happen. Just relax.”And the pressure grew, a huge squeezing push, becoming scary pain but then suddenly it slipped and eased and she was caught tight and trembling, stuffed and stuck on this huge double shaft, her hips moving ever so slowly, marveling, feeling it, this impossible thing confirmed by the rigidity and resistance deep in her.

“Huh, huh, ahhh” she heard, clenching, her involuntary sounds as the sensation hit her, took her away. Coming out of it to Kishan’s face above her, looking down in affection, fascination. She sensed Timmy coming forward, concerned at her cries. No, she shook him off. No, no. This is… okay. This is, oh my god more than okay, it’s… it is…..

There weren’t words. Not just the feeling, but the knowledge, the thought. The obscene thought of those two beautiful dark Cocks sunk so deep in her.

IN her.

Jason behind, holding her tits, whispering Yeah, baby, oh yeah now. Kishan, elbows locked, staring down, starting to move gently, and curious—how was she taking this.

A deep throbbing all down there. She remembered years back sitting on an old boyfriend’s Italian motorbike, Moto-something, big engine thrumming with restrained power between her thighs. Like that. Like that big engine was up inside her.

Little choking sounds, little gaspings. Her thighs moving weakly as she came to terms with this. Cock behind, cock in front. Kishan looking down at her, all his muscles tightening as he lifted, got set to start thrusting in her.

God, no, she thought, too much, already too much just to have them in her, the tight throbbing squeezing heat of it. If he started to move she would scream, lose consciousness, how could she stand it. To be fucked like this…

“Ready?” he said.

Yes, she nodded.

And he began. Slow at first. Easing back, then in again. The obscene fullness. Tightly stretched, erect cock thrust arrogantly up behind as Kishan slow-fucked her in front. Kishan looking down, seeing how she was taking it.

God, was all she could gasp, ohgod ohgod ohgod ohgod…

He accelerated. Arms straight, back arched, military precision fucking. The obscenity of it, the two cocks in her, cock sliding against cock inside of her. Jason back there finding his own motion, harder to move but shifting short strokes in and out, not just pressure but delicious hot-sliding friction in the tight ring of her ass.

Kishan’s penis moving in the unheard-of tightness and pressure. Staring down curious at her. Like that? Like it, baby? She choked, gasped, clutched his biceps, his shoulders. Screaming as she came again. Coming like this—and god, no, stop, slow, just… let… me… And he did slow for her, but he loved doing this to her, double fucking her and he couldn’t hold it back. Speed picking back up, and now he was going fast and steady in her and pulling his cock way back, the bulbous head popping in and out of the rubbery taut ring of her cunt, making them both feel the shock of the double penetration over and over again. His eyes asking: Like that? Like it?

What she was experiencing wasn’t orgasm, or rather it was like the whole thing was one endless orgasm punctuated by moments of surpassing intensity. Too much, yet her hips arching back as if to escape the cock in front only made her fuck herself on the cock behind. Jason squirming tight little circles back there and Kishan thrusting long now in machinelike, military precision. Cocks sliding in her, sliding against each other inside of her, her slick cunt and ass the medium for a huge mutual three-way fuck. Animal sounds, helpless primal sounds. She’d been handed over to these guys, her lover had loaned her to them and they were using her for their pleasure. She was a sex toy, a Pleasure Unit programmed for screaming ecstasy at being used by Cocks, pumped by Cocks. She was fulfilling her primal function, thrusting to try and please them, doing the best she can, the pumping going on and on, pleasure unit properly Cockpumped until all thought dissolved. A timeless blur that sharpened into the realization Jason behind was going pre-orgasmic—gasping Here it comes, oh yeah, oh fuck oh god—and Kishan tightening and pounding, arching his neck forward to look at their joining, watching himself fucking her to bring himself off and then the slick jerking began, the pushing hard and squirming tight against her, jetting spurts throbbing back and front and her own cunt clenching in spasms she’d never felt before, never like this, and crying her acceptance, her gratitude for what they were giving her: Yes yes yes yes yes….

Little chuckles, little laughs of accomplishment, release and affection after they all collapsed and rolled pulled apart. “Damn. Damn!” “Shee—it. Hooo WEE.” “Oh my god. My… fucking… god. My fucking… god…”







Coda.

There were of course no final acts, no grand conclusions. There were just further increments, further explorations. Nevertheless there was one thing, some months later, that marked a kind of permanent transition in their lives.

This latest thing—she found it a little disturbing herself. There was always that bit of resistance and astonishment toward her own impulses to overcome, though. And the feeling of wanting to do it had that same kind of intensity she had come to crave, always growing, it seemed, since she began feeding it—even back when she was just flirting, but ever more so since going with Darren and letting him open so many new horizons to her.

Ann-Marie, one of the other women in the circle she had discovered she was part of, had introduced the idea to her. She was a bit older but strikingly beautiful, smart, highly educated and, Sharon gathered, rather wealthy. They’d met at one of the Parties the others involved sometimes had. She’d been reluctant to go to one of those gatherings at first. One thing to let herself be loaned out to Kishan and Jason privately; quite another to meet these other people involved, even if it wasn’t exactly a public setting. The great fear that she would find them odd, obsessed, tawdry, and this would all reflect back on her own choices, her own identity was hard to set aside. Ann-Marie’s presence did much to dispel those fears. “I was afraid of that too,” she had confided the first time they met at one of these get-togethers. “It’s women like you who make me feel proud of what we’re doing,” she told Sharon, and thus was born an immediate sisterly affection. But there was more to it than that.

It was only a week or so after they first met that Ann-Marie showed her the thing she did with Randy, her husband. They’d been just visiting over coffee, though Ann-Marie had prefaced the invitation with hints that there might be a little more to it than that. “I have something I want to share with you. Something I think you’ll appreciate.”

Somehow the atmosphere had shifted from the coffee-and-donuts Saturday mood into something darker.

Ann-Marie had been full of questions about Sharon and Tim, what things were like between them now that Sharon was dating Darren and seeing some of the other men in the Circle. Sharon had felt increasingly warm toward her and found it was easy and refreshing to open up about, well, the darker things she’d felt and done. These strange impulses toward Tim, cruel and loving at the same time, the one feeding the other somehow. The unexpected thrill she’d felt at compelling him to service her lover, how that seemed to give her a share in Darren’s power, almost as if… well… it was her body, her authority--her cock, not to put too fine a point. In a sense.

Certainly these discussions warmed her. Warmed them both. Awakened some of that same cruel-but sweet intensity like a tickle or an itch in the brain. A little spark there. Attraction toward this other woman? Something like that between them, yes. Hand touching forearm, back of the hand, her nylon-sheathed knee.

“Shall we play?” Ann-Marie said, and the question of whether she was hitting on Sharon and what she felt about that popped into Sharon’s head. The indecision was in her eyes as they met Ann-Marie’s. But Ann-Marie laughed. “Oh you’re a lovely thing, but that’s not exactly what I had in mind.” She touched the call button on the intercom unit near the sofa. “Randy? I think it’s time. Would you care to come down here?”

At another time the “procedure,” as Ann-Marie referred to it, might have been off-putting and repellant to her. But this other mood, the one Ann-Marie shared and wanted to arouse and nurture in her, had become easier and easier to access over the last few months. So it was with only a brief pang or two of self-astonishment that she found herself falling in with Ann-Marie’s manner.

“He doesn’t get to experience orgasm very often,” Ann-Marie explained. Randy was on all fours by that point, having brought his “things” with him and laid them out on the coffee table. “Almost never. Do you sweetheart.”

Shaking his head No, with a little pained grunt, a funny inward look in his eyes as he stared down at the carpet in front of him. He flinched a little at the snap of the glove.

“We’re going to show Sharon how we take care of your problem, ‘kay? I want her to learn how it’s done so she can teach Timmy.”

Sharon felt a little odd to be sitting here fully dressed with this other woman’s husband naked in front of her. Would have felt worse about it though, but for the man’s obvious state of erection. Something about whatever was going to happen excited him she guessed, pointing this out to Ann-Marie. Who laughed.

“Well, it’s been over a week since he’s been taken care of. He gets spontaneous erections all the time, the last couple of days. Like an adolescent boy.” She was squirting something slippery into the shiny plastic glove.

“This took us a while the first few times, but now that we both have the hang of it…” She moved closer, kneeling by Randy, gently caressing the back of his neck with her free hand as she slid the slippery one down behind.

The details of it all were critical—the things Ann-Marie showed her after urging her to participate. Partly the thought of doing this to another woman’s husband repelled her. He was not unattractive, to be sure. Rather cute in fact. And the fact that he was so excited, yet this other thing was going to happen to him, this deeply unmanning and yet fascinating thing, and there was apparently nothing he could do about it, began to interest her intensely. Arouse her. The insertion, the probing for the exact spot. The jerk and grunt when she found it.

“There, you’ve got it, just like that,” Ann Marie said as Sharon imitated the motion she'd seen her mentor performing. "Should start soon. He was right on the edge." And yes, not very long before Randy had suddenly started making a different sound, a kind of drawn out ahhhhh. The concept was intuitive enough—massaging this nut-sized, spongy little thing in there, back and forth until…

“There! See?”

“Aaaaaaahaahhhaahh….”

Bending forward so she could look at the pale erection bobbing below she could see the clear stuff dripping then starting to run out, going pat pat pat on the towel spread beneath him.

“Oh god oh god oh god.”

Randy collapsed forward, elbows on the carpet and head bending down to rest on them, but keeping his butt elevated for what was being done to him.

“Oh god oh god, ahhhhh,” and now the clear was going opaque then white and really just kind pouring out, just draining out of him, all fascinatingly without the usual jerks and jets and spasms. She stroked firmly but gently, long strokes, determined to get it all out of him, every last drop. Like taking something, robbing him of some essential thing. For his own good. For Ann-Marie’s and hers.

“See what I mean?” Ann-Marie said when they were back on the sofa with fresh coffee, Randy dismissed to put his things away and clean himself up. “It’s a powerful experience. For you and him. He feels drained and kind of, well “used” is the term Randy describes it as. And you feel empowered, maybe a little tender, but decidedly superior. At least that’s how it is for us. And it really seems to make him more docile, more supportive of your needs, whatever they might be. I really do recommend you persuade Tim to try it.”

~*~

Thus this series of discussions with Tim over the last week or so. Fear and resistance of course. Some last-minute dithering. She’d persuaded him to prolong his time of abstinence an extra day or so, just to ensure he was very much in need, very much in the mood to obey her wishes. “We’re going to try this. We can do it once—I want to at least see if we can learn how to do it. Then it’s an option for us. Something we can use if we want. If we need it.”

Fear in his eyes, yes, but also a kind of weak-at-heart fascination. Could the thing really be done? What would it be like, to be so furiously aroused and just…lose it, have it taken away like that. To experience it, just once anyway. Just once.

She had decided it would be better for them to do it with Timmy lying on his back. She liked the idea of touching him, arousing him, even kissing him down there, just enough. Ann-Marie, had shared a few last-minute tips via cell-phone. “The closer he is to actual climax, the easier it is. But you have to be careful not to overdo it obviously, or you’ll have wasted all that effort.” She preferred Randy on his knees, the ritual posture of a subservient. But at least this first time, Sharon liked the idea of Tim seeing it happen, both of them able to watch it.

So he was propped against the headboard, other things ready to hand on the towel next to them. And she did love it when he was so desperately aroused like this, so horny and hard for her. Stroking him all slippery with the glove and lubricant, just enough to make him twitch and groan. Fun to finish a man like that, but she schooled herself not to let either of them get carried away. Grinning conspiratorially up at him, getting his agreement for what she was about to do, she slid her hand down to the base, the balls, then further down, long finger extended.

Not too hard to find the thing, after having done it once with Randy. It seemed happy, tight and full with excitement. She was going to steal that from him. Take it from him. Partly she was appalled at herself at the thought. Partly proud, wicked, and wanting to do it to him. Just once. Just to see what it was like.

It took a little longer than it had for Randy. Timmy maybe trying to hold back, willing it not to happen. He seemed to lose some of his erection when she first started. But then it returned. "Don't fight it sweetheart. Just let it go." She stroked it a little, lightly, with her free hand, until the fluid seemed to be coming faster. Then she let go, focusing on what she was doing inside him. "I think it's starting, darling." He made a strangled sound, writhing his head No no no but there it was, yes, the clear dribble beginning, becoming a steady flow as she manipulated him in there, using a steady, inexorable rhythm.

“God, god,” he gasped, just like Randy, and she giggled, thrilled that it was going to happen, nothing could stop it now.

“Look at it, babe. Look. I want you to watch it happening.”

“Nnngggnngggg,” he growled, almost an angry sound, like he was feeling his own body betray him. Which it was.

“Oh there, look darling. See?” The stuff going white now, starting to really run out of him, like some threshold had passed and the little organ was doing all it could. But no spasm, no flexion of the penis, no clenching spurting muscular male triumph, that thing they all took such pride in and needed so badly. There, look! More and more of it, so much--she'd never seen anything like it from him. Her gaze alternating between the thing itself and the reactions crossing Timmy’s face, an eager experimenter noting this all down in her head for future reference. He was looking down at it, appalled yet fascinated by what was happening to him, eyes fully aware, brow wrinkled with the confusion of it, the agonizing physiological contradiction.

He lay there for a while when it was over, moaning a little, that funny inward look he had. Sensing he needed a little time to himself, she busied herself putting the things away. Then came back, lay down beside him. She felt so tender toward him. Such a sweet, sweet darling.

It was like the feeling back nearly a year ago when she’d first stood up in the bar, placed her hand in Darren’s and walked out with him: the feeling of taking something from Timmy. Then, herself, her fidelity; now, this other, more directly essential part of his masculinity. There was something scarily gratifying about it. She knew she would have to experience that feeling again.

“Lovely,” she murmured, holding him now that it was over, kissing his shoulder, his cheek. “How did that feel? How do you feel now?” she wanted to know. So interesting, to take it from him like this, to have robbed him of this thing.

“Just once” was a lie of course. She acknowledged it to herself, anyway, drifting toward sleep. They both knew this would not be the end.

[54321]

What a brilliantly written piece!

So who is Mascarasnake? A man, a woman, a couple?

Anybody know?

54321

[wittol]

I don’t think anyone (?) knows for sure. Years ago, two or three posters claimed they’d figured out who it was by similarities with other writings, but I personally doubted that. I can’t recall now the source, but my vivid recollection is that someone who purported to be authoritative claimed they were a couple who collaborated on all the stories written as Mascarasnake.

I haven’t seen any new stories from them in many years, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any, I just haven’t seen any. A few years back, they did revise and expand a few of their stories.

[avid fan]

So great... likewise I've read and saved all the stories I've found by mascarasnake...I think this is his best but a few are close... unfortunately a number were started but never finished.

Kind of wish it ended after chapter X though, the intensity is greatest when it's just the three protagonists.

[Johng1953]

Thank you for resurrecting this story.

[eater]

that is a great story

[scarlettscuck]

Ultimate cuckold falling helplessly down the rabbit hole story. Great stuff!

[abhiandpreeti]

Mascarasnake has written some of the most amazing cuckold-hotwife stories ever. Beyond Teasing is one of his longer and well fleshed out stories. I remember the others well:

The New Normal
Amanda
Lost at Sea
Nina Helps
Tanya Decides

….and more