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After a long day’s work and psychotic-break-inducing traffic, you finally reach your neighborhood. As you drive into the winding cul-de-sac, you slow down, both to not hit the kids playing near and on the streets and to give yourself a moment to calm your nerves. A little breathing room to wind down, let work, upper management, finance, and other things melt away into a blur. You are here. You are home, your little corner of the world, the king of your castle. Your gorgeous young wife is waiting at home, no doubt baking your meatloaf and potatoes just the way you like it.

You roll down the windows to take in the sound and smell of a gentrified suburban life. The whiff of pine trees tickles your nose, and the sound of children laughing and yelling grows louder. You watch Mrs. Smith taking Old Jenny on a stroll. The Jones are preparing a barbecue. You wave at Bobby doing a power walk in his gay-ass fanny pack, and you avoid Harper and Willow dancing seductively for the camera.

Finally, you reach your white picket fence. Nobody else in the neighborhood has fences, but your wife insisted on them,

“It’s not about security, darling, it’s about capturing the American dream!” she said as she bounced her thick brown booty on your cock. Your wife is an excellent negotiator. You gave in when she swallowed your cock and balls, skillfully licking your scrotum like cherries until you came straight down her throat. When you said, “Okay, honeybuns, whatever you want, dear,” she looked up at you with gratitude as mascara tears rolled down her shiny cheeks. Then she opened her cum smelling mouth for you to unload your piss in. She drank every droplet to not stain her brand new bed sheets.

You laugh as you remember that steamy night and how she so easily manipulated you into getting what she wanted with her fine-ass body. You touch your silver ring. Now and then you have to remind yourself that you’re a married man and your beautiful wife is not some drug-induced wet dream you’re having. You park the car and go through your white picket fence. Take a moment to appreciate the bushes of purple and pink hydrangeas your wife planted on the front lawn, and climb up the steps to your red wooden door.

But the second you step across the threshold into your house, your palace, you sense a presence in the house that doesn’t belong to your wife. You know this gut feeling to be true as you take in the environment. It’s the extra cup in the dishwasher. It’s the TV remote not being in the right place. It’s the foul smell of cologne, sweat, and cum lingering in the air. Someone else is in your house, had fucked, or is fucking your wife. You take off your black leather shoes and sneak through your domain. You see socks lying on the oak floor, then a shirt, then pants, then your wife’s favorite polka dot dress.

You step over the scattered pieces of clothing, not making a single sound. But there are sounds in the house. Moaning, fresh pounding, bed shaking sounds echo through your sunflower wallpapered corridor. The source is behind a door at the end of the hallway: your bedroom. You see warm light casting blurry shadows on the floor. There is movement—a rhythm—an abstract projection of mankind’s primal desires. You approach the door and push it open as quietly as you can. There’re creaks and squeaks, but the occupants don’t seem to notice. The sound of moaning, banging, and dirty talking buries the squeaking noises. And there she is, your wife, the woman of your dreams, your legally bound whore is fucking another person on your bed. It’s your neighbor.

It’s all the time the neighbor, isn’t it? As your gorgeous whorish wife is sitting at home, doing housework and waiting dutifully for her husband to return. It’s all the time the neighbor who’s all the time there, keeping her business, complimenting her on her cute polka-dot dress, the little mole under her left eye, and the way she swings her hips so artfully. It’s all the time the neighbor. And now both of them are before you, fucking like animals, not noticing that the man who paid for everything in this house with blood, sweat, and tears is back, standing in his bedroom, watching someone else fucking his wife.

You stare silently as a big brown cock slides into a pussy. The cock is twelve inches long and is so thick it contorts the pussy to conform to its shape. It slit back and forth, back and forth into the gaping gushing hole. With every thrust, there’s a bulge on the lower abdomen, and as the cock slits back, it scraps the insides of the vagina like a grinder. Five fingers yanks on long red hair which is scattered and shone like silk with sweat and a rush of hormones. The other five are choking on a small bony neck, strong enough to make the woman’s eyes roll up, but not strong enough to stop her from moaning and screaming,

“Harder, Ollie! Fuck me harder! Cum in my gaping cunt!” You almost laugh at those words—almost.

You sit on your dark leather chair and rest your cheek on your right hand. You regret not taking a glass of brandy with you, or a cigar, or ropes, or a certain shooting instrument. No, you have nothing with you right now so you simply sit there and watch—watching someone besides you fucking your gorgeous young wife—your whorish sex freak materialistic wife. You watch as she fucks and sweats and spits out naughty words from her glossy red lips. Those lips that whispered sweet words into your ears and kissed and sucked your cock so well are now screaming another’s name with a panting breath.

You don’t move an inch up to the very end. As two brown hands choke the frail neck hard, the huge cock unloads a stream of hot cum, flooding the pussy, and sticky white semen drips out of the cunt onto your wife’s precious bedsheet. The hands stop choking, but the twitching brown cock is still docked deep in the cunt, bathing in its own warm jeez, preparing for round two, or maybe round three or four. You don’t move an inch, barely breathing. You sit back and burn the images into your retina and allow the intense smell of perfume, sweat, cum, and pussy juice to envelop you. As you’re thinking about what to do next, the redheaded woman who is crying and panting spots you.

“Huh!? Oh, hi, Mr. Parker! When did you come in?” the ginger says with a smile.

“Hello, Hannah.” You give the neighbor girl a little wave as the owner of the big brown cock turns her head around.

“Darling! You’re home early!” your wife says and quickly pulls out her cock. White cum spills from Hannah’s gaping cunt onto the bed, but your wife ignores it as she hops on your lap like a little girl, showering kisses on your lips. You feel her wet and sticky twelve-inch cock rubbing on your white shirt. But it doesn’t matter as she’s the one who’s gonna dry clean it afterward. The same goes for the bed.

“Oh, darling, you should’ve called! I would’ve prepared dinner earlier and done my makeup!”

“You’re beautiful the way you are, honeybuns.” You kiss her rosy lips and lick the sweat off her brown face.

“Oh, don’t say that! If I start slagging now, I’ll continue to spiral down into loose t-shirts and hot pants! Do you want your wife to become a plain Jane!?”

“Now that’s tempting.” You smile and caress her thick cock, feeling cum and other bodily fluids on her lovely rod. You sniff your hand and give it a lick. It tastes salty and sour, just the way you like it.

“Don’t even kid about it, darling!” Your wife pouts, then leaps off your lap. She rushes to the cabinet, and the next thing you know, you’re holding a glass of icy scotch. “Wait for me as I prepare dinner, alright? You can fuck my sloppy second if you want to.” She kisses your cheeks and paces out the door with her cock hanging in the wind.

“Sloppy seconds… gee, thanks a lot Olivia, that’ll do wonders for my mental health,” Hannah says as she sits up on the bed. Her curly red hair is a mess, and she has red and purple bruises all over her pale body. Hannah is a barely twenty school dropout who got addicted to your wife’s cock too early in life and now spends her days being her cumdumpster. “So what do you say, Mr. Parker? Do you want a taste of this sloppy second?” Hannah widens her white thighs at you, showing a gaping cunt full of delicious white juice. You gulp down your drink and take off your ties.

“Sure, why not? Ollie takes forever to dress up.”

“Awesome!” Hannah smiles. She looks at you with eyes of expectations, a different expectation than the ones she has for your wife.

You walk to her, raise your foot high, and stomp on her lower abdomen! “Ahhh!” Hannah screams in pain and pressure as cum explodes out of her cunt. She falls to bed and looks like she wants to vomit. You insert your hand into her mouth, pulling down her jaws, then slap her across the face. Hannah squirms beneath you, but your hands work their magic. You beat her, choke her, slap her, and channel all the hatred you have for upper management into giving the ultimate pleasure to this little pervert.

“Hah… Hah… Hah…” Hannah lies on her back, gasping for air. Her body is covered in your handiwork. “D—don’t stop Mr. Parker… Hurt me… Hurt me more!”

“Calm your tits, girl. I need to get my dick wet first.” You say as you undress. Hannah jumps up from bed to help you. Her earlier pathetic state was like a dream.

“Why, Mr. Parker, I see you’ve been working out.” Hannah runs her tiny fingers across your pecs. She licks your nipples and reaches down your pants. Her warm hand feels good on your cock. “You look even manlier than last night!” She grins.

“Who taught you to be such a sweet talker, baby?” You brush her hair to see her bright blue eyes. The smell of her cologne is oddly fitting for this perverted redhead.

“Your wife did. She told me she wouldn’t choke me if I don’t treat you like a king, Your Majesty.” She winks.

“Oh, did she, now?” You chuckle and kiss her pink lips, tasting blood and cum—delicious. You throw Hannah to bed. Your erection is free at last, eight inches long, almost as thick as your wife.

You lift Hannah’s white legs and pound her welcoming pussy. Your cock slips right in with almost no resistance. Your wife was diligent in fucking this naughty little whore. But you have something your wife doesn’t: your strength and the will to use it. You flip Hannah ass-side-up and begin slapping her tight white booty. She cries as you do it and love-juice squirts out of her cunt. Her white ass turns red with your imprint. Her screams stroke your ego.

“Cum in me! Please, Mr. Parker, impregnated me! Make me yours and your wife’s little concubine!” Hannah makes the same request to you as she did to your wife. You answer, “No.” and cums on her back. Hannah collapses on the bed as water continues to pour out of her. You even smell urine.

“Sigh, you wet the bed again?”

“S—sorry, Mr. Parker… you were… wonderful,” Hannah says with a weak voice. You shake your head with a grin.

“Alright, stop messing around. Dinner should be about done. Let’s clean up first.”

You help Hannah up, and both of you take a hot shower together. She tries to give you a blowjob, so you reward her with a slap to the face. You use your hand to clean her pussy, and all sorts of fluids spill out and go down the drain.

“How many times did you and Ollie fucked today?”

“Umm… I don’t know. We started at three and didn’t stop till you came in.”

“One of these days, you two will collapse from exhaustion.”

“Hey! Sex is a good way to burn calories! Look! I’m growing abs!” Hannah places her hands on her stomach, but you don’t see a shadow of muscle, just soft pale skin.

You two left the shower and dressed up for dinner. Only Olivia would require you to wear a shirt and slacks to dine in your own home. Now that you think about it, you don’t have a single t-shirt in your closet, only formal and semi-formal attire. Olivia and her obsession with the American dream. You enter the dining room in a baby blue shirt and tan pants. Hannah wears a cute green dress and ties her hair into a braid. You’re guessing she wants you to pull it during sex. Her bruises have already healed thanks to the miracle of modern medicine, the same miracle that gave your wife her statuesque cock.

Speaking off, there she is, your wife Olivia is standing by the dining table. Her honey brown skin is wrapped in an open-shoulder white dress with blue floral patterns. Her raven hair tied up with curls artfully falling on her gorgeous face: green eyes, thick brows, red lips, and a cute mole under her left eye. She has perky c-cup tits with a narrow waist and wide hips. Her twelve-inch member makes a bulge under her dress.

“Welcome home, darling! Please, have a seat!” Just as you’ve guessed, dinner is meatloaf and potatoes with salad for Hannah. She’s not a vegetarian, your wife just doesn’t want her vomiting meat all over her house while getting her brains fucked out… again.

The three of you eat together while talking about what happened during the day. You don’t want to bring work into the house, so you simply gossip about your co-workers while Olivia does the same to their neighbors. When the subject of Hannah’s career comes up, she makes a sour face.

“C’mon! Not this again!”

“Hannah dear, this is your future we’re talking about. Playing around while you’re young is good, and all but your parents won’t be able to support you forever,” Olivia says.

“That’s okay! I have you guys! I can move in and live as a concubine!”

“Concubines are not recognized by the laws, dear.”

“What about a maid? I can be your sexy French maid! Oui wee wee!”

“I’m not rich enough to have a live-in maid,” you say. “Plus, you never do your chores. You’ll just lounge around while Ollie does all the work.”

“C’mon, sex is work! Hard work with you two! Admit it, you guys love me as much as I love both of you!”

“Why—love? Hannah… I don’t know what to say… Darling?” Olivia says.

You gather your thoughts, measure the pros and cons, and think about what it’ll be like if the slutty redhead isn’t here to satisfy your wife’s cravings. “Hannah has a point, hun. The house would be quiet without her.”

“But concubine or maid is a bit much,” Olivia says, “But if we just keep going as is… Oh, I don’t know!” You grab your wife’s hand as Hannah resumes eating her salad.

“Well, if all else fails, I can just marry you guys. Polyamory is legal now.”

“Is it!?” Olivia asks.

“Yup, since five years ago, you oughta keep up with current events, you know, and not watch melodramas all day.”

With Hannah’s words, the table becomes silent. You look at your wife. Both of you are confused about how the conversation ended up with a marriage proposal. But given how things are transpiring—you’re likely to have a second, younger wife soon enough.

You shrug and say, “You fuck her more than me, Ollie. You spend more time with her as well. I’m fine if you want a legal cumdumpster.”

“Darling, don’t kid about something like this! If we do get married, chances are, she’ll get pregnant with me! Are you really okay with raising your wife’s child… or wives?”

“What’s the difference? Your cock is my cock, your whore is my whore, we are one, honeybuns.”

“Oh, darling! You’re so sweet!”

You and your wife hug and kiss while Hannah sighs. “First, sloppy seconds, then cumdumpster, then whore. Gee, thanks a lot, guys. I feel like a member of the family already.”

After dinner, the three of you are back in the master bedroom—with new sheets. Hannah hangs back as you touch Olivia’s soft cheeks and taste her sweet lips. Red glossy lips taste like cherries. Her tongue is warm and alive as you entwine your tongue with hers, pushing, pulling, licking, tasting, and mixing salivas. You reach behind her and grope her booty. Her ass is much bigger than Hannah’s and bouncier. Your palm feels up the shape of her round cheeks, then moves upwards to discover her zipper. There it is. You unzip her dress, and it falls below, revealing a brown goddess with a huge cock. You release her tongue and move down to kiss her sweet neck and chest. Then you bite and lick her brown nipples, sucking them up like a pacifier or a baby back in the arms of your mother.

As you suck and kiss and lick her, Olivia secretes sweats, salty droplets come out of her smooth honey color skin and roll down like baby oil. You love the taste of her sweat and how it makes her skin shine like bronze. You lick up the salty taste under her tits and slit your hand between her butt-crack, going lower and lower till your index finger touches her bum hole. As you play with her tits and anus, her cock and pussy come alive: pre-cum flows out of her dark gland and her shaft hardens, lifting to meet your balls. You feel it push against your cum factory and you unleash her ass to grab her cock. It twitches and pulsates in your hands. Her cock is so thick you can’t even wrap your fingers around it, but you don’t have to. You barely touch her gland and hot cum shoots out of her pee-hole onto your muscular body.

Olivia may have a cock and knows how to use it, but in your hands, she is butter. A cute little slut with a huge cock glued to her, ready to shoot out her salty smelly juice at your command. The smell of her perfume, sweat, and cum fills the room. You inhale the scent, letting the concoction of particles in the air fill your lungs. You can practically taste her smell, and you want more, so much more. So you carry Olivia like a princess onto the bed; her enormous twitching cock flops on her fit belly.

Your tongue licks the back of her shaft, feeling her veins and sharp raphe running along her meaty rod. You lick and suck and kiss your wife’s cock, tasting the salty, spicy Mexican candy that tingles your taste buds, followed by the sweet aftertaste of flowers and lollipops. You move down to her balls, rest your face in their warm comfort, close your eyes, and let her aroma absorb you into a gorgeous dreamland where no troubles or bosses could ever bother you. Olivia pets your hair, running her long fingers across your head, stroking you, messaging you, making all your stress fly away. Then she pushes your head down lower, passing her massive shaft and comforting ball to her sweet tight cunt beneath her famine cock.

You’ve been lacking in your duties to satisfy her womanhood lately. Too consumed by the joy of her cock and asshole, leaving her sweet little girl all lonely, neglected. You kiss her little lips, feel her slimy sweaty skin, healthy and tight with a sweet and sour juice leaking out. You drink up her love juice, then delve deep into her flowery cave with your tongue, stealing every nectar within. Your wife grabs your hair as she moans with a childish voice, a giggly girl having her favorite spot tickle and lick. She may love her cock, but she adores her pussy more. Saying a minute with your tongue feels better than nutting into an angel. She’s all the time so sweet with words. Your beautiful wife knows exactly how to stroke your ego and make you feel like the man of the house. While she’s fucking a slutty redhead skank on the side with her enormous cock and her river of white, creamy cum.

As you eat Olivia’s tight oyster, Hannah gets bored with waiting and moves to your back. She gives you a handjob as her tongue moves from your scrotum to your asshole and back again. You feel a warm tongue penetrating your ass and licking your narrow walls, as you’re doing to your wife. Your ass burns, and your cock twitches like an willing boy. You lift your ass, and Hannah goes under you, devouring your cock whole. The human train of licking and sucking continues for a long while. Olivia cums with her cunt repeatedly, but you never let her catch a breath. You want to mark her as your property, as a dog marking his territory. Young Hannah is trying her best to make you unload your semen inside her, but she’s nowhere nearly as skillful as the brown darling you’re married to. Once Olivia secretes water for the fourth time, you figure it is time to get your cock wet.

You change your position to the sound of disappointment from the dirty redhead. You poke your cock at your wife’s ball and move upward till your cock is rubbing against Olivia’s. She looks at you with glossy eyes and lifts herself to kiss you with her red cherry lips. Your two dicks grinding and frotting and hugging and kissing as lovers do. You love how hot and sweaty her cock feels and how slippery her dark gland is. You’d stay like this all night if you could, but you tear your cock away, shiny fluids making a bridge between you two. Then you jam your cock right into her little cunt!

“Ahhh!” Olivia gasps and moans and her sharp nails scratch your back. Your cock is on fire, and so is her pussy. Her cunt remains tight as the first time you fucked her brains out in Panama. You grind her insides with your thick cock, feeling her squirm beneath you like a dying fish. It feels good to be the man of the house. Your cock punches her inside and squeezes her prostate. Olivia screams with tears rolling down her eyes and saliva dripping out of her lips, smearing her makeup and turning her into your sloppy slut. Her twelve-inch cock swings and bounces around, as do her balls. You thrust harder and faster, and your wife ejects hot loads of cum onto her tits and face. You bend down to lick her cum-covered face as your hips never stop moving and pounding her into pudding.

She hugs your neck, and you bite her lips, and both of you dance to the tune of animalistic desires. As fire burns in your hips and hormones explode in your head. And her sweet, stinking, flowery, trashy, refined smell tears into your brain, and imprints on your body, saying, screaming, howling that you are mine! Mine! Mine! And you give your young, pretty whorish trophy wife what she craves by unloading your thick load into her womb! She moans and howls like an animal as her wifely façade falls aside in favor of a cock craving whore.

“I love you, Richards! I love you so fucking much!”

“Same here, beautiful, same here.”

Olivia flops on the bed as her tight cunt is spilling out your sticky cum. A mirror of what transpired earlier this evening with the redhead.

Speaking of, Hannah is flicking her cunt and touching her nipples in your leather chair. Her love juice flows like Niagara falls, and her eyes look at you with anticipation. “My turn, Mr. Parkers!” she says. It’s gonna be a long night ahead of you, and you feel the need to take a piss.

“Honeybuns, open wide.”

“Yes, darling!”

“Hey! Let me take a sip too!”

“You can drink Ollie’s piss… after I had a taste first.”

“But I want to drink yours too! C’mon, Mr. Parker! Pretty please!”

It’s gonna be a long night indeed.

NSFW: yes

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