Chapter XVIII

Pussy

The only thing that Erin was disappointed about was that she had not witnessed the deflowering of her husband. We kissed and snogged more passionately than I managed with my bisexual lover, and her tales of the men she’d slept with became immaterial. She needed to know more about my butt being plundered by Bryn.

The following night, she begged for Bryn and I to repeat our antics, and in front of Yvonne, Christina and herself. My backside was taken by Christina’s submissive husband as Yvonne ate my wife to orgasm. Bryn pounded my hole, drawing my body onto his erect cock with increasing energy.

I heard the sounds of mutual enjoyment as my arse felt full; the stiff member sliding past my resistance and filling my hole with increasing fervour. My prostate tickled with lust and my butthole swam with delightful stimulation as Bryn’s forceful fucking elicited orgasmic groans from my submissive cravings.

Thirsty for their dominance I floated from the pounding from behind and the decadent sights and sounds of the lounge: watching as my wife was eaten out by the friendly bisexual student. She cried out loudly as her own orgasm ripped through her young body.

But it was over too soon: Bryn’s cum filled the condom before my prostate had done much more than leak pre-cum over our lounge carpet. But Bryn had to mutually satisfy: Christina was “worried” he was adopting too much of a dominant role in our relationship and she reminded him that he was still a submissive.

My lubricated condom-clad cock slid into his anus with ease; he panted as I fucked a man for the first time. Erin knelt behind me, whispering into my ear as I held onto the tops of his thighs, slowly pushing my cock into him doggy-style.

He pushed his head onto the floor as I gently took him, gradually sliding my prick in and out of his butt. His buttocks were smooth, his body looked more sexy than ever as his parted cheeks accepted my erect dick fucking him.

But it was a slow, gentle, loving fuck. I didn’t pound his arse; there wasn’t the forceful, passionate screw that my wife craved from her many lovers, but a sensual, delicate fuck as I pulled him softly onto my cock.

But my shaft was alive with the tight sensations of Bryn’s hole. His muscles fluttered as he was taken, my wife pushing her fingers underneath my body to press against my perineum. She purred in my ear, nibbled at my earlobe and rubbed my nipples. She caused me pleasure and pain, sensually kissing my neck and then squeezing my balls. She made me squeal and tense.

Bryn felt it too; he jolted as electric sensations surged from my cock buried deep in his arse. He groaned, as I leant forward, rubbing my hands over his back and pressing my body against his. I pushed my cock deeper into his sanctuary, savouring the intense relief that flowed through my body.

I was so close. So near. And it felt so gorgeous. I closed my eyes and plunged my cock faster and deeper into him, groaning as wave after wave engulfed me and I squealed, crying as my cum filled the teat of the condom with infinite spurts of ecstasy.

I lay against him, breathlessly groaning. My cock shrank from it’s erect state, my body sizzled with sensual love and spent sexual lust. My eyes closed as I rubbed my hands over Bryn’s back and slowly came to my senses.

It was an exquisite taste of the forbidden; an overwhelming experience that left me unable to move for a few moments.

My wife teased me relentlessly; for awhile she snapped me and Bryn in a state of chastity: our usual sexual outlets closed, her and Christina took great delight in exciting our flames and making us horny before disappearing into the night to get screwed.

Her evening adventures were becoming less common; in the early days she would go out four nights a week, but as she built up a steady network of men she knew and trusted, she would often arrange to meet one in her lunch hour or after work, so I got to spend a lot more time with my loving wife.

And it was deeply loving; barely a night went past when I wasn’t massaging her, or cuddling up with her. Often she would delight as my hands flowed down her oiled body, soothing her stresses and frustrations away as I gripped her muscles and kneaded her troubles. It would often end with my lips between her legs, slowly licking her out to orgasm as my fingers worked against her G-Spot. I never tired of seeing her orgasm.

The last weekend of September: almost six months since we had started on our cuckolding adventure, my beautiful wife invited some friends to our house to commiserate the death of summer. The evening was warm; the clothing was minimal. I was dressed in just some sheer, translucent panties. She smiled as her fingers traced the red fabric and flicked the delicate bow on the front with a wide smile on her face. “You look fantastic!” She simpered, rubbing my right cheek to embarrass.

I’d been shaved too; my entire body was hairless so I looked more feminine that before. It made my squirm with unease and Erin enjoyed the psychological torments inflicted.

Erin cocked her head, blowing me a kiss as the naked woman put a T-Shirt on, and nothing more, shaking her booty as she walked out of the room and left her horny husband tenting his flimsy female underwear.

Bryn was similiarly dressed; his pink thong hid nothing of his fabulous cock that oozed desperation. I longed to slide my tongue over his masculine head, and suck the delicate aroma of his arousal. But Erin had said no.

Indeed, as her female friends arrived, Bryn and I were dispatched to the kitchen to wait on the dominatrices. I recognised a few; I had never seen many more: all of the women dressed in T-Shirts or very short dresses.

The wine was served chilled, the girls loved rubbing the cold glasses onto our exposed nipples to make us squeal or cry. They loved, squeezing our assets on display or rubbing our buttocks, or just verbally insulting us. My friend’s wife called me “a fucking slut” and another called me “a shameless pervert.” It was all part of Erin’s plan, I knew, but they were designed to humiliate me.

And it did. But Bryn and I loved being submissive and my wife and Christina loved being dominant. They adored seeing us squirm and writhe; punctured by their acerbic words and feeling the impact of their mean insults. It made my panties wet; something that was not missed by the cackling women.

They groped and they slapped us. I navigated a sea of drunken hands as I served them drinks and nibbles, feeling the sly finger slide inside my lacy underwear as the gaggle of horny ladies grabbed at my cock and squeezed it until I squealed in pain. It made them smile; it brought tears to my eyes.

But I still adored it. I loved being hurt and as my wife looked on with a devious smile, I knew there would be more. More pain and humiliation than the women had managed. More embarrassment than two of my best friends’ wives seeing me exposed and degraded. More painful than grips of my sensitive cock and more humiliation than being a serving wench for my wife’s friends all evening.

More than that. I wondered they’d watch Bryn and I fuck; my chastity enforced by my sadistic wife ensuring that both my bisexual lover and myself were horny and desperate.

But she didn’t. As the Sun dropped below the trees and the birdsong faded to the faintest of chirping, my wife led me into the middle of the garden, a few yards from the gazebo where she was entertaining, and in full view of the light streaming from the house and the flock of bottomless women, forced me to my knees.

A soft kick my shoulder propelled be backwards, causing me to squeal and the desperate women to laugh desperately as I floundered onto my back. My legs flew into the air, exposing my lacy crotch to everyone.

She stood over me, kneeling over my head and pushing her crack onto my face. I could smell her arousal, taste her lust as my lips instinctively touched her crack, gliding my tongue over her cunt. She panted as I ate her out. He weight pushed down on me, forcing my head into the cold, soft earth as she cried, bouncing on my face to savour the loving motions of my tongue on her delicate clit.

I inhaled her delicious flavour. Her cunt pressed against my nose as her body squirmed and rocked on my face, soaking my cheeks and mouth with her juices as she rode me towards her orgasm.

I loved it; she leant back, holding my wrists by my shoulders with her hands as she bucked her hips. My wife groaned and cried as the dominant woman was taken to a vociferous climax by her loving submissive.

And she was only the first; the many wives complained about the lack of oral sex from their husbands. “You need to find yourself a little sub,” my wife teased before offering my tongue to the wife of the best man at my wedding, many years ago.

She gleefully accepted; the delicate bounce of her blonde hair shimmering in the twilight as the woman squatted over my face and squealed as my tongue flowed over her slit.

She was sexy; she tasted deliciously sapid and gloriously sweet as my lips massaged her labia and my tongue poked her clit. She panted. The woman whose husband I knew so well, panted as she cheated on her partner.

But I cared not; I was eating out pussy and I loved the delicate taste of female arousal. Her cunt flooded my mouth, soaking me with overflowing fluids of feminine lust. I lapped it up, savouring every last drop of their dominance and revelling in every ounce of pleasure she extracted from my submissive mouth.

Her bucking hips barely stopped, sliding backwards and forwards over my tongue until her clit was too sensitive and her body was exhausted from the infinite orgasms. She staggered from my body as my tired tongue sought respite.

I never got one. Yvonne positioned her cunt over my lips and pressed downwards, subtly leaning forward to stroke my cock through my lace panties. The Scottish student purred as my tongue whirred at her pussy, flicking her button causing her body to shake.

My cock was painfully erect; desperate to have Yvonne make good on her promises to my aroused prick. She didn’t; she got her orgasm: a climatic mix of shaking, squealing and breathless exhaustion.

And still they kept coming: the fourth lady was my wife’s friend from work. Gloria’s cunt overflowed with pubic hair. She squealed loudly as my tongue twisted against her slit, poking her clit with ease and leaving her cunt drenched as she rode me to several orgasms, unable to relinquish her place on my face.

It had been awhile, the divorcee admitted. A very long time.

I lay motionless as the women congregated around Bryn, giggling as they whispered to themselves, before my wife walked over to me, standing over my chest, before she dropped to her knees, and leant over to my panty-clad cock. She groaned, her loins quivered and a jet of piss sprayed from her crack, landing on my shocked face.

I spluttered; they laughed. They all did, grinning as my I moved my face out of the direct line of her warm piss. I writhed and closed my eyes, feeling humiliated as my wife marked me with a golden shower.

The rest of the ladies came over, taking turns to squat over me and relieve their bladders. I moaned as their hot pee splashed against my face. Their diluted waste flowed against my chin and my lips, my nose and my face. It saturated my hair, filled my nostrils and smashed against my tastebuds.

The acrid smell was everywhere as a dozen ladies emptied their bladders onto the desperate husband lying on the floor. My wife looked on with a wicked smile, enjoying her partner being defiled and degraded on her instruction.

But she knew me. She knew how much I loved and adored the delicious trip into submission. She knew how much I enjoyed and savoured the nastiness of our games and the disgusting aspects to our play. She knew me better than everyone else.

And as my friend’s wife, sprayed piss into my face, and I tasted it, staring up at the cunt I ate out while my cock strained and soaked at the lacy panties, my humiliation was complete. I was nothing. I was a desperate submissive slut who my wife toyed with and the ladies abused. I was good for nothing else, and it made my body float on a new wave of arousal.

I was complete. I was happy. I was lying in the mud as piss soaked to my skin and the wind made my exposed body chilly. But I was happy.

My wife led her friends indoors. I glanced over at Bryn, lying in the mud around a puddle of piss as the girls shouted towards us, and we scrambled to our feet, only to be knocked to the ground by a blast of icy cold water.

I yelled. “Stop being a pussy!” My wife shouted as I wriggled free of the hosepipe. “Gotta get you clean before you come indoors!”

“Oh look!” Christina cried. “His panties are all wet!”

And they were.

But not just from the hosepipe.