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"That's enough for now, Linda; stand up. Put it back in your pants, Peter." I stood as Peter re-arranged his sticky cock into his pants.
"I think I would like some ice-water, Peter. Would you like anything, Linda?"
I shook my head. Peter stood up between us; his face was flushed and he avoided my gaze.
"Go into the kitchen, but don't bring my water until you are called. Linda and I have a few things to discuss."
Peter left, and I stood there before Charles, feeling uncomfortably like a shy little girl rather than a grown woman. He didn't move for a moment, just looked me up and down. Slowly, he raised his right hand. He put just the tip of his forefinger lightly to my lips. Without thinking, instinctively, I let my tongue slip under the tip of his finger, licked the underside gently, then returned it to my mouth. The briefest of smiles flickered in his eyes.
"Suck it," he said.
I opened my lips, took his finger in and began to suck on it. As I stood there in my own home before this stranger, my hands to my sides, slowly "fellating" his finger and looking into his eyes, he spoke to me.
"You're a brave and kind soul, dear Linda. And while we both know you are not "pure," there is a sublimely innocent aura about you. Believe me, that is a rare thing, indeed. If I thought for a moment that what I am going to put you through would corrupt that, I'd leave this instant. But I think you will survive it."
He closed his eyes briefly, then gently cupped my chin as my lips and mouth continued to work on his finger.
"Your husband is another matter. I would share the worry I sense you have, except that I suspect he is more resilient than you suppose."
He withdrew his finger suddenly and stepped back a pace.
"Pull your panties down to just above your knees, and hold the hem of your dress above your waist."
I did as I was told. Standing like that, I began to feel the first twinges of embarrassment. He looked at my exposed belly, groin and thighs for a little bit, then walked past me. I heard him seat himself at the sofa. I stood there, my backside exposed to Charles, knowing I had not been told to move. There was total silence. I closed my eyes, wanting something, anything, to happen.
"Leave the panties at your knees, but drop the skirt and come here."
I released the hem of my dress, then turned and walked, awkwardly, to him. He sat with his legs splayed and his hands folded behind his head. I stopped at the edge of the sofa, between his knees.
"Kneel down and take my cock out. Never mind unbuckling my pants, just undo the zipper."
I knelt down and reached for his zipper. The bulge of his erection was big; very big. I unzipped him, pulled the top of his shorts down through the opening, and reached in for his cock. He adjusted his hips a bit, and I finally managed to work it free. I'd never seen anything like it.
Long, and thick like an oak stump, it was wrapped with gnarled purple veins from the base to just below the crown. The crown itself was a huge, juicy, mushroom-cap that perched atop the rod like a fat balloon. I was mesmerized, and found myself gently running my fingers over the veins and around the incredible tip.
"Yes, I know. I've gotten a few positive comments in my time. It's hard to believe, but you WILL take all of it. Stand up now, Linda, turn around, and have a seat on it."
I rose, turned, and raised my skirt again. His hands grasped my buttocks and guided me down. As they cupped around my bottom, his fingers spread me wide. I knew I was soaked. The tip found the center of my cunt as I dropped my skirt and put my hands on his thighs. I started to settle down slowly. Suddenly, Charles gripped my waist and impaled me totally with one sudden jerk. I gasped and closed my eyes tight. I'd never in my life felt so stretched and so full. As the huge tip plunged up into me, it hit my cervix like a bell. My whole body jerked reflexively. Charles took my shoulders and leaned me back against him.
"Sorry. I forget myself sometimes in certain positions. Did you know, Linda, that compared to body weight, the human penis is the largest in the world? From an evolutionary point of view, it's strongly selected for. Men with large cocks are that much closer to the cervix and, therefore, much more likely to procreate."
No, I didn't know that. What I DID know, however, was that if he hit that spot again, I was going to go through the ceiling.
I started to move my hips, but he stopped me.
"Don't move. Adjust your dress around us so that anyone seeing us would not know for sure whether we were connected. Keep your legs together and leave your panties around your knees."
I straightened my dress primly around us. The only sign to the casual observer that anything was out of the ordinary, other than me sitting on his lap, was my exposed, half-lowered panties.
"Peter, you may return," Charles called out.
As Peter came around the corner, he hesitated momentarily when he saw us. He stared for a second, then moved to the side of the couch and handed Charles his glass of ice water.
"Thank-you, Peter. So, the question is, do I have carnal knowledge of your wife or do I not? It seems most likely, doesn't it? On the other hand, she could just be sitting innocently on my lap." Peter's eyes went to my panties at my knees. Charles followed Peter's gaze and smiled. "Yes, there is that. But that's only circumstantial evidence. I suppose the only way to be sure would be to raise your wife's dress and have a look see. But that would be rude and untrusting of you, wouldn't it? I have a better suggestion. Look at her face, Peter. Look into her eyes. You've lived with this beautiful woman for several years. Does she have the look of having a mature cock buried in her cunt, of being penetrated by a stranger like a simple whore, or is this just a friendly, innocent little lapsit with a nice man?"
Peter looked into my eyes. I tried, but couldn't mask the lust I felt or the flush in my cheeks. He smiled briefly and looked back at Charles.
"I would say there's nothing innocent going on here at all," Peter said slowly.
Charles laughed and put his hand on my forehead.
"But you must be mistaken. This is the face of an angel. Are you suggesting that your wife, the love of your life, the sweet young girl you married and who has pledged her soul to you, now sits in your very living room with a strange man's cock up her hole, in front of you no less? What has happened to the innocent Linda, the little-girl Linda of your dreams? Is this really happening, Peter?" The sarcasm dripped from Charles' voice. In the meantime, it took every bit of selfcontrol not to begin moving my hips; the feeling of being penetrated and not being able to move, not being able to "fuck," was almost painful. Peter didn't answer, just stood there waiting.
"Put some nice music on for us, Peter. Then have a seat at the other end of the couch with that fat book you were reading when I arrived. I don't want you to pay any attention to your wife and me for a while. In fact, I don't want to catch you with your nose out of that book at all."
Peter moved to the CD and put on a Brahms violin concerto, then sat at the end of the couch and took up his book.
Charles leaned close to my ear and licked the inside with the tip of his tongue. He whispered lasciviously.
"Sweet little slut of mine. Remember that whoring is shameless when done with a pure heart. Forget the man at the end of the couch who sits there not knowing how truly deep I am in you. In the next few days, the times when I and other men fuck your cunt, your ass and your mouth will seem to go on forever. I will use your body as I choose, then give you as a gift to other men. I will not forsake you, though. My cock will be home, the one place where you will seek sanctuary when the others have abused the freedoms with you that I have granted them. But the easiest part, the truly special part, will be the many times you watch and help in the prostitution of your own husband. Imagine how sweet it will be to see the man you love, the one man more than any other that you associate with "masculine," being fucked by other men as he has fucked you, as others have fucked you. How sweet, in fact, that he will learn the feminine pleasures, the pleasures of submitting, pleasures that you could tell him about but that he would never understand; could any wish be more loving on your part?"
The whisper had grown louder. I suspected, but was not sure, that Peter could hear every word. As he "whispered," Charles began slowly to fuck me. Drawing his cock out, then pushing it in slowly, so slowly the anticipation was indescribable, Charles softly told me what I was to tell my husband.
"Darling," I said. "I want to watch as you suck Charles' cock. I want Charles to fuck you as he's fucking me now. I want to jerk you off, to suck you, while he humps your ass. I want..." Charles suddenly put his hand across my mouth.
"I think that's sufficient, Linda. He has the idea."
With that, Charles began to seriously pound into my bottom. I closed my eyes and felt his cock, like a tree limb, ravage my stretched vagina. I was so wet, the sloshing and slapping noises grew to an obscene level. I opened my eyes and glanced at Peter sitting quietly, his face red and buried in his history of the Civil War, crotch bulging.
I arched my back as the first wave of my orgasm rolled over me. Charles was holding my head in his hands. I leaned forward as he released me, and put my hands on my knees until, shaking and shivering, the last of the orgasm dissipated. I couldn't tell if Charles had cum or not.
"Well, Peter, I guess that settles the issue; there certainly isn't anything innocent going on here. And I'm glad you decided not to look up. It's best you couldn't see the look of true abandonment and animal lust on your wife's face while I fucked her."
"And what a great fuck your wife is, Peter Tight little hole, too. Too bad her cunt's not used to a fairly good-sized cock, like mine. I'm sure she's going to be sore for a while. Once they're broken in, though, it doesn't take much to keep them used to it."
Still leaning forward, I was trying to get my breathing back to normal. Charles had put his hands under my dress and was caressing my buttocks. Whether he had cum or not, one thing was certain: he was still rock hard. In fact, he started to raise and lower my ass with his hands.
"Put the book down, Peter. We need to address Question of the Day #2: Did the nasty old man with the big pecker cum in my wife or not? Just think, all that yucky sperm from someone you don't even know, sloshing around in wifey's pussy even as we speak. How awful! How disgusting! Don't you just feel terribly degraded, Peter? I know I wouldn't stand for it. But there you sit, your cock still in your pants like a sissy, listening but not even being allowed to watch your own wife being reamed out right next to you. It kind of makes me wonder about my own sex."
Charles was once again bucking hard into my bottom. I leaned forward even further and grabbed my ankles. Suddenly, he stopped. He raised me up the length of his cock and the tip slipped free. A shudder ran through my body as he pulled out. He sat me back down on his lap with his cock running up the length of the crack of my ass. I noticed Peter had looked back down at his book.
In one violent and unbelievably quick motion, Charles reached behind me, grabbed his glass of ice water, and tossed it in Peter's face.
"WAKE UP, PETER!" he barked, his voice like iron and steel. "This is life, you asshole, not a story. I'm fucking your goddamn wife. Here, Linda, turn around and take it in your mouth."
I quickly stood, a little frightened, turned, knelt and put my mouth over the head and down it's length as far as I could manage. As I worked the tip, Charles began to masturbate.
"Don't swallow what I give you, wifey. Keep every drop in that sweet mouth of yours." He arched his hips and shot a long stream of cum that hit the back of my throat. I had closed my palate off in expectation of that and didn't gag, but a few strands of semen fell down onto his belly. He pushed me back and off his erection.
"There. Now kiss Peter and give him half. I want to see you swallow the other half, Linda."
I quickly moved to Peter, put my lips to his, and opened my mouth. I passed what I thought to be half of the load Charles had given me to Peter, then swallowed the rest. That half-salty, half sweet taste went straight to the back of my throat.
"Good girl, Linda. Your turn, Peter. You're sure as hell not going to spit it out. Get it over with and swallow it like a good little boy. Take your medicine."
Peter swallowed, then made a motion with his throat like he was about to gag, but kept it down.
I was still as horny as I'd ever been in my entire life. Part of me felt sorry for Peter. But another part was enormously aroused by the idea of what had happened and what was going to happen. This is your fantasy, my love: live with it. I know I was beginning to enjoy it immensely!
Continued in Part 4...