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One of my favorite things about sex with my wife, used to be the post-orgasmic bliss that we shared together. Even though my wife only ever permitted me to make love to her in the missionary position, I never really felt that I was missing out. I knew that Irene had grown up in a very sheltered environment, and would never give herself to another man. I also felt like the missionary position was the most intimate of all positions, as it facilitated kissing, eye-contact, and other forms of affection between a married couple. After we both enjoyed our orgasms, we would lay quietly, in no rush to uncouple, as we basked in the warm feelings of sexual release.
Or so I thought. However, now that I had been informed by a very reliable source that we never actually shared that sensation, due to the fact that Irene had faked most of her orgasms with me, the whole relaxing after sex seemed very pointless, particularly as Irene was far from satisfied.
This orgasm was different. Brought upon by the combination of Daphne’s verbal assault, her tender touches through the pocket of my pants, and two weeks without release on my part, it was a humbling, embarrassing affair, which I would rather never be mentioned again. I had blown my load in my underwear, like a horny teenager, as I looked down on the Summer House containing my wife and her boss. Having witnessed her complete submission to him earlier, I knew that the only reason he had taken her back there was to enjoy round two.
There was no post-orgasmic bliss associated with this release either, only a sense of shame and regret that I had been unable to control myself. Daphne was already heading towards the balcony door, her contempt for me evident as she spoke.
“No wonder Irene took another lover,” she said disdainfully. “You have been disappointing her since your wedding night. I can’t believe she waited this long.”
I felt my face redden at her taunts, my involuntary reaction made worse by the fact that I knew they were true.
“Go on,” she added with a laugh. “Go and watch them fuck in the Summer House. They are waiting for you.”
I heard Daphne’s high-heels clicking across the tiles on the balcony, before she disappeared into the bedroom. I decided to go back to the bar, have another cocktail, and try and relax and compose myself. However, I wasn’t even halfway down the staircase before I had a change of heart, and headed towards the Summer House.
It seemed like a much longer walk down the garden this time, probably because I knew exactly what I was going to witness. I had just had an orgasm, and even though the usual feelings of post-orgasmic bliss had evaporated immediately in response to Daphne’s taunts, I was still breathing hard and I could feel my ejaculate pooling in my underwear.
I heard my wife’s cries of pleasure once I got within about twenty feet of the Summer House. I wanted to turn around, walk away, seek refuge in the safety of the bar, but for some reason, I felt compelled to walk towards the noise. I saw them as I approached the window to the bedroom, artistically posed, coupled as they were in the missionary position.
Matt had quite a pace going, thrusting into my wife as she wriggled around beneath him. This was the only sexual position that I had ever taken Irene in, and she would normally lay passively beneath me, as I grunted and groaned my way to a speedy orgasm. She was anything but passive as she writhed around in ecstasy under Matt’s powerfully built frame, her legs wrapped tightly around his muscular ass, and her manicured fingertips intertwined across the back of his neck. Judging by the sheen of sweat that was visible across his forehead, they had been fucking for several minutes.
They would kiss occasionally, with no break in the rhythmic pounding, and with much more urgency than their usual tender embraces. Matt withdrew his lips from my wife’s, raised his head slightly, and looked directly into her eyes.
“Do you promise that you will do that for me?” he asked, canlı bahis right as she reached her next orgasm.
“Oh yes, Matt. I promise,” she squealed delightedly. “Right there. Don’t ever stop, baby. I will do whatever you want,” she cried out, as she came all over his cock.
Once the floodgates were open, my wife reached orgasm with more and more rapidity, the final one eliciting her declaration of undying love for this man. No matter how many times I heard Irene tell Matt that she loved him, it never got any easier. Irene and I dated for almost two years, before she finally told me that she loved me. Half a dozen earth-shattering orgasms, courtesy of Matt’s over-sized cock, and she was professing her never-ending love for him.
“Oh, Matt, that was incredible,” she gushed. “I have never felt so full. Are you ready to come inside me baby?”
“I want to fuck Kiki first,” he said authoritatively, as the young Asian from the dance floor, stepped into view, in the door of the bathroom.
I felt a twinge in my nuts as I took in this Asian beauty. She was absolutely stunning, only about five feet tall, but toned and lean, her taut stomach visible as she posed seductively for Matt. Her jet black hair, that was long and straight, hung down her front, draped over her small breasts, that were in perfect proportion to her tight little body. She was naked except for a tiny pair of black panties, and her demeanor was very submissive as she walked slowly towards Matt and Irene.
Matt remained balls-deep in my wife, although he turned his head and upper body towards the bathroom, so that he could admire the young Asian. When she reached the side of the bed, she lowered herself slowly to her knees, and placed one of her dainty hands on Matt’s muscular ass. Then she leaned into him, and tenderly kissed him. Irene looked on quietly as her boss made out with Kiki, and after a few moments, when their lips finally separated, Matt spoke.
“Why don’t you guys get to know each other?” he instructed, as he pulled out of my wife.
Kiki took a long look at Matt’s erect cock, as he slowly withdrew it from Irene’s pussy. It was quite an impressive sight, as it was still rock-hard, slick with my wife’s vaginal secretions, and his swollen nuts hung beneath it, as if to indicate his virility. Matt turned to leave the room, and Kiki lowered her lips to my wife’s, and they started to kiss.
I knew that Irene had never kissed a woman before, although Matt had forced her to eat Daphne’s pussy. I assumed that this was part of what she had promised Matt, in the throes of her orgasm. Matt returned to the room moments later, his erection still intact, but with Irene’s milky white fluids having been removed from it. I am not sure if the chemistry between Kiki and Irene was real, or manufactured for Matt’s enjoyment, but it seemed like they were really into each other. When Matt reached the side of the bed, the girls stopped kissing, and turned their attention to his needs.
Irene lowered her head to his cock first, seemingly staking claim to her man, as I watched her start to suck him off. She seemed much more comfortable this time, moving her lips across his cock-head and teasing his frenulum, as she maintained eye-contact with him. Kiki began to lower her lips to join my wife in a two-girl blowjob, but Matt put his hand under her chin, and spoke quietly.
“I want to wear a condom,” he said politely. “Safety first.”
My wife reached over onto the bedside table, and removed one of the condoms from the box that was lying on top of it. I don’t know if it was Matt who had the foresight to bring them, or if their relationship had evolved to the point that he took additional lovers, and she was just protecting herself, but it did seem like she was a willing participant in preparing him for sex with another woman. Maybe being forced to share Matt with Daphne had conditioned my wife to be less territorial, but Irene seemed okay with anything that contributed to Matt’s kaçak iddaa sexual pleasure.
As Irene tore open the distinctive black and gold packaging of the Magnum condoms, the letters XL were visible from my vantage point by the window, a stark contrast from the words “Little Boy” that were emblazoned across the packaging of the prophylactics that I was forced to use. I prayed that I would never have to “rubber up” in front of another woman, using those humiliating Japanese condoms.
Irene pulled the extra-large condom over the tip of Matt’s cock, and then Kiki extended her dainty hand, and the two of them rolled it all the way down Matt’s shaft, an indication that they were perfectly willing to share. Once the condom was in place, Kiki and my wife knelt on the floor before him, lowered their lips to his impressive member, and began to give him a tender, loving, two-girl blowjob. Kiki had apparently just applied her lipgloss before she emerged from the bathroom, and she was leaving traces of her hot-pink lipstick, all over Matt’s cock, encased as it was in a condom.
They worked in tandem to maximize Matt’s pleasure, and after several minutes he indicated that he was ready to fuck Kiki. The young Asian climbed onto the bed, and laid on her back. Matt stood by the side of the bed as my wife continued to blow him, and then he issued his next instructions.
“Take her panties off, Irene,” he ordered my wife.
My wife didn’t hesitate, slipping her hands inside the waistband of the tiny silk panties, and lowering them slowly down Kiki’s toned legs, until she slipped them over her feet, and discarded them on the floor.
“Is she wet, Irene?” Matt asked.
Irene looked briefly at Matt for clarification, and upon realizing that he was deadly serious, she extended one hand towards Kiki’s clean-shaved pussy.
“Use your mouth,” he said commandingly.
I know that Matt had forced my wife to eat Daphne’s pussy on more than one occasion, but this was a new development in their sexual relationship. Irene hesitated briefly, then seeming to remember the promises she had made him when she was orgasming, she lowered her lips between Kiki’s young legs, and extended her tongue, right as she neared Kiki’s clitoris.
As I heard the familiar squishing sounds of a wet pussy being eaten, it became apparent that Kiki had definitely self-lubricated. Perhaps it had occurred when Matt and her had gyrated and dry-humped on the dance floor. Perhaps as she had witnessed my wife getting fucked into oblivion by Matt. Perhaps even as she had shared Matt’s cock with my wife, as the two of them blew him. Maybe even as Irene had taken her panties off, and lowered her lips to eat Kiki out. Whatever the cause, Kiki was ready, and a few moments after Irene had started, she raised her lips from between Kiki’s legs, and stated the fucking obvious.
“She is wet, Matt,” Irene said, Kiki’s secretions evident all over her nose and chin.
“I see that,” Matt said with a smile. “Go and wash your face, baby.”
As Irene left the room, Matt lined up his cock-head with Kiki’s undeniably wet pussy, and slowly entered her. By the time Irene returned to the room, Matt had his rhythm going and was fucking the crap out of the young Asian. This was a much more physical encounter, Matt plunging deeply with every stroke, as Kiki wrapped her legs around his lower back. There was no kissing or intimacy, just pure unadulterated sex. Apparently, this was enough for Kiki because she had an orgasm within a few moments of them coupling. Her second orgasm followed in quick succession, before she asked Matt to slow down.
As Matt slowed his lovemaking to a slow but steady pace, Irene knelt on the floor next to them and began to kiss him. It was a very tender demonstration of their love for each other, and her acceptance of his right to fuck whoever he wanted to, albeit with the understanding that he use protection.
“I am satisfied, Matt,” Kiki said to my surprise. “Are kaçak bahis you ready to come?”
Matt didn’t need to be asked twice, and started to fuck Kiki with more urgency, as he sought to enjoy his own orgasm. He continued to kiss my wife as he pounded Kiki, seemingly having little interest in an intimate connection with the young Asian. After several minutes of high intensity intercourse, Matt let out a moan, and turned to my wife.
“I am close Irene,” he said, “why don’t you help me over the edge?”
My wife kissed him tenderly on the lips, and said, “Whatever you want, Matt,” in an agreeable tone.
Then as he raised his butt slightly to get a better angle with which to penetrate Kiki, my wife scooted behind the pair of them, laid down on her front between Kiki’s legs, extended her tongue, and began to lick Matt’s ass. Rim-jobs were apparently Matt’s favorite sexual activity, because shortly after my wife’s face disappeared between her boss’ buttocks, he let out a loud groan of delight, and ejaculated inside Kiki. Well, more accurately, he unloaded his nuts into the extra-large Magnum condom that he was wearing, while the two women worked to maximize his pleasure.
After he came, he remained balls-deep inside Kiki as my wife licked and nibbled his ass-cheeks, causing goosebumps to appear all over them. Matt finally withdrew his condom-covered cock from Kiki’s pussy, and rolled over on to his back.
“Where’s the cuckold, when we need some clean up?” he asked my wife, with a chuckle.
Even though I knew that this disparaging descriptive was accurate, I hated being referred to this way. Truth be told, I would rather him call me “Little Boy,” as this could at least be construed as a childhood nickname, if it were overheard by someone else. However, the term cuckold had but one connotation, universally reviled and looked down upon, and I wanted no part of it.
“Who is the cuckold?” Kiki asked, her interest clearly piqued.
“My husband, Oscar, AKA Little Boy,” Irene answered. “Knowing that wimp, he is right outside our bedroom window as we speak,” she added, with a giggle.
At that revelation, I dropped down to the ground immediately, determined not to be discovered spying on them.
“Then I have a gift for that fucking pussy,” Matt said.
Seconds later a used condom landed in the small bush that I was hiding next to, and I heard the three of them laughing at my expense.
“Do you really think your husband is hiding out there?” Kiki asked.
“Who gives a fuck?” Irene answered dismissively. “I have everything I need right here.”
I heard giggles and laughter from within the Summer House as they evidently resumed their fun and games. As I hid silently hoping not to be discovered, I glanced over at the used condom, hanging from the small bush. It was caught in a thin branch, suspended in mid-air, and stretched by the weight of Matt’s load.
The Magnum condom was much larger than the “Little Boy” prophylactics that I would ejaculate inside twice a month. It also contained a copious load of semen, especially for a man that had enjoyed multiple releases today. It probably held three or four times the volume of ejaculate that I expelled, even though I routinely went fourteen days between orgasms.
As I watched it hang there, wondering if the weight of his load would eventually pull it off the branch, I also noticed lipstick smeared over the condom. There were two very distinct shades of gloss on the prophylactic, a testament to the fact that this Alpha Male had enjoyed a two-girl blowjob.
A few minutes later, as I hid like a total pussy, Matt had apparently recovered. Judging by her cries of pleasure, he had evidently mounted my wife again. As I listened to them fuck, I felt a tingle in my nuts, but my cock didn’t stir, as I was still within my refractory period. I needed to get the hell out of there, and I was just about to get up and leave when Kiki appeared at the window, holding a cigarette.
We made eye-contact briefly, before she let out a frightened squeal.
“Matt, there is a peeping Tom outside our window,” she cried, backing up quickly, fear written all over her face.
“Oscar, you fucking cuckold,” Matt said aggressively, “get your ass in here right now.”
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