"I don't swallow," Linda blurted drunkly.
"I do," Denise countered with casual frankness.
I watched Linda make ‘her’ face, the one she always made when discussing aspects of sex that disgusted her. I'd seen it so frequently in the last ten years that it was too familiar, almost her natural state. The nose wrinkled and the brows crunched in, the mouth grimaced in revulsion. She never missed an opportunity to express her revulsion. "E-ew," she spat.
Denise looked at me with arched brows. "She do that a lot?" she asked, smirking a little.
"All the time," I said, lifting my drink in resignation.
"It's gross," Linda blurted, unasked. She never was able to resist the impulse to offer her opinion on any aspect of sex she thought was disgusting, and there were a lot of them. It was a reflexive reaction, as though she believed that not objecting vehemently every time was somehow an endorsement of the activity. I'd gotten used to hearing it, but it always irritated me, as it did now, and I reacted in my customary fashion.
"Yes, dear, I know where your boundaries are, no need to rebuild your fences for us." I was a little drunk too, but not as much as Linda. Denise, for her part, seemed more sober, and she inclined her head at me, and gave me a once-over, even though we were all seated. Interesting.
"Well, that seems like a tired and well-worn conversation," she observed wryly. She glanced at Linda. "Too bad for you," she exaggerated with a small sneer, then turned back to me. "She have a lot of limits?"
The question was inviting and open with a complete absence of accusation. An honest curiosity, feeling oddly appropriate despite the setting. We were attending a wedding, one of Linda's school friends, held at a large hotel. Around us the party swirled and danced. We'd been seated at the 'friends' table, but they were all up and dancing and mingling save the three of us. Denise was there alone and had latched on to us early in the evening. We didn't know her; she was a friend of the bride from her work. But we'd gotten along well, and the conversation had flowed and grown and eventually drifted to sex. Denise was single and curious about married sex in light of her fiend getting married.
I considered blowing the question off, deferring with a shrug, but for some reason decided not to. Maybe it was Linda's insistent declaration, or her resistance to discussing sex with me at home, alone, or her lack of inhibition at voicing her opinion to a relative stranger. She’d done this before, when she got a few drinks in her, but always in the negative. My good sense broke down.
"You have no idea," I bemoaned with a resigned smile.
"Too bad for you, too, then," Denise responded.
"What?" Linda interjected belligerently. "I like sex!" Denise made a mock surprise face and laughed.
"Yeah, right. What, you spit it out?" she jeered.
"E-ew, no, I don't let him, you know, in my mouth."
Denise looked at me, and I blushed, feeling a little shamed. "Really?" Never?"
"Never," I admitted.
"Shame," she quipped. She sipped her drink and looked at Linda. "You should. It's fun." She cocked her head at my wife. "I would."
"I'm not a slut," Linda countered. Then, as if realizing she might have insulted Denise, she stated proudly, "I'm a lazy lover." It was her badge of honor; I'd heard it before, too often, and always let it slide. The liquor and easy conversation, along with a sudden odd need to defend myself to Denise made me heave a sigh and shattered my reservations.
"You know," I said, turning to my wife, "that's not as complimentary as you seem to think it is," I said with a little more venom than I intended, but less than I felt.
Denise guffawed. "Lazy lover? What the fuck does that mean?" She dropped to a chuckle and shook her head. "What is that," she joked, "you just offer yourself and then 'receive' sex; make him do all the work?" she joked, but her laugh was greeted with silence, mine and Linda's. Around us the party pumped and thumped, the band calling everyone to the floor, and picked up the pace. Denise looked at me and I dropped her gaze, admonished in her jest. I glanced at Linda and she glowered at me. The receiver of sex, I thought, and my injured pride rebelled.
I ignored Denise's astounded stare, turned to Linda. "When you say that, out loud," I motioned with a wave, "in public, it doesn't sound that way you think it does." I leaned on the table, inclining my head towards her and she leaned back, maintaining the previous distance. Her eyes were a little unfocused. "Inside your head I'm sure you mean to sound like you appreciate sex as much as the next person, and I know you think your limited range of permissible experience is normal," I said after too many years of holding back, relief flooding me at my opportunity. "But to everyone else it sounds like you can't be bothered putting in any effort. That the sex is just something that happens to you." I narrowed my eyes and felt my lips tighten in a grimace. "It implies that I'm not that good; that sex with me isn't good enough to really enjoy."
Linda's mouth opened and closed like a landed fish. The tension between us, so long unspoken and now laid bare on the table, sat poised like a snarling dog, tightening its haunches, preparing to leap. Her expression switched rapidly from shock to confusion and back to shock before settling at unspoken detachment. I'd pushed too far, I thought, said too much. This would bristle at home for weeks, simmering like a silent covered pot, and would eventually boil over in a sudden shouting match. It had happened too many times in the ten years we'd been together to not recognize its potential.
Denise defused the tension. "Oh, shit, you two are hilarious!" she laughed, and my anger suddenly turned to her, wanting an outlet that didn't include sex withheld for weeks. "Listen to you!" But a look at her easy, welcoming smile relaxed me before my outburst and I felt suddenly lightened, her tone giving me permission to see the humor in my situation.
"Oh, it's funny to you?" I asked with a smile. "You think my frustration is funny?" My tone was light, self-deprecating without hostility and I found myself laughing with her, continued. "You think a man who can't get what he wants married to a woman who doesn't know what she's missing is a joke?" I felt my face stretched in a broad grin, matched by Denise's. I tipped my glass to her. "It's a fucking riot, yeah." I glanced at Linda. She stared back and forth between us, expressionless.
Denise chided me right back. "It's like you bought a race car but can only drive it thirty miles an hour, on side streets!" she poked.
"And not very often either!" I added.
"And you," she said, turning to Linda. "You, you're living in a fifty-room mansion, and you only go in three rooms!" I laughed at the image. "What, you pretend they aren't there?" Her shoulders bounced with a lighthearted chuckle.
"No, she knows they're there," I added to her analogy. "She walks the halls, makes sure the doors are locked, and sneers at them for my benefit!" We both laughed out loud, and Linda's face finally broke into an embarrassed smile, and I felt my connection to her renewed. This was our situation, hers and mine, no matter that we were sharing it with this comfortable and confident younger woman.
"I try to show you those rooms, though, don't I, Linda," I said, seizing the opportunity to drag my wife back into the conversation. "Constantly suggesting this room or that, eh?" I continued, drawing her in. She rolled her eyes and smiled at my effort.
"All the time," she said. "Like a museum tour that never ends."
"But we don't go in, do we?"
"E-ew, no, never" she repeated, scrunching her face again, but with a satisfied smile. "I hate those rooms. You know that." She had a half-smile that belied her alcohol intake. "But not for lack of effort on your part." She made a silly face that I guessed was supposed to express exasperation, but only made her look pretty and fun.
"Not so much anymore," I finished, turning back to Denise in confidence. I grimaced a half grin. "It gets old and frustrating. These days the tour stops after one or two closed doors."
"I like my rooms," Linda interjected. "They're comfortable and nice." She sounded a little defensive. Of course she did.
"But you've never been inside those rooms, have you?" Denise asked her intently, head lowered. "How do you know you wouldn't like them?" She leaned in towards Linda and this time my wife didn't pull back. "You don't have to live in them," she explained slowly. "But an occasional visit...? See what's inside." She angled her head to the side, trying to catch Linda's lowered eyes. My wife's head, lowered, slowly rose, met the other girl's gaze. "Check out the decor?"
Linda stared at her, hesitant to speak. I rescued her. "Most of them are locked, permanently," I offered, but they didn't break their locked eyes. "The doors I try to open get closed hard, fast."
"I'd take that tour," she told Linda; a statement, not advice. "Twice if it was fun." She glanced at me, then sat back in her chair. "I've probably been in most of those rooms at least once." I felt my cock murmur as my chest tightened. Nothing aroused me more than the idea of a woman discussing her love of sex. "Hell, I could probably give the tour!" she finished, and looked at me over her drink, her eyes different, narrowed, as if evaluating me. My chest tightened again and my cock responded appropriately. It'd been many years since a woman had come on to me and I wasn't prepared, mentally or emotionally. But my body climbed right back on the horse. Denise smirked at me with a knowing expression, assuming correctly the response she was provoking. She turned back to Linda.
"You should let him show you those rooms, Linda," she said wistfully. "You seem to have a good man here, and you wouldn't want him visiting someone else's house and seeing their rooms." Linda's eyes went wide.
"He would never," she defended. "We're married."
"Believe me, plenty of married men have been in other women's rooms," she said, turning to me and winking. "Especially if the rooms in their own house are locked up tight. You don't want your man wondering what someone else's furniture looks like, right?" She turned back to Linda, lifted one shoulder for emphasis. "You wanna keep him home and happy, you should let him use the whole house."
"Only sluts do those things," Linda defended. "I'm his wife, not some cheap whore."
Once again the conversation froze, and Linda's last words hung in the air, a Hindenburg about to burst into flame. But once again it was Denise who deflected the tension.
"Maybe," she said, "he wants to give me the tour," she said, as if poking my wife in the shoulder, her words a stiff pointing finger. "Or maybe he wants to see MY rooms," she added. "Maybe he's thinking right now if my rooms," and this time she really did poke her finger into Linda, "look like those rooms he dreams of." She glanced over at me, her eyebrows lowered with mischief and deviousness, one corner of her mouth turned up. Straight white teeth glistened at me before she turned back to my wife and leaned over, and whispered into her ear. I watched Linda's face express shock, panic and fear, overlaid with something else, something I barely recognized. Was that desire?
Denise sat back and looked at me with a satisfied smugness akin to victory. "Kyle," she said, "why don't you get us fresh drinks, and meet us out in the lobby?" Thoroughly daunted, I stood, wondering what was happening here, and extremely curious to see where it would lead. I went to the bar, got the drinks and carried them gingerly out to the lobby to find Linda and Denise waiting for me; my wife cowed and silent, the younger girl confident and proud, both beautiful and well dressed in their wedding party dresses. Denise turned to Linda as I approached, took Linda's drink from me and handed it to my wife.
"Stay," she said, then took her own drink and grabbed my elbow with her other hand, pulling me a few steps away. She leaned into my ear.
"I want you to know what's going to happen now, so you're not surprised. I don't want to mislead you or let you think there’s something here that's not," she said with blatant clarity. "I am going to give you a gift tonight. I am going to give you the wife you've dreamt of." I was looking at Linda as Denise spoke, seeing her eyes wide, her shoulders slightly slumped, her lips parted just a little. Denise took my chin and turned me to face her. The intensity in her eyes burned into mine until my soul felt seared, sizzling. "This is not about you, it's about her. I am going to show her those rooms you imagine, walk her through them, make her see the furniture and decor. I will do things to you and to her that you have only dreamed of, but make no mistake." I felt a power emanating from this girl, an authority so strong it was tactile, and my skin tightened. I felt my erection begin again. "This is about me, and about her, and what she wants, but is afraid to find." Her voice lowered to a whisper and she hissed into my ear. "I will turn her tonight. I will make her my bitch, for me, tonight. But for you, forever."
My head was swimming and I wondered briefly if this was more than I wanted, but my lust quickly flashed a potential future where all those previously closed rooms were opened and visited and enjoyed; I imagined my wife willingly entering, imagined her standing at the open door, inviting me in, relaxing on the furniture.
"Say yes, and we do this thing. Say no, and it stops here, and we all go back inside, and pretend nothing ever happened," she hissed. "But if you say yes, there's no backing out. We do this. I do this. You live with the results. Got it?" My fear remained, but took an unwilling back seat as my libido grabbed the controls, slammed on the gas and screamed in joy at the rush.
"Yes," I squeaked.
Those beautiful straight white teeth glistened in her smile that held more than delight, more than satisfaction. "Good," she intoned. "I hope you won't be sorry." She pulled my arm and I followed her back to where my wife stood, then released me and took Linda's arm. "It's all set, dear," she said to my wife, and led us to the elevator. We were silent as we went up and walked the hall to the rooms, but every glance at Denise showed me a feral, hungry look. I could smell her appetite leaching from her, and my nerves jangled alongside my growing excitement. She took us to her room and opened the door, but stopped Linda from entering after ushering me inside.
"Not yet, sweetie," she said with a lecherous grin. She took Linda's drink from her hand and gave it to me. I stood inside the open doorway and watched my wife look up at Denise with the eyes of a doe who has just seen the wolf and knows the end is near. I was torn between wanting to save her and an overwhelming desire to see her taken and devoured, all my years of frustration welling up for retribution. I wanted this, despite my better judgment. I wanted all the denials erased, reversed. I wanted to see this conversion, wanted her to twist against the rules as I had, share my pain, feel my anguish. I wanted to see things not go her way. I wanted to see her bend against her will, to give in, to be defeated. It would be bad. I had been molded slowly, over years, until capitulation was my natural state. This would be extreme.
Denise stood slightly behind Linda, out of Linda's sight, and so Linda looked to me. Denise leaned into her ear, one hand resting just off her shoulder, gripping my wife's upper arm. "Do you remember," Denise whispered just loud enough for me to hear, "what I told you before?"
Linda's lower lip trembled. Was she going to cry? I saw her gulp air and nod.
"Say it. Say you remember."
"He's your man, Linda. He’s a good man, isn't he?" Denise moved behind her, walking, came around the other side, looked at me from under lidded eyes, grinning. "You want to keep him, don't you?"
"I'm going to take him from you Linda. I'm going to take him inside, and close the door, and leave you out here, and you can scream until security comes and takes you away for the police," she goaded, "or you can wait until I'm done, but when this door opens he'll be mine, all mine." Linda's eyes flared with anger and fear. Denise pulled back behind her and made a face at me, a smirking conspiratorial head shake that told me she wouldn't do what she'd just said, and I felt a pang of regret.
"So you're going to have to fight me for him," came the venomous challenge, still looking at me as though we had planned this together. "Are you gonna do what it takes to keep your man?" One hand snaked in front of Linda's body, held her under her chest. "You got what it takes to keep your man?"
Linda was breathing hard, warring indecision and disbelief obvious in her demeanor. Then she lifted her head and stuck her chin out in a motion I was familiar with. I'd seen it so many times as she defiantly refused any further discussion of sexual 'deviance'.
"Oh, that's good," Denise snickered. "All defiant and proud, you are." Her eyes connected to mine from behind Linda’s head, sinister intent plain. Her hand slid up and she enveloped Linda's breast, squeezing through her dress. Linda gasped, but held herself still, didn't pull away. "Nice tits," Denise hissed. "Let’s see just how proud you are, huh?"
Her hand disappeared back behind Linda. My wife's eyes opened wide with a sharp intake of breath as I heard a zipper, and the front of my wife's dress became loose. "We're gonna see what you got here," Denise told her, talking to Linda now, not caring if I heard. "See what you're prepared to do, how much you want to keep your man." A hand came to Linda's shoulder and slipped the strap down her arm. My wife stood frozen, and she shut her eyes. Then the other strap was pushed down. Denise stepped to the side.
"Take it off. Strip," she ordered. "Do it."
Linda turned to her. "Here?" Her eyes glanced up and down the hallway as her dress slipped down, exposing one bra cup. She never looked hotter, so vulnerable and public. "Someone will see..."
"Get your fucking dress off! Now!" Cowed, Linda slipped the dress down, pushing to her waist. "That's the whole point, Missy. Someone could see you. It's the danger that makes it exciting, no? The risk." She reached out, trailed the backs of her fingers down from Linda’s collarbone to her cleavage. "The potential for humiliation in front of strangers. They won't see prim and proper tight-ass Linda." She stepped behind her, grabbed the bunched fabric and pushed it below Linda's hips, dropping it to the floor. "They'll see a horny slut stripping in public." Linda's head was down, her hair hanging over her face. She stood in her mismatched underwear and pantyhose and heels in the middle of her pooled dress.
"Pantyhose," Denise sneered. "Get them off." Without looking up Linda hurriedly pulled them from her hips and lifted one leg at a time, turning them inside out in her haste, pulling her feet from the silky translucence. One side of her panties slipped with them and they sat on her hips at a sloppy, unkempt angle.
Denise bent down, picked up the discarded garments and threw them to me. I draped them over my arm. I could have hung them on my cock if it was out. Denise stepped behind Linda again.
"Almost ready to come inside, Missy," she hissed into her ear, and Linda’s hands rose quickly to catch her falling bra as it loosened on her. Denise reached around, slapped her hands away, and tugged Linda's wrists behind her as the bra slipped down her arms. And my wife stood there, breasts bared in the hotel hallway. She lifted her head, looked at me. A single tear slipped down her reddened face.
"Is this what you want?" she asked me pleadingly.
"Fuck yeah," I heard myself say before having time to think.
"The panties," Denise said, tossing me the bra. "Now."
Linda bit her lower lip as Denise released her hands, and she hooked her thumbs in the fabric at her waist and pushed down, bending over to get them past her knees. She stood back up, chin jutting in determination and fear, her breasts shifting on her heaving chest. She lifted the foot with her panties on her ankle and slipped them off, handed them to Denise without bidding. The younger girl’s eyebrows lifted as she held the warm fabric, and I saw her rub a finger inside.
"Oh, you slut!" she barked a laugh. "You're excited!" With a sudden sneer she rubbed the panties into Linda's face. "Smell that, slut! Smell your wet cunt.” Linda struggled, tried to pull away, her breasts shaking naked on her chest as she struggled, to no avail. I watched her eyes open wide in disgust, public nudity momentarily forgotten as she was forced to inhale her own scent of arousal. Her muffled resistance made little noise.
"Show him," Denise snarled into her ear, hand still holding the panties to my wife's face. "Show him how wet you are." Linda's eyes turned to her tormentor, questioning. "With your fingers, Missy. Put them in your pussy and show us how excited you are!"
Denise stepped back, released Linda and watched from the side. As Linda's hand probed uncomfortably between her legs, Denise snorted. "Look at that fucking hairy bush on you." Linda glanced panicky up the hallway in both directions, and swiped a finger up her crotch, disdain flashing in her expression. Like she was disgusted by herself. I was fascinated, having never seen her touch herself before. And now she was doing it on command, naked in a hotel hallway. "No wonder your man’s eye wanders!" She grabbed Linda's upraised arm by the wrist, holding the wet fingers in front of her own face. Several strings of slime webbed between her parted fingers. Denise pushed them into my wife's face, leaving a wet trail where her fingertips brushed her.
"Get inside," she sneered, releasing her, and Linda scrambled to me, stepping into my embrace. Her naked body felt good against me, and the odd feeling of her being naked while I was fully clothed struck me. I pressed my hips forward, letting her feel my hard cock as I gripped her butt cheeks and pressed her to me. Denise laughed. I felt a sense of dominance over Linda at this situation she had put herself in. A vindication of sorts, I guess; the threat of me being taken away forcing her to endure being pushed past her restrictive comfort zone. I felt powerful and in charge, even though I knew it was Denise running the show. I smiled at the younger woman over my wife's shoulder as I spoke.
"Feel that?" I asked. "Feel my hard cock?" I pushed harder, emphasizing my words with my grip and hips. "Seeing you like this makes me hard as steel. Seeing you naked, in public." I considered a second, then plundered on. "Touching your cunt."
Linda pulled back as if stung, but I held her hips tight to mine.
"Don't act shocked; I saw your fingers. You're getting off on this too." I felt her body relax against mine, felt her hips press in. But then Denise was there, the door closing behind her. She grabbed Linda's hair and pulled her away.
"Inside, come with me." She glanced at me, winked. "We'll have to take care of your problem first." I turned to watch Denise drag Linda into the bathroom by her hair and close the door behind them.
I wandered the room, unable to hear the muffled words from inside. I found some chilled wine opened in the ice bucket and poured myself a drink and plopped into a chair. After a few minutes Denise stuck her head out of the bathroom.
"While you're waiting," she called to me, "find some porn on the television." I wasn't expecting that, but she didn't wait for an answer. "Something nasty," she added, and disappeared again. I picked up the remote and found the menu, searched for one of those collections of scenes that would fit her description. My cock, softened during my wait, returned to full staff when the first scene showed a woman taking two guys, one in her mouth and one in her pussy.
I was another ten minutes before the door opened. Denise came out first, holding Linda’s hand, leading her like a docile animal to slaughter. She had her head down as she trailed the younger girl. Denise stepped aside and walked Linda to the bedside and sat her down facing me in my chair. Still fully clothed in her party dress, she climbed onto the bed and knelt behind my wife. Her hands gripped Linda's shoulders and she leaned in behind her head, a grinning demon.
"Show him. Show your man what we did." Linda closed her eyes and lowered her head, took a few deep breaths and opened her legs.
She was completely shaved.
"Say it," came the command, "like I told you."
"I - I shaved my -" came the whisper, then softer, "cunt." Linda hated that word.
Quick as a flash Denise's hand was down the front of Linda's chest, one nipple gripped and twisted harshly as Linda squealed. "Like I told you!"
"I shaved my cunt," Linda announced with determination. "Do you like it?"
"Very nice," I answered.
"What else?" Denise coached.
"She," Linda began, "she put her fingers in me. In my pussy."
"And?" Denise coaxed. Her hand slipped down to the nipple, circled it.
"And it felt good," Linda blurted, "I liked it. My pussy was so wet." Only the hesitance in her voice made her words sound real. I reassured her that she was turning me on.
"Tell him; tell him what else you did."
Her eyes closed and her head lowered, face reddened in shame, but it sprung back up as Denise touched the nipple again. "I licked her." A small pause. "I licked her pussy."
I nearly came. "Wow, that's fucking hot, Linda," I said. "Did you like it?" She nodded dutifully. I had no idea if it was true, and didn't care.
"She’s quite the secret slut, this one," Denise said to me over Linda's shoulder. Her eyebrows lifted. "Wanna see?" Without waiting for an answer she scooted from behind my wife, pulled her onto her back, and lifted her own dress up over her hips. She wore nothing underneath, and I wondered if she had discarded them, or had never had any on. "Watch this."
Thoughts of Denise's panties disappeared as quickly as my wife's face as Denise tossed a leg over her, kneeling straight up and lowering her crotch to my wife's mouth. I saw Linda’s chin move, her mouth open, lips and tongue working the younger woman's hairless labia. I watched my wife's tongue point and slip inside, licking a wet pussy, watched her toy with her clit. I watched her suck, saw her throat work as she swallowed the other woman's juices.
"Fucking incredible, right?" Denise asked me. "And she's good at it, too!" Without warning she lowered her weight, settling her shaved pussy onto Linda's face and grinding on her with a groan. She reached down and pinched both nipples. She looked at me as she pulled the darkened nubs. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she inquired. "Get your pants off and fuck her!"
I was there and naked in a few heartbeats and slipping my cock inside. Denise lifted and Linda gasped for air, but never stopped licking, her hands on the insides of Denise's thighs. I was thrusting hard, burying myself in her, astounded at how wet and slick she felt.
"Fuck, that's so hot," I blurted. "Lick that pussy, baby. Do it for me. Do it for us!" I urged.
"Don't you cum, Kyle," Denise warned. "We got a lot to do still." I looked up at her, wondering what else might happen. "Like this." Denise pulled her pussy up and I watched Linda crane her neck, extending her tongue, trying to reach the other girl’s sex. Denise adjusted to a squat, shifted forward, and spread her legs. Her open hole was in full view above Linda’s face, and my wife grunted with the effort to reach it. Denise pointed her knees to the sides and lowered herself, pussy out of reach.
Feeling flesh at her tongue, Linda resumed her licking, her tongue rising from her mouth and parting the spread cheeks, swiping a long lick, leaving a trail of saliva up Denise’s butt crack and across her back door. "That's it, Missy, tongue my ass," Denise urged, and I stopped my thrusts, buried deep inside her as I watched her tongue point and push up, burrowing into the crinkled knot.
"Holy shit," I managed. "I never...holy shit!"
"Yeah, that's it, little Missy," Denise cajoled, "get in there, get that secret slut tongue up my bunghole, oh, you were born for this!"
I got a little angry that she would do this after all the times she had denied my requests for things much less kinky, and I took it out on her pussy, holding her thighs and pulling them into my as I plowed in, hard. She started grunting into Denise's asshole with each plunge and I could feel my cockhead banging into end of her pussy. I wondered if it hurt, and decided that she'd let me know it if did. I wasn't THAT big. And part of me wanted it to hurt, wanted her to be sore.
Denise saw me going at it and waved me off, then climbed off my wife's face. She leaned over her and with a glance in my direction, said, "Pretty good so far, Missy. You're scoring some points with your man." She grinned up at me, but Linda's face was frozen in a mask of submissive obedience. "I looks like you got his attention, anyway!" She brushed a lock of hair from Linda's forehead. "Let’s see if you can keep it, shall we?" She motioned me to pull out and stay kneeling on the bed. She helped Linda sit up, moved her to all fours, and waved me over. "Open up, Missy," she said, putting a hand behind my wife's head, "here comes your man!" She guided my wife's mouth to cock level.
"But he...he was just..." She objected, turning her head. She rarely sucked me, and she NEVER took it after I was inside.
Denise slapped her ass with a loud strike. "Don't you sass me, Missy!" She barked. "Now get busy!"
Cowed, Linda looked up at me, unease and timidity making her lip quiver. She looked at me. And I shoved my cock into her mouth. She dutifully opened, her eyebrows furrowing with distaste. Denise, looking on, pulled her hair.
"Look at him! Watch your man as you suck his cock! See the pleasure in his face!" She snorted a laugh. "Fucking beginner!" She put a hand under my wife's chin, held her head up, and moved her forward and back, pumping her mouth on my shaft. I watched Linda, loving the feel of her mouth. Denise whispered into her ear, then pulled her mouth off. She stared up at me, biting her lip.
"I- I taste good..." She fumbled. She got a smack on the ass, and shrieked, recovered. "I like the way my pussy tastes on your...cock." My libido reacted, making it sound like she meant it. But hearing it was enough. I shoved my cock back in.
"Have some more, then," I told her.
"Good girl," Denise told her. "Not very convincing; although you seemed to like the taste of MY pussy!" She looked up at me. "I know!"
She leaned over and whispered into Linda's ear. Linda groaned with dismay, her lips wrapped tightly around my shaft. Drool ran down her chin.
"Do it," Denise ordered. She pulled Linda's mouth off me.
Linda looked up with uncertainty and obedience. "Would you..."
Another slap on the ass. "Like you mean it! Demand it!" Linda turned her head with a scowl, then turned back to me.
"Fuck my face, Kyle!" Anger, defiance in her tone. "Shove your cock in my mouth and fuck my face like a cunt!" Denise made a mocking face from behind Linda, urging me. The words were like a magic trick, turning me from husband to master in a heartbeat.
I plunged in. Denise held her head. She gagged when I felt my cock hit the back of her throat, and Denise held her there a few second, choking and coughing spit out of the sides of her mouth. Denise let go and Linda's head fell forward, drooling and coughing and gasping for air. My cock bobbed on her forehead, drool coating it, wiping it into her hair, pre-cum adding to the mess. The idea of my wife with pre-cum on her face grabbed me by the root of my desire. I pushed forward and rubbed my slick cock all over her face.
Denise squealed in delight, pulled Linda's hair back and I plunged back in, fucking Linda's face; this time not holding it in, but pumping into the back of her mouth, getting that awful ‘gugg-gugg-gugg’ sound as she tried to breathe and swallow. Sweet little Linda, getting her first face fuck, screaming at me to do it, and taking it like a champ. Totally hot.
I pulled back, Linda gasped for breath, and I pushed my cock all over her face again, seeing her cheeks and nose shine with spit like the drool on her chin. It was a disgusting hot turn-on. Linda breathed though her nose, mouth closed and tongue sticking out, licking my cock and balls every time I passed her lips. The idea that she was getting into it caught me a little by surprise, until I remembered that she had licked Denise's pussy and ass already.
And I realized Denise was fingering her.
I pulled back, watched my wife close her eyes, able to concentrate on the fingers probing her, stroking into her. I craned my head, trying to see, and Denise saw me, held up three fingers of her other hand, giving me an evil grin. Linda moaned, and began grunting.
"Get ready," Denise told me. I was ready to explode. My cum was boiling in my balls; I'd pulled out of her mouth as I felt it build, not wanting to finish yet. Denise made a silent motion with her free hand, towards her mouth, then another to mime cum on her face. I got it. Back in her mouth until I was ready, then treat my wife to her first facial. I waited for the signal.
It came in a low keening tone from Linda as Denise pulled her fingers out. Linda's eyes were closed, her lips parted a little. My balls churned with the realization that my normally restrictive wife was moaning because another woman had stopped fingering her cunt, and she wanted more. Then I saw Denise's arm move and Linda's eyes and mouth opened wide as her head sprung up on her shoulders. The keen turned to a howl.
Denise had shoved two wet fingers into Linda's ass, and I shoved my cock back into her open mouth. She went at it like a woman starved. Bouncing her head up and down my shaft. I pulsed my hips to meet her face, not needing to thrust far, she was doing all the work, now. She was moaning on my cock as she sucked, and the idea of her getting her ass fingered by another woman drove me to the edge. I waited till the very last second, maybe one too late. The first shot went into her open mouth as I pulled back, jerked my shaft, and sprayed the rest onto her face, grunting as I exploded. Her mouth opened and closed biting at air and flying cum, tongue flicking out, and she screamed out an orgasm louder than I had ever heard from her before.
She collapsed on the bed, ass still full of fingers, Denise's other hand underneath where she was rubbing her clit. Her face was covered in trails and splashes of jizz, and she panted, and cried, and gripped the sheets tightly, and came again, body shaking and twitching as she moaned and squealed. She never looked sexier or dirtier or more desirable. I leaned over her, kissed the back of her neck as Denise pulled out and she began to relax.
I held her until I felt Denise pushing me, and I rolled to the side, facing her. Denise, still in her dress, lay on top of my wife, pressing her body into her back.
"Good girl, Linda, I'm so proud of you" she whispered into Linda’s ear. "You enjoyed that, didn't you? It's fun to let go, let the passion take you where it will." Denise wriggled on top of my wife, pressing her pussy into her ass. "If I had my strap on, I'd fuck your ass for you. And you'd let me, wouldn't you?" I watched Linda's cum covered face nod in assent. "Then I'd let you put your man’s cock in my wet cunt and fuck me while I was fucking you." Linda's eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned. "Oh, yeah, it would be good, wouldn’t it, Missy? And after he came in me, you'd lick his cum from my used cunt, wouldn't you?"
"Please," Linda begged, "please fuck my ass, please, I want to." The words were music to my ears and in my mind I was walking through the house of sex with Linda, throwing open doors to her excited cries. Life would be different.
"Not today, baby," she said, rolling off and climbing off the bed. "You two have a lot to talk about." She smoothed out her dress as best she could. "I'm going to clean up and get back to the party. You two stay her, relax a bit." She cocked her head with a smile. "Who knows? Maybe you'll still be here when I get back," she said, "with some company."
Linda murmured something soft and sweet, and rolled into me, laying her cum slicked face on my chest and angling her leg across my body. I heard Denise chuckling to herself in the bathroom, but fell asleep before she left.
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