Well, as you may have read in my last fun encounter with Vinny, like an idiot I allowed some pictures to be taken. Big mistake! If my husband sees them, I could be in a lot of trouble, maybe even jeopardize my marriage. Yes, we have a “don't ask, don't tell” polyamorous relationship but I love my husband with all my heart. The latest sex I’d had was with my husband followed by a swingers’ party — and, before that, it was my awesome night with Vinny. That said, let me go back to what happened last Thursday.

It began like any other routine day: wake, go to work and all the boring stuff. Around two in the afternoon, things changed. I received a text from an unknown number. The message stated my name but nothing else.

I replied, ‘Yes?’

A few minutes later, another text arrived — showing a huge, uncircumcised cock. It was awesome and I stared at it a few times. It was long, thick and accompanied by vast balls that were shaved bald. 

I sent a text: ’Who is this?’  

The reply came… another picture of this perfect cock. 

I was thinking, Okay who is it? when the next picture arrived. This was different — a picture of a bondage collar with a short chain leash. And, at last, I saw words: ‘You will be wearing this tonight.’

I sent, ‘No I won’t!’

The next reply disturbed me. It gave my husband’s email address and said that if I didn’t wear the collar he would ‘receive these pictures.’ I saw eight pictures of me taken on the night with Vinny. 

‘This is not cool at all,’ I sent.

And the reply came with an address in Wakefield, Mass and said, ‘5:45 to 6 tonight — and don't be late or the pics will be emailed or texted to one of these…’ My husband’s email and phone number were listed.

Again, I responded that it wasn’t cool but the reply simply stated, ‘See you then. Do not be late.’

I texted Vinny and briefly explained what had happened and said that I would call him. I went to the bathroom and phoned. Vinny asked for the number of the sender and, after I told him, he laughed and said, “Oh boy, yeah, you’d better go.”

“Why? Who is it?” I asked.

Vinny said he knew the sender and he’d sent him the pictures. “If you play along, you’ll be very happy.” 

Okay, I was relieved that Vinny knew the guy but I was also pissed about the threats and told him that he could get me into a lot of trouble.

Vinny simply laughed. “Yeah, I could,” he said and hung up.

Minutes later, another text told me, ‘Don't call Vinny, he can’t get you out of this. See you at 6 at the latest.’

As the day went on, I occasionally looked at the pictures of the jumbo cock and balls. I admit I was slightly turned on but I was really upset about what was happening. I sent a text to my guy, asking what our plans were for that night. He said he was going to the Bruins game and asked if I wanted to go with him. I said I’d go to the gym and then home as I was feeling a little tired.

Truthfully, I felt I had no choice but to go to the Wakefield address. I was so nervous and angry — and, yes, turned on — as I drove that I decided to stop for coffee. I didn't want to arrive early.

I got a text from Vinny. ‘Just relax and enjoy,’ it said and that made me feel easier. I looked at the cock pictures again. Hmm…

The address was, in fact, a very old, seedy hotel where I’d once been for a swingers’ party — and swore never to return. I texted that I’d arrived and was told, ‘Room 210 and hurry’.

I walked up the stairs and the gross carpet and musty old feel of the hotel was all so gloomy. My knock on the door was answered by a short, bald man in jeans and a polo shirt.

“Enter,” he said and I thought he was creepy but I went in and immediately saw the collar on the bed. The sheets had been taken off and put on the floor.

“Strip,” he ordered in a firm tone, “and put that on.”

As I began to disrobe, he told me to be faster and I hurried to put on the collar. I hated wearing it.

“So, Lindsay, you’ve been a naughty girl lately,” he said. “You’ve been meeting men behind your husband’s back, haven't you?”

I didn't answer.

He said, ”You may reply to me by saying ‘Yes, sir’.” 

I was naked — apart from the bloody collar — and he had me sit on the end of the bed while he undressed. His pale hairless body was creepy — but his cock was truly good. I’d certainly been with worse but I gathered he was a dominant male and I was in for a rough few hours. 

He tightened the collar until it was uncomfortable and he tugged the chain, leading me around the bed. He sat and told me to kneel and began slapping his cock on my face. 

“You love my cock, don't you, slut? Don't you?” he barked and pulled the chain. 

“Yes, sir,” I said as he continued to rub his growing erection over my face. I knew the game he was playing so I went along with it. I was in need of a good fucking and I prefer a dominant man — but, really, not this creepy kind.

“Open your mouth, slut!” 

He face-fucked me relentlessly and I gagged. At times, it hurt and I was not enjoying it. He called me a slut, a dirty whore, and asked if I loved his cock. I couldn’t answer, of course, with his cock rammed in my mouth. I was out of breath when he pulled the leash, indicating me to get on the bed.

He pinned me down and continued to fuck my mouth, at times also fingering my pussy. To my surprise, I was soaked and he then knew I was up for it. I gagged but he continued to punish my throat till his foreskin rolled right back, exposing his fat dome — that’s how hard and large he was. He flipped me over and spanked me before licking my ass and vigorously fingering my pussy. 

“Beg for it, slut,” he said. “Beg me to fuck you.” 

At first, I said nothing but after a few smacks with the chain, I shot him a look that told him he was pissing me off. He put the large head of his cock at my entrance — and then thrust into me. He stopped, just the fat dome inserted, and again asked if I wanted him to fuck me. I gave in.

“Yes,” I whined and that was all he needed to hear. He drove in balls deep and it hurt. He filled me and was as much as I could handle. I yelped as he pounded me very hard and fast, showing no mercy as he twisted my arm behind my back and called me names between asking if I loved his cock. 

He pounded me for what seemed like a long time. “Does your husband fuck you like this? Do you like my cock?” Over and over he asked, sometimes slapping my ass. 

It was a brutal fucking but I came — very loudly, too — and I felt extremely wet as well as exhausted and sore. But he didn’t stop for a moment. He flipped me onto my back and continued fucking me with my legs held up in the air. He asked me to look at him as he battered my pussy until, finally, he came. And boy did he cum! He pulled out, pointed his immense rod at my chest — and fired, covering my tits and face with fountains of cum while he grunted and groaned. Eventually, he was done spraying my heaving body and collapsed on top of me. Thankfully, he soon rolled off. 

We were both out of breath but he was grinning when he got up and handed me a t-shirt to use as a towel. He offered a shower but I said, ”No thank you,” and we sat in silence for a time. 

Then he revealed that he wouldn’t have sent the pictures to my hubby and said that Vinny had put him up to it. He said he was a Dom and had a basement dungeon. “Would you like to see it?”

“It’s not my thing,” I said. “I don't like ropes or pain. I just don't get it and it’s not for me.”

He accepted my refusal and, amazingly, said he appreciated me stopping by. Some choice, eh? 

What I thought had been two hours was just under a hour when I drove home. I was certainly sore from his pounding and I sent a ‘Fuck you’ text to Vinny. 

‘LOL,’ he replied but I told him that he was ‘in vagina jail’ as far as I was concerned. I didn’t know how long it would take me to forgive him, if ever.

I was tired and broken and in need of a shower. That was the first thing I did when I got home. I hoped there were no marks and that I’d recover before the weekend. 

Obviously, I wasn’t happy! Oh yes, I did cum once and it was very hard. But it really wasn't my thing. Trying to look at it positively, he did have a satisfyingly perfect cock but he was kind of a douche. 

Oddly, I know I need something new, no doubting that. I’m just not sure what that is!