It was about 2 am when I got her message. “I’m on the way back.”

I was sitting in the dark living room which was only lit by the television. I thought the time would pass faster if I watched TV, but I didn’t even look at it. I couldn’t stop thinking heavily on the current situation I am in – or we are in. It has been almost three hours since we parted in front of the toilets of the night club. “Are you sure, honey?” she said while awkwardly acting that she is worried about me. However, I could see that there were no worries, but joy and excitement. My reaction was direct; I held her chin and kissed her passionately. “Go on!”

My wife was drunk and happy. She met a guy on the dance stage. He was a fit guy with an average tallness, as I saw in the crowd. He had a t-shirt that fully displayed his chest and muscular arms. His hair were short, his skin was tanned. They hanged about one and a half hours until they have left the club. I watched them afar while having some drinks. She seemed to enjoy her time, often laughing and touching him with admiration.

Thinking about the night club and what could be happening after that, I just sat in home and waited. She took longer with him than I thought. I was feeling jealousy; jealousy that my wife was taken by another man; jealousy that she has great time and has a chance to realize our fantasy.

The door clicked and opened, at last. Her silhouette stood silent with the corridor lights behind her. She turned on the room light.

“Oh, you didn’t sleep?”

She seemed tired and miserable. She sat next to mewith a contrastive mood to that at the club. I wanted to kiss her but she stopped me. She didn’t say anything, nor did I. She just looked straight down at her feet. Her silence made me feel concerned.

“So, how was it?” I broke the silence with caution.

She lifted her face slowly to me. I felt like she needed an effort to be able to look into my eyes. “How was it, huh?” she repeated my question. I guess her feelings were turning into anger against me. “How was it?” she repeated once again, turning her face back to her legs. Suddenly, she lifted her short skirt and put her legs on display. She turned her leg a little and I saw the pink marks at her thigh. It was clear what happened to her.

“Oh darling, does it hurt?” I said naively. My naiveness made her even angrier.

“Yes, it does.” she said with burning eyes. “Your wife was slapped by a stranger, and where were you?”

I didn’t have anything to say. I felt like a scum. I opened my mouth to say sorry but I couldn’t.

She was the one breaking the silence: “You couldn’t protect me. At least you can heal me.”

She turned towards me with her body; put her left leg on the sofa. She didn’t tell anything but looked at me with authority. I knew what to do. I reached her thighs with my head and started to kiss. I was touching gently and delivering a lot of tiny kisses. While doing it, I emphatized with her, I felt her pain. I felt the burning of her soft skin at my lips. I was angry with the guy who slapped her. 

When I looked at her face she seemed eased for a moment. But as she spotted me, she showed an authorizing face again.

“Use your tongue.”

This command made it clear that she doesn’t want romance, but punishment. As I started to lick her thighs, my feelings of empathy has transformed into more of an apology, or a feeling that servants would have for their master.

“That’s better.”

After a few minutes of licking, she pushed my head away. Her legs were glistening with wetness. Without exposing any sympathy on me, she moved her leg back and pulled her top. I watched her lovely curves while helping her to take off the bra. She fell silent again, looked at her breast. Looked at my face, opened her mouth to say something but she couldn’t. Her face fell down again. I recognized only when I looked very carefully that her left tit has slightly pink marks.

Without looking at me she tried to talk. “He…” She gasped. “He held me… grasped my tit… and pulled me… to himself.”

I was frozen with the sight of my wife, falling desparately to another man’s lap, or to his bed. I didn’t know where he pulled her. But it seems he did it very harshly that there were still marks of his fingers.

“Oh, darling…” I said while approaching to her tit. I kissed it, her nipple and around it. I wanted to caress her, yet she stopped me by pushing my forehead.

“Lick.” She said coldly.

It was an order to me. I licked her tit. I sucked it with nasty sounds. I always admired her tits and never ever hurted them. I was always tender for the beautiful breast of my wife. But this guy… The jerk grasped them vulgarly. For him they were nothing but an object to handle my woman.

My service ended with her short statement: “Enough.”

As I licked her body and showed my care, she has become more and more bossy over me. She was forgetting her part of the crime and loading the guilt on me with this attitude. But I was in no position to remind her joy in the club.

She stood up. Looking above me she had even a stronger dominance. She pressed my head to make me kneel before her. She slipped down her panties to uncover her pussy. I smelled her used and wet pussy. Her shaved pussy lips also had the pink marks after this guy, unsuprisingly. In this position she talked without gasping. It was a mere statement: “Lick me, here.”

She knew that I don’t like to do it. In our sex life I rarely did it, and it was always after the shower. Clearly, she was using the situation for obtaining what she always wants.

I struggled. I could smell the strong aroma of her fucked pussy. I tried to resist by challenging her reason: “Did he slap you here, too?”

But it backfired. It backfired hard. Her eyes were bursting flame. Her current anger has merged with her anger accumulated for years as I denied licking her pussy. At this point she has become merciless against me. She wanted to hurt me with her words.

“No!” she said, “He didn’t slap. But he fucked me. He fucked me so hard with…” At this point she froze for a second, as she was unsure to continue. But her anger has won “…with his… his big cock!” She couldn't believe what she said at first. But as she saw how defeated I am with her words, the triumph appeared in her face.

After that moment, she stopped hiding her enjoyment. No more pretending. That day, she has become a hotwife and she gained a stronger position over me.

I could see her lips curled with joy as she explained me why I should lick her pussy: “His cock was too large that it hurted me. My pussy was stretched as he pushed in. It took me a while to get used to such a big cock, darling.” She was telling it with sarcasm. Her attitude was like a teacher explaining a certain fact to her foolish pupil.

I felt humiliated. So much humiliated that my eyes got slightly wet. To hide my shame I buried my face to her pussy. I didn’t care of the sweat and the juices of sex anymore. I licked her entrance with my tongue wide open. I felt the taste of latex. Her pussy was still hot with the friction of sex.

She pulled my head to herself and kept teasing me: “You shall lick my insides. Push your tongue deep. Yes, deeper, oh my… deeper. Ohh…” She gasped and her muscles clenched, I guess she was having an orgasm.

Giving her an orgasm made me more self confident. Now I was the last man who pleasured her. Pleasuring my woman made me feel like a man again. But my confidence lasted only two minutes, until she could talk again.

“Good husband. Clean me from his violent cock. He was an animal you know? Ohh… he fucked… ohh… me so good… so tough… oh my… like you’ve never done.”

I knew what she meant. I was always kind on the bed. She was my precious. Now, she tasted the animal lust and made sure that I tasted the remains of it. I'm afraid she loved it and would desire more of it.

I was crazily swirling my tongue inside her pussy. I was pushing as much as I can to erase the remains of his cock. But I knew by heart that it would stay there. It would stay at a depth that neither my tongue nor my cock could remove it.