Becca Bellamy
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Playing with Fire - Part 3
🕑 Added 2022-07-31 06:23:37 +0000 UTCClick here to read the previous parts of the story.
It's a little after midnight when your wife arrives home from her date. That means it went well. Perhaps exceptionally well.
You think of the night you had. You think of letting Emily into your house, of letting another woman into your bedroom. You think of the way she teased you, of the way she gave you what your wife refuses to offer. You feel weak for surrendering to those desires, for letting Emily into your home, and yet you also know you'd do it again. You know she made you feel things you've always wanted to feel, things your wife refuses to make you feel.
"Welcome home," you say as your wife steps into the house. Her hair is messy and her makeup isn't nearly as neat as it was when she left. She's clearly been fucked, and fucked well. "How was your date?"
"It was exquisite," she replies.
Your wife approaches with a smile on her face. She leans close and kisses you. Her lips are soft and warm and the kiss is tender. You part your lips in hopes of a little bit of tongue, but she doesn't offer it.
"How was your night?" she asks. "Did you think about me while I was gone?"
"Yes," you answer. That part is true. You did think about her, mostly because Emily kept bringing her up. "I thought about you constantly. I thought about you putting one of those Magnum condoms on his big cock. I thought about him fucking you, about you enjoying his size. I couldn't stop thinking about it."
"Would you like to cum?" she asks with a smile.
"Yes, desperately," you reply.
Your wife kisses you again. This time she offers her tongue. She plays with your cock through your pants, too. She fills your body with desire and makes you throb so hard it hurts a little. "Follow me," she says.
You follow your wife to the bedroom. Your heart pounds as you worry that you forgot to clean up every bit of evidence that another woman was in your bed just a few hours ago. You feel an overwhelming sense of guilt, of terror, of shame. Your wife doesn't seem to notice anything, though. The bedroom looks the same as when she left and the panties that Emily gave you have been tucked away in the back of a file cabinet in your office.
"Take your clothes off," your wife says.
You strip at her command. She strips right along with you, revealing the lean, lovely, beautiful body that another man enjoyed tonight. She lowers her panties and you see that her pussy lips are pink and puffy. They took quite a pounding. You think of Emily, of her task for you. The words almost leave your lips, you almost ask your wife if you can go down on her, if you can lick her pussy after she's been with another man, but you don't.
She crawls into the bed. She shakes her ass a little for you. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at the sight of your stiff cock and the look of desire in your eyes. She rolls onto her side and beckons you to join her. You crawl into the bed. Your wife cuddles up next to you. She pressed her body against yours and runs her fingers down your chest before taking your cock in her hand.
"Does that feel good?" she asks while stroking you slowly.
"Yes," you answer.
She kisses your neck. It feels good, but you want more. You want your wife to tell you that his cock was bigger and better than yours. You want her to tell you that your dick is worthless. You know she won't, and yet you can't help but crave it.
"Was he bigger than I am?" you ask.
"Yes," she answers.
"Did it feel better?" you ask. "When he fucked you, did it feel better than when I fuck you?"
You can see that she doesn't like the question. You both know it's true - why else would she fuck other people if they weren't better than you - but you can see she doesn't want to say it. You know that means she's a good wife, that she doesn't want to hurt her husband's feelings. You can't help but feel frustrated, though.
She doesn't answer. She kisses your neck instead. She strokes your cock. Then she whispers, "Just think about him fucking me, baby. I know you love that. I know you love thinking about someone else fucking me. I know it turns you on to imagine another man inside me."
You roll onto your side. Your lips find hers and you share a kiss. She seems a little surprised by your assertiveness, but she welcomes your tongue into her mouth as her fingers find your cock once more and stroke you.
You kiss her neck. You kiss her chest. You kiss her soft, perfect breasts. You take one of her nipples into your mouth. You flick your tongue back and forth over it.
"What's gotten into you?" she asks.
"I...I just..."
"I don't want to fuck you," she replies.
You make a face, but it's because you feel such an intense level of pleasure at hearing those words from her lips. She doesn't understand, though. She thinks she's hurt your feelings.
"I didn't mean it that way," she says. "I just meant that I'm sore, that I literally can't fuck you right now."
"I know," you reply. You should just tell her that it turned you on to hear you say that, but you know it will upset her to learn just how much you crave humiliation. You know it might turn her off to the idea of cuckolding you.
You're desperate, though. You've found the courage you lacked earlier - the courage to ask if you can go down on her - and you say, "If you're sore, I could go down on you. I could sooth you with my tongue."
"Oh, no," she says.
"Please," you reply. "Please, I want to. It...it would turn me on." There. You've said it. You've told your wife what you want. You've shared your desire.
"No," she says. "I can't. It's just too weird. The idea of your tongue where he was, I don't know, it's just too weird for me. I'm sorry."
You understand why she can't. You really do. So you hide your disappointment. You knew what she would say, but you were still hopeful. You're just so turned on after a night of being teased by Emily, of having her stoke your desire for an hour before leaving.
You roll onto your back, giving up your quest to experience something closer to the pleasure you truly crave.
"Let me make you feel good," your wife says as she takes your cock in her hand. "Just close your eyes and think about him fucking me."
You do as you're told. You close your eyes. You think about him fucking her. You picture his big cock sliding in and out of your pussy. She plays with your cock and it feels good. It feels so good.
Then Emily pops into your head. You hear her saying the words you crave. You replay them in your head. She tells you that your dick is worthless, that you couldn't possibly satisfy a woman with it. Then you hear your wife's voice from before. You hear her say she doesn't want to fuck you, but in your head it plays out a little harsher. It plays out like it would in your fantasy.
That's what makes you cum. The thought of your wife harshly informing you that she has no interest in fucking you. Your orgasm is good. It's not fueled by what's happening in the moment, but it's exceptionally good.
"That was great," you say. "Thank you."
Your wife smiles. "You're welcome. It was my pleasure."
You consider apologizing for asking to go down on her, but it seems better not to bring that up again. Instead, you give your wife a kiss and then she gets up to grab a wash cloth and clean the messy cum off your stomach.
"I need a shower," she says afterwards.
"Okay," you reply.
She walks into the bathroom and shuts the door. You hear the shower start. You give it a few minutes to make sure she's actually in the shower and then you grab your phone. You bring up Emily's contact info. You open a new message. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you consider whether or not to text her. You could choose not to. You could hope that she forgets about you, that she was just having fun for a night and she'll move on. She probably wouldn't bother you again, as she doesn't seem crazy.
Still, you can't resist. Even after your orgasm you can feel that same desire for more of what Emily gave you, and what your wife has never given you. You know it's insane. You know it's dangerous. Despite that, you send the text.
"I asked her if I could go down on her after he'd been inside her," you type out. "She said no."
"Sorry to hear that, cuck," she replies.
A few moments later she sends a picture of her pussy. It looks just as beautiful as it did in person.
"How about this pussy, cuck? Would you want to put your tongue deep inside it after another, superior man had fucked me? Would you want to taste it after someone had stretched me out with his big cock?" she texts.
"Yes," you reply without hesitation. Despite your recent orgasm, you can feel a deeper kind of arousal surge through your body.
"Maybe I'll let you do that. Maybe I'll let you play with that worthless little dick of yours while you eat my freshly-fucked cunt," she texts. "Maybe I'll decide that you're worthy of that sort of pleasure. Maybe not, though."
She's toying with you. She's clearly toying with you. She seems to enjoy it, too. "I'll do anything," you text back. It's insane. You shouldn't be saying that to someone you don't really know.
"We'll see," she replies. "Sleep well, cuck. Oh, and tomorrow morning, I want you to do your best to eat your wife's pussy. In fact, I want you to do your best to do it as often as possible. It probably won't make a difference, but maybe if you eat her pussy more often she might let you down there to taste her after someone else has given her a good fucking."
"I will," you text.
She doesn't text you again. You scroll back up. You stare at the picture of her pussy. You read the message where she humiliated your worthless dick. You get so turned on you're fairly certain you could masturbate to orgasm before your wife gets out of the shower. You don't, though. You delete the messages and the picture. You put your phone away. You get ready for bed. You dream of Emily, of her pussy. They're good dreams, too. You wake up horny.
You wake your wife up with a few well-placed kisses on the neck. She smiles and you slip a hand under the covers. You gently play with her breasts. Your fingers move between her legs. She moans when you touch her pussy. That's when you know she'll let you go down on her. You crawl under the covers and between her legs. You eat her pussy. You make her cum hard. She fills your bedroom with loud, wondrous moans.
"Thank you," she says. "What a way to start the day."
"It was my pleasure," you reply.
She gives you a kiss and gets out of bed. It feels good to have gone down on her without any consideration for your cock. You text Emily about your success in eating your wife's pussy. She tells you that's exactly what a cuck with a tiny dick should be doing every single day. You get hard.
You spend your morning mowing the lawn and tending to a few overgrown bushes in the backyard. Your wife rewards you with a well-prepared lunch and lets you know she's going out to meet a friend for a lunch of her own and that she's going to do a little shopping afterwards. She kisses you on the cheek and heads out of the house as you finish your lunch, clear away the dishes, and prepare to spend the rest of your afternoon on a few house projects that you've put off for too long.
Then you get a text: "Is your wife home?"
"No," you reply. "She went out for lunch."
"I'm coming over," Emily texts. "I'll be there in a few minutes."
Again that sense of insane danger envelops your body, but it competes with an equally potent sense of lust. You know she shouldn't be coming over. You know you should tell her not to. You can't help it, though. You don't say a thing. You want her to come over. You want more of what you got to experience yesterday.
Emily arrives at your door within five minutes. She knocks hard and this time you open it immediately. She rushes into the house, shuts the door, and leans against it.
"On your knees, cuck," she demands.
You fall to your knees and the cute young brunette unzips her skirt and lets it fall to the floor. She slips a hand into her panties and masturbates while you watch.
"Guess who just got fucked," she says. "Guess whose pussy is still soaking wet from the hard pounding she took. Guess who had a massive cock inside her."
Lust surges through your body. You're tantalizingly close to the thing you've craved for so long.
"Beg me for it, cuck," she demands. "Beg for the chance to taste my perfect, tight little pussy after I got fucked by someone that puts your pathetic little dicklet to shame."
"Please, let me taste your pussy," you beg. "Please, Emily, let me eat your pussy. Let me put my tongue inside you."
Emily lowers her panties and you stare at her pussy. It's wet and puffy and utterly perfect. It's so clearly been fucked, and fucked hard. "You're pathetic," she says. "Fucking pathetic. Begging me for the chance to taste me after someone else - someone far better than you, you worthless fucking cuck - fucked me like I deserve to be fucked."
She's saying the words you've always wanted to hear and your dick is so hard it hurts. "Please, Emily," you beg. You know you sound pathetic. You know you are pathetic, and yet you've never been so turned on.
She grabs a handful of your hair. She pulls you closer. She rubs her slippery pussy all over your face. "Eat me," she demands. "Eat my used pussy."
You put your tongue inside her. You taste latex. You taste the condom the guy used. You taste the sex she had with someone else. You reach between your legs. You stroke your cock through your pants and it feels so fucking good.
Emily pulls back hard on your hair and glowers at you. "Don't touch your worthless little cock unless I give you permission. You don't deserve to feel any fucking pleasure until I say so. Do you understand?"
"Yes," you reply. "I'm sorry."
She smiles and pulls you between her legs once more. She rubs her pussy over your face, covering you in her juices. She's vigorous about it. She smashes your nose against her pelvic bone a few times and it hurts, but it hurts so good. You bathe your taste buds in her pussy juices. You soak up the joy of getting to eat out a girl after she's fucked another man. You feel the joy of being humiliated."
Emily cums while she's fucking your face with her pussy. She cums hard, too. She moans loudly and you lose yourself in it. More juices pour from her pussy and coat your face.
"Thank you, cuck," she says before pulling her panties up. "That was fun. Now, you're not going to clean your face. You're going to wear my pussy juices for the rest of the day."
"What about my wife?" you ask as panic sets in.
"You should really try your best to go down on her soon after she gets home, cuck. Cover your face in her pussy juices. Make it sloppy. That way she won't know that you ate out another woman while she was gone. She won't know that you were a naughty hubby. She won't know that you're such a weak fucking cuck that you invited another woman into your house for the privilege of tasting her cunt after someone else had pounded it," Emily says. "Or, you could wash your face. If you do, though, you won't ever see me again."
She puts her skirt back on and leaves. She doesn't even pretend to care about your cock or how hard it is. She just walks out.
You know you should wash your face. You know you smell like pussy. You also know you're not going to wash it. You know you already want more of what Emily just gave you. You know you're playing with fire, but you can't help it. You're going to keep doing what she wants.
Comments
I like the approach of this one.
