Getting The Decorators In

I sat back in the taxi and stared out of the rain-streaked window as we sped towards the airport. It had been a shit day and didn’t show much sign of getting any better.

The business trip had provoked yet another row between my wife, Annie and I and a serious conflict had only been avoided by the timely arrival of my ride. As usual she was complaining about the amount of time I spent out of the country on business and the relatively short amount of time that I devoted to her and our home life. As was the norm, I quoted our lack of resources due to her level of spending and reminded her that if we expected to continue to live up to our current lifestyle I must continue to travel overseas. Actually, my frequent business trips were not as bad as I usually made out; they did have their advantages. My last visit to the Far East had allowed me to share my hotel bed with a lovely, dusky Asian hooker called Lin. Her deep-throat technique was second to none and several of my nights there concluded with me shooting my cum down her tight little throat while my balls slapped merrily against her chin. And, of course, there had been many others; most business trips felt incomplete without some female company.

The rain outside the taxi was turning to a wet sleet that spattered against the window and, as I watched the city flash past me and the outer lying regions of the airport terminal loom in the distance, I reflected on Annie’s ability to spend our hard earned income so easily. This time it was the spare bedroom that she claimed was in such urgent need of restoration. She had clearly realised how I would react to this announcement and had combated the problem by conveniently forgetting to inform me that she had booked a couple of local lads to do the work. The first I knew about it was earlier that morning when two lean and muscular young workmen had arrived on our doorstep carrying ladders and paintbrushes. I’d thought that I’d caught a trace of an excited smile on Annie’s face as I was leaving and, just for a moment, I had the idea that just maybe …..? No, I concluded with a shake of my head. No, Annie wasn’t the type.

I flipped open a packet of Marlboro, applied my lighter to the tip and inhaled deeply. Blue grey smoke snaked from my lips and hung in the air lying like a slowly undulating blanket just under the ceiling of the car.

“I think you don’t have permission to smoke in my fucking car!” Cried the cab driver in a thick foreign accent.

I breathed in again and fixed him with a steely gaze. “Yeah? And I think you probably don’t have permission to work in my fucking country!” I countered. “So shut the fuck up, okay? I’m having a bad day!”

The interior of the car lapsed into a sullen, smoke hazed silence as we finally pulled up in front of the terminal and I exited the vehicle. The meter had read $14 and the rain trickled under the collar of my coat as I fished about for some cash. A twenty was the smallest note that I could find and I handed it to the driver awaiting my change. I received the same steely gaze in return as my swarthy chauffeur snatched the note, slammed the car in drive and sped off leaving me wet and angry by the side of the road.

My bad day continued as I stepped into the terminal and looked up at the departure board. The word “delayed” was only slightly less prolific than the word “cancelled” and, as I allowed my eyes to survey what few flights were actually leaving, I found to my chagrin that I wouldn’t be going anywhere that day. Bad day? This was turning into a fucking catastrophe!

Another taxi ride. Another driver. I guess I should really have taken a cab straight to my office and worked the day out. But, to be fair, I wasn’t really feeling like working so I decided to head home. With a bit of luck, I mused, the decorators would be finished and I could relax for the rest of the day.

The small, tatty van with the decorators name on it still stood outside my house when the taxi pulled up. Paying the driver (another twenty, but I didn’t really care now), I let myself in and dumped my bags in the hall. The house seemed unusually quiet but I was so rarely in at this time I really had little to compare it with. I looked around for Annie and/or the decorators without success. I was just about to make myself a cup of coffee when I heard a noise. It was coming from upstairs and I guessed that the men were still working in the bedroom so I decided that I would go and take a look – see how near they were to finishing.

But as I reached the top of the stairs and neared the bedroom, the sounds had become louder. I suppose I should have called out. I suppose I should have done a lot of things. But I didn’t. What I actually did was nothing. I simply stood to the side of the doorway – unobserved by my wife and the two men – and watched as two semi-clothed young decorators helped my blonde-haired wife out of her dress!

The shock of seeing my wife standing between the two men in a matching set of black underwear had left me mute with astonishment. I should have been outraged, of course. At the very least I should have been screaming out names of insult and derision but the sight of Annie kissing and groping the two men in her bra and panties was so hot I’d almost forgotten to breathe, let alone shout.

I felt a tingle of excitement run through me as I watched the taller of the two men reach behind Annie and unclasp her bra. Clearly there was no teasing here, no finesse. All the people in the room knew what they were there for and wanted to get on with it. As soon as my wife’s bra had fallen to the dustsheet-covered floor, the taller man had his hands on her pert, rounded breasts. I heard her moan quietly as his fingers rolled the nipples in his fingers and her sounds of lust were only curtailed when he pressed his lips to hers and pulled her to him in a lustful embrace.

Whilst his friend was kissing Annie, the second, slightly shorter man was squatting down and gently tugging my wife’s black lace panties down her legs. She stepped out of them almost gratefully and automatically seemed to stand with her legs apart so that her neatly trimmed pussy was available to anyone that wanted it. And Mr. Short did want it. In a second his face was pressed tightly to the vee between Annie’s legs and I just saw as his pink tongue darted out and swiped slowly between her sex lips. Annie moaned again – this time into Mr. Tall’s mouth – and I saw her legs begin to tremble with excitement. Mr. Short’s hands were clamped on her buttocks as he pressed her lower regions to his face and began to eat her pussy properly. She broke her lustful embrace with the taller decorator and groaned – deeply, this time.

Annie’s face was a picture of excitement as she stood naked and flushed in the centre of the room. Her eyes were tight shut and her whole body began to shake and quiver as an obvious climax surged through her tight frame. Both men continued to caress her tits and eat her pussy until, with a deep sigh, my wife collapsed, naked and exhausted by her orgasm onto the floor.

“Come on, baby,” Mr. Short said quietly, “I want to feel those hot lips of yours around my cock!”

It was the first time that I had really noticed that both men were nearly naked themselves and that both wore only shirts that were completely unbuttoned. I had to assume that they had stripped the rest of their clothes before I had arrived. I looked at both of them with a feeling of some inadequacy. Both men looked very similar and I guessed that they might have been brothers. Now brothers that were happily sharing the affections of my sweet – but not so innocent, I realised – wife.

Annie obediently kneeled up between the pair and, reaching out towards them, willingly took a long hard cock in each hand. My wife looked so sexy, so sluttish, as she began to stroke each member and I almost gasped out loud as she dipped her head and guided the swollen head of Mr. Short’s cock between her soft, painted lips.

“Mmmm, that’s nice, baby.” Mr. Short murmured as he rocked his hips slowly back and forth, thus pushing more of his erect tool into my wife’s mouth, “But don’t forget to give my brother some hot lovin’ too, okay?”

For the next few minutes I watched and listened as my wife alternated her willing mouth between her two lovers. The air was filled with the sounds of sexual excess as Annie slurped noisily and the two workmen groaned out their admiration for her oral capabilities.

“Time for me to get a taste of that sweet pussy, I think!” Cried Mr. Tall, “I know you like to have that tight little cunt of yours eaten, don’t you?”

Annie nodded her head frantically as she tried to swallow Mr. Short’s shaft as deep as she could and she gasped out her agreement as the long appendage was suddenly withdrawn.

Mr Tall made himself ready. Lying back on the floor with his rock hard cock protruding obscenely from his body, he encouraged my wife to spread her long legs and straddle his face. Annie was clearly not about to refuse this offer. I looked at her and almost saw a different woman to the one I’d married five years ago. A different woman to the one I had thought she was now.

As Annie gently lowered herself over Mr. Tall’s face, I heard her moan loudly. The man’s tongue had slipped straight into her visibly moist hole and was flicking rapidly back and forth over her swollen clit. Her mouth opened in a cry of excitement but her voice was immediately curtailed by Mr. Short who deftly pushed the entire length of his penis back into her mouth.

I boggled silently as I watched the shorter man’s weapon disappear slowly, inch by inch, into my wife’s mouth. This was another talent of hers that I was previously unaware of – She had sucked me off in the past, of course, but I’d had no idea that my wife was able to perform a deep-throated blowjob so proficiently.

I watched silently as Annie rotated her hips and ground her pelvis onto her tall lover’s face. While one of her hands guided the thick erection in and out of her throat, the other played – rather roughly, I thought – with her nipples, twisting and pinching the tight little buds until they swelled visibly and turned a deep, red colour.

Annie’s orgasms were now coming almost continuously it seemed. I could hear her muffled sighs and groans around the large cock in her throat as the waves of pleasure rocked her body and caused the toes on her bare feet to tense and relax alternately.

“Time to change again, baby.” Mr. Tall suddenly suggested. “I want to get inside that tight, little cunt-hole of yours!”

Again, little finesse or consideration was shown to my wife as she was bundled back onto the plastic dustsheet and her legs were opened in an obscene spread-eagle position. In a second the taller workman was kneeling between her stretched limbs. He grasped her naked leg, pulling it upwards and popping her ankle onto his shoulder causing the lips of her wet pussy to open like a flower. Annie was ready for him now and the man lost no time in sinking the entire length of his cock into her vagina with a deep, meaningful thrust.

Annie groaned deeply as she was penetrated. Her hips rose willingly upwards to meet the thrusts of her young lover as he bore down onto her. Her face was a sheen of perspiration and her eyes were glued to the second, shorter man as he kneeled beside her idly stroking his hard penis.

“Put it back in my mouth, you big fucking bastard!” Annie gasped as her body was pushed back and forth. “I want your hard cock fucking my mouth!”

I had never heard my wife use such graphic language before and was already finding it a huge turn-on. I don’t think that Mr. Short found it any less exciting either because, with a broad smile, he kneeled over my slut-wife’s face and – as she had so colourfully suggested – forced the head of his throbbing tool back down her throat.

I watched in a sort of morbid, excited fascination as my wife was brutally – but willingly – fucked at both ends. Her whole body was being heaved backwards and forwards by the power of each thrust to her pussy and mouth and it was no great surprise to me when Mr. Tall began to breathe heavily and start to gasp.

“Oh shit! I’m gonna cum!” He cried.

Before Annie had any chance to react, the tall decorator had lunged forwards and buried himself to the hilt in her pussy. I watched as his legs and buttocks quivered with lust and knew that he was pumping great streams of hot cum into my wife’s body. Annie wrapped her legs around him almost automatically and I saw her tense up as the jets of sperm caused her to climax yet again.

When Mr. Tall had finally emptied himself into the receptacle that was my wife’s vagina, I saw him roll away and catch his breath. He looked over at his brother who was still thrusting in and out of my wife’s mouth.

“Cum on her face, man!” Mr. Tall said with a smile. “I’ve just filled her cunt so now let’s see that pretty face of hers covered with your jism!”

Mr. Short smiled back at his brother and – a little reluctantly, I thought – eased his twitching member out of Annie’s throat. His hand gripped his shaft tightly, maintaining his erection and pointing it directly at my wife as he pulled her up onto her knees.

“Don’t move a fucking muscle, you slut!” He growled at her through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna cum on your fucking face. Don’t fucking move!”

As I watched, several huge jets of thick, viscous sperm shot from the head of Mr. Short’s cock and splashed onto Annie’s face. Her mouth opened almost involuntarily and her eyes closed as the streams laced her skin.

“Oh yes!” Short continued excitedly. “You slut! You fucking little cunt! Ohhhhh! Eat my cum you slut!”

Annie seemed only too willing to oblige and, as her fingers gently massaged her lover’s scrotum to ensure that she had received every last drop, her tongue flicked out over her abused lips and picked up much of the stray emission that had landed there.

If ever I had needed the sexual attentions of a woman, it was right then. I knew a club where I could go and my disordered mind toyed with the idea of slipping silently from the house and visiting this establishment without delay. But as I looked at my slut of a wife I knew that I didn’t want - or need - anyone else. Annie lay exhausted on the plastic dustsheet. Her legs were splayed open and her vagina was open and dilated, leaking thin trickles of sperm for the whole world to see. Her abused nipples were still pink and swollen from where they hand been pinched and twisted so mercilessly and her face was streaked with a second deposit of semen. To most men, she would have looked like a cheap slut; a whore that had been used. And, to be honest, to me she looked that way, too. But she was a slut that I wanted. She was my slut. My cheap whore. My decision had already been made: Travel less – decorate more!

The End