My Fiancee Takes An Older Man Ch. 02

This is a continuing fictional story about a man who has allowed his fiancée to have sex with another man. You can read about that in part 1. Part 2 will not make much sense without reading the previous. She has overstepped the mark and humiliated him. He is torn between his anger and his arousal. If you don't like stories where this happens, don't bother reading it.

*

When I returned to the conservatory she was no longer in his arms. She complained she was cold and I retrieved her dressing gown for her. He took the hint, ordered a taxi and kissed her good night. Even that was only a peck on the lips, much inferior to their previous smooches. He shook my hand and thanked me for allowing him to be a part of the experience.

"No problem," I found myself saying.

"Goodnight," he said, giving a final bow to my fiancée, and headed to the front door. He lowered his voice, so only I could hear him. "You're a very lucky man to have that girl to yourself every night of the week."

I nodded.

"She's stunning, she tastes great, she loves sex, she's up for anything."

My eyebrows were raised most by the 'up for anything' statement.

"She loves you," he continued. "Remember that."

I locked the door behind him and raced into the conservatory, desperate to give her the dirty fucking she so crudely deserved. She had so blatantly and deliberately turned herself into a whore that I was determined to show her just who she really belonged to. It was another part of the night we had agreed upon. That after he left she would be mine again and I would fuck her while she recounted the evening. Especially, I hoped, the parts where I was excluded.

She was already standing when I entered, holding her arms up. "Baby, I know what you're wanting to happen now, but I can't. I'm just too tired and I want to go to bed." She hugged me and her voice turned to a whisper. "None of that was supposed to hurt you. It was your fantasy I was indulging. You said you wanted to be humiliated."

I couldn't answer. She was completely correct. I had played with fire, begging her to fuck him in front of me for months... Even years when I thought about it. When telling her my fantasies I had often found the biggest turn on was to be humiliated by her in front of him. I did not mean anything cruel, though, and a part of me did feel hurt at being excluded for hours. There was also a raging erection which dictated otherwise.

"Come to bed," she said. "Its late and we can talk in the morning."

I couldn't get to sleep that night. Her body was lying next to mine, the heat and her scent a constant distraction. I needed to hammer her juicy, wet pussy. There was no chance. When I tried to touch her, she groaned and pushed me away. She was naked, her ass jutting out against my erection. There was only one thing for it. I waited until I was sure she was asleep, then I sneaked downstairs and thought about what had happened. It was such a relief when finally I stroked myself in private. I had been aroused for too many hours without pleasure. A variety of images careered through my mind, some I had witnessed, others I was forced to imagine. His 'she's up for anything' comment fuelling my thoughts.

I noticed her mobile phone lying on the table before me. Curiosity had me leaning forward to check it. I was surprised to see there was an unread text from him. I had a dilemma. If I opened it, it would no longer appear as unread and she would know I had seen it. I wrestled with my emotions for a few seconds, then I gave in.

The message said "Hi sexy. What a night. I finally got to fuck you alone. Can't believe he doesn't bind your hands behind your back. Really enjoyed dominating you that way. Did you say about coming down next weekend?"

I came within half a minute. What plans was she making behind my back? What kinky sex games had they played when I was away? Quite evidently they had enjoyed more than an average fucking session. I couldn't believe it. Would she tell me? I set her mobile down on the table again, cleaned up and went back to bed, groping her naked ass as she slept.

It was afternoon when we awoke. Or rather she woke me with her mouth wrapped around my cock, urging me to a full erection. My first thoughts were of the night before.

"Tell me what happened while I was away," I said.

She parted her legs and switched my cock to her hand, wanking me intently. "Do you want me to tell you that this pussy, your pussy, was fucked good and proper last night by another man? That it was so much better than I ever imagined it could be."

My cock twitched, betraying any hope I had of playing it subtle.

She smiled, then leaned in for a long kiss. When she broke it she resumed her previous position, lying across my thighs and stroking me. Her pussy lips were glistening and she started to rub herself.

"Tell me," I said.

"Tell you what?" Coy as she played it, there was no fooling me.

"Tell me what happened last night."

"Maybe I want to keep it my dirty little secret."

I thought of her hands tied behind her back, imagined her being fucked by him doggy style and I could almost hear her screams in my head. "I want to know everything," I said.

She wanked me harder. "Baby, you can't know everything. I want to keep some things private." She licked the head of my shaft. "Between me and him."

There was an intense feeling in my stomach. It raced to my head. Anger, hindered only by arousal. I grabbed her by her hair and yanked her down, forcing her to engulf my cock. I humped her mouth, knowing what a slut she was turning into. All my years of encouragement and finally she was behaving just the way I wanted. She was caught somewhere between resistance, muffling a scream, and submission, running her tongue around my shaft. I was in the mood to abuse her and fucked her mouth harder. She had rarely been a fan of rough play and that only heightened my intention to punish her.

"You're going to tell me everything I want to hear," I began, grunting. "You had my permission for last night, but you're my property and I demand to know what happened." I released her and tossed her petite frame to the other side of the bed.

She looked at me, a slight moment of fear in her eyes. She noticed something in mine. I panted, aggression capitulating to lust. "He used me as his little slut." She knew the danger of pushing me when I was angry. "I let him do it, baby." Her fingers danced circles on her clit, the other hand spreading her lips. "I wanted to be his mistress... His whore."

My cock stood on end, as hard as it ever could.

"You'd have been so humiliated if you'd seen the way I acted."

I had started jerking off without realising.

"I was begging him for more." She shut her eyes. "I just wanted to be his and not yours for a night."

"Oh God," I said.

"He mauled me." Her pussy was loving her fingers.

I yearned to touch her, but touching myself while she told me what happened was too good.

"He did things to me you wouldn't believe. Things you wouldn't have the experience to think of." She moaned. "It was great sex."

"Better than you and me?"

She didn't hesitate. "More passionate, more intense." Her body was beginning to shake, her fingers and memories working in unison. "I really want fucked by a cock."

I started to raise myself, ready to fuck that little cunt of hers.

"No, baby," she said. "Not yours, not now."

My inner reaction came as a surprise, given my more forceful mood. I felt rejected, but I actually enjoyed the feeling and welcomed it. "But there's no one else here."

"I want you to fuck me with the black dildo. I want to imagine its someone else, someone big."

My cock and balls ached for her moist insides. "Just let me fuck you."

"No!" Her pussy was spread open. So inviting. Just not for me. "I want the dildo."

I sighed in frustration, elements of rejected arousal beginning to overwhelm. I leaned over the side of the bed and retrieved her biggest toy. Ten inches of thick rubber cock for her pussy. I crawled towards her and rubbed the head up and down her lips.

"That's it, baby."

I continued to tease, allowing her juice to coat the tip, then I slid it up to and over her clit. Her hand came down and pushed it towards her entrance. I feigned submission and she released her grip as I descended the dildo ever nearer. But I pushed it beneath the opening of her cunt, smiling as I sensed her annoyance.

"Baby, I need it."

"Then beg for it." I was holding it at her most desirable of spots, working it back and forth but never enough for the head to enter her. "Beg to be fucked by this big cock."

"Give me it now. I need it. I need to feel like a dirty whore again."

I plunged it into her cunt, being deliberately rough. I treated her like a common slut from the streets. She moaned, shut her eyes and raised her hips to meet it, gagging for more. I worked it in and out at an incredible rate. I had rarely heard so much noise from her. "What are you thinking about?" I demanded.

"Last night."

"More." I slackened the pace as a warning that I was in control now. It was my way or not at all.

"About his cock inside me, fucking me good."

I reached down and found my own cock, giving myself a good tug as I worked the dildo into her.

"He had me in so many positions. It was so fucking good, baby." She was nearing her orgasm. "I loved doing it behind your back." Her legs shook first. Then her torso. Her hands were on her breasts, kneading her nipples. "Oh my God." As suddenly, it was over. She slammed her legs shut and locked the dildo still.

"Can I fuck you now, baby?" I asked, my cock ready to shoot load after load into her.

She opened her eyes. Her chest was heaving. "Come here," she said, reaching her arms out to me. She pulled me down on top of her, my hard cock resting between her inner thigh and pussy. "Just hold me for a bit."

Rejection. On one side anyway. Desire on the other. I was denied her sexually, but emotionally she wanted me.

"I love you so much." We were kissing again, tongues entwined. "Don't ever forget that. When I get carried away with my words in the heat of the moment don't take too much notice."

"Were you exaggerating? Did he not have you in a load of positions?"

She blushed, neither admitting nor denying it. "I love your hugs." We lay there for twenty or thirty minutes, my fiancée enjoying the emotional closeness between us. Her kisses ranged from slow and intimate to fiery and passionate.

My cock was hard against her the whole time. Not once did she touch it with her hands, never mind even mention it. In the silence between us there was one image in my mind. I had to mention it. "Did you really let him cum inside you?" I already knew the answer, despite my disbelief.

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I'm so ashamed."

I kissed her. "Don't be. I encouraged you to go for it with him. Its my fault. I kept telling you to do whatever you wanted with him."

She opened her eyes again. "I'm sorry. I got carried away. I only told you because you confided in me about your humiliation fantasies."

"I'd rather you told me than hid it altogether."

She moved ever so slightly underneath me and my cock was right against her moist lips. I believed it was finally going to happen. Her pussy was going to open up and let me in. "He's single now," she began. "He told me he and his wife are living apart."

"What happened?" I asked.

"He didn't go into much detail and I didn't ask too many questions. It was only after we'd finished and all of a sudden you were at the front door. So I stopped the conversation. It was strange what he did say." She looked me right in the eye. "He said their swinging had boiled out of control."

The dangerous realities of the world my fantasies worshipped. I felt excitement.

"I'm not unhappy they're not together anymore," she said.

There was silence for half a minute as the depths of that statement sank in. "Why?" I asked.

"I never fully enjoyed sharing you with her. I prefer it to be all about me. Whether its him watching us or you watching me and him. I don't want another girl there."

"Do you want to see him again?" I ventured.

She looked uninterested. "It was fun." There was a reluctance in her voice.

"And?" My heart was thumping. It was obvious to my conscience what I wanted.

She stretched and threw back the duvet. "We'll see, I'm not making any promises." She stood up and slipped on a negligee, wiping tiredness from under her eyes. "I don't think so."

I didn't mention the text message and neither did she. In fact, she didn't seem to go near her mobile all day. I was disheartened. Smack back in reality. Welcome to the mundane. I spent a couple of hours on the internet in the evening, looking at pornography for a while. Nothing compared to what I had witnessed the night before. When she went to bed, I waited only a matter of minutes before I headed downstairs. I went straight to her phone to check up on her.

A wave of joy and jealousy threatened to knock me off my feet. They had been texting each other, the times coinciding with my time spent upstairs on the computer. I navigated their exchange in the order they had been sent. The first being her reply to his overnight text, when he asked about the following weekend.

HER - "Ur naughty. I didn't ask xx."

HIM - "You change your mind?"

HER - "I'm not sure xx."

HIM - "Honey, I don't want to pressure you or him into doing anything that would make either of you unhappy. I like you both a lot, although in very different ways lol."

HER - "I like you too xx."

HIM - "If I was there I'd be kissing you right now."

HER - "Who said I'd let u? Just kidding. I wish you were here now xx."

HIM - "Me too. I wish it was me fucking you all day today. He doesn't know how lucky he is."

HER - "I didn't let him fuck me xx."

HIM - "Really? Why not?"

HER - "I'm saving myself. Night night xx."

There was no reply from him. I wondered had there been more and she had deleted them. It appeared not. The time of her last sent text tied in with the time she had gone to bed.

I sat back on the sofa, the same sofa where I had left them to it the night before. She had told him "I didn't let him fuck me." Was that right? Had she planned our seemingly spontaneous bedroom encounter in the afternoon to go according to her plan? That she would be fucked only by the black dildo and not my cock. What was she saving herself for? Or rather, who?

I masturbated again, re-reading their texts and imagining what they had done together.

When I awoke the next morning she was already up, confirming my suspicions that the sex ban was to continue. I shook my head. I would torch her sex ban and fuck her senseless. She was a dirty bitch. My dirty bitch. I was not having her deny me my sexual gratification another day. I kicked my legs out of bed.

Strangely, she was not downstairs either. I checked the calendar. There were no appointments made and she hadn't mentioned anything the day before. I called her on my mobile, but it just rang and rang until eventually it cut off. I tried again. I must have spent a total of four of five minutes standing there, listening to the repetitive dial. I was becoming paranoid. I was being stupid. Of course she wasn't with him. It was just my imagination working overtime.

I texted her, asking where she was and if she was okay. There was nothing untoward or particularly accusing about that.

The minutes ticked by.

Beep! Beep!

I hit read. "I'm fine, just out at a friend's house."

When she came home her behaviour was normal, poles apart from my own ever-changing nature. Nothing sexual happened between us. She watched mind-numbing television. I stifled my boredom with a couple of hours on Facebook. Finally, I repeated my ritual of checking her phone when she went to bed. Not only were there no new texts between them, but the old ones had been deleted. That did heighten my suspicions. Suddenly she was being careful.

She was at work the following two days, Tuesday and Wednesday. Each day dressed in a black skirt with tights underneath. An extremely rare occurrence. Each night I checked her phone. There were no new developments. She shunned my attempts to have her tell me what had happened between them, promising only that she would tell me when she was in the mood and that I would appreciate that moment when it came along. I was determined to engineer that moment immediately. At bed time, she used the age-old argument every woman indulges.

"Not tonight, baby," she began, pulling down her panties, "I'm tired."

"You're always tired!"

"Well, I'm the one in this relationship who has a job." She pulled on only a negligee and climbed into bed. "Maybe if you worked, I wouldn't be so bloody tired all the time."

She may well have hit the nail on the head and, really, I couldn't argue. But despite my growing fondness for humiliation on some levels, I couldn't have her talking to me like that. She screamed as I threw her face down over my lap. Her hands were flailing at me in protest. I secured her wrists and held them together over her head. Her amazing ass was exposed.

"I'm your fucking husband-to-be," I said, and smashed the palm of my hand across her cheeks.

She cried in pain. This was not playful.

"You'll service me when I require it." Bang! My hand reigned down hard again, concentrating on her left cheek.

She struggled to free herself. I clamped her wrists harder and delivered several striking blows to the same cheek. I loved to concentrate on one area and redden it for the morning. I could imagine her sitting at her desk in the office and squirming onto the other cheek. She begged me to stop. "You're hurting me!"

I suppressed my laughter and administered a triple onslaught to the left cheek, adding a fourth and final slap to her unsuspecting right. "Call me 'sir', if you want me to stop."

"Never." It was one word she detested. Even in her school days she had refused to acknowledge her teachers as such, despite the school's policy in that respect.

I spanked her again, then caressed her cheeks, squeezing them at times. "You'll call me sir and you'll know who's really in charge here."

I could sense the anger in the pit of her stomach. The resistance to male domination. She knew full well I had no reason to sleep. No occupation to confine me to a bed time. I could hold her there all night if the mood took me. The walls of her defiance had to be closing. I smacked her hard again. She squirmed unlike any time before. "Please stop," she said, a sound of hurt in her voice.

"Say it."

Silence.

"Last chance."

She turned her head away.

"Okay." I unleashed a half dozen smacks, each stronger than the previous. I raised my hand for a seventh, knowing I had no choice but to hit her harder. To really cause her pain. She had to be broken.

"Sir," she managed, accompanied by no further words of plea.

Strangely, I felt as if I had been defeated. I had to stop and release her. The rules were clear. She curled up beside me, facing the other direction. I had beaten her and yet it was I who lay there for the next two hours with a mixed feeling to the situation. With one word of compliance, she had her peace. Yet still I was unsatisfied.

I decided to get a glass of water and headed downstairs. I checked her mobile again, out of an increasing habit. No new text messages. No sent ones either. There had to be something going on. My suspicions were increased more by my urges than any significant lead. I hit exit to go back to the main screen. My thumb accidentally touched the green call button and I froze. I blinked, a cross between surprise and joy. She had called him that very afternoon at 16:46. Virtually the second she had left work. Had she no shame?