My Fiancee Takes an Older Man Ch. 07

He slipped his fingers into her wet cunt and had her bucking back on them instantaneously. The bitch was in heat and loving her hound. He prised his fingers from her and rubbed her juice into her anus. I could barely grasp the situation. This girl who in reality I was engaged to marry. She wouldn't have sex with me, never mind an anal ban that had lasted 18 months, and yet she would gladly spread her ass cheeks for him.

"That feels good," she said, as he pushed a finger into her ass.

"Good girl," he said, and kissed the cheeks of her behind. "Look at our chauffeur. Show him the lust in your eyes as I pleasure your ass."

She followed his every word, her eyes darting from my eyes to my erect cock.

Back and forth, he fucked her hole with his finger. "Tell our chauffeur what you want."

She was silent.

He pushed a second finger against her anus, as if to punish her refusal to talk. With brute force, he forced it inside.

She gasped. "Holy shit," she muttered.

He smiled and placed her hand around his cock. "Tell him what you confessed to me as I fucked you in the shower earlier."

She jerked him with intent, but her mouth was reluctant to talk. She shut her eyes.

He kissed her ass. "Don't be shy, honey. I'm proud of my slut wife. Tell the chauffeur what you crave."

She rubbed her pussy with her free hand. "I want cock. Now. Please."

He smacked her ass. "Now, honey, you know that's not what I'm referring to." He leaned over her, licking from the crack of her ass to the back of her neck. "Confess, honey. Now."

She shivered under his touch and opened her eyes, concentrating them on me. "I want another man to play with me."

I felt a resurgence of the 3-in-a-bed I had been promised at the swimming pool. That finally I was to be the other man.

Her husband encouraged her ass with harder strokes. "That's not how you put it earlier," he said.

"I want another man." Her breathing was heavy. "To take me." She was struggling even to wank him. "To fuck me." His anal assault was too much. "To use me." Her body began to shake. "I want to be a whore for him." She had her first orgasm and squirmed herself away from his touch. She shook and shivered for almost half a minute, curling up in a foetal position.

"Are you okay, honey?" he asked, his tone contrary to before. He stroked her legs.

She shifted herself onto her back and spread her legs, pulling him towards her. He took up his position and entered her, causing them both to moan with pleasure. Then something strange happened. He didn't fuck her. He made love to her. Their mouths entwined, their hands searched each other, her legs wrapped around his waist. He had brought her to climax with absolute filth. Now he was taking her in a completely opposite direction.

My heart thumped. The fantasy had changed. This really felt like a genuine husband and wife. That threesome that had been so tantalisingly thrown before me was now nothing more than a loving, caring couple exploring each other's bodies with the utmost of love and desire. She looked gorgeous as they made love. Absolutely beautiful, especially in those stiletto heels. My jealousy was stirring. My promise to not ruin their weekend serving as a reminder not to interfere. If this was their last time to be together, I wouldn't stop it.

The only noises in the room were theirs. Their tongues, they lips, their sex. She turned slightly on her side, crossing one leg high over the other to expose her pussy to his cock. Her eyes were shut as he nibbled her neck. My eyes found the wedding ring on her finger. That dominant symbol of his shambolic possession of my fiancée.

She opened her eyes and smiled at me. She looked to my cock and licked her lips. Was she craving it? She repeated the gesture. I pointed at my chest, then gesticulated a suggestion that I move closer. She nodded.

I casually crawled across the huge bed to where he was making love to her. She reached her hand out and her fingertips found the head of my cock.

Immediately, he pulled her hand away. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she answered, the guilt in her voice obvious.

I wondered how much of this was staged. How elaborate was their fantasy husband and wife weekend? If I needed to, I was prepared to blow both their masks off and end their ridiculous fun there and then.

"I forbid you to touch our chauffeur." He leaned down and kissed her lips. "May I remind you that you are my wife and that I expect you to honour and obey me."

I could have sworn I saw real emotion, real shame, in her face.

"Yes, sir," she replied, whimpering under an unexpected stroke from his cock inside her.

"You will have to be punished." He looked at me. "Both of you will."

I wondered how much she had told him about my darker fantasies? That sometimes I found a real buzz from humiliation, despite the mixed feelings that buzz always brought. The sheer possibility that she had indulged him about them, terrified me. Yet I couldn't deny I was blind to the thrill.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him eventually.

He pulled his cock from her. "You are to lie face down in the centre of this bed." He stood off the bed. "You, up," he told me.

I stood from the bed as well and watched my fiancée, his so-called wife, obey him and lie down as he had told her.

"Spread-eagle," he said.

She complied and we both took an admiring view of her shaven pussy.

"And as for our chauffeur," he started, "your punishment is to be sent to the bathroom." He wasn't looking me in the eye as he spoke. "I cannot have my wife distracted by another man."

I was speechless.

"One of us will send for you when we are finished." He climbed onto the bed and towards her.

I was frozen to the spot, a fact I doubted he was unaware of.

He whispered in her ear, but not low enough that I didn't hear every word. "Tell him to go," he had said.

"Bab-" She cut herself off, knowing she was pushing away the veil of their fantasy with her accidental choice of wording. "Mr chauffeur, please wait in the bathroom."

"Are you sure?" I said quickly.

There was no hesitation. "Yes, this is what I want."

"Tell him it's what I want," he again whispered.

"Please just go," she said.

I turned and headed away from them. The only sound I heard before I shut the bathroom door was the familiar thrash of his palm on her ass. I sat on the toilet and knew my decision had been made. I was putting a stop to their relationship. The fun was fuelled by my lust, my desires, my secrets. But it was going beyond what I was in any way in control of and the time had come to end it. I was prepared to give her the rest of the weekend to enjoy herself, provided of course that she still was. In the new week, though, she was finishing with him. Or I with her.

I listened to his grunts and her moans. He wasn't making love to her again. He was fucking her.

"That's it," she cried.

"Tell me you love it," he shouted.

"I love it, sweetie."

I put my hand around my hard cock and started jerking it again. She was raising her voice, no doubt deliberately, for my pleasure. She was still thinking about me, stuck in that bathroom and unable to watch.

"You give me it so good."

He grunted. "Like a good husband should do."

Their respective moans continued for a few minutes, then there was nothing. I put my ear to the door. I couldn't quite understand what I was hearing. I thought I heard a whimper.

"That's it, good girl."

Surely not another whimper followed, but I was pretty certain.

"Oh, you feel so tight."

I couldn't understand every word. Perhaps more than I realised was my own guesswork. Or worse, my imagination running wild. The familiar noises started up again, although I was sure hers was with less pleasure than before. After a few more minutes, her moans had returned. Whatever he was doing to her, the little slut was enjoying it.

He growled. "I'm close, honey."

She squealed. "Oh, sweetie, that's it." She raised her voice, evidently under every stroke. "That's it! Oh God! Fuck my ass!"

There were grunts, cries, moans, motions which sent shock-waves through the wall and then silence. I halted my wanking, embarrassed at the prospect of one of them, especially him, walking in on me.

The door flew open and she rushed inside. "Move, let me sit down."

I hesitated.

"Quickly, his cum's running out of my ass."

I rose from the toilet, barely able to comprehend her words.

"Make sure you take a shower," her husband called from the other room. "The chauffeur can give you a hand, but no funny business. Keep the bathroom door open at all times."

She sat on the toilet, wiping herself with paper. She looked incredible. Naked but for the heels. Yet she was a total slut, the cum of another man in her rectum. In our entire relationship, in all the years, I had only ever once had the pleasure of shooting my load in her ass. My cock was hard and I couldn't help but stroke it as I watched her.

"Did you enjoy that?" I whispered.

She looked up, her eyes focusing on my hard cock. She beckoned me towards her.

I quietly moved closer. "Did you?" I repeated.

She put her hand on my cock and automatically I released it to her. "He's a great lover." Her voice was barely audible as she pulled back and forth on me. She leaned towards the door and checked if he was near, then she brought her mouth forward and sucked the head of my cock.

"I hope you're behaving in there," he called. "It sounds too quiet from out here."

She pleasured me for a couple of long, beautiful seconds before she answered him. "I'm just sitting on the toilet, darling, you gave me a lot of cum to expel."

He laughed, unaware his apparent wife was giving me oral sex mere feet away. "Good girl," he remarked.

She delivered her tongue, swooping around my circumference. Then back and forth her mouth rocked on my whole cock, as if begging me to fuck her face. My balls were aching for release. I had to force myself to hurry. I knew I couldn't cope with another interruption.

"If I don't hear you in the shower in the next minute I'm coming in there," he called.

"Okay, darling," she replied. She wanked me hard, her eyes encouraging me to finish quickly. "Baby," she began, whispering, "I can feel his cum running out of my ass right now. Think about that."

The blood rushed to my head as I shuddered. I bit my lip and managed to stifle "Fuck," as the orgasm seized control. The first shot landed on her left breast, the second the right and the rest splattered her thighs.

"Honey," he shouted, more forcefully. "Shower. Now."

"Okay," she began, removing her heels, "but don't blame me if the maids find your cum all over the tiled floor." She winked at me, then took my hand.

I helped her to her feet, my other hand instinctively finding her perfect waist. I escorted her to the shower, patting her fantastic backside as she hopped in. I turned both taps until the temperature was to her pleasing, then I took the shower head and began to spray the water over her beautiful, naked body. She turned around and presented her ass, parting her cheeks so I could clean his cum from her anus. The water trickled down to her pussy lips, thighs and finally to her feet. She purred.

"She is beautiful, isn't she," he said, standing fully clothed at the door in a suit.

I was frightfully aware of my own nudity in the situation. "Yes."

She took the shower head from me and washed her chest, hidden from view and no doubt to remove the evidence that I had came over her only a couple of minutes earlier.

"I want the chauffeur to wash you, honey," he said.

She turned to us, revealing those gorgeous breasts and pussy. She handed the shower head back to me. "Clean my pussy," she instructed, and parted her lips with one hand.

I sprayed the warm water over her clit and lips, lusting for her as she rubbed herself before me.

"That's it," he began, his feet thudding on the tiles as he neared, "I want her nice and fresh." He stopped when he was stood right next to me. "Spray her from head to toe."

I complied, washing first her hair, then her face, shoulders, arms, breasts, navel, back, bottom, thighs, legs and feet. Time ticked away and I experienced both enjoyment and embarrassment. To be in awe of her stunning figure. To be unable to truly touch her. To be naked in the presence of another fully-clothed man. It was humiliating. The fact that now even I was taking orders from him.

"Okay, you're finished," he said, taking the shower head from me.

"Did you leave out another suit for him to wear?" she asked.

"Yes, it's on the bed." He turned to me. "You should go and change now." He sprayed water over my fiancée's clit. "We'll be out in a few minutes."

Her fingers danced under the water, caressing her sex as he watched.

"I do love having a younger wife," he said, reaching out a hand and slipping a finger into her pussy.

"Oh God," she muttered.

I left the room.

* * * * *

I was fully dressed in a fetching suit when they reappeared from the bathroom ten minutes later. From the noises I had overheard it was obvious he had fingerfucked her until she reached another orgasm. I wasn't sure if anything else had happened, nor was I prepared to ask questions. He was leading her by the hand, himself still clothed, whilst she remained naked. My eyes marvelled at her pussy, although still I missed the small tuft of hair she had always kept for me.

"What would you like me to wear for you, sweetie?" she asked him, nibbling his neck.

"I have already decided. I think the time has come for me to show you off in the cocktail dress."

I sat on the bed and watched her retrieve the garment from a wardrobe. Her stunning ass was so close to my face, her cheeks causing my heart to pound harder. I could barely believe he had fucked it whilst I sat in the bathroom masturbating. And yet I knew he had. I had cleaned his cum from her insides.

"What underwear?" she asked. "Stockings, suspenders...?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, and about panties? Thong or skimpy g-string?"

"Neither," he said. "I don't want you wearing anything under that dress."

She half-turned to him, revealing a beautiful outline of shape. My eyes fixated on those pert, perfect breasts, the nipples standing to attention. How I wished I could tweak them as she told me he had done so on her. I thought of their first time together and how still I knew only snippets of what had occurred. That text message where he had revealed binding her hands behind her back. That he really enjoyed dominating her that way.

"I want you to feel beautiful and free," he added.

She smiled, a flattered, almost embarrassed smile. "I'm assuming you have a pair of shoes in mind too?"

He nodded and pointed to the floor. There were gold-coloured 4 inch heels. She bent over to pick them up, taking a couple of seconds longer than required and revealing her well-used pussy to me.

She dressed quickly in front of us. The cocktail dress was sheer beauty and elegance, accentuating her curves and clinging to her nipples. It was slit to the thigh and she would have to be careful not to reveal her shaven pussy to any onlookers. She retreated to the bathroom, explaining she wished to apply her make-up.

"I'll take her for a meal, just the two of us," he began. "You can join us later in the bar. I think there's a lot more fun to be had before the day is over."

I nodded, although I could only wonder what he was thinking of.

* * * * *

My mobile phoned beeped about half an hour after they had left. It was from her. "Hi baby. We're waiting on our main course. He says to tell you all the men are checking me out. Sneaked him into ladies toilets after starters. Made a short video clip for you. Sending it on now."

My head spun at the possibilities. I held the phone in my hand, waiting. The waiting continued. How long did it take to send a video clip? Perhaps there was a problem with the network.

After ten minutes of hearing nothing I set the phone down and went to the toilet, expecting it go off while I was away. When I returned, still I had heard nothing. I waited for another half hour, growing increasingly agitated. I texted her, asking if she had sent it. The reply was swift. "Sorry. I forgot. Having too much fun. Feel so sexy all these men's eyes on me. Sending it now."

Five agonising minutes later my mobile beeped with the receipt of a new multimedia message. I hit open and gulped.

The sound, loud and of a nearby flushing toilet, was irrelevant. The image was of my fiancée, obviously taken from her so-called husband's perspective. She was staring into the camera, smiling. Her face quickly retreated, revealing their location as the inside of a cubicle. Her hand came into view, wrapped around his cock. She put his circumsised head to her lips, kissed it, then opened up and swallowed him whole. She was fast, challenging the limits of the phone's technology to keep up. At times, she was a blur in motion, sucking the cock of a man she really wasn't engaged to marry. Betraying all the sanctity of a union she had insisted upon. That ring upon her finger, false and his. She flicked her tongue out, navigating his shaft. I glanced at the sliding bar of the running time. The clip was already halfway through.

His free hand caressed her cheek, then grabbed her hair and almost violently yanked her away from his cock. Her eyes widened, lust rather than fear the predominant emotion. He told her to tell the camera what she wanted, adamant as he reiterated the command. She was hesitant to talk, her mouth and tongue fighting for another moment with his cock. His voice was stern as he insisted. Her voice was hoarse as she confessed she wanted another man inside her. He gently allowed her a little closer to his cock, her tongue managing to lick the head again. She was told to tell the camera who this other man was. Her eyes glanced up from his manhood and began to answer. The clip concluded before she could finish her sentence, revealing only "the guy-"

What guy? The guy didn't sound like the chauffeur. Who was she referring to? Had the clip ran to its maximum allotted length or had he deliberately cut it short to anger me? To humiliate me. To remind me of my relegation. Within five minutes, I had watched it twice again and I was stroking my hard cock over it.

Another text arrived, again from her. This one instructed me to meet them in the bar. I was reluctant not to relieve myself. However, I was all too familiar with her recent behaviour and her early request that I stay as close as possible to her. Perhaps to finally sneak off for that illicit liaison together.

As I headed out of the room and to the elevator my mobile again beeped. I pulled it from my pocket and I was immediately surprised by the sender. It was him. Most unusual. I opened it and read the contents. "The 2 stunners from the pool are drinking down here and on the pull. If the chauffeur wants the night off it could be arranged."

TO BE CONTINUED. FEEDBACK / IDEAS FOR FUTURE PARTS WELCOME.