tagAnalNeighborhood Butt Fuck Ch. 03

Neighborhood Butt Fuck Ch. 03

bybbonz1©

(c) 2012, Bbonz1

To the reader: Once again, there is little to no character development, except as it serves to help the story progress. There is lots of raunchy sex, vulgar talk and gratuitous violence. So, as always, if that's not your cup of tea, better just head to another story. Don't write me outraged comments. It won't help.

* * *

Tom supposed that some men might feel outraged to have their wives fucking other men in the neighborhood. That one or two might resort to physical violence if they found their wives sucking a stranger's cock in their house. And that a typical husband might shoot a perpetrator who had the audacity to bang his wife in the ass while in the couple's marital bed.

And that was just what Tom was about to do. Shoot his wife, and her lover, just as he was about to penetrate her in her anal canal, the one place that was supposed to be reserved for a husband who has laid claim to a woman. He held his hand as steady as possible, centering the crosshairs on just the right spot. And then fired off a burst of about ten shots, the camera's shutter drowned out by the piercing wail from Angela's lips, as she settled her ass onto the massive cock below her.

He pulled back from the full zoom, framing the next shots to take in the man's shaft, his wife's vacant yet swollen pussy, and the way her anus puckered inward as the rod penetrated deeper and deeper into her most forbidden hole. As he watched, he imagined what it was like for the head of that cock, having broken past her defensive ring, now probing inside her bowels, in a world of dark that might only be illuminated if, and when, the cock left her confines and her gaping hole admitted some light. But before that would happen, there would be more invasions. Repeated invasions.

* * *

Angela lay on the bed with her nighty pulled up past her voluptuous breasts, and her panties pushed down around her ankles. She felt pouty as she slowly skimmed her fingers over her pussy. It felt good, but it just wasn't the same. She'd asked... no, begged Tom to fuck her that morning, playing the coquette, then the slut, then the slave, but to no avail. He had a meeting and he wasn't going to be delayed.

She understood his reasoning. Tom did have to keep his job. He couldn't stay home all day and fuck, however appealing that might be to her. And even if Tom's boss did know of her condition, he was unlikely to cut Tom any slack. The man's wife Marjorie was a frigid as they come, and he surely wouldn't give any quarter to a man who was freely getting what he couldn't get himself.

All that didn't mean that she didn't have the right to pout. Tom got to go off and do interesting things. While she was stuck at home with an aching pussy, relegated to stroking herself for a few tingles of pleasure. She might try a toy and a porn movie. Maybe some big black cock ripping open a tiny teen girl. But she had the feeling even that wouldn't be exciting enough. It was ridiculous! It had been almost two days since Tom's friend Raj had visited for a free fuck. And the same two days since Tom had skewered her right after Raj. A woman shouldn't have to wait that long for some well-deserved attention!

The doorbell rang and she had a thrill of hope that Tom had changed his mind and returned. No, that was dumb. It was his house. He didn't need to ring the doorbell. It was probably some roofing salesman or delivery guy or maybe just a neighbor. Just as she'd decided to ignore it, the bell rang again. Persistent bugger. She'd need to answer it.

Hurriedly, she pulled up her panties and pulled down her nightie. It was completely sheer, of course, clinging to her breasts and hips like a second skin. Exactly what a woman wore to seduce her husband. Not that it had done any good. She threw a short robe on and cinched it tightly. No free looks at her tits. But whoever was at the door was welcome to ogle her bare legs and feet.

She opened the door to discover Tom's friend, Sal. She knew instantly why he was on her front porch. The thought made her wet in a way that her stroking had failed to approach.

"Sal! Come on in," she invited, holding open the screen door so that when he entered, he'd have to brush past her body. Sal stepped inside, his face unreadable except for the calculation in his eyes. "Tom's not home, you know," she said as she closed the door behind them and followed him into the adjacent living room.

"I know," he replied in a warm, friendly way that did nothing to reveal his intentions. "It's one of the perks about being in real estate. Don't have to show up at the office at any set time. I'm free to go where I want and do what I want."

Angela watched him closely, wondering if he was trying to make a point, or if he was even flirting with her. There was something strange about his face. And something very strange about his eyes. Almost like he could see into her soul, but he wasn't revealing anything about himself. Like looking at a wall and wondering what it was feeling.

She wasn't sure she liked this. Normally, she could read men like a book. Just looking at them she could see their wants, needs and desires. And then she would decide how to play it, whether she would be direct or demure, whether she would take the lead or allow herself to be led. But Sal already had her feeling off balance. And the conversation had only gotten started!

"Can I get you coffee, or, uh, something?" she stammered. She shook her head. What was going on here? She was usually so sure and smooth with men. So quick with the quip. So why couldn't she get it together and get on with the flirtation?

"Robe." Just that one word. It wasn't a question, nor a demand. Just a statement. Not even an answer to her question. Just a word, thrown out there.

His presence seemed to fill the air, and her knees literally trembled as she finally met his cool gaze. She suddenly felt like a school girl, unsure of where to put her hands or how to stand or even who she was. In his face she read that he wasn't going to say it again. Her hands, of their own volition, undid the tie so the sides fell open. No, that wouldn't be enough, she knew immediately, without his face so much as twitching. Hesitantly, almost shyly, she shook it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

As she stood there, she was suddenly aware of her near nakedness. Her large breasts straining against the cups of her nightie, her areolas clearly visible through the sheer fabric, the nipples like pebbles at the top of each solid mound. The tightness along her stomach and waist, accentuating her womanly shape. The open cleavage and low-cut back blatantly inviting his gaze. The short, frilly hem that ended just below her pussy, a superfluous layer of gauze that barely concealed her now pulsating slit. She was aware of all that, but now, upon thinking about her panties, she became intensely aware. The high cut that revealed the flesh of her thighs and ass. The tight fabric between her legs, puckering and creasing with every shift of her body. The elastic that was the only barrier between covered and uncovered. And how, suddenly and unexpectedly, the thought of being uncovered felt scary and dangerous.

"Panties." Again, just a single word. Neither hard nor soft. Neither demanding nor requesting. Just a word, spoken by that presence. She realized that she could no more defy it than she could order her own body to stop breathing. Even as she thought that, she found herself pushing her panties to the floor, joining the robe that had arrived there in the same fashion, as a result of his bidding.

The air felt cold against her bare slit, even though it was warming up outside. The fringe of fabric along the edge of the nightie ended just below the valley of her pussy, not covering a single thing from his penetrating gaze. Her ass, too, was more bare than covered, and she felt more exposed than if she'd been completely nude. Shockingly, she realized that his presence was so commanding, she would be standing there ready to do his bidding even if her husband hadn't provided the approval. No wonder he was so successful in real estate.

Sal studied her, taking in every detail as she stood before him displaying some trepidation. He'd known that simple, direct and almost ominous orders would work on her. It was the way of big breasted women. They used their tits to draw in the weak-willed men, those who would allow themselves to be led, or those who couldn't resist. And then the woman would play her games. She would direct the action. Offer her body. Or allow herself to be taken. Even in the throes of passion, she would take comfort in her ability to be in control. Because she had the tits. And the guts to use them to her advantage.

He'd watched Angela play fast and loose with men's attentions during the pool parties they'd attended over the summer. The suggestive looks. The revealing poses. The outrageous flirtations that could so easily be explained away as a result of too much to drink. She was so easy to understand. And so easy to manipulate.

"Knees," he stated simply. As she sank to her knees, he committed every movement to memory. He had an eidetic memory, not really photographic, but he could remember details of events well after they'd occurred. He still remembered, in exacting detail, everything he and his wife had done on their honeymoon night over eleven years before. Including her gasping orgasm when he'd entered her asshole.

Angela, he noted, was as beautiful nearly nude as he'd imagined her to be in her bikini during those pool parties. She'd shaved her pussy bare, save for a small, thin patch just above her dark slit. Her pussy lips were full, the soft mounds thick for someone that slender. He was pleased to see that her pussy was all contained inside; he didn't care for the ones that stuck out too far. He found her waist very appealing, marking the perfect transition from the curve of her hips and the curve of her breasts. Her tits were most impressive, more than a handful that stood up and away from her torso, as if lifted by an invisible bra. That could be the result of implants, he reminded himself. But that was something he'd be checking, personally, in just a few short minutes.

She had a long face, enhanced with open, Midwest beauty, the kind you only found in girls born and raised on a farm. Her hair reached down to her shoulder blades, and he could easily imagine it swirling across his chest as she rode his cock to oblivion.

She knelt, arms at her sides, aware that he was inspecting her but unable to meet his eyes. Never before had she been this intimidated by a man. Not even her first boyfriend, all those years ago, when she was so young and innocent. He stepped up to her, his frame filling her field of vision, and nudged her breast with his knee. That was, she surmised, a signal to start.

With trembling hands, she carefully unbuckled his belt, undid the button on his jeans and pulled the waist down. His shorts followed his jeans down, leaving his cock exposed and quivering. He was uncut, the foreskin still concealing his cock head. It had been a long time since she'd had an uncut dick in her hand, since her college days, in fact. But some things were just like riding a bike, when muscle memory took over. Grasping the shaft firmly in one hand, she encircled his cock with the fingers of her other hand, then steadily pulled the foreskin back.

His cockhead was bulbous and red, almost angry looking at having been forced out of its sheath. Even as she held it, the shaft grew stiffer and longer. Though neither the thickest nor longest cock she'd ever seen, it had an impressive heft that made her wet with anticipation. Sal's ball sac matched his cock, and the muscles in his thighs held the promise of a vigorous fucking ending with a huge load of cum somewhere on or in her body.

She felt his hand lightly tap the back of her head and took the cue, taking him into her mouth. He tasted slightly of sweat mixed with soap, but that taste quickly disappeared as she covered his rod with her saliva. Eagerly she ministered to his fuck stick, licking and kissing it, rubbing her lips along its length, striving to show that she was worthy of providing a temporary home for it inside one of her three tight holes.

At another tap of his hand she bent her neck and pressed her mouth all the way down to his groin, deep throating him. His cock filled the whole of her throat; if not for being able to breathe through her nose, she wouldn't be able to breathe at all. She relaxed her jaw, trying not to gag, although her throat convulsively collapsed on the snakelike intruder. She held the position as long as she could, challenging herself not to pull away until the very last second.

Sal almost collapsed to his knees as he felt her throat convulsing around his dick. He could feel her tongue rasping along the bottom of his shaft, while the sides of her throat caressed the head as thoroughly as a woman giving him a handjob. He'd never been able to go this deep with his wife. Her gag reflex was just too strong. But Angela took him like a champ. He was almost ready to stake her to the ground and fuck the living daylights out of her. But there was a matter to be attended to first.

"Top," he stated, pushing her head back and denying her any further taste of his cock. She understood immediately, pulling the offending top up over her head and negligently tossing it away. Standing over her, he could see that her tits were just as intoxicating as he'd imagined. He could barely keep himself from falling atop her and raping her writhing body.

Instead, he shuffled backwards and sat down on the nearest sofa, beckoning her forward. Obediently, she crawled forward, her tits swinging and swaying below her like udders on a cow. As she approached him, he bent down and grabbed a tit in each hand, jerking her forward and up into a sitting position. Then, wordlessly, he pulled her forward until her lips were once again in contact with his cock. With another jerk to her tits and he was back in her mouth, her lips encircling his thick shaft and her eyes glazed with a primordial pleasure.

He watched her work at him, pausing only once to invite her to lick his asshole, a task she performed with obvious pleasure. What would it be like to have a sex toy like this available to him every day, he wondered. Clearly, she would do anything he told her to. And there was clearly no part of sex that she wouldn't do, especially if it got a cock in her pussy or ass. He liked women who got the idea of quid pro quo; if I do something for you, you'll do something for me. And if what I'm doing for you makes me happy too, well, that's great for me. Most women didn't get that.

He stripped off his shirt, and with a nudge of his knee, indicated that she should strip off the rest of his clothes. She did so with a businesslike efficiency, then lowered her mouth back onto his cock, licking and kissing the tip before sliding her lips down the underside until she could reach his balls with her flaming hot tongue. He'd been pacing himself, reveling in the moment and the anticipation of things to come. But that time was over.

Using the big toe on his right foot, he nudged it against her swollen slit. "Lay back," he ordered, smiling as she immediately rolled onto her back and spread her legs for him. His cock, already hard as a rock, seemed to stretch even larger as he dropped to his knees between her legs, then lined up his shaft just above her pussy, like a pole about to be fitted into a socket.

* * *

Tom watched as Angela's ass took every inch of the man's cock, as easily as if he'd pushed it into a bowl of butter. Now he could see, from the look on her face, that she was giving as good as she was getting. She had great control of her ass muscles, and was even now clenching and unclenching her anal ring, in effect massaging the hard shaft even as it plunged in and out of her dirty hole.

His wife grunted in time with the man's frequent and insistent penetrations, her butt both accepting and resisting the snake delving deep inside of her. Tom wondered if she had properly prepared for the intrusion. Had she taken an enema to clean out her bowels? Or was that cock meeting the resistance of some hard packed shit? The first time he'd felt that, he'd been grossed out. But after a couple of times spent fucking her anally, he'd found that the idea of it kind of turned him on. He was fucking her dirty shithole. And like an animal, nothing was going to stop him. There were even times, after his cock had crammed itself into a wall of shit, that he'd pulled out and made her suck his cock in some ass to mouth action. He never asked if she tasted poo on his cock. But if she did, she would learn better to keep herself clean.

The man reached down and pried open her cunt so Tom could take some pictures of her split open pussy dripping above the cock buried in her ass. Despite not wanting to be photographed, the man did have some perversions that he would allow to be caught on camera. One of his favorite statements was that he came over for an ass fucking, and an ass fucking was what he wanted. If she wanted to get her pussy off, then she'd have to get some other man to do that for her.

Angela's cunt literally dripped as the man held it open, her cunt odor wafting through the room. She wasn't stereotypically fishy smelling, but she did smell and taste somewhat pungent. Tom knew that the more she got worked up, the sharper her tang would be. And she smelled very sharp already.

Tom leaned in and took a few super close pictures of the inside of his wife's juice covered pussy. He already had plenty of pictures of it; he'd once spent an entire evening photographing her most intimate parts in all their spectacularly close-up detail. For the photo examination of her cunt, he'd used spring-loaded clothespins to pull her pussy flaps open, and kept them open with strings tied to the bed posts. Any movement by her would tug on her sensitive lips, giving her a sharp shock of pain. She quickly learned not to move at all, even when he inserted a clear tube to let him look all the way into her uterus. After thoroughly exploring her cunt, he'd jerked off and shot his cum down that tube, squirting it inside her without giving her the pleasure of feeling his cock ram inside. The pictures of her, spread open, with a cum smeared tube inside her cunt, even now caused her to beg for a fucking every time she saw them.

Tom wondered if the man would be interested in exploring Angela's ass with that very same tube. He'd never thought of that, but made a note to try it one time. The thought of her, bent over and with a tube sticking out of her ass, was a very compelling fantasy indeed.

For now, though, he'd have to content himself with the sight of his slut wife bouncing her ass up and down on top of a slick fuck stick. Her tits jostled rhythmically with every stroke, and her long hair bounced with almost as much vigor. She had her eyes closed, a sign, Tom knew, that she was concentrating on the sensations of the cock inside her anus, touching its walls, stretching its muscles, punishing its rim. He laid aside the camera to watch for a while. Some things are just best enjoyed in person.

* * *

Sal wasted no time and slid himself into her steaming cunt until his pubic hairs ground against hers. No, steaming wasn't the right word for it. She was volcanic. A blazing hot hole of slick liquids and throbbing walls, all conspiring to encase his manhood in a tight cocoon of pleasure. She immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, tilting her cunt to show that she was his for the taking, she wanted nothing more than to have his cock ramming into her.

She couldn't believe how completely he filled her. How his cock, while not the biggest she'd ever had, so forcefully filled out the contours inside her cunt, taking her and telling her, without any words at all, that she was his to keep and own and use. Crouching over her, his mouth occasionally capturing a tit and sucking on it, he stroked in and out of her slit, causing her juices to sluice from her in rivulets and streams. Every so often he slammed his groin against hers, so hard that the slap of skin on skin sounded like an explosion. So hard that it pushed her body across the carpet, leaving rug burns along her hips and shoulders.

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bybbonz1© 3 comments/ 58187 views/ 11 favorites

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