7 Sins: Greed

Defeated, I sank into the chair still wearing the swim suit and wrapped in the plush towel. I watched helplessly as Mr. Betson dropped his towel to the floor and, then, gently pushed Kim's off her shoulders onto the floor, too.

As his hands grazed her shoulders, her body shivered.

"Cold?" Betson asked.

"No," Kim said sweetly. "I just got the shivers."

It was obvious why Kim got the shivers. Betson's touch had produced goosebumps all over her body. And I could see her nipples popping out against the sheer material of her bikini bra. Kim was turned on--as turned on as I'd ever seen her. And she was turned on by the touch of another man, right in front of her husband.

Betson reached around and unfastened Kim's top, gently pulling the straps off her shoulders. Now it was clearly apparent how hard her nipples were, how aroused she was. I watched as he gently caressed her breasts, drawing a soft moan from Kim's lips.

Betson drew Kim close to him, put his fingers under her chin, tipping it up to kiss her. It was a deep and passionate kiss, which was returned with the same enthusiasm that it was given.

Watching Betson seduce Kim--and, worse, watching her respond enthusiastically--was the most horrific thing I'd ever seen. It was also the most intensely erotic thing I'd ever experienced. My mind was flooded with emotions: regret, anger, humiliation, embarrassment, shame, jealousy. It was all there. And, as strange as this might sound to someone who has never experienced anything like this, all these emotions fed the intensity of my arousal.

I'm ashamed to admit that my cock was absolutely rigid, sticking up out of the waistband of the swimsuit. How can a man get aroused watching his wife--his love--get aroused by and submit herself to another man? I don't understand it even though I experienced it vividly.

Finally, the kiss that seemed to last an eternity broke. I don't know whether or not there was a subtle cue from Betson to Kim that I missed, perhaps a slight downward pressure on her shoulders, but when her lips left his, she sank to her knees, dragging her fingers down over his chest. She slipped her hands inside the waistband of Betson's swimsuit and pushed the suit to the ground.

Betson's cock sprung up like the cock of a teenager looking at his first Playboy centerfold. And Kim wasted no time at all taking his hard shaft into her mouth. She went at it ravenously--like a starving woman would devour food.

Kim gave good head, to be sure. She was a terrific sexual partner. But I'd never seen her like this. It was as if the rest of the world had faded from her consciousness and all that existed for her was Betson's hard cock, which she was hell-bent on devouring. It was obvious that she had forgotten, or just didn't care, about my presence in the room.

Betson's cock had sprung up like a teenager's but he clearly didn't have a teenager's propensity to cum at the first stimulation. Kim was on her knees, servicing Betson--though it wasn't clear who was servicing and who was being serviced--for at least five minutes. During that time, she licked and nuzzled his balls, ran her tongue up the underside of his shaft, swirled it around the helmet of his cock, and took him deep in her mouth over and over again.

It was clear that Betson was in heaven. But from all appearances, Kim was getting at least as much pleasure from this as he was.

I started silently repeating what I thought of as my mantra to get through this: "a quarter of a million dollars... a quarter of a million dollars...a quarter of a million dollars...a quarter of a million dollars..." It helped, but not a lot.

Finally, Mr. Betson gently tugged up on Kim's arms. Reluctantly, it seemed, Kim let his shaft slip from her lips. Kim's saliva glistened on Betson's cock. He put his thumbs in the waist of her bikini bottoms and pushed them partway down her thighs. Kim quickly finished the job, pushing her bikini bottoms to the floor and stepping out of them.

Betson pulled Kim against him, his cock shifting to point straight up between their bodies. He picked her up with ease and laid her down on the bed. As she fell to the bed, she reached up to grab his arm and pulled him down on top of her, her legs spread wide for him.

This was the moment of truth! What the hell does that even mean? I don't know. It was the moment of something, I wasn't sure what. Infidelity? No, she wasn't cheating on me. This was my idea and I had to persuade Kim to go along with it. Cuckoldry? I don't think so. Isn't a cuckoldress concerned with the humiliation of the cuckold. Kim wasn't. She was obviously concerned with only one thing: her pleasure.

"A quarter of a million dollars... a quarter of a million dollars...a quarter of a million dollars...a quarter of a million dollars..." Over and over, I repeated this in my mind.

I repeated it as I watched Mr. Betson raise himself up, positioning himself to enter Kim's no doubt sopping wet cunt. He paused, maybe for dramatic effect but I suspect it was just to look at Kim's beautiful body. But Kim was having none of this delay business.

My stomach churned as I heard her say, "Please... please Warren, please fuck me!"

God! I'd agreed to let this bastard fuck my wife. I hadn't agreed to her pleading to be fucked by him.

Betson didn't make Kim wait. I watched with horror as he pressed his hard cock deep into Kim's wet pussy in one long, forceful thrust.

"Oh, my God!" Kim gasped. "Oh, my God! Oh, yes... yes... fuck me!"

And Betson did! He fucked her hard and long. All the while, Kim was pleading for him to fuck her harder. Betson, to his credit, was an sex engine. I watched his hips rise up over and over as he pounded Kim's pussy hard and deep--but, judging from her appeals, she would have been happy if it were even harder and deeper. But it was hard enough to produce an intense and extended orgasm in Kim.

And me? "a quarter of a million dollars... a quarter of a million dollars...a quarter of a million dollars...a quarter of a million dollars..." It wasn't really working but it was all I knew how to do. My cock, though, was bursting. I really wanted to stroke it but I was too embarrassed to do that, not that they would have noticed. Their attention was completely focused elsewhere. I was a nonentity in their world.

Betson rolled the two of them over and Kim sat up, bouncing herself up and down on his shaft while he fondled her breasts. They fucked like that for several minutes, with Kim breaking out into almost hysterical laughter as she gasped out, "Oh, my God... that feels sooooo good! I love your cock!"

"I love your cock?" Those were words that would burn in my memory for a very long time.

Finally, Betson rolled them over so he was on top again, never letting his cock leave Kim's cunt. He began fucking her hard again and she began pleading with him. But this time, the pleading wasn't just to fuck her harder.

"Oh, God, Warren. Fuck me! I want you to cum in me. I want you to shoot your cum deep in my cunt," she begged. "Please cum in me."

My heart was pounding but I'm sure not nearly as hard as Betson's and Kim's were. I could tell when Betson was about to unload in Kim's cunt. His thighs tensed up and he suddenly pressed hard and deep into her and I couldn't help but visualize his cock throbbing and pulsating as it propelled his seed deep in Kim's womb.

His scream of pleasure sent Kim over the edge, too. I watched her body convulse pleasure over and over again as Betson filled her cunt with his spunk.

Then he collapsed on top of her and the room was quiet except for the sound of heavy breathing and a few quiet 'Oh, my God!'s from Kim.

When they'd caught their breaths, Betson asked, "Was that okay?"

"'Was that okay?'... 'Was that okay?'" Kim said. "It was okay if 'okay' means it was the most intensely pleasurable thing ever. Oh, my God! I couldn't even imagine!"

You might think this was a cruel thing for her to say in front of me. Maybe intentionally cruel or, at least, inconsiderately cruel. But that presumes that Kim even knew that I was still in the room. I think she'd completely forgotten about me.

Forgotten about me until, that is, Mr. Betson rolled partway over and, looking at me, asked, "How are you doing, Mark?"

Shit! How do you answer a question like that? How am I doing watching my wife be fucked by another man? How am I doing watching her beg that man to fuck her? How am I doing hearing her say it was the best fuck of her life? I was doing lousy. But my only response to Betson's cruel question was a noncommittal grunt.

"There's a guest bedroom next door, Mark. You can go now and stay there. You'll find your bag there and everything you need to be comfortable. Make yourself at home. If you need anything, you can ring Brenda. There's a button by the bed."

I got up and headed for the door. I looked back at the bed to see if Kim would look at me. I saw that she was looking at me but, as soon as I looked at her, she looked away, back to Betson. She reached across his chest and brought herself closer to him, pressing her breasts against the side of his chest.

Hustling out of the room and to the adjoining guest room as quickly as possible, I was torn about pressing the button on the intercom for Brenda, obviously the maid. I desperately wanted more bourbon to kill the pain; on the other hand, I didn't relish the thought of having Brenda, who had to know what had been going on, come into my room and see me. I resolved the conflict by calling her up on the intercom and asking her to leave a glass and a bottle of Maker's Mark by the door. When I heard her leave the hallway, I grabbed the bourbon and began more self-medication.

The liquor helped. It dulled the pain of the visions and sounds that were echoing so vividly in my mind. But I didn't manage to get myself into such a stupor that I could ignore the sounds coming from Betson's room.

He and Kim were taking a shower. I couldn't hear what they were saying during the shower, but I could hear some laughter. After they turned the shower off, I could hear that they were drying each other off. There was more laughter and I could catch some of the words.

I heard Kim say, "Let's dry this bad boy off. He deserves a commendation."

And, Betson replied, "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, maybe just a little kiss would do... at least if it was a deep French kiss?"

More laughter and, then, it was quiet except when I heard Betson say, "Wow, that feels so good!"

Things were quiet for a half hour or so. I drank more and hoped to pass out. Unfortunately, I didn't succeed before I heard them going at it again. Jesus! Did this guy have the stamina of a bull?

Hearing Betson and Kim fucking in the next room made it impossible to sleep--not because the sound itself was too loud but because of the images that the sound provoked in my mind.

I found myself getting hard again as I visualized Betson's cock thrusting in and out of Kim's pussy. I was alone so there was nothing to stop me from stroking my cock, which I did furiously. Soon, I was spewing my cum all over my stomach and chest, long ribbons of thick creamy jizz.

What sort of man gets off stroking himself to the sound of another man fucking his wife? I guess the sort of man I was. I didn't want to think about it. I wiped the cum off my body with the swimsuit I'd dropped by the side of the bed and managed to get to sleep.

Part III: Day Two of My Torment

After a terrible night's sleep, I awoke to the sound of Betson and Kim going at it once again. Sheeze! They were like teenagers who just discovered sex!

Nothing wrong with taking a belt of bourbon before breakfast, right?

About an hour later, I was summoned for breakfast--another strange event in what promised to be a weekend of strangeness. A casual observer would have thought nothing was strange. They would have instantly pegged Mr. Betson and Kim as the couple and me as a guest who was there for no apparent reason.

"How did you sleep, Mark?" Mr. Betson said as if there was nothing strange going on at all. "Well, I hope?"

I grunted that I slept okay, which was a lie. But any other answer would have prompted follow-ups and all I wanted to do was to eat breakfast and then curl up and die.

All through breakfast, Kim and Betson chatted and laughed like lovers. I could tell that Kim sometimes ran her foot up Betson's leg under the table. As they exchanged flirtatious talk and glances, I focused on eating as fast as I could hoping to get out of the room.

When I pushed back my chair to leave, Betson said, "After breakfast Kim and I thought we'd go out on the yacht to see if we could catch any of the whale migration. It should be a good time to see them. You should come along with us."

The 'should' was not a recommendation but a command. But, I thought, after what I'd been put through last night, how could this be worse?

It wasn't worse. But it was still pretty bad. They were canoodling (to use the archaic term for it) all day long. But I made it through the day without any other horribly debasing incidents. The same wasn't true of the evening

Dinner Saturday night was, again, spectacular--the food, that is. The atmosphere was terrible. I wished I could have dinner in my room. But I was certain that wasn't allowed--just as I was certain that tonight's activities would involve the same humiliation for me as last night's.

That was part of Betson's plan of course. It wasn't just that he wanted to fuck a beautiful woman, or a beautiful married woman. He wanted to fuck her in front of her husband. He wanted to humiliate and destroy the man. And he was good at it. He was, I now realized, a cruel son of a bitch.

Dinner began with oysters, which some believe increase your sex drive. (Like these two needed any boost to their sex drive!) I figured it wasn't coincidental. Even if that was a myth, it was a way of signaling something to me. And it worked. As I watched Betson slurp down the slick oysters, I couldn't help but imagine his tongue on Kim's wet labia, savoring her juices as he was savoring the Ponzu sauce dripping from the oysters.

I tried to put it out of my mind. ("A quarter of a million dollars... ")

After dessert, Mr. Betson said, "Let's go up to the room and watch a movie. Maybe something a little naughty? I have a great library."

So, there we were again, in Betson's room with me sitting on the chair and Kim and Betson lying on the bed. Betson pressed a button on a remote and a large painting rose up into a space in the ceiling revealing a huge TV screen. He pressed a few more buttons and an array of viewing options appeared. He selected "Adult Films" to get another array, this one of porn flicks.

"Oh, here's a good one," Mr. Betson said with some excitement, pointing to one called "Humiliated Hubby". "What do you think, Mark?"

"I don't think I'd like it," I said, surprising myself by pushing back.

"Well, what do you think, Kim?"

"Oh, it sounds like fun!" Kim said.

Thanks, bitch, for having my back!

"Well, there you have it, Mark... two against one. Here goes." And, with that, he started the video. You might think that fabulously rich guys have access to better porn than the rest of us. And maybe they do. But you couldn't prove it with this video. It was the run-of-the-mill porn film with horrible acting and mediocre production value. But I guess it served Betson's purposes.

As the title indicated, it was about a wife who cuckolds her husband in particularly humiliating ways, including forcing him to get her ready for her lover by licking her cunt and, then, after they are through fucking, to clean up both her and her lover with his mouth. Along the way, he's made to show his cock, explain how inferior it is, and praise the bull's cock by comparison. And, when he's all done cleaning up the sloppy mess in his wife's cunt and licking her juices off her bull's cock, he's made to masturbate into his hand while they watch and, then, (of course) to lick his cum up out of his hand. He acts like he hates this all but you get the impression he actually gets off, not only on the humiliation but even on sucking the bull's cum from his wife's pussy.

Pretty hackneyed plot, if you want to call it a plot at all. But it served Betson's purpose. From time to time throughout the video, Kim would pipe up and say something like: "Look at that! He's actually sucking the guy's cum out of her pussy. Can you believe it?" Or she'd say something like: "Aww, poor guy. His little pecker looks so pathetic next to her lover's hard cock."

Betson couldn't have asked for a more enthusiastic co-conspirator. Kim was playing it to the hilt.

I hated the video, of course. Mostly I didn't even look at it. Sometimes I stared out the window and sometimes I looked over at Betson and Kim on the bed. They were fondling each other while the video ran. When the woman in the video was sucking off her bull in front of the husband, Kim put her hand down Betson's pants and stroked him. I heard her let out a quiet, "Oooh, nice!" as she felt his cock stiffen in her hand.

When it ended, Betson said, to the room, "Well, that was great, don't you think." I said nothing but Kim said, "Yes! Terrific! It sure gives you lots of ideas."

"And you, Mark," Betson prompted. "What did you think of it?"

"It was like a zillion others I've seen," I said, trying to indicate how hackneyed it was. Unfortunately, Betson took my comment in another direction.

"So, you've watched a lot of these, huh Mark?" I instantly regretted what I'd said but I kept my mouth shut. Betson went on, "so, you're really familiar with this humiliated hubby thing, I guess."

Kim giggled and I blushed, my ears burning.

"Hey, I know how we can make tonight special,' Mark said cheerily. "Let's do some roleplaying. Kim, I'll be your bull and Mark can play the humiliated hubby."

How, exactly, is that roleplaying? I wondered. That's reality. Roleplaying would be if I was the bull and Betson was the cuckold. But that, of course, was not to be.

"That sounds like fun," Kim chimed in, knowing, but not caring, that it would definitely not be fun for me.

"Come on, Mark. Come over and get me ready to take my lover's cock."

Why was she doing this to me? I got it that she wanted to play along this weekend. But this was much more than that.

"No," I said as forcefully as I could muster. "That's not part of our deal, Mr. Betson."

"Well, it appears to be what Kim wants and, so, now it is part of our deal."

It was only now that I thought about the fact that there was no written agreement. How could there be? So, I was at Betson's mercy. The deal was whatever he said it was.

Resigned to my fate, I walked over to their bed as Kim shimmied out of her pants. She spread her legs for me to climb between them, which I did.

"Now do a good job, Mark," Kim said pleasantly but forcefully. "I want you to get me really wet for Warren's big cock."

How could she be so cold... so cruel I thought. But I did as instructed.

Normally, I loved licking Kim's cunt. She always got really wet and I found the scent and taste intoxicating. Now, though, I was just going through the motions. The motions, though, were having their typical effect. Kim's labia were glistening with her sweet dew and her clitoris was hard and protruding. Any other time, I would be flicking my tongue over her clitoris to drive her to an orgasm, but not now. She was very aroused and that was all I was supposed to do.

To tell the truth, though, I'm not sure how much her arousal was caused by my tongue and how much by the fact that she was kissing Betson. Who knows, maybe what was really getting her aroused was the power she was exercising over me.