A Cunning Plan

"Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Show him what you can do to me. Fuck me."

"Yes, I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. Just like a slut like you deserves."

He began to thrust in and out of her, plowing into her with deep, hard, almost ruthless strokes.

How he avoided cumming, she didn't know. He was usually very much in control, but fucking her from behind always pushed him over the top. Perhaps it was the potential of another partner willing and eager to take his place that kept him from loosing everything he had into her. It probably helped that her pussy was so click and slippery and open.

But her husband had been able to hold out, and now it was time for her to get what she really wanted, what she had been fantasizing for for so long now, but which she would never have even considered in the realm of reality until the combined elements of: a) her annoyance with her husband, b) the peak of her monthly cycle, c) her inadvertent exposure, d) her insatiable cunt, e) her inventive imagination, and f) her excellent planning skills had all conspired together last night to come up with:

A Cunning Plan.

Her plan, for all of its complexities and side-benefits, was entirely in the service of one over-arching, simple goal: To get herself completely, utterly, totally fucked.

She loved getting fucked more than almost anything else. She had never really talked about this with other women -- it was certainly not the kind of topic that came up in conversation with her liberated professional friends! But she was sure that she wasn't the only woman to feel this way. In fact, she felt it was a very natural thing to want, but one that had been papered over in contemporary society -- and for very good reason too. There were still plenty of men around who worked in every way they could to take the natural (but not singular) instinct of many women to be loved and bred and fucked, and pervert that into a society that forced women into the role of barefoot and pregnant mothers who had simply been fucked over. In any case, regardless of the sexual politics involved, she loved to feel used, to feel -- if only temporarily -- that the primary purpose of her body was to pleasure a cock and to be a container for cum.

So, the more truly fucked she could feel, the better she liked it. It was almost like an addiction, but not an insatiable one. She knew that if she could get to the place just once where she had been as fucked as she could possibly be, that would be enough for her. But how to get there? How to achieve the peak of pure fucked-edness she aspired to?

For many years, she had pondered that question during her not infrequent sexual day-dreams. One way to get that feeling of being completely fucked was to be fucked by a very large cock. But she already had that, and she had found that that wasn't quite enough. Perhaps being observed while being fucked would help, but she was pretty sure that it wouldn't be enough to take her over the "well and truly fucked" threshold. Finally, after long and careful consideration, she had determined that there was one and only one way to get there. And ever since she realized that that was what she needed, she hadn't been able to let it go.

What she really needed was to get fucked by more than one cock.

Yes, getting fucked by one cock was wonderful, but she needed to know what it was like to take more than one. Whenever she masturbated on her own, she fantasized about it. Images of multiple cocks dominated her raunchiest dreams. Sometimes she found herself in the middle of the day pondering what it would be like, and then spent the rest of the day craving it.

Of course, she had shared her fantasies with her husband, but had never really articulated how strong a grip the fantasy held over her, how much more visceral it felt to her, how she sometimes felt that she just needed to have it actually happen. When making love, she'd sometimes think about how it would feel, and she'd imagine the positions of other lovers while her husband was fucking her. Once in a while, in the throughs of passion, during intense mutual fantasies, she'd even vocalized this. "One is not enough, I need more cock."

But whenever their fantasies had become especially heated, she'd always ended by reassuring her husband. When she said that 'my pussy is only for your cock', she meant it. She could never forgive herself if her needs drove her to deceive him. But last night, as she was thinking through various scenarios, she had worked out a way to get what she needed while preserving the bounds of marriage; without violating the most basic of fidelities. She could finally satisfy her cravings, and do so without deceit.

But there was a subtle, previously unconscious, assumption hidden amongst the words she said to her husband -- what mattered was not what she'd included in her promise, but what she'd left out. She hadn't, for example, included her mouth. Or for that matter, she hadn't exclude body-parts-other-than-cocks. Sure, her solution might seem a little lawyerly -- ok, straight from the Bill Clinton school of sexual ethics -- but it also wasn't simply a cheap cover to give her freedom to do whatever she wanted. She looked at it now as a simple carve out of additional rights and responsibilities, rather than a wholesale abandonment of core principles. And her looser interpretation was governed by a strict set of additional self-imposed rules. In any case, he'd have to go agree to everything. Still, while she would stick to her basic principles, she wasn't above a bit of leading-by-the-cock to get where she wanted to go. In any case, now was the time where all of her careful analysis would be tested.

As her husband continued to slowly and skillfully fuck her, she looked around behind her to where Mr. X was sitting and gave him her best come-hither naughty school girl look. He got the idea immediately, stood up, and walked to the side of the bed. Hugh continued to fuck her, slowing a bit, that what-the-fuck expression returning to his face.

Better move this along quickly, she thought to herself, indicating with her eyes where she wanted Mr. X to situate himself. He climbed up on to the bed and kneeled beside her, manoeuvring a bit awkwardly to get his hips near her head. She looked back at her husband, who was still hard, still fucking her, but waning somewhat.

"Darling, I don't know how I can even dare to ask this of you. We've done some crazy stuff today, and I've done stuff I know you've loved to see me do, but my real fantasy hasn't happened yet. There is something I really want... Something I've wanted for a long time."

He'd slowed almost to a stop now -- giving her a really-I-mean-it-what-the-fuck-is-going-on face now.

With her husband's cock inside of her, and Mr. X kneeling next to her, his cock pointing directly at her face, this wasn't really the time for speeches. But she felt that she had to be sure that this would be ok; had to give Hugh a real choice.

"I know I already put my mouth on his cock, but honestly, I didn't really do it for my own benefit. What I really want is..."

"I... I want to suck a cock while you fuck me. This is something I desperately want to do. But it isn't something that I have to do. We can stop this right now if you want. I mean it. Your happiness means more to me than anything else, and..."

As she said this, she noticed something interesting about her words. She hadn't said "his cock", she'd said "a cock". Her motivation was pure. She didn't care a thing for Mr. X. All that was relevant about him was the one key piece of equipment he'd brought to the room with him. Perhaps her husband had noticed the same subtle turn of phrase. In any case, his reply came as an enormous relief.

"No, I'm not going to stop you. I want you to do this. I want to watch you do it. I want it most of all because you want it -- I can see how badly you want it, and that turns me on more than you can know. But," he said with a grin, "I also want it because from now on when I call you my slut, we'll both have this perfect image in our minds. You can't be more of a slut than you're about to be now."

As he said this, his cock got fully hard again, and the the pace of his pumping and grinding grew.

She turned then to face Mr. X's cock, opened her mouth, and took his cock in to it. She pressed her tongue around that cock, took it further into her mouth, began to move her head back and forth along it. Closing her eyes for a few moments, she felt Mr. X put his hands on her head and gently encourage her movements.

The realization of what was happening to her exploded in her mind. She felt like she'd been dropped out of an airplane. "Oh God. Oh God. This is it. This is it. Oh God." Wave after wave of churning recognition washed over her. For the first time in her life, she had a penis in her vagina and in her mouth at the same time; she was getting fucked by two cocks, she was being taken in the front and in behind.

She knew the picture she was presenting -- in fact, she could see herself vaguely reflected in the glass of a picture on the wall. Her posture was that of the ultimate whore. Except, as her husband had playfully reminded her when all of this was just a fantasy, a whore got paid, and she was assuming this position for free. On all fours, sucking cock, getting fucked, breasts hanging down from her body. The image did actually have a bit of the barnyard to it, and also brought to mind those most bawdy 16th century stories involving lonely highway inns and drunken brigands having their way with the bar wenches. It was the kind of thing that only porn stars did. And while she was completely turned off by porn videos, and she didn't feel at all porn star fake and cheesy, she did feel cheap and easy and used. And she loved it.

And then there were the sounds. She was of course moaning and groaning, but the sound was muffled because her mouth was filled with someone's cock. She was repeating mantras in her mind which found there way to her throat whenever she came up for air. "Oh God. Oh God." "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Adding to that, her body itself was making noise. Slobbery sucking noises from her mouth, and sloppy squelching noises from her cunt.

And the smells. She could smell the excitement, the pheromone rich, musky odor coming from her body, the sweaty manly smell coming from Mr. X's cock so close to her nose. And also, the taste of his cock, slightly tangy, and the silkiness of the pre-cum leaking out of it.

When she'd been imagining the details of this happening, she'd run through many different variations of the shape and size of the other cock. What would be ideal? No doubt, she liked big cocks, and if someone else were reading her thoughts -- reading them in some trashy erotic story for example -- they would expect something like "the biggest, fattest cock she had ever seen, making her gasp as she took it into her waiting pussy". A cock that would make her afraid "it would rip her open, making her stretched-out fuck-hole useless for her husband's pin-dick". But actually, what she really wanted was exactly what Mr. X provided: A reasonable, average-sized cock, perhaps a bit on the shorter side -- still at least a good six inches fully erect.

Why did she want this other cock to be smaller than her husband's? Well, there was an element of preservation of her husband's ego. She didn't want him to spend the rest of his life wondering if she loved another cock more than his. Not that that there was much risk of that -- a cock larger than her husband's would be difficult to find. She'd never seen one, anyway, and she'd had the opportunity to sample dozens -- she'd never been outright promiscuous, but she'd dated a lot before and after her first marriage, and she'd always enjoyed sex. So, the only way she might find a larger cock would be to advertise on Craig's List for "BBC" (or Big White one for that matter) and then to sift through scores of pretenders and embellishers. Not something that appealed to her, to say the least!

No, she wanted her handsome, viral stranger to have a smaller dick for one good reason. In order to be truly fucked by multiple cocks, she felt she needed to take each cock fully into her. No half or even three-quarter measures. She'd never been able to take her husband's cock fully into her mouth, and the idea of learning exotic deep throating techniques left her cold. She just wanted to take a whole cock in her mouth, it didn't really matter how large it was. And now she had the opportunity to do just that.

So while her husband continued to pound the length of his cock deep inside of her pussy, she opened her mouth further, allowing Mr. X to guide more of his into it. Luckily, he hadn't tried to jam the thing down her throat; that would have been a deal breaker for her. But she could tell that he was eager to get himself into her mouth as deeply as he could. His side-ways stance made this awkward, so they rearranged themselves so that Mr. X was a bit more underneath her.

As his cock moved further into her throat, she felt herself gagging -- in fact she found she couldn't help drooling a bit, her saliva dripping out of her mouth and down her cheek. Ordinarily, that would have completely grossed her out, made her want to stop, but now it only contributed to her feeling of being used; in the best, raunchiest, most debased and most deeply gratifying sense of the word. As he continued to push his cock into her mouth, past the base of her tongue, it began to feel more manageable and she found that the sensation wasn't so bothersome. It was almost pleasant, though she did have to make an effort to relax the mild sense of panic she felt and work at breathing through her nose. But the more important thing was how it made her feel deep inside. The closer she got to taking this cock fully into her mouth, the closer she got to her ultimate goal, the closer to being completely taken.

Finally, Mr. X's cock had begun to penetrate her mouth to the limit. Like the cork on a bottle of champagne, it hit its stop and simple couldn't go any deeper. At that point, his pubic bone came to a rest pressing against her cheek, and his testicles actually brushed up against her chin. Her muffled moans had begun to be accompanied by a kind of humming -- "Ah. Ah. Ah." -- and now as he reached the deepest point they turned into more of a "Ggh. Ggh. Ggh."

Mr. X began to rock back and forth on his knees, moving her head toward his cock to meet his thrusting, and away from his cock as he retreated. The open grasp of his hands on her head had become stronger. Not painful or rough, but strong enough to control her movements and get her mouth where he wanted it in time with each thrust. So this was what it was like to be mouth fucked -- it sounded so crude, but however it sounded, it was exactly what she wanted. Hugh was still gripping tightly to her buttocks as he pumped in and out of her and as she willingly met each of their thrusts, the three of them soon establishing a rhythm.

Now she was being more than (just) fucked in her mouth and cunt at the same time, she was being (fully! totally!) fucked in that way. And unlike so many other things, this experience was every bit as good, as satisfying, as complete as she had thought it would be. In and out. In and out. Taken and released. Pushed and pulled. Entered and exited. Fucked, fucked, fucked, over and over and over and over.

She dropped all of her thoughts and lost herself in the sensation and realization of what was happening. And they began to talk to her. Began to narrate what was happening, and their words weaved in and out of her mind. They described who she had imagined herself to be in her dirtiest, deepest dreams -- but now they also described her accurately as she was.

"You like that? You like to swallow cock? I can tell you love it. Most women really don't, but you do, don't you."

"I'm going to bury my cock in your pussy. I'm going to fuck you harder than you've ever been fucked, and you're going to love it. Your cunt was made to be fucked like this, wasn't it?"

As they said these nasty, dirty things to here, she made whatever little assenting noises she could, given that her mouth was stuffed with cock.

"Uhuh. Mmm..yesh. UmmUmmUmm. UmHmm UmHmm UmHmm. Ahummmmmmmmurrrrgh. Urrrr..Ghg! Ghg."

"You're such a good little cock-sucker. You must have had a lot of practice, huh? I knew it. I knew you were a slut when you first spread your legs for me. I said to myself, she might look like a self-respecting woman but I bet she'd get down on her knees at the drop of a hat just to get some cock in her mouth."

"You would too, wouldn't you? It made you crazy showing your panties off to him, didn't it? You would have sucked him off right there if you thought you could have gotten away with it. But your pussy is mine, isn't it? I can fuck it any time I want. You'd better be ready and wet for me whenever I want it."

At some point in all of this, she knew her husband had lost a bit of control. She could feel a stickiness added in to the mix of her sloppy cunt, feel him get a bit softer for a while. After these mini-orgasms he actually seemed to have the ability to carry on harder and faster, free of the concern of erupting immediately. He drilled into her with new vigor, his cock rapidly hardening again. Mr. X continued to offer the words she wanted to hear:

"That's right, take it, take it all. That's what you want isn't it? That's what you deserve. It's what your mouth is made for, sucking cock, taking it down your throat."

She sensed that the climax was approaching, struggled to recover enough rational thought to guide what would happen now. She singled subtly with her body that it was time to slow down a bit, and her partners -- still in sync with her -- began to follow her into a slower rhythm. She continued to slow things down, but with each thrust the men continued to bury themselves all the way. They were so close to coming, she was so close, and it was extremely difficult not to allow it to happen. She wanted Cal's cum in her pussy now. And even though she had never deliberately taken his cum in her mouth before, had always finished him off with an expert hand stroke -- she couldn't handle the texture of semen, had just never gotten used to it -- she wondered if she might take Mr. X's cum in her mouth now. She slowed things to almost a complete stop, then managed to pop her mouth out from around the cock.

"Not yet. Not yet. Don't come yet. I want to make you both cum, but not yet. There are other things that I want to do first."

She moved away a bit from Mr. X, and Hugh very reluctantly started to pull himself out of her, leaving a vacancy in her cunt as he retreated.

But then, again, Mr. X did something unexpected, something outside of the script, something that provided a reminder that she wasn't in quite as perfect control as she thought she was. He put his hands around her head again and pushed his cock back into her face, rubbing its tip across her lips and nose.

"You think you get to decide when you suck my cock? You think you can tease me some more? Huh?"

His tone was just ironic enough to make it clear that he wasn't really forcing her, but just aggressive enough to make it clear that he knew that she wanted to feel that he was.

"Open your mouth. Take my cock. Keep sucking it for me."

She let a gap open between her teeth and he shoved his cock in, forcing her to open her jaw further. This felt different -- not brutal, but raw. He moved in and out of her mouth rapidly. "Ghg. Ghg. Ghghghghghhghgh."

Shit, this wasn't part of the plan. She didn't want him to cum yet. She wanted his solid, hard cock to stay that way. She also didn't want to give up the power that his needy cock allowed her to exert over him. And maybe he knew that. Maybe he wanted to take back a little control. She needed it too.