A Happy Marriage: Aubrey's Epiphany

Phil timed his own climax to coincide with Aubrey's and I heard him shouting too, though not as loud as her. When they were both done, still basking in the post-coital glow, I heard her say "Hey go in the kitchen and get me a straw, they're in the cupboard over the stove." Apparently this guy was as obedient as I was. I heard him stand up without another word and retrieve a drinking straw. "Grab him," she said, and before I knew what was happening I'd been lifted by my bonds from behind the couch. Leaving my ankles and wrists bound, he untied my ankles from my wrists so I could kneel in front of her where she lay on her back at the edge of the couch. She was holding the straw. Her legs were open and back, and her ass was tilted. She still wore the corset. Her face had fresh, wet rivulets of mascara on it--at least that mystery was solved. She'd gotten them through the involuntary tearing that happens when you gag on something, like a cock. The skirt, as I'd surmised, was pushed up around her midsection. Her panties where nowhere to be seen. Her cunt gaped open obscenely and her whole pubic area was red and swollen. She looked at me with contempt mingled with amusement. "You're going to clean me out, did you know that?" I didn't quite get what she meant until she took the straw and inserted it into her waiting snatch.

This was really more than I could do. Such was my subjugation, though, that I couldn't speak. I simply stared at her with a disbelieving look on my face.

Aubrey's face twisted into an furious expression and darkened with rage. Quietly now, with a fake and menacing pleasant tone in her voice, she said, "You are going to do this. If you do not do this, you are going to regret it. Phil held back before; I don't need to tell him to. He could easily break every bone in your body and dump you into a river; would you like that?" I wouldn't like that. Shaken, looking at the straw with reluctance, I slowly leaned forward and took it into my mouth. Sharply, now: "Suck, you little queer. Suck it out."

With infinite disgust, I sucked semen out of my wife's cunt through a drinking straw. It was thick, about the consistency of vanilla pudding; it was hot, body temperature at least; it tasted extremely strongly of salty body odor. It was the most revolting thing I'd ever experienced in my life. I instantly gagged and tried to pull back, but she grabbed my hair and held me there, her voice filled with amusement now: "Oh, it's not that bad, is it? I just drank some twenty minutes ago myself. I thought it was tasty!" I steeled my nerve and sucked as hard as I could, the better to get it over with quickly. There must have been about an ounce. How could a guy coming for the fourth time in one evening produce an ounce of jizz? What kind of guy was this? Finishing my disgusting task, I turned to look at him, standing there like an over-sized black Adonis, and got my first look at his cock.

This wasn't a cock. It was a monstrosity. I'd never seen anything like it, in any locker room I'd ever showered in in my life. It was soft, now, and even so it hung down at least eight inches. The head, even soft, was the size of a ping-pong ball. Each massive testicle was the size of a chicken egg. It was black, of course, and heavily veined. She saw me staring and laughed. "You like what you see, girl-man? He certainly has you beat in the cock department. Maybe later you'll get what you obviously want--a closer look. A MUCH closer look." This last made her giggle again. What could she mean by that?

Aubrey commanded me to lay face down on the carpet, wrists still tied behind my back, ankles still bound. She stood up and I could hear her unlacing her corset. A moment later both it and the skirt landed on the floor next to me. They went into the kitchen and I could hear them making drinks, laughing, chatting in a desultory manner as though they were having lunch at a cafe. If the cafe served mixed drinks and the clients were totally naked, that is. I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but they certainly were enjoying themselves on their little "date."

Thinking about it further, I realized that Phil really had no personal stake in this experience. He was just here for the sex and the fun--it was nothing personal. For my wife, though, it was completely personal, and the sex, however much she enjoyed it (and she was certainly enjoying it), was secondary to the opportunity she had to humiliate and subjugate me, to feel the power I'd always denied her in our marriage, to get revenge for my killing of her old personality, and to take out her anger for my former dissatisfaction with her sexual performance. In this way, Phil was just an extension of her psyche, her will. There were probably a hundred, a thousand Phils out there that could have played exactly the same role--his personal significance was minor. This was between me and my wife.

Finishing their drinks, they came back into the living room. Phil turned me over onto my back and they stood there above me like two cruel demigods contemplating the next torment of some poor mortal plaything. "Well, loverboy, how about we give him a bit closer of a view this time," Aubrey said to Phil, and he grinned in silent assent. She straddled my head, facing towards my legs, like we were going to 69. Her slit was a bare three inches above my nose. I could see every bit of it, every glisten, every fold, in intimate detail. Impossibly (or so I'd always thought,) she was obviously sopping wet. I could see her moisture glistening at the opening of her vagina; as I watched, enough gathered there to form a drop, which fell onto my cheek. Involuntarily, I began to develop an erection, which made her laugh and say "Awww, look at that little guy. He's so cute. He's standing up all by himself!" Phil got down on his knees behind her. Bending far down into a doggy-style position, leaning over to one side so that her head was nowhere near my dick, she reached back, using two fingers to spread open her labia, and said "Come and get it, Phil!"

Phil didn't need any encouragement. He paused for a moment to stroke himself hard again, (who WAS this guy?) declared "Here I come, slut!" and rammed the first seven inches of his twelve-inches-when-erect cock into my wife's waiting, hungry cunt. It happened quickly, but I could see the opening to her birth canal distend hugely as that now plum-sized head passed into her. She screamed with pleasure as it drove deeper and her lips closed around the slick black shaft. Phil got up a steady rhythm, about two strokes a second, and she moaned and screamed as he impaled her again and again, right in front of my eyes. His shaft seemed to get bigger towards the base and at the very bottom was bigger than the head was. On each long plunge I could see with great clarity Aubrey's inner lips being pushed into her cunt. With each withdrawal, they stretched out of her at least an inch to cling to his shaft as it pulled out. She made a low, gutteral "OH" sound at the extremity of each plunge. He was actually large enough that he seemed to be displacing internal organs--I could see her belly bulge over and over again and the indistinct shape of his manhood inside of her.

As the approached her first orgasm, Phil stepped up the pace and began ramming my wife's cunt twice as fast as before, still only inserting about 7 inches of himself. Glancing down, I could see her tits swinging wildly, her large, erect nipples brushing my stomach with each stroke. When she came, screaming and digging her fingernails into the flesh of my hip, tendons standing out like iron cords in her thighs, another stream of clear liquid shot out of her urethra and splattered all over my nose and mouth, pouring down my cheeks and onto the carpet.

Phil slowed down a lot now and let her cool off, though he didn't stop. She continued to moan, but her voice was ragged and raw after this last, powerful climax. "Oh my GOD," she breathed in a shuddering voice, "nobody has ever fucked me like that before, Phil, nobody. Especially not this little piece of garbage I'm using for a mattress and cum-sponge. Do you think he is learning anything from his close inspection?" Phil didn't answer--he just responded by picking up the pace of his thrusts again.

This time, he clearly intended to get something for himself. I could see that he was forcing marginally more and more of his dick into her with each thrust, and Aubrey's voice told the story--she was experiencing something astonishing, stupendous, beatific. At this point his huge balls were slapping the top of my forehead with each long stroke and, if even possible, her shouts were louder. They didn't even take coherent form anymore--they were a series of guttural, animalistic grunts--"auhu, aaauh, uuah"--like the air was being driven out of her lungs each time he slammed into her.

Now all but the last inch was in on each stroke and it was clear that he was close to bottoming out. His balls were now dragging across my forehead down to my eyebrows, over and over, and her teeth were clenched against the intense feelings she was experiencing. Suddenly Aubrey opened her mouth, took a huge breath, and shouted (punctuated by thrusts of Phil's manhood) "DO YOU SEE THIS, *slap* YOU PIECE OF DONKEY *slap* SHIT? DO YOU--oh FUCK--SEE *slap* THIS? THIS IS HOW *slap* A REAL MAN--oh god--FUCKS *slap* A WOMAN. *slap* THIS IS *slap* HOW YOU--oh my GOD, FUCK!--NEVER *slap* FUCKED ME!"

As if to punctuate this statement, Phil grabbed both of Aubrey's thighs, pulled his entire dick out of her with a solid popping noise, poised himself for two or three seconds over her dripping opening, and then rammed his entire throbbing tool into her cunt as far as it would go, his pubic hair filling her ass crack, her snatch distended to the size of a soda can. He held her there, his balls resting on the bridge of my nose, his fingers digging deep into the flesh of her hips, his biceps standing out against her involuntary attempt to escape, imprisoning her there, impaled on his shaft. She lost all muscle control and collapsed on me, going into convulsions of pleasure, like she was having a seizure. I don't know, maybe she was. A high-pitched keening escaped her lips--she was past any pretense of controlling her voice. He held her in this position for at least fifteen seconds, and she orgasmed the entire time, bucking and flopping around on me like a fish out of water. As she began to wind down from this climax, he pulled out just four inches or so, thrust back in, and held again, and she went through the whole experience all over, shuddering, keening, out of control.

Now he began ramming that last four inches, down to that soda-can-sized base, into Aubrey's grossly distended cunt so fast that it was a blur. My wife simply held on for dear life, one hand dug into my thigh and the other gripping my dick so hard that it brought tears of pain to my eyes. No man, not even a sex god like Phil, can keep up that pace for long, and after a couple of minutes I saw him tense up, grip both her hips again, pull out almost all the way, so that her lips were stretched tightly around his even bigger head, and then ram his instrument home again. A sudden yelp escaped her throat and she slapped the ground as his seed yet again filled her, squirt after squirt gushing from his spasming member. She was out of orgasms, purely, totally, completely exhausted. Her legs gave out and her crotch collapsed onto my face, so that I had to turn my head to even breathe. His cock was still embedded in her. Tenderly, he stroked her back, shoulders, her rump, uttering soothing whispers and running his fingers through her hair. I was astonished--I never thought that a man capable of such sexual exertions could be so gentle, and yet he was. Shame filled my heart as I realized that I'd never taken the time to comfort and soothe my wife after sex like this. This guy really was a better lover than I was.

After a couple of minutes of this, she sighed, completely satisfied. "Phil, please pull out. I want my little cum-guzzling sex rag here to sing for his supper, now." Phil pulled out after one last gentle caress of her ass, again with a loud popping sound. Aubrey punched me in the stomach, causing me to gasp, and said "Open your mouth, cum-rag. I need another cleanup on Aisle Vagina." I didn't even try to argue this time. I figured I'd done it once and I could get through it again. She sat up, poised vertically over my mouth, and a great quantity of semen, even more than last time, spilled out of her and into my waiting mouth. After the initial torrent abated, I swallowed, not without a certain degree of gagging again, and then stuck my tongue into her pussy to lick a couple of thin ropes of cum that hadn't slipped out yet. She was so stretched, so distended, that my tongue didn't even touch the sides of her birth canal as I inserted it as deep as I could to get the last bit of filth from her.

After this she climbed up onto the couch next to Phil where he was already dozing, lying on his back. She laid down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder and her arm and leg across his chest and body, and within 30 seconds I could hear her snoring gently too. I experienced another pang as I realized this was the position she used to take with me after we'd laid down in bed to go to sleep for the night.

They'd forgotten (or not) to untie me. I struggled to my feet and hopped down the hallway to the bathroom to take a piss, which I had to do sitting down because my hands were still tied behind my back. I wasn't tired at all--I hadn't gotten any exercise, I'd just laid there. What now? I realized that the only answer for me, the only thing that seemed right, the only thing I could even contemplate, was to wait at Aubrey's feet like a dog. She was truly my mistress now, and I lived only to please her. I went to the foot of the couch and knelt, looking at the floor. Throughout this entire experience I'd had the plug in my ass, and I hoped that when she woke she'd allow me to defecate. As I knelt I thought over the evening--my initial excitement that we were going to be back in the saddle, my surprise and pleasure that she was into something kinky, and then the transformation that I'd experienced as she forced her will upon mine. Twenty-four hours ago it would have been impossible for me to imagine anything like what had happened ever taking place. It still seemed like something out of a dream, or a nightmare.

About an hour and a half later, they both woke up. Aubrey stretched like a cat, rolled on top of Phil, and kissed him, tenderly, passionately, her tongue darting out to tease his lips, his neck. After they'd made out for a few minutes, she stood up and staggered off to the bathroom to piss. Phil didn't look at me, didn't apparently even think about me. I was just furniture. When she came back, she drifted over to Phil, now sitting up on the couch scratching himself, and straddled him. She leaned over and whispered something into his ear. When he nodded his head in assent, she giggled like a girl and ran down the hallway and up the stairs to our bedroom. When she came back, she held a bottle of lube.

It wasn't possible, was it? I'd lost count of how many times Phil had climaxed that evening, and yet here he was, sitting on the couch, cock pointing at the ceiling like the Empire State Building. The damn thing must have been a foot long. They were actually going to fuck again, here at four in the morning!

After considering for a moment, Aubrey put the lube on the end table. "Fuck this, why should I waste good lube when I have a perfectly good sex-tool kneeling right there at the end of the couch?" Reaching out, she cuffed me on the side of the head so that I fell onto the floor again. She squatted over me, spread her ass cheeks, and forced her anus down onto my mouth. "Get to licking, ass-brain," she commanded. I had no choice. I stuck my tongue out and began to lick her tiny brown rosebud of a sphincter. She gasped in pleasure. "This is really more than you deserve, cocksucker. You don't deserve to give me any pleasure at all, and this feels SO GOOD. But I need someone to lube up my ass, and I'm not gonna ask Phil to do it. He's the cock, here, not the service station. C'mon, get in there a little deeper, shit for brains." She pulled her cheeks harder and I stuck my tongue out farther, actually going a couple of inches into her and swirling my tongue around, adding as much saliva as I could muster. She moaned lightly. I didn't taste anything vile. She must have cleaned herself out before I'd gotten home that night.

After a couple of minutes of this, Aubrey declared that she was ready. She grabbed my hair (apparently her new preferred method of directing me from place to place) and pulled me over to kneel between Phil's open legs, where he still sat on the couch. She pushed my chin down onto the cushion so that I was only a couple of inches away from his cock, staring up at that massive head.

This experience was obviously going to be different. I had no reason to assume she wasn't accustomed to anal sex, since she seemed to have picked up years' worth of experience in the few short months we'd been apart, but the way she was approaching the situation it was clear that she was going to be in control. She climbed up onto the couch and squatted with her legs on either side of Phil's, facing away from him and towards me, and slowly, ever so slowly, lowered herself onto his bulbous shaft, gripping each butt cheek and pulling on it hard to spread herself as wide open as possible. As his head began to enter her, she caught her breath suddenly and groaned in pain. She wasn't ready yet. With a pout, she sat down on Phil's lap, leaned back as far as she could, and told me to try a little harder this time.

Obediently, I raised my head and stuck out my tongue. To help out, Phil reached around and pulled her apart for better access. I went to work, dousing her as much as I could, working my tongue into all of the folds inside of her sphincter, working out as much saliva as I could muster. She moaned lightly just like before and I found to my surprise that I was filled with pleasure at the thought of pleasuring her. I redoubled my efforts.

After a minute or two of this Phil slipped his index finger into Aubrey's asshole to test out my work; then the finger from the other hand. This caused her to moan a bit louder, but when he had gotten both in up to the second knuckle, she gasped in pain again. "Listen, just pull me apart a little bit, Phil, and let's let Knock-Nuts the Slobber Boy work a little deeper." Phil complied, pulling her asshole open wider til there was a good inch in between his fingers and a gaping hole in between. I spit into this hole for all I was worth, extending my tongue to its maximum length and working the roof and floor of the chasm in front of me. After I'd done that for a minute, Phil shifted his grip to a top-and-bottom one, and I worked the sides in the same way.

"I'm ready, I'm ready, don't get yourself all worked up, asswipe," she said to me when she noticed that I'd developed an erection. She pushed my chin back down to its previous resting place and squatted over Phil's wang again. This time she was considerably more slippery and considerably more relaxed; with the application of a little weight and a wince and a gasp, she had that massive head buried in her anus. Immediately she experienced an orgasm, albeit a silent one, pausing for several seconds to convulse lightly, poised there on the tip of his cock, holding his shoulder for support. I stared at the point where this massive tool disappeared into my wife, her asshole obscenely stretched into an 'O' shape about the size of a silver dollar, with a plum-sized mass just behind the sphincter muscles. She really was a completely different person than before, I thought.