A Touch Of Mink

It seemed like an innocent enough request.

"Honey, join me tonight – please? You made me so horny, I can't stand it. I need something really… wicked."

Before you get your nose out of joint, 'innocent' has a different meaning for us than most people. It's not like I had never participated in one of Sable's 'booty calls'. Nor would it be the first time something I had done precipitated one of her cravings. I love to watch my beautiful wife fucking one of her studs and she adores having me do so. If that night's bedmate doesn't want an audience, or if one of us is not in the mood to play our little game, she shares everything with me afterwards. That is how our relationship stays strong. This Saturday night was to be one of our 'special' nights. I would be bound to a chair at my wife's bedside, helpless, watching a big, muscular, hung-like-a-horse stud fuck the love of my life stupid. We were both looking forward to it with eager anticipation.

***

My enchantress was 'dating' men professionally when I first met her. In fact, that is how we met. I was eighteen, stupid, awkward around women and alone. I was out cruising the streets one night. I had no clue what I was looking for, nor what to do about it if I found it. I was just… looking. She was brazenly strolling out in the street, hustling dates with her girlfriends. Even then, she was the most sensual siren I had ever laid eyes on. The moment she leaned into my window, flashed that mega-watt smile, and asked if I was "looking for a date", I was completely enthralled.

I had her – rather, she had me – right there in the front seat of my Mercedes. The sensation of her pierced tongue on my cock was indescribably intense. I came like there was no tomorrow - and was in a surreal, blissful fog the rest of the evening. Sometimes I think I still feel the ripples of that first magnificent orgasm. I had never before met a woman who so completely captivated me from first sight. She was a bit older and a whole lot more worldly-wise. Those were just two more really attractive things about her. It must sound completely insane, but I wasn't willing to let her go, even for a minute. I offered her a totally ridiculous amount of money to spend the night with me and she accepted. I know, I know: Never bring strays home. I couldn't imagine not bringing her home. That was three years ago. She has been with me ever since.

Did I say Sable is beautiful? Words cannot do her justice. In addition to her stunning facial features and rich, glistening, chocolate-toned skin, she possesses a dazzling, pearl-white smile and statuesque, magnificently well-endowed body. She has had work done, of course; the best money can buy. There have been other piercings, too; nipple, navel and clitoral rings, plus a 'triangle' through the nerve bundle behind her clit. When she is fucked, the sensations come from the front and rear of her love button, driving her insane with pleasure. My lover firmly believes you can never have too much of a good thing. Who am I to argue? I was pleased to sign the checks and dote on her through her recovery from the various surgeries and piercings. The results have been breath-taking. I could never understand the wags who find fault with making a good thing better – in Sable's case, bounteously, supernaturally better.

The love of my life was not about to change her ways just because we became husband and wife. While Sable no longer dates for money, she has used her other-worldly beauty and killer curves to attract and bed an endless array of attractive, muscular, well-endowed boy toys. Why do I put up with it? What should I do, kick her out? I could not even conceive of never again having her in my life. Try to understand. I adore the very idea of Sable fucking other men. My reasons are complex. I am not even certain I understand them, but I will try to explain.

I suppose you have already guessed I am not one of those hunks of beefcake that makes my sweetheart's eyes glaze over. She is actually taller than I – at least, she is when she wears a pair of 'Come Fuck Me' skyscraper stiletto heels, which she has every day as long as I have known her. I wouldn't dream of complaining. Those heels make her long legs look sensational. I used to tip the scales at a 'hefty' one hundred forty-five pounds, but I recently lost about ten pounds of that. Sable charitably describes my physique as "sleek". My manly attributes have always been equally unimpressive; certainly not what my wife prefers.

OK, I admit it; I am a wimp. It means a lot to me that Sable get what she craves – what I cannot give her. So, I allow her her men – and watch while she does them. We stumbled upon the elements of tying me to the chair at their side and verbal humiliation by accident and discovered they were pleasurable for both of us. At the same time, watching my wife do another man is voyeuristic Valhalla, like having my very own personalized porno show, live and on-demand, whenever I want to tune in. Do I feel threatened by it all? Well, yes, a little. I just wish… I'm not really sure what I wish.

How does a guy like me compete with dozens of Mr. Olympia wannabes? None of them are worth thirty million dollars, liquid, plus what I have tied up in the 'family business'. That's a lot more. I made my money the old-fashioned way; I inherited it. I paid a steep price, too. My mover-and-shaker bank-president father died of cancer. As much as she loved me, my mother never overcame his loss and swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. I spent the year after her death padding around a big, well-furnished, but otherwise-empty home, alone. Richie Rich, poor little rich boy? That was me. Then, by whoever's grace, I found that one special person to share it all with.

Make no mistake; Sable adores the pampered, privileged lifestyle. She certainly cleans up nice; it's easy when you have money. She is intelligent, articulate, warm, funny, the perfect companion and soul mate – when she wants to be. The street-wise slut in her runs deep, as evidenced by her provocative makeup and hairstyle, wickedly-long, curving fingernails, and lurid, explicit wardrobe and jewelry. When she has her head into that mindset, she lapses into the slurring, sing-song, profanity-laced jargon of the streets from which she came. She exudes a wicked, dangerous sensuality from every pore, like the scent of expensive perfume.

I'm crazy in love with that side of her and she knows it. It's hard to tell which side of her is reality and which is affectation. Perhaps they are both real; two sides of the same coin. She has me wrapped around her little finger and I know it. She could take me to the cleaners, take everything I have, leave me in her dust and make me love her for it, but she doesn't. Sable enjoys my companionship, our conversations and sharing, caring relationship. Oh, yeah – I also have a gift for long, slow, sensual, deep oral sex that sends her right to Mars and keeps her there. None of her boy toys do that for her, and we both know it.

In case you hadn't already figured it out, our relationship – both personal and sexual – is complex and anything but plain-vanilla. Our sex games are the ultimate, perverted expression of our love for each other. Sable adores sharing her wicked, adulterous love life with me, cuckolding me openly and notoriously, flaunting it in my face, shaming me with my less-than-impressive attributes, knowing I love her all the more for it.

It amused her to teach me to appreciate the differences in her lovers' attributes. Length was only the beginning. There was also the thickness of the shaft, whether it was straight or curved, the size and shape of the bulbous head and the size of his testicles. Sable was a self-proclaimed "size queen". She loved 'em really big. She also appreciated the seemingly endless diversity of thicknesses and shapes. Under her loving tutelage, I learned to do the same.

One of her favorite teases was to take me out to a nightclub with her while she hunted for fresh meat. My loving wife was not ashamed to visually and tactilely examine a prospect's equipment right in front of me. If he measured up, she would grab him by the hand and bid me to follow them. She would take her prospect to some reasonably private place, whether inside or outside the club, and try him out on the spot. If his performance was up to her exacting standards, only then would she take him home with us.

I observe in rapt fascination, like a train wreck in progress that I cannot tear my eyes from. Watching these stallions take my adulterous slut, use her, have their way with her, and seeing the glazed, stupefied look of utter sexual satisfaction in her eyes is an industrial-strength turn-on for me. The humiliation of knowing I could never hope to satisfy her that way makes it all the sweeter.

The rules had always been simple and clear-cut; look, but don't touch (or talk) while she was in a scene. She might talk to me if she wished, telling me how much of a man her lover du jour is, how well he satisfied her, compared to my pathetic excuse for a cock. Her lover, or lovers (Sable isn't beyond bedding two hunks at once), usually got a laugh at her wimp cuckold being forced to watch while a 'real man' filled the wimp's slut wife beyond full.

Oh, I could 'touch' plenty – later on, after the guy had had his fill and left. Then, I was invited –commanded - to join her in bed. She further humiliated me by insisting I fuck her cum-laden pussy with my little cock, knowing it is a useless gesture for both of us. My manhood barely made contact with her stretched, slippery hole. She would then tell me she could barely feel me inside her, that I was only good for eating the cum from her pussy – and eat her, I did.

Over the course of our relationship, I had made a point to learn to pleasure her orally as she pleasured me. My delighted wife had been more than happy to help, patiently teaching me all the tricks and techniques she used to drive a sex partner wild. She was certainly pleased with the results and so was I. Those other guys don't have a clue what they are missing! My talented tongue and lips never failed to bring her to yet another string of gut-wrenching orgasms.

"You missed your calling, Sugar," my mate commented coyly. "You show a lot of promise as a slut."

After I had sated her at last, she would lie next to me and jerk me off, telling me how wonderful it was to be fucked by so many strong, well-hung studs, to spread her legs and be filled with a huge cock on demand. Oh, God, that made me so hot! Sometimes she finished me off with that marvelous tongue of hers. When I came, it felt like gallons.

I arranged a little surprise for my lover. I had always been infatuated with her erotic pierced tongue. That tongue had driven me to the heights of ecstasy the first time I had 'dated' her and in every blowjob she had given me since. To show how much she meant to me, I decided to take her pleasure to the next level.

In what was, for me, an act of incredible daring, I had had my own tongue pierced – actually, double-pierced. It sported twin gold-ball barbells. I had had a hell of a time hiding it from her while it healed. I coyly withheld my oral favors from her, turning it into a little role-reversal game that made her crazy.

"Bitch," she complained mirthfully, "if you don' get over here and give me my candy, I'm gonna give that cute little butt of yours such a reaming, you won' walk straight for a week."

Finally, the swelling had subsided enough to take my loving wife for a little 'thrill ride'. You could have heard Sable's screams a block away. After her vision cleared and her breathing stabilized, she grabbed my head and held my nose until I was forced to open my mouth to breathe. She got a good, long look at my new hardware, shaking her head with bemusement.

"You little slut," she chuckled. "What am I going to do with you? Never mind. I'll think of something. In the meantime, get back down there and put that talented tongue to work."

***

That event led to Saturday night; the night the rules – and everything else – changed forever. Derek, one of her regulars, was servicing her. I sat before them, naked, tied to the chair, my eyes glued to their tangled bodies. He was impressive; ten inches, fully erect, and as big around as my wrist. I had always held a special fascination for him and his impressive manhood, one I wouldn't want to explain to any of my friends. It wasn't that I dreamed of being a 'real man' like him. I knew that could never be.

As Sable had been quick to point out, my fully-erect four-inch cock was not exactly a world-beater. In truth, that had never been my ambition. In the preceding few weeks, I hadn't been able to get it up at all, in spite of the provocative display of raw sexuality Sable and her stallions served up several times a week. That had fanned my humiliation to no end. It had been frustrating, too. You know how guys always say if they don't have sex for a while, their balls ache? Mine sure did!

Sable and Derek had done 'The Nasty' for two hours. He had filled her with so much cum, it was seeping from her pussy in a constant, insistent flow. His semi-soft cock was considerably bigger than my fully-erect one – when I was fully-erect - and was dripping with his cream and Sable's pussy juice. At my wife's bidding, the muscular Adonis released me from my bonds, grabbed my by my hair and thrust my face into Sable's weeping snatch. I ate her out, sucking and licking her clean like a man possessed. All the while, the haughty hunk taunted me, belittling my limp, diminutive 'manhood'.

"You like that, don't you, Pussy Boy?" Derek smirked as I cleaned the last of him from Sable's sopping slit. "You eat pussy like a pro. In fact, you are as big a slut as your wife. Do you like to suck cock as much as you like to eat pussy? I've seen the way you look at me. Why don't you show me how you take care of a real man?"

With that, he grabbed my head by the hair once more. This time, he pulled me towards him, until my face was mere inches from his still-formidable phallus. I swiveled my eyes towards my wife, hoping for rescue. She looked on with a bemused smile on her overfull lips. Rescue was the furthest thing from her mind.

"Go ahead, Sugar. A husband and wife should share everything. I want you to know first-hand the thrill I feel when I suck a man's cock. You already have the skills. That pierced tongue of yours tells me you want to be a good little oral slut. I would love to watch you for a change."

I was unaware I wanted anything like that! Derek needed no further urging. He pulled my face closer still, parting my lips with the knob-like, purplish helmet of his tool.

"Take it, Pussy Boy," he softly commanded. "Suck it good."

My heart was pounding. Perspiration broke out on my forehead. I shuddered involuntarily as what I thought to be a wave of revulsion coursed through my body. I was trapped. There was no escape. They were going to make me to do this….

I opened my mouth and allowed Derek to slide his snake into it. The muscleman jerked involuntarily the first time my twin gold ball studs caressed his sensitive glans. He stroked slowly, pushing his cock a little deeper with each stroke. With each thrust, his cock got harder and harder, bigger and bigger.

I gagged at first. Gradually, I became used to the sensation. I learned to breathe through my nose as he forced his dick into my throat. The taste was… well, no different than eating out Sable's pussy after one of her dates. The sensation was quite different. One word flashed through my head: cocksucker. There was no escaping it; he – they – had made me a cocksucker. Sable read my thoughts. She had climbed out of bed and now stood behind me, softly stroking my head with her two-inch, curved talons.

"That's it, Pussy Boy," she cooed, echoing Derek's new pet name for me. I knew you could do it. All it took was the right… motivation. You are showing real promise as a slut. I am so proud of you! Now, I want to see you make him cum. Swallow every drop like a good little cocksucker!"

I wanted so much to please my beautiful wife. My heart pounded madly in my chest as Derek's monster fucked my mouth. I didn't want to admit it, but it was exciting; so torrid, forbidden, carnal. It had never occurred to me the oral skills I used to drive Sable crazy could do the same to a man. That is exactly what happened with Derek. He came fast and hard. I tried my best to gulp it all down, but a little escaped around the corners of my mouth and dribbled down my chin. It tasted so good!

"Baby, that was just perfect," my wife purred. "You look so cute with that pierced tongue – and nobody knows how to use it better. That little bead of cum dribbling down your chin is so sexy! I always knew you had it in you. Speaking of which, I think it's time we… widen your horizons."

Sable and Derek untied me.

"Wait a minute," my wife chirped. "We have to set the proper tone. Here, put these on."

With that, she stripped off her babydoll nightie, garter belt, stockings, and six-inch-stiletto 'Come Fuck Me' pumps, then dressed me in her fuckwear. It was even more humiliating to discover everything fit, right down to her fuck-me pumps.

"There!" my lover purred. "Now you look more like a slut. I think it's time to put my new cumcatcher to work. Derek, would you like to pop the little slut's cherry?"

"I would be happy to."

The two of them then helped me onto the bed. They positioned me face-down on my knees and forearms. Pillows were stacked under my tummy, forcing me to thrust my bare ass high into the air. Sable sat before me, propped up against the headboard. She spread her legs wide and arranged herself so my face was in her pussy.

"Eat me, Pussy Boy," she murmured appreciatively. "Make me cum. That's all you are really good for. You aren't much of a man, so tonight I am going to have Derek make you his punk bitch. You will like that, won't you? I know you will."

Sable grabbed my head with both hands and jammed my face into her slit. I couldn't move, couldn't protest, couldn't do anything but eat. I felt a finger coated with goo slide into my virgin hole and dart in and out, making my slit as slick as Sable's. The finger was withdrawn. I felt a pressure, a monstrous presence at my entrance. I instinctively tensed.

"Relax, Sugar," Sable trilled, "don't fight it. It is going to happen anyway. If you resist, you will just make it hurt more. I don't want to hurt you. I want you to feel as wonderful, as sexy as I do. Wait a sec; I have something that will help."

"Something" was a couple of hits of Amyl from a small brown bottle she held under my nose. Sable had always been very open about her use of mood-enhancing substances. She avowed they heightened the sensations of sex, making her orgasms even stronger. I had never begrudged her those little pleasures, but had not shared them with her either – until now. The drug made me giddy, light-headed. My whole body felt looser….

Derek entered me slowly. I felt I was being torn apart by his monster dong. He pushed, paused, pushed, paused, entering me a little more each time, then waiting for me to adjust. Between repeated hits of Amyl and the fragrant smell of Sable's pussy, I was becoming woozy. It took a while – and seemed like an eternity – but Derek's cock burrowed its way entirely into my virgin hole. He stroked back and forth, pulling it almost all the way out, then sliding it back in until his bull balls slapped against my thighs. It still hurt, but not as much as before. There was another sensation; one of fullness and… contentment. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from my soul.