Better Licking through Chemistry

He takes what is left of Steve's load without complaint. When we break the kiss, he doesn't bring up the bedroom issue again. He's being such a good boy about this, I decide to take him in my mouth as a reward. I know this feels good to him even though he can't get hard and he won't cum. I reward him with my mouth for a few minutes and then drop his limp dick trying to make it clear that I am trying as hard as I can to hide my disappointment. I crawl up and roll away from him.

He can't leave things there so he goes down on me. That's fine. I haven't had an orgasm since the two I had with Steve early this afternoon. Another one would feel good now. And it does. Chris jacks off as he licks me. He doesn't have the Viagra cream so it doesn't quite work. That's perfect. When we talk about this later, I can subtly suggest that it didn't work because he wasn't licking cum from my cunt.

==========================

Days later, after Steve and I had been in the bedroom again, Chris brought the issue up in a very oblique, noncritical way. I assured him I understood how he felt and reminded him that I had been very supportive-trying everything I knew to help him with his problem. I told him that I brought my current lover here because this is where I was comfortable. Then, on a lark, I added a point that seemed ridiculous to me. I told him that I felt somehow that by having my lover here I was involving Chris in my lovemaking. The fact that he didn't laugh in my face showed how far gone he was by this time.

Not only did he not laugh in my face. He thought that part of the reason he was having so much difficulty adjusting to the situation was that he didn't know who my lovers were. He fantasized and imagined the worst (he thought). I wondered how much worse he could have been imagining than what I was doing. And, for God's sake, he was completely impotent and sucking strangers' cum from his wife's cunt-wasn't that a situation that he should "have trouble adjusting to."

We talked about how he might be able to deal with it better. He didn't even suggest that I quit fucking other men. Surprisingly, he didn't raise the issue of my fucking them in our marriage bed. Maybe he had accepted that, too. Instead-and here was his great idea-he wanted to pick my partners. Wow! Talk about a surprise. My husband wanted to pick my lovers.

I told him that I wouldn't stop seeing the guy I was already seeing. I liked him and he satisfied me. And I told him that I didn't think my lover wanted to meet Chris or for Chris to know who he was. (I didn't really know what Steve would think about this. But I liked the idea of Chris not knowing for sure who was fucking me. Maybe it was someone he worked with-maybe a friend. He could never be sure.) If Chris wanted to pick some other guys, I would think about fucking them too and see how it goes.

Sheeze! He agreed. Go figure! What would he get out of this except more men's cum to lick from my well-used pussy? I realized how far I had broken him down. I had a momentary flash of guilt but mainly I had a feeling disgust mixed with an incredible rush of a sense of power.

The timing of this new program was going to work out well. Steve was starting basketball practice and he had less free time now. We still played around at the drug store and, sometimes, at home, but I couldn't count on him to be free as much as I wanted him to be.

About a week later, Chris told me that he had met a guy and begun talking to him about the possibility of fucking me. This fascinated me and I pressed him for details. It turned out that on some of the nights that I had been working late, Chris had time to do the chores I leave for him and still get off to a small, seedy bar near our neighborhood. It wasn't someplace that he would run in to anyone we knew, and I assumed that's why he had picked it.

Chris had met this guy-pretty cute guy, he insisted-and talked to him some about Chris's problem. Amazed, I asked what he had revealed. As it turns out, Chris hadn't been completely open about the situation, but he did tell someone who was almost a stranger that his wife was sleeping around because he couldn't satisfy her. Anyway, Chris said he wanted to ask this guy to come to the house on Friday night. I would get off early this Friday (and, I suspected, later, too) so I was kind of interested. But I didn't want Chris to think that it was a done deal.

"You can have him come over. But I decide how far things go. If I don't like him, nothing happens. I'll fuck who I want, you know. Do you understand?"

He did. So we agreed that Chris would bring Jim over about 8:00 this Friday. We'd have a drink together-all three of us-and I'd decide where it goes from there.

==========================

Friday, Steve doesn't come in to work at all-something about a tournament he is in-so I'm really ready for the evening. And, besides, the whole idea of Chris bringing home lovers for me is so weird and kinky that I'm hot just thinking about it. I spend some time deciding how to dress for this scene. I figure I don't have to be too obvious; everybody knows what the score is. On the other hand, I want Chris to know that I'm up for fucking Jim. Finally, I decide on an outfit that is ambiguous enough at a glance that I can pass for respectable. My black skirt is not skin-tight and it reaches nearly to my knees. My shoes are simple pumps with about two-and-a-half inch heels. My midnight blue silk blouse is loose and flowing; buttoned up as it is now, not even the tops of my breasts can be seen. On closer inspection, though, one would find that I'm wearing a wonder bra that accentuates my bust line rather dramatically, no panties and thigh high black stockings. My blouse looks equally good buttoned up, as it is now, or unbuttoned another button. If I unbutton it, Chris and Jim will catch glimpses of my breasts as I turn or bend over.

A few minutes after eight, Chris ushers Jim in. He makes an awkward introduction. I guess he's kind of nervous. I ask Jim if he wants something-leaving it like that long enough for him to stammer a little and then indicate that I meant something to drink. Then I send Chris off to get us both drinks. When Chris comes back, Jim and I are on the couch just chatting pleasantly. But progress has been made. Since Jim is, as Chris promised, kind of cute and interesting, I've discretely unbuttoned the top button of my blouse and I'm sitting on the couch with my legs crossed so that just the bottoms of the top band of my thigh-highs are visible.

Chris sits in the chair to the side of the couch and the three of us talk. Well, really, Jim and I talk and Chris sometimes chimes in with a word or two. I'm doing all the standard tricks-mostly for Chris's benefit. It's not like I really have to seduce Jim, obviously. Still, tracing my fingers around the top of my glass, licking my lips at appropriate times, running my fingers and thumb up and down the stem of my wine glass and so forth-trite as these things might be-has an obvious, and very different, effect on each of the men. Jim is hooked. He stares at me with obvious interest. Chris's look is a combination of pain and fascination.

The conversation is meaningless. But I note with interest that Jim is missing a ring that obviously usually resides on the third finger of his left hand. "So," I think, "he's cheating on his wife." Well, that's okay with me. But, I realize that this information will give me a bit of power over Jim, too.

When Chris goes to freshen up our glasses, I make an excuse to go to the kitchen, too.

"So, what do you think of Jim?" he asks-as if he is in control of the situation.

I tell Chris that I'm going to invite Jim back to our bedroom. He can take my comment as a reply, if he wants, but it wasn't intended as one. And I tell him exactly what I'm going to say to Jim. Chris gives me the drinks and says he is going to stay in the kitchen, but I won't hear of it. I tell him that this is his plan and his choice of men for me and he's going to sit right there while I whisper my invitation to Jim. I want Chris to be there and know exactly what I'm saying to Jim-even though he won't be able to hear.

When we're back in the living room, I don't try to be subtle. I just lean forward toward Jim-giving him a view down my blouse, I'm sure-so that my lips are just a fraction of an inch from his ear. It would be more natural, if you are whispering a secret, to lean to the side away from Chris, but I go to the side where I can see Chris while I whisper to Jim.

"I want to take you back to our bedroom and suck your cock and then have you give me the fucking of my life. Will you do that?" I whisper.

Jim doesn't know that all this time, I'm watching Chris closely. Chris knows exactly what I'm saying and I see his poignant expression. When I pull back, I see the shock on Jim's face. But that shock is overwhelmed by his excitement. His dumbfounded look being an obvious "yes," I get up and pull him after me. We walk down the hall, away from Chris, and I put my arm around Jim, kind of melting into his side, laughing lightly as we go.

Foreplay with Jim is pretty good. He's very attentive to my needs. He's one of these guys who gets off by making sure that I have a great time. So, while I do make good on my promise to suck his cock, mostly he is kissing me and licking me. He gives me a great tongue job and, by the time he's ready to enter me, I'm sopping wet.

He fucks pretty good, too. But, truth be told, some of the moaning and screaming I'm doing is for effect-Chris's more than Jim's. At moments, I wonder how he is doing knowing that I'm in our bedroom being fucked by the guy of his choice. But, mostly, I forget about Chris and just enjoy being fucked by a new man. God I like this situation. I like the feel of a new man exploring my body. I like the excitement I can see in his eyes and feel in his touch.

Jim fucks me about every way you can before he tries to build to his orgasm. It's as if he isn't sure he will get another chance so he wants to be sure to fuck me in every possible position this time. Or, maybe he is trying to find a position that will be best for me. I find all of them pretty good and have several pleasant orgasms. I figure I'll try for a big one when he is about to cum. If not, I'll fake it for his sake, and Chris's.

He starts working toward his orgasm when he has me on my back, with my legs up over his shoulders. This way he can really penetrate deeply. Also, I see that he enjoys watching my breasts slide up and down my chest as he is pounding away on me. I start talking dirty to him-egging him on. I don't know whether Chris can hear-for all I know, he is right outside the door listening to every word, every moan, every gasp. But in with 'OH, YES' and 'Ohmigod' and 'Fuck me', I throw a few references to my husband. Jim seems to like this. "Let my husband hear you make me cum," seems to push him over the top and I feel him shoot his seed in my cunt.

He collapses on top of me and my encouragements change to quiet praise. He seems content to lie here, panting heavily. But I am anxious for him to leave. I want Chris to come in and do his job and I'm not sure Chris is ready to do this in front of my lovers. In fact, I'm not ready for him to do this. I have a little more work with him before I let this happen.

It's easy enough to get Jim moving. Not that he's anxious to go. I'm pretty sure he would be happy to just fall asleep on me without a thought to Chris. I'm more considerate. I manage to get Jim moving happily and look the concerned wife while I do it. I tell Jim that he was terrific and that I can't wait until next time. (That makes him happy.) If, I add, his wife will let him go again. (That startled him!) But, I tell him, I'm worried about Chris and I think he and I needed to spend some time alone together. I don't tell him what Chris will be doing to me.

Jim understands completely-at least he thinks he does. When he finishes dressing, I ask him, on his way out, to tell Chris I need him. I hear them exchange some comments as they pass, but I can't understand what they are saying. Soon the front door closes and Chris comes back to our room. I've been careful not to move. I'm a sweaty mess, reeking of sex and filled with Jim's cum.

Chris knows the drill. He's already crawling between my legs to clean me up. I want to reinforce this, of course, so I suggest that he get the lubricant and stroke his cock while he licks me. After he begins to lick me and stroke his dick, I tell him in detail about sex with Jim. I tell how it felt to have Jim touch me, kiss me, suck my breasts. I tell him how Jim's cock felt in my hand, in my mouth, and in my cunt. I stretch out the description of how it felt when Jim pumped his load into me. I emphasize how much cum Jim shot into me, just as Chris is shooting his wad on to the floor. This time, I'm right with him. I have a great orgasm.

After he cleans up the floor, he climbs into bed with me and I tell him that tonight was great. I loved it. How was it for him? He says it was okay. He was very agitated while he was listening to Jim and me fucking in the bedroom. But he thinks that just made his orgasm more intense. This is just where I want him to be.

==========================

For several months, things proceeded in this fashion. I entertained Steve in our bedroom when I could, or grabbed a quickie with him at work or in the car outside our house when he drove me home. Whether Steve's cum was fresh or not, Chris cleaned me up and shot his wad on the floor while I told him about fucking or sucking Steve. Then, Chris cleaned up and came to bed.

Chris arranged a few more "dates" for me-a couple of times with Jim and several times with other guys. I really liked the variety. When you are fucking lots of guys during the same time period, you become quite sensitive to the individual differences in how they touch you, how forceful they are, what they like about your body and more. I'm eclectic, myself. I find something I like about every man I'm with. So did Chris, I guess. He always got his rocks off when he was cleaning me up. And that was the only time he got his rocks off. (I always replaced the Viagra-laced lubricant with anti-Viagra laced lubricant when we were finished. I didn't want Chris getting his kicks any other way.)

One night, when Chris had arranged a date with a new guy he met at the bar, things went quite differently. And my relationship with Chris changed, as his repertoire of (demeaning) sexual practices expanded.

==========================

Things start out very much as they have every other time he's brought men home for me. He and his "friend" get home about eight o'clock and we have a drink together. I flirt with the guy-his name is Cliff. At some point, I lean over and invite him back to the bedroom. We leave Chris in the living room and head down the hallway. As we walk down the hallway, still in sight of Chris, Cliff grabs my ass with his hand. This is bolder than anything other men have done, and I kind of like it. I giggle approvingly and Cliff obviously likes the response.

When we get into the bedroom, Cliff continues to act differently than other men Chris has brought home. Most men have acted like little boys who have just found out that mom left the cookie jar down where they could reach it. They wanted to take whatever they could before the jar got moved up where they couldn't reach it. And, they always acted as if they were getting more than they expected or deserved. Cliff is acting as if he is entitled to my body. I like his self-assurance, but I feel underappreciated.

When we get serious, he continues to just take me as he wants and, sometime, to give me instructions. But he is a pretty good fuck so I don't mind much. Before long, he has me on the side of the bed on my hands and knees while he stands by the bed fucking the bejesus out of me doggy style. This is fine-more than fine, really-until he draws his hard, slick cock completely out of my cunt and plunges it toward my asshole.

I stop him short, pulling away and turning over on the bed.

"What's the matter?" he asks-though it is more of a demand than a question. "Never had it in the ass before?"

"Listen, buddy," I say in my most commanding tone, "I'll decide what we do and when we do it."

"No, whore," he says with contempt, "you'll take it up the ass and then clean me off with your tongue!"

That floors me. I have never had a man talk to me like that. I pull the sheets up over my body and shriek at him, "Get the hell out of here right now!"

He looks at me with surprise. Surprise! What he says then, completely floors me: "Listen, whore, I paid two hundred bucks for you to take it up the ass and then clean me off with your tongue, and that's what you're going to do. If you don't like doing it, don't have your pimp husband advertising it."

So, Chris was whoring me! I couldn't believe it. I was stunned. Later, reflecting on it, I admitted a grudging admiration. Not just openly cuckolded but completely humiliated as he was, he still had the balls to sell his wife to strangers for sex without her knowledge. He was trying to take control of the situation. But this grudging admiration wasn't to come until later and, even when it did, it didn't make me willing to go along.

==========================

I got Cliff out. He never got his chance to fuck my ass and have me clean him off. And then I read the riot act to Chris. He knew he was in deep trouble-trouble that lasted for weeks-when I wouldn't let him lick the cum of my lovers out of me. He was cut off from the only sexual act he was allowed to get off on; and the Viagra cream didn't come out of its hiding place for a long time. The final punishment I imposed on him before allowing him to rehabilitate himself was as cruel for him as it was pleasant for me-and for Steve.

Steve's basketball team had won the regional tournament and he had done especially well. I wanted to find a special reward for him. I knew the reward was going to be me, but was undecided about how to serve me up. And then I figured out how I could reward Steve and punish Chris at the same time.

After hinting that he could get out of my bad graces for his reprehensible act of whoring me, I sent Chris out one night with a long list of groceries to buy and explicit instructions not to return until after 10:00 that night. I took Steve out to dinner and we got back to my house about 9:00. When Chris got home-precisely at 10:00-he found Steve's car right in the middle of the driveway. Chris had to park on the street. But that was the least of the ways in which Chris was to be displaced that night. When he got in the house, he found the master bedroom (or maybe it should be called the "mistress' bedroom") locked with a note on the door. The note instructed him to bring in the groceries and put them away, clean up the house and then sleep in the guest room. Then, the next morning, he is to serve me and my "guest" breakfast in bed promptly at 9:00.

I heard him outside our bedroom door when he took the note down and read it. I was pretty sure he would do as instructed. He was desperate. He hadn't gotten hard, much less, cum for nearly a month, now. I knew he had tried because the tube of lotion in my nightstand had been used several times. Of course, that tube had more of the anti-Viagra. Lubricating himself with that only made his limp dick shrivel even more. He was desperate to get hard and cum. He knew that only by getting back in my good graces could he do that. He'd do anything, no matter how humiliating, to please me.

Late into the night, Steve and I fucked. I would say that it didn't matter to me that the bed frame banged against the wall that divided our room from the guest room, but it did matter to me, very much. I wanted Chris to hear every thrust of Steve's cock into my cunt. And I was sure he couldn't have missed my moaning and screaming with pleasure. I didn't have to fake these-Steve is a terrific fuck-but I might have been little louder just for Chris's sake.