BrokenHeartsVille: Slut Wife III

I could hear Joe Nichols' "Brokenheartsville" blasting through the bathroom door as I reached for the handle. Dan had his phone volume on maximum and was harmonizing to the piece perfectly.

"...Here's to the past, they can kiss my glass! I hope she's happy with him..."

I stood by the door with his towel and beer bottle, listening to him sing. Unlike most of us shower pop rockers, he didn't try to overwhelm the original vocals but rather chose his own notes carefully to meld with the music. I had no idea the boy could sing like that, and his voice had a way of making me damp. It always has, even without the tunes.

"...I think the devil drives a Coup de Ville. I watched 'em' drive away over the hill..."

I tapped on the door then opened it slightly, holding the towel and the beer through the space.

"Get in here, Meg. I thought you'd never show up."

I shaded my eyes with my empty hand as I stumbled forward, feigning my embarrassment. Dan had the shower blasting full throttle and the curtain was crystal clear, so there was little left to the imagination. That was convenient because I hate using my imagination.

"You can cut that shy shit out right now, Meg. You've already seen what I've got less than an hour ago and besides, you're a nurse. I've got nothing you haven't seen before."

Well, I'd take issue with that assessment, but regardless...I dropped my visual shield and handed over the beer bottle, placing the towel on the counter while glancing at Dan's reflection in the mirror. The steam hadn't yet clouded my view, which was plenty captivating even for a nurse.

"Everything look alright?" Dan inquired, waking me from my hypnotic trance. It couldn't have looked better. The water droplets raced down his muscular arms and over his linebacker thighs. The soft pelt of his chest bulged as he soaped himself to a lather. "You got this stuff for me?"

Dan had discovered the bottle of Old Spice Timber body wash strategically placed by the sink. I thought it fit his persona perfectly when I bought it, accompanied by toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, and deodorant. Yes, I kept the bath stocked for Dan, and everything was customized.

"That's for you, hot stuff. You'll be happy to know that I've ordered a set of new towels as well. They should be coming in next week." I opened the cabinet, pretending to be looking for something, distracting myself from Dan's vision of loveliness.

"Get out of the cabinet and talk to me, Meg." Dan's voice rumbled over the music as he leaned out of the tub to shut down his phone.

"Why'd you do that, Dan? I rather like your singing. Though I thought the devil drove a Harley Davidson, not a Coup de Ville."

"Oh, that was low, Meg."

I immediately regretted the comment. Susan was Dan's ex and her boyfriend, Vic, rode a Harley. He rebuilt them, in fact, at his body shop. It was no joking matter. Months after the fact, Dan would still grasp at any opportunity to interrogate me about what exactly made Susan leave him for Victor. He wanted details. Was it the sex? Was it just an old relationship that she'd never gotten over? Was it the wild, spontaneous lifestyle?

There was plenty I could have told him, none of which he really wanted or needed to hear regardless of his insistence. Susan was one for details and she used me as much for a sounding board as she did to distract Dan. So specific and descriptive she was that I felt like I knew every bump and ridge on Victor's cock, even though I had never seen it. The truth of the matter was that Susan had never intended to choose between Dan and Vic. She intended to have them both. Getting caught in the act was unintentional.

"Was that the thing with Victor, Meg?" Dan closed his beautiful brown eyes and circled his belly with his foamy hands. "That damn motorcycle?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I've told you before it was just a wild hair up Susan's ass. She told me she regretted the day she ran into him. He was just an old flame, Dan. And God knows, I regret getting stuck in the middle of all that shit. I'll never forgive myself."

"She regretted me catching her; that's what she regretted. And she regrets it so much that she's still fucking that bastard."

"You wouldn't take her back, so she's got nothing better to do. Besides, you're having too much fun with all those college girls to return to married life. Seems like she did you a favor."

"Are you jealous of those college girls, Meg?" Dan lifted his arms, washing the suds from his sandy hair. He had lightened his hair color. I hadn't asked how, but it looked nice. His biceps and triceps flexed as he worked, and the tanned ripples of his abdomen looked like waves of beach sand.

There's something about a flat muscular abdomen. It's just so sexy. I'll give up some girth on the arms and legs just to get that washboard stomach. But with Dan, I didn't have to give up anything...except myself.

"Am I jealous of those silly bimbo sleazebags you peg at your pad every night? Pleeeease, Dan!" I was absolutely green with envy.

"Let's not get too judgmental, Meg. I remember a story about a girl who got nailed on the kitchen table by a baseball player from her English class, right in front of her boyfriend no less."

Damn, I hated it when Dan remembered everything I'd ever told him! Those pregnant fall nights of discourse in the kitchen just kept coming back to haunt me. I've frequently wondered how he was able to coax all that naughtiness out of me as we sat alone together sharing our secrets. I just spilled my guts about every dick I'd ever put in my mouth and every climax I'd ever experienced. Meanwhile, Andy and his friends were a few steps away, engrossed in some football game.

I even detailed Dan on how I got pregnant, which he particularly enjoyed. The story began at a local restaurant. Andy and I were discussing household finances over dinner. The conversation went south when I was accused of being too loose with the check book, so I sarcastically suggested I might add to our income by working at night as a high-end call girl. Our very cute waiter showed up just in time for me to inquire what he thought I should charge for my services. He blushed and ran. My husband was not amused and insisted we leave.

Before leaving, I slipped into the little girl's room only to run directly into our waiter on the way out the door. We both laughed. I apologized for embarrassing him. He just smiled and told me that whatever I decided to ask for my services, it would never be enough. It was my turn to blush, and I made the mistake of placing my hand on his chest with a 'thank you' peck on the cheek. My husband was watching from the restaurant entrance.

Our ride home in the car was silent, but the war began upstairs in the bedroom. Andy caught me between undressing and putting on my PJ's, totally nude. He slung open the curtains as we wrestled, holding me in front of the window for the inspection of passing motorists.

"Let's open the bids for the evening," He proclaimed. "Who'd like to fuck my wife?"

My claws came out, but he was just too strong and determined. We ended up on the bed, bright lights and curtains open to the world. He pinned me and fucked me like an animal from behind. I didn't want it; at least not at first. But as he began to get into it, I guess so did I. He was as hard as I've ever seen him, and he's never screwed me that way before. He made me come with his cock. He never makes me come with his cock. It was amazing. Oh, and he forgot his condom.

I figured out I was pregnant within a few days. My breasts started to ache. I couldn't believe it only took one careless omission, one night of mad and irreverent passion to get me knocked up.

"It was mad sex," I told Dan as we sat in the kitchen. He thought it was funny. "The whole thing was driven by jealousy."

"And so, this jealousy..." Dan asked. "Does Andy always get hard when he's jealous?"

I hesitated to comment. "If it's just the right amount, the answer is yes."

"And do you like to make him jealous by flirting?"

"That doesn't usually work too well," I confessed. "It's better if I just talk about being with another guy while we're...you know...doing it."

"Oh?" Dan curled his lip with a smirk. "And whom do you discuss while you're.... doing it?"

I hesitated again, looking into the den at my husband with his group of friends gathered around the television. "I like to talk about you, Dan..."

***

I handed Dan his towel as I leaned against the sink, soaking in the view. He dried himself meticulously without the least regard for my ogling. Fluffing his hair, the towel incidentally covered his face, and I took the opportunity to study his package.

Andy's dick looks like a turtle peering out of its shell, particularly when he exits the shower. It just seems to get smaller as his scrotum shrinks into a pale wrinkled prune and pulls his little penis inside it. I get that the cool air can have a deleterious effect on his size, but this seems so consistent no matter the temperature. Cuck sites would call his phallus a man clit, and I certainly see the resemblance.

Dan has a COCK. It's thick like a rope when it's flaccid; something to grab, something to pull, something to wrap your hand around. His balls are bigger and heavier than my husband's. They are pendulous no matter the weather. Of course, Dan's a bigger guy. He's taller and broader, muscular and intimidating. He's got the looks and the equipment. Bigger swords for bigger warriors.

"Where's Andy?" He handed me the towel as he stepped from the tub.

"I suggested he lie down for a nap upstairs." I hung the towel on the wall rack. Dan stood on the bathmat, no hurry to dress. He was proud of his body, as he should have been. He'd been working out daily at the gym, tanning by the pool behind his house, eating right and grooming himself, even in the most intimate places. He was a specimen to behold, and I beheld him graciously.

I could tell he enjoyed my eyes caressing his attributes. I was trying to hide my lust; all be it unsuccessfully. This man had made himself desirable to women nearly half his age... scores of college cuties literally lining up to hop in his lap and slide down his pulsating pole. I'd heard all about it.

"Does Andy follow instructions very well?" Dan took a step towards me. I instinctively folded my arms across my chest.

"Yes." I could feel my pulse quicken; my nipples harden.

"And the bedroom is directly above us, isn't it?" Dan looked up as if to inspect the ceiling's structural resilience. He had a quiet way of communicating his thoughts.

"Yes." I looked into his eyes, my brain finally sodden from the sight of his physique and seeking some deeper solace.

"You're not wearing a bra, Meg. I can see your nipples. Put down your arms."

I draped my arms against my sides and backed up against the cabinet, sensitive to his searing glare at my chest. My bullets pierced the cotton fabric like tiny BB's. I saw them shining in the mirror, surprised at how visible they'd become.

"My tits are too small to interest you, Dan." He ignored my humility, advancing further.

"Does Andy know you're down here? Does he know you're braless?"

"I jerked him off in the shower. He made me do it topless. I told him I'd be ditching the bra for the evening. He didn't argue or object."

"You jerked him off and he didn't fuck you?" Dan pretended to look disappointed, a ridiculous empathetic gesture.

"No, he didn't," I responded, dipping my gaze. "He needs his recovery time."

"That's a shame, Meg." Dan curled his lip as he often does in mischief. "How would he feel about me standing in front of you naked? How would he feel about you gawking at my body? How would he feel if he knew that you wanted me; if he could see your nipples giving you away?"

"I'm not gawking, Dan. I'm admiring. There's a difference. Besides, you're the one who insisted I come in here. I really need to get back to the kitchen. I'm not going to become just another one of your bimbo conquests." I moved towards the door, but Dan stepped in the way.

"I've had about enough of your teasing and tough talk." Dan furrowed his brow. He knew how to unnerve me, and he knew I was struggling with need. Fifteen minutes earlier, I was fantasizing about this man as I masturbated my husband in the shower. Now he was standing in front of me naked, daring me to show some weakness. He was partially erect. I was morphing into bimbo.

"What do you think I am, Dan? Another notch on your belt? How many girls have you been with the last two weeks?"

"You're starting to piss me off, Megan." Dan rarely used my full name. "I have my dates and I've been with some girls... several girls since Susan, if you must know. But it's not like you make it out to be. I'm not that promiscuous. I'm not running the Playboy Mansion or lining girls up in the bedroom. I like relationships. I like cognitive interaction. I like sharing similar interests with people."

"And what does that have to do with me?" I leaned into Dan, touching his chest as I did with that waiter on the night I got pregnant, pushing as if to move him out of the way. I couldn't get him to budge an inch.

"We have a history, Meg. We've shared hours of conversation, secrets, and fantasies. I know what you like. I know what you need."

"What do I need, Dan?"

"Get on your knees and I'll show you."

Dan placed his hands on my shoulders and guided me to the floor, kneeling before his cock as if preparing to pray. His pole was fully erect and inches from my face. I could smell his scent mixed with a soapy forest aroma, and I studied the pulsating veins of his member. It towered like a temple straight up to his belly; thick and menacing; uninhibited and inviting.

Dan didn't wait for my decision to act. His hands sifted through my hair and pulled me into his crotch, my face snug against girth of his shaft. He caressed my cheeks lightly with its bulbous head before pressing the trickling tip to my lips for a kiss. I could taste his bitter salt, and I peppered his length with more kisses. He had oozed all over my face, smoothing his secretions into my complexion like night cream.

"Lick my balls, Megan."

I'd never heard Andy give such a command, nor had I imagined complying to one. Yet, without hesitation, my tongue was at work swirling around his sack. He had shaved it clean, and I sucked his sensitive testicles deep into my mouth__ first one, then the other.

"Ohhhh," he groaned, pulling my hair. "Do you do that for Andy?"

"No," I replied, looking up in his eyes. "Never."

He was thrilled at my response. I stroked him slowly, soaking his eggs with my saliva and nibbling them gently before returning my attention to his prick. It was a challenge to slide my lips around his succulent shaft; to give him proper head as I thought the girls from the college must do. I made several passes up and down his massive pole, feeling his bulbous head bumping against my tonsils. I'm a gagger. I could never have swallowed him whole.

Dan, all the same, hummed in appreciation as I raked my incisors across his uncircumcised helmet, savoring his virility more thoroughly. I had forgotten how men can taste differently, one from the other. Dan's intoxicating flavor was brusque and wild, like bitter berries and woodland grasses. His testicles overloaded my palm, full of what he intended to give me. Heavy. Masculine. Rolling and grinding in the confines of their thin, crinkled satchel... stirring up his soup.

"Raise your arms," he ordered, pulling my shirt over my head, revealing my bare breasts.

"Now stand up," he insisted, unbuttoning and unzipping my shorts. In a moment's notice, I was naked; my frayed denim blues dragged down to my ankles followed quickly to the floor by my sheer, lacy thong.

"You're wet," Dan observed. The crotch of my undies was a sopping mess. "Step out of them."

He lifted each leg and discarded my clothes in the corner. The thought of Andy upstairs crossed my mind. Was he still asleep? What was he dreaming? What if he woke up and came to the door? It wasn't even locked. What if he just walked in?

Suddenly, my nudity became even more exciting. I reveled in my own vulnerability, steeping in the salacious risk.

"Turn around, Meg." Dan barked out his orders with a militant flair. "Lean over the sink. Put your hands on the mirror."

He stood behind me. Our eyes met in the reflection. "Spread your legs wider," he said, kicking my ankles outward with his bare feet.

"Slide down. Raise your perky ass. I want it right here." Dan motioned with his hands as if to hold my cheeks at his pelvis. I felt his cock pressing into my crack, sliding up and down my hot, moistened crevice.

Suddenly he was gone, below the reflection, behind and beneath. I felt his lips against my butt, then his tongue... first on my cheeks, then sliding towards the center; his fingers climbing up the back of my thighs.

He opened me and licked me vigorously. He blew his hot breath on my clit. So many nights I'd played with it, mirror in hand, watching my hood regress. I'd thought of Dan. And now, he played. He watched. He sucked. My cloak was melting in his eager mouth.

But Dan didn't stop with my pussy. His tongue trailed up my pungent crack and circled my virgin starfish, pushing and prodding to go deeper inside. "Oh my god, what are you doing?" I turned so I could watch him directly, owing my curiosity to the amazing sensation.

"Don't you like it?" he asked.

"I love it, Dan. It feels freaking incredible. I wish you could shove your tongue straight up my asshole."

"Does Andy do this to you?"

"Are you kidding? He wouldn't dream of licking me there." It occurred to me I hadn't had a shower since morning, and the warm weather must make me ripe. "Baby, I have a confession."

"What's that, Meg?

"I masturbated this morning in the kitchen watching you walk down to the barn in your towel."

"You did? That makes me hot as fuck, Meg."

"I'm sure you can taste it. That was hours ago, and I made quite a sticky stew. I'm really sorry."

"I love how you taste, Meg. Particularly your ass. I love making you sloppy wet."

"I'm plenty wet, Dan." I was almost pleading. He dipped his tongue deeper, exploring my slit. This was the first time he'd seen me naked. He was intentionally taking his time; spreading me, slurping me, eating me out. Exploring every hole and crevice.

"Plenty wet for what, Meg?"

I had opened myself to interrogation. I'd given in without being asked; exposed my desires without being forced.

"What do you want, Meg? What do you need?"

"You know what I need, Dan. You said so."

"I want to hear YOU say it, Meg. I want to hear you beg for it. I won't stop teasing until you do."

"We haven't much time, Dan. Andy could come at any..."

Dan shoved his finger inside me and sucked on my pearl ferociously.

"Oh my god, Dan... just shit!" I was writhing over the counter as he rammed in a second digit. "Fuck!" I was gasping. "You're gonna make me..."

"Make you what, little girl? Make you come? Make you scream?"

"All of that," I panted, trying to stay quiet.

Dan's fingers were thick and long. They could reach the places I needed to be reached. And he knew all those places, even having never been there. He knew where to touch, how hard, and how long.

"Put your hands back on the mirror, Meg! And don't take them off again. You understand?"

"Please, Dan..."

"Please what, Meg?"

I didn't want to beg for this. I wanted him to do it on his own, the weight of all this on his shoulders. But he was going to make me say it. He would force me to plead for it with Andy right above us in the bedroom. It wasn't enough that I was creamy and ready, splayed pink like a butterflied filet. I had to speak the magic words... the spell of mating.