Cuck Ch. 01

"I bet it's her face." Slightly, Lynn adjusted herself on the couch. She had set aside her slender tool and was stoking the fabric over her mound with delicate fingers. "I bet she opens her mouth, too. What do you think? Mouth, tits, or face?"

"Probably both," I said. "Mouth and face." It sounded so empty and dispassionate talking about porn abstractly. Whatever mood I was supposed to have, Lynn's play by play conversation only made the experience more strange than erotic.

After another full minute of watching a thick wet cock pump a jiggling white ass, we discovered we were both wrong. The scene ended with the fellow pulling out almost to the tip while his cock throbbed for nearly half a minute more. When he pulled the spent tip away, the camera shifted in on a gaping raw pussy filled with white spunk. Just as the ooze began to drip, the end screen popped up.

"Oh damn," Lynn said, a bit too enthusiastically. She glanced over at me. I tried to keep a casual face, though I was anything but comfortable. "Let's watch another. I wanna see what you like, not just something random. Come on, baby, what do you really get into?"

What? How did she know? What did she suspect? "I don't have anything particular," I said, my nerves jumping. "I just kind of browse."

"Okay, well what do you browse for? Pretend I'm not here." She stood from the sofa, sauntered over in her pumps and red lace. "Show me what really turns you on." She leaned over me slightly. "I'll make it worth your while, I promise. Don't worry." She reached down, grabbed the head of my cock and gave a tug, sending electricity to my toes. "Look at you. You're ready to cum already." As she caressed that same hand across my cheek, I felt the thin sheen of moisture I had produced. "Just relax a little, babe. Okay. I won't judge. Honest. If you can't trust me, then why are we doing this?" She stepped back toward the sofa. "If you pick something really good, I'll give you a present. I might even let you come sit by me."

As I watched her gorgeous ass sway, I swallowed more anxiety. I did not understand her game at all. This was all so very unlike her. But how could I complain? She wanted to watch porn! And dressed like that, I had no choice but comply. I wanted to bury myself between her cheeks right then and there, first my face, then my dick. Still, I felt embarrassment gnawing at me, shame and humiliation waiting behind me to pounce. I looked over the screen quickly.

The thumbnails all showed women and cocks, a scattered variety. My choices at a glance were BIG ASS PUERTORICAN MILF GETS CAUGHT MASTURBATING, FUCK GIRLFRIEND AND CUM ON HER CHEST, STEP SISTER'S NO 1 FAN, or GIRL WAKES UP FRIEND BY EATING HER ASS. There would be more if I scrolled, but I figured any one of those would suffice. Still I felt anxious to have to pick. What did my choices say about me? What would I be secretly revealing if I took the time to really browse?

By the sofa, Lynn slipped her panties down, making a somewhat slow show of the act. If I had to guess, she was teasing me further. Naturally it drew my attention. As she bent to step out of the panties, I stared at the most delightful sight of her naked bottom, complete with just a hint of her fuzzy mound between stocking-clad legs. My dick ached now, well and truly. She damn well better make it worth my while, I mused.

So I scrolled down a little, past thumbnail images and more captions. Most were just straight white couples and mainly amateur it seemed. A surprising number of incest related videos showed in the feed. "Ooh, try 'recommended'," Lynn said, sitting down, twirling the red panties in one hand.

"What?" I said. Of course, I knew what she meant, the button for recommended viewing. I used it many times. It refreshed the page with different thumbnails and video choices tailored to my viewing habits. I did not know if she knew that, but I tensed at the thought. I understood where this would lead.

"There," she said, pointing at the screen with her vibrator as if that narrowed anything down. Still, I swallowed my nerves and complied. If it was her idea...

I knelt by the side of the tv where I had placed the laptop and clicked. A new screen came up, with a whole new set of choices. THROATPIE ROUGH DEEPTHROAT, SHOOTING A GIGANTIC LOAD ON HER PERFECT TITS, BDSM ANAL FUCK AND TORTURE. Still others, KING SIZE BBC, BEST BBC WORSHIP COMPILATION, BLACK MASTER COCK III. I did not dare scroll down farther.

She studied the screen, then glanced at me, then back at the screen. She seemed to be absorbed in the thumbnail images and words. "Well," she said. "Anything?"

"Um, I don't know" I said, noncommittally. "What are you in the mood for?"

"No," she said. "What are you in the mood for? Show me what you like." She went back over the screen. "These sure are different," she said. "This is recommended?"

I tried to be casual, which is difficult with a near-full erection standing out. "Yeah, I guess," I said. "You know how wild porn can be."

"Uh huh," she breathed, as if less than fully convinced. "Well, this is your show," she said. "I'm not getting wet just staring at the screen. Pick something." I was ready to just press the first thing when she said, "No. How about you narrow it down to three choices, and I'll pick one of those. Is that better? How about it? Which three?"

Yeah, that was better. And worse. I could not commit to anything, fearing that whatever I chose would say too much about me. I could not understand why I feared to reveal some of my dirty thoughts so openly. This was my wife. I should be comfortable with all of it. But right then, I just wanted to fuck her. The maddening game she played only made my cock throb and my balls grumble. I looked at the screen.

"Alright. How about..." I stalled, thinking it over. This did not feel passionate or inspired at all. I so terribly feared what she might think of me, whatever I suggested. The whole thing didn't seem fair. But my balls wanted to explode. Just get through it already. I could feel the energy slipping from the room.

"These three," pointing to a cluster near my side of the screen. SHOOTING A GIGANTIC LOAD ON HER PERFECT TITS showed a picture of cum-spattered breasts, and THRAOTPIE ROUGH DEEPTHROAT showed a woman's face upside down between a man's thighs with his balls almost buried against her lips. Those both seemed safe. The third just happened to be right beneath, BLACK MASTER COCK III, showing a blond woman's face half-hidden behind a brown cock the size of her head.

"What's BBC?" Lynn asked.

I started to answer, then hesitated. Maybe it showed. "Big black cock," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I think."

"Wow." She shrugged also, reclined to get comfortable once more. "As much as I'm curious about that deepthroat, looks like black master cock is longer. The runtime, I mean," she said quickly, smiling at her own inadvertent pun. "Wait, what's that?" she asked, sitting up slightly. "Scroll down a little. Just at the bottom."

Before I could click anything, I saw what she indicated. An extreme close up of a glans just an inch away from a set of open lips with a tongue licking at a thick glob of bubbling cum. The words beneath were half cut off by the bottom of the screen. I scrolled enough to read the caption, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW IT FEEL TO SUCK THAT DICK? I paused momentarily, looked at Lynn, awaiting her direction.

"Let's get back to that," she said. She smiled and leaned back. "Black master cock," she said with firm enthusiasm.

I did as she suggested. Any of these would work for me, so it was not a matter of showing my preference. I just did not feel comfortable revealing my inclinations to her. I really hoped she did not see the little green check symbol below and beside almost every entry, the mark that indicated the video had been viewed at least once prior. I especially did not care for her to see it on that last one.

BMC III I had seen before, but it was only a compilation video. It started with cheesy music and a number of quick clips showing a variety of beautiful pornstars gasping in awe at the sudden sight of massively enormous negro cocks. I once again set the laptop aside and stood up. When I faced Lynn, I was hoping she would pat the sofa to let me sit near her; but instead she threw the wadded panties at me. "Here," she said.

I fumbled to catch them and they ended up dangling over my still semi-hard cock for a moment before falling to the floor. "I'm sorry," she said, laughing. "That's your reward, though. You can have my panties while we watch." She had trouble suppressing her smile. "Now sit back down, mister," she said faux-sternly. "And remember, no touching yourself. You've been a bad boy. This is your punishment. Sit down and think about what you've done."

However nonsensical or playfully she intended it, the sound of my wife's voice just then made my heart quiver. I bent quickly to retrieve the red panties and hurried back to my seat. I did not want her to see the effect her words were having. I could not understand it myself even, but by the time I sat, my dick was no longer semi-hard. My erection was stiff as a rock. That only made the view before me all the more difficult to manage.

I admit, I have a decided enthusiasm in viewing grotesquely large cocks pounding away at ecstatically charged women. Perhaps it is something to do with the small dick part of my brain that gets so turned on by seeing it happen. I know I will never compete with that kind of masculinity, but maybe that is what porn is for, to glimpse a fantasy that can never be a reality. In a strictly vicarious manner, I get to indulge in the idea of an enormous cock pleasuring many, many women. And for the first few minutes of the video, it showed nothing but an endless parade of beautiful white women, mainly on their knees, with hands and lips curled around the gigantic cocks of huge black men. Black Master Cock, after all.

But watching this kind of porn alone was not the same as watching it with someone else watching me. My wife sat on the sofa caressing her open pussy, eyes glued forward. To some degree I was thankful she forbade me from touching myself. I did not want her to see me stroking myself under such circumstances. More terrible than that, given the way my balls ached, I feared I might erupt after only a few strokes. If she saw me masturbate and cum to this kind of fetish pornography, what would she think of me? I wasn't sure I would be able to clearly explain it, even to myself.

So I sat and watched while she sat and watched also. Only she was allowed to stroke herself. When I glanced, I saw her mouth part open, her tongue against her teeth and upper lip. She licked her hand and returned it to her pussy. Clearly, she was not the least put off by my presence. And that is what made it truly terrible.

There I sat, a real genuine cock in-person and entirely eager, while she only stared at the screen ahead of her. Her face held a clear fascination, her fingers stroking at her pussy, returning to her tongue, then stroking her pussy some more. I wanted her so badly. I wanted to replace her fingers with my own, to put my mouth and tongue to work in place of her hand. I wanted to bury my raging dick deep in those warm, waiting folds. But one look at the screen and one look down, and I saw the difference.

"That's insane," she said. "Those are too fucking huge to be real. I mean how do they even get it in their mouth?" She glanced my way momentarily, and I tried to control my face. I thought for sure her eyes darted briefly to my lap before heading back to the screen. "It's gotta be uncomfortable, all I have to say." Thankfully, she let the issue drop.

All the while, those big black cocks were busy hammering tight pussies and even tighter assholes. Clips of women, a different white girl every four or five seconds, revealed themselves as wanton receptacles for hung black studs. Women swallowed cocks, licked at shafts and sucked on balls. Sometimes more than one girl pleased a man, and often multiple black guys pounded different holes of the same white woman. The scenes showed driven sex, sometimes aggressive, mostly intense, and all had two things in common—horny white women and monster black cocks.

At one clip, I heard Lynn make a noise, a subdued gasp of astonishment perhaps. It lasted only five seconds maybe, but it displayed a woman grasped around the throat and leaned back against a sofa forcefully as a giant of a man stood over her kneeling form. From that position, the man shoved his dick repeatedly in the woman's open mouth while she did nothing but gargle, her hands only grasping around for balance but not offering resistance. My wife's eyes were wide.

My own darted between her and the tv nervously. I could not touch myself, however much I wanted to, as she had told me, but in my hand I still clutched her red panties. With her attention riveted to the screen, I slyly brought the fabric to my nose, inhaling the remnant of my wife's scent. I could hear the wet sound of her pussy as she worked it, riding above and mingling with the sounds and music of the video. Despite my own misgivings, I had to admit my total intoxication with the moment. If my cock could possibly grow more stiff, it would have. But even with that, it would never grow longer or thicker. It would never be big and black and magnificent. Mixing with the height of my arousal came the same tidal wave of embarrassment and shame that always sought to drown me.

"They're so rough. How do they endure that?" When I heard my wife's voice, I clenched the panties in my fist balled at my side. I shuddered that she might have seen me, but her focus seemed to remain forward. One lovely young lady was getting slapped repeatedly in the face by a dark cock as large and as thick as her own forearm. Though the actress remained smiling, I could not say what my wife saw in all that. "They do appear to like it, though." was all she added.

Yes, they do. With that much I agreed. That was the real turn on anyway. I enjoyed viewing rough sex because it was rough, not because it was rape. The excitement came from the clear and palpable enjoyment of the actors involved. The women gasped and moaned, squealed and shrieked with an edge of delight, an obvious pleasure. They were being fucked, and fucked hard, and with every stroke they only cried out for more. That was what sex should be. That is what it could be. However much my tiny dick throbbed, it had never come close to anything I saw before me.

"My God, that's intense," Lynn muttered as a woman was drilled from behind, her arms stretched back in the grip of the man fucking her. A moment later the buzz of the vibrator hummed poignantly as my wife began working her clit with the slender tool.

At the fifteen minute mark, a few stray cumshot began to filter into the mix of clips as well. All the while, Lynn worked at her pussy, sliding the vibrator along the wet cleft of her labia until she began to insert the white shaft up into herself as well. With one hand pumping the tool like a cock, her other hand massaged her clit in rapid strokes.

"Like what you see?" she asked, starting to pant. She flashed a brief smile but tilted her head back into the pleasure she was giving herself.

At close to twenty minutes, a series of clips flew by clearly intent on measuring these massive cocks against the faces and forearms of the pretty young women kneeling before them. Seeing that, though intoxicating in its wonder, only drove the harsh reality further homeward while Lynn was in the room with me. My own cock was barely longer than a couple mushroom tips put together. Even the vibrator had more length than I did, perhaps even more girth. The vibrator, too, was now receiving more action than I was.

As the cum started to flow in earnest, I registered that the video was close to its finish. Clip after clip, women held their tongues out as men unloaded themselves upon their faces. "Oh God," Lynn gasped, her body shuddering. "That's so gross," she said, though she never stopped the momentum of her fingers or the vibrator. I was torn, however, eager to watch my wife reach an orgasm, even if it was without my help, but also mesmerized by the sight of cum-streaked faces plastering the screen. I wanted to masturbate so fiercely. Obediently, though, I only held the panties to my nose, inhaled deeply. I could only imagine how hot my wife's pussy was just then.

As the video ended, my wife called out. "Shit!" She ground her teeth together. "Another one. I don't care. I'm almost cumming. That one. The first one. Right there." She gasped and rubbed her fingers harder than I've ever seen.

Immediately, I jumped. I knelt by the laptop, feeling keenly the ache in my groin. Watching all those men ejaculate on all those pretty faces simply made me desperate to spend my own seed. But quickly I booted up the next video clip suggested below the one we just watched. CROW IN THE SNOW it was titled, another compilation, and the theme of black on white went on.

Dutifully, I sat back down. I clutched the wadded panty as if I needed it to stay strong. She was going to make it worth it. She promised me. With the excitement my body felt, I knew just the slightest touch from her might drive me over the edge. Even if I plunged myself into her right now, I doubt I could outlast more than a minute of the video. I certainly could not outlast her vibrator. With my pulsing dick leaking pre-cum, I took turns watching the video and staring at my wife in awe.

The first couple minutes showed mainly white asses, either walking sultrily before the camera or being groped and slapped by large black hands. After that, cocks went in mouths, and the real business began. In just the next minute alone, I counted twelve different actresses, and probably the same number of well-hung studs, or more, all cycling through various stages of the sex scenes from which they were clipped together. A dozen women got fucked or sucked in a rotating feed, with asses or pussies open and available, and sometimes to more than one partner at a time.

Lynn was working herself up, and it hit me how desperately pathetic I was. It could only be worse if I conceded to masturbate. As it was, my wife had herself all taken care of as if I wasn't even there. And just knowing that all those women and all those men had such spectacular sex for a fucking living!—were probably still having sex somewhere right then—gave the build up in my balls just that much more aching potency.

I should be having sex, dammit! I was married. I should be bending my wife over like the actors on screen, pounding into her until she wailed with the same need for release as the sluts displayed before me. My wife should be a slut for me. She should be my slut, whenever I wanted her, however I wanted her. Instead, I was watching her. I was watching her have sex with a lifeless electric tool while listening to the sounds of other people having the roughest, raunchiest, most pussy-pounding sex the porn industry could envision. Yes, in my own weak way, I was very much pathetic.

She came. I saw her. It was not a squirt like I have seen actresses do on screen, but it was my wife's unmistakable climax nonetheless. Her legs shook, her thighs clenched together. She squealed a little and bucked. A few shuddering moments later, it passed. She lay back, breathing, while the sounds of others fucking and sucking continued.

For the next eight and a half minutes, we both sat quietly, only the passion from the television filling the living room. I stayed naked the whole time, unable to stroke the throb from my dick because of the wishes of the woman I loved, unwilling to release her panties because I needed that security upon which to cling. Lynn sat, too, relaxing from orgasm, watching the rest of the video play out with dreamy eyes.