Estranged: A Tawdry Affair

Desiree bounded off Marcus' lap and sat back. "It's open," she called, planting her feet on the floor.

"Wuh?" Ben blurted. "Dez, no!"

"Quiet, Ben," she warned as the door slid open. "You're not here, remember?"

A tan-skinned man-hunk with thick stubble stepped in and slid the door closed. Ben's throat clamped at the realization of what the big evening reference was about. "Who the hell is this?" he asked in a squawk.

"This is Emmet." answered Desiree, spreading her thighs as Marcus knelt on the floor and dug his nose into her tiny bush. "If you ever got your car washed, you'd know he works at Suds N' Shine."

"I own—we own Suds N' Shine, Dez."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, tipping her pelvis. "I'll bring your car on Monday if you want."

The young dude tugged off his shirt, displaying his ripped torso. Nodding to Ben, he kicked off his shoes. "I uh, don't wanna lose my job, boss," he grunted, dropping his sweatpants. "But she uh, invited me, and...she's—"

"I get it," Ben huffed, sauntering back to his chair. "Just...no kissing...and don't be looking for a Christmas bonus."

"Yo, boss-man," Emmet touted, dropping his boxers to exhibit his solid proffer. "You like to watch. That's bitchin'." He knelt beside Desiree on the sofa and leaned forward to present his beefy bulb to her mouth. Desiree lunged over it, writhing her hips and pelvis for Marcus.

"I guess maybe I do," Ben droned, unzipping his pants to relieve his crowded crotch.

Marcus knelt up straight, tapping his meat against Desiree's gaping slit. With Emmet's knob resting on her bottom lip, she jittered and sang out, spraying Marcus' loins with a prolonged stream of thanks. He rubbed his beefy shank over her clit as she gushed again, soaking his sac with licentious welcome. "I'm not going to apologize, Ben," she called out, brushing her lips to Emmet's throbbing head.

"It's okay, Dez!" Ben insisted, rubbing his hand over his balls. "It-it was incredible! You want him back inside you, huh?"

"Uh-huh," she moaned, spreading wider than he knew she could.

"I-I'll be right here, okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

She roared onto Emmet's rod as Marcus grasped her waist and impaled her in a single thrust. He broke into rhythm with welcoming honey dripping from his balls. Emmet straddled her torso and bent his knees, holding the back of the sofa for support. Desiree's cheeks puffed in and out as he pumped his cock between her lips.

Hopeful he may be asked to join them, Ben fought the urge to stroke himself—a daunting temptation in sight of his wife giving one stranger head while another reamed her from behind.

A minute later, Marcus slowed to a halt and moved aside, then sat back on the sofa. Emmet dismounted and held out his hand to help Desiree stand. Her legs wobbled as she turned and knelt between Marcus' thighs. Emmet wasted no time scampering behind her and grasping the crests of her hips. With his six-pack abs bumping her buttocks, she lunged over Marcus' lap.

Unable to help himself, Ben grasped his aching tool. "Lick his balls," he grunted—a thought spoken aloud by accident.

Desiree complied, bowing deep into Marcus' lap. Her hair waved between his thighs as she stroked his upper half. Emmet increased his pace as she worked back up to Marcus' head. "I needed to do this, Ben," she squeaked out.

"I know you did, Dez," he called.

"You shouldn't be here. You'll hate me."

"No! It's okay. I-I love...watching you."

"You mean that?" she asked, strumming fast and hard on Marcus' pole.

"Watching you is incredible. Suck Marcus' cock again."

She lunged over it with a moan, cupping his balls and bobbing to the rhythm of Emmet's thrusts. Ben leaned closer, peering at the tight wrap of her lips and the bulge in her cheek. Marcus raised his brows and clenched his teeth, but she stayed put, even as he lifted his chin and grunted.

"Careful Dez!" Ben blurted out. "He's gonna come."

Anxiety gripped his chest when his warning went unheeded. For a split second, he wondered if she didn't hear him—if perhaps the constant slapping of Emmet's nuts had kept her distracted. But a bolt of reality zapped through him as she squealed onto Marcus' shaft, kneading his sac with her fingers.

Marcus kicked his legs out straight and moaned as his thick cock thumped between her lips and the huge ridge along his underside began pulsating. Closing her eyes, she gulped, leaking a white drip from the corner of her mouth. But with another swallow, she bore down again.

Emmet paused to watch from behind until Marcus' beats faded and the shape of his balls showed in his dropping sac. Desiree lifted her head slowly and kissed the bone-dry tip, then arched her back and let out a victorious laugh. Emmet grasped her waist and resumed his lustful pounding at a bit slower pace, nudging her forward with each thrust.

Warmth flushed through Ben's cheeks. Some part of him still wanted to fight Desiree's sex mates off and throw her over his shoulder, but he realized the worthlessness of doing so. He was witnessing a metamorphosis that would have happened with or without him present. Moreover, a growing part of him wanted to see more of Desiree in the throes of carnal passion. "Keep him hard," he urged, unsure what else to say. "You're incredible, Dez."

Marcus' bent plow straightened as Desiree licked its length. She peeked at Ben and lolled the tip, rocking to the rhythm of Emmet's loins walloping her buttocks. Its rugged features returned as she sucked it, singing a playful hum and stroking in measure.

"Boss-man," Emmet grunted, slowing down and drawing out his thrusts. "I'm gonna top off her little box."

Straightening her back, Desiree dropped her cheeks between Marcus' thighs. "Come in me!" she exclaimed. "Use my pussy and shoot your cum inside it!"

"Do it!" Ben added. "Come in her, Emmet!"

Emmet's cheeks turned red as his eyes opened wide. With a final lunge forward, he locked his hips and tugged on her crests to pull her ass against his pelvis. He gasped for air, then bellowed long and loud. Desiree went still, crying out in wanton lust as he inseminated the eyedropper profile of her petite pelvis.

Ben's hard-on thumped in his hand, paying homage to the thought of another man's seed filling Desiree's velvety vault. She held Marcus' shaft to her chin and rolled her hips as Emmet finished his self-indulgent transfer and sat back on his heels. A viscous dribble dropped from her gaping slot as she stood up.

"Let me fuck his cum into you," Ben pleaded, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Stop it, Ben," she warned, turning her back to Marcus and straddling his thighs. "You promised not to do that."

Squatting onto Marcus' lap, she tucked her chin and dropped over his stiff beam until only his balls hung from below her bush. Reaching down, she rubbed them. "Make more cum for me."

He grasped her waist and lifted, displaying his cream-coated tool. Emmet stood to her left on the sofa—his still-rigid pole wagging beside her cheek. He grunted in delight as she turned her head and lunged over it.

Ben squeezed the base of his own staff in a last-ditch effort to stop his load, but to no avail. He surrendered with a groan, splattering his shirt, belly, and chest with warm jets of his own making. Covered in the sticky remnants of wasted sperm, he leaned back in the chair just as someone knocked on the sliding door.

Desiree popped Emmet's cock from her mouth. "Get that for me, Babe," she urged, catching her breath. "It must be Hector."

"Hector?" Ben asked, pulling his shorts over his half-hard manhood.

"You'll know him when you see him."

"Hector from the Full Belly Deli," Ben acknowledged, opening the door for the clean shaven Latino in a blue work jersey.

"Uh, hey," fumbled Hector with a hint of Spanish flair. Presenting the plastic bag in his hand, he looked over Ben's shoulder. "This is kinda awkward, but—"

"Leave your gift and get in," Ben huffed, gesturing with his hand. He turned toward the living area and called, "I guess Sandra figured she'd keep you busy."

"I called Hector," Desiree answered.

Ben shook his head and plopped back in his spot. "Dive right in," he grunted.

Hector hung the bag on the doorknob and stood on one leg, pulling at his shoe. "You aint joining in?" he asked.

"I'm sitting this one out."

"So, you don't mind..."

"Nope. You're on deck."

Hector fought his way out of his pants and stood with his stiff offering in his hand, waiting his turn as Emmet drew a breath and gasped. Desiree's squeal told of the salty bursts spurting between her cheeks. She pulled back to let a few last arcs decorate her chin. Ben and Hector stared on, watching the white ribbons drip over her right breast and onto her tummy.

"I uh, almost forgot," Ben quipped, "don't kiss her."

"No worries," Hector replied. He took a step toward Desiree's writhing form, but halted when she leaned back against Marcus' chest and cooed, peering down her torso.

Ben's hard-on thumped back to life­, poking through his wet waistband. Its sticky skin stretched tight as he peered at his wife's blushing crotch packed full of manhood. He moaned at the sight of Emmet's cum stream curving around the side of her tiny belly and into the crease between her hip and leg.

Marcus pulled down on her crests and let out a deep moan. Desiree's bush moved up and down as her labial gates constricted and expanded to the rhythm of his undulating hilt. Moments passed, but the mighty turret maintained a steady beat, pumping its unseen payload into the depths beneath her navel.

Resting on Marcus' lap, Desiree caught her breath, then set her gaze on Hector and the stiff, fresh cock in his hand. She bounded to her feet and tugged his arm, pulling him to the large loveseat. Lying back across the wide cushions, she rested her head on the armrest and spread wide—her outlet agape and a concoction of blended semen flowing into the cleft of her buttocks.

She giggled and kicked her feet as Hector climbed between her thighs. He swabbed his bulb in the pearly goo, then planted it in her hole and fell onto his elbows, eclipsing her torso beneath his frame. Desiree rested her chin on his shoulder as he slipped his arms beneath her and began rocking his hips. Her slender forearms hugged his back, and only her lower legs poked out on each side of his brown hips—calves and toes pointing for the ceiling.

A massive hand landed on Ben's shoulder. "Perhaps she wouldn't mind if you held her hand," Marcus' deep voice suggested from behind.

Ben bounded to his feet and pulled her wrist from Hector's back. She resisted, but his persistence paid off. Hearing Marcus slide the chair behind him, he held her hand and watched as she kissed Hector's neck—thighs spread wide in promiscuous welcome.

She peered at Ben through squinted eyes, then dug her nose into Hector's curly dark hair. "Use my pussy," she whispered in his ear. "Dump your load on top of theirs. Make a mess inside me."

"Yo, Mista' Frost," Hector cried into the armrest, "She's askin' me to—"

"Don't worry about him!" Desiree wailed. "Dammit, Ben, don't screw this up!"

"I'm not trying to!" Ben insisted. "I want to see him come in you."

Desiree opened her eyes wide—the depths behind her pupils churning with perplexity. Her eyes darted side to side, surveying his face. Ben kissed her hand and let it go. "I mean it, Dez. I'm glad you let me be here to watch."

Hector raised his chin enough to speak clearly. "Not for nuthin' Miz Frost, but he's bein' pretty cool."

"Just shoot your load in me and leave, Hector." She wrapped her legs around him, crossed at the ankles. They bumped back and forth as his loins pounded her thighs.

Hector grunted and straightened his arms, then brought himself to an upright kneel. He wrapped his elbows behind her knees and began a long, animated stroke, pausing inside her with each thrust. Ben peered down over her slim torso, watching Hector's glazed cock drill into her. Desiree arched, raising her buttocks off the cushion. "Fuck...me...fuck...me..." she repeated on each forward pump.

With a grunt and a shudder, Hector fell onto his elbows, driving her back onto the cushion. She tipped her pelvis as he thrust forward, prying her thighs wide. He hugged her tight, raising his chin high as she sucked the nape of his neck and grabbed his ass cheeks.

"Come in her," Ben urged.

"Ungh!" Hector hollered through gritted teeth.

Desiree's legs went still as he squeezed his buttocks together. She threw her head back, gazing into Ben's eyes. "He's doing it, Ben," she moaned with sperm-scented breath. "He's planting his seed in me." She scratched her teeth on Hector's shoulder as his thighs trembled and his back straightened.

Ben's cock throbbed in his palm as he pictured the seed-laden pool in Desiree's precious vault, teeming with tens of millions of sperm—each one striving to fight its way into her time machine and make its bid for propagation. He waited for Hector to climb from between her thighs, then shimmied to draw her attention.

Desiree rolled to her side and sat up straight—her chin, torso, and pelvis still glistening with sticky streaks. Ben's heart fluttered when she looked at him, but it sank when she asked, "Would you mind getting me a wash towel?"

"Allow me," said Marcus, holding one out to her. "Nice and warm."

Desiree smiled and took it, then stood and tossed it to Ben. "On second thought," she purred, "maybe I'll enjoy the feel a bit longer." A dribble leaked from her slit as she stood tip-toes to kiss his cheek.

Ben sighed, dousing his crotch and belly with the damp cloth as Desiree said goodbye to Marcus and Emmet. Buttoning his pants, he cleaned his hand and stood for awkward handshakes. Beside him, Hector fell back in the loveseat pulling up his pants. "Yo, Mista Frost," he called. "I could use that towel."

A sudden flush of anxiety ran through Ben as he tossed it over. Desiree expected him to leave, too. He began buttoning his shirt, peeking over in case she told him not to. Still naked, she showed Hector out, then slid the door closed and bounded toward the bedroom.

"Maybe we could talk for a few minutes," he called down the hall. Waiting in silence, he tucked in his shirt.

"I suppose," she answered, trotting back in a pink satin nightgown that barely covered her buttocks. Her crimson panties showed as she bent to pull a wet slipcover off a cushion. Sitting on the sofa, she tucked her left foot beneath her right knee and pulled her hair into a ponytail. "I'm sure I surprised you," she tendered, tying it off with a pink scrunchie.

"Just a bit. Before this, you never—tonight you—"

"I swallowed cum," she offered nonchalantly. "It's one of the things I wanted to try."

"Huh? What about your terms? I thought you had something to prove."

"I got excited," she replied with a shrug. "I guess I'm over my inhibition."

"Does that mean you'll—"

"Uh-huh," she chimed without making eye contact. "When we're back together."

"Dez, why are you so damn aloof? Do you even want to come back?"

She paused and set her hands in her lap. "Of course I do. I made it clear—"

"Yeah, yeah," he grunted as he stood to leave. "I'll be honest. I kinda hoped you'd want me after all this."

"I do," she whined, "more than I can explain. But I told you I had to see this through."

"See what through? You gave up on those terms of yours. What haven't you done yet?"

Pursing her lips tight, she patted the cushion next to her. "Stay for a minute. I have to tell you something."

Ben took a breath and sat to her left. "I just watched you with three guys. It must be big."

Desiree turned to face him, but kept her gaze below his eyelevel. "The night I left, I went...I went to see Elliot."

"Elliot Coloumbe? As in our real estate agent? The one who made a pass at you?"

She nodded, looking into her lap. "I um, slept with him...at a motel. I called him and we met."

"So, you have feelings for him?"

"Not like that," she answered, shaking her head. "But we've seen each other a few times...mostly just short hookups. He stayed over once...twice, I mean."

"Isn't he married, too?"

"Separated...like us, only longer. He wants to keep it going and not tell you or his wife."

Ben's heart sank as he pictured Elliot and Desiree in a bare-chested embrace—his hand on the small of her back slipping under the waistband of her panties. His throat clamped tight at the thought of them kissing atop tangled sheets. "That really hurts," he admitted. "I dealt with what happened tonight, but meeting in secret and—"

"I'm not saying it to hurt you," she urged—her gaze meeting his in sheer sincerity. "It's why I realized you were right."

"I was? I-I mean, of course. Wait, right about what?"

"I set out with something to prove...all that stuff about my terms." Bowing her head, she bobbled her neck in awkward confession. "I accused you of thinking I was boring. Turns out I was."

"Did he insult you? That son of a—"

"That's not it," she insisted, squeezing out tears with a squint. "Those things I wouldn't do for you...I went to that motel certain I wouldn't do them for him, either."

"But..."

"I did," she whined. "But I only—it's like...he had to—ugh." Pressing her forehead to his upper arm, she sighed. "How am I supposed to explain?"

"Demonstration, maybe."

She chuckled and sniffled, then went on in a crackly voice. "I wound up lying there acting like I didn't understand what roll over meant. I was lackluster, and I knew it, so I—you get it."

"Were you as adventurous with your mouth?"

She nodded against him. "I don't know if it was the anger or the booze...maybe both. Ben, I screwed up."

"Was he that good?"

"Don't make me answer that." Lifting her head, she brushed his cheek and stroked his hair. "But he's no better than you, so I need you to listen carefully because I mean what I'm about to say. I don't love him, and I never will. I love you. I'm positive of that."

"But you're seeing him again...tomorrow night. It's your last night of freedom and you're—"

"No!" she insisted. "Not exactly, anyway." Laying her cheek on his shoulder, she explained. "What I did made me feel useless. I went from being a mouse to being Elliot's play toy. I was confused, and I sure as hell couldn't tell you, so I talked to Sandra. What she said made sense."

"She told you to increase the numbers?"

Desiree shifted upright, but kept leaning against him. "She told me it wasn't Elliot I was infatuated with...it was what he represented...the act I associated him with."

"Revenge?"

"That's what I thought it was, but she explained that revenge and affairs are just other forms of convention, and that I'd get bored as soon as the novelty wore off. I needed to learn what unbolted passion felt like. She told me to forget everything I thought I knew about sex and give in to pure ecstasy."

"And..."

"And I drew a blank, so she set up the night for me with Marcus and Emmet."

"What about Hector? You said you called him."

Pointing to the bag hanging on the doorknob she explained, "I ordered a pound of Swiss and a loaf of rye. He was an hour late." Pulling Ben's arm over her shoulders, she snuggled to his side.

"What about all that dirty talk? You were telling them to use your pussy."

"I guess I wanted to hurt you at first. But that wore off quick. I wound up just saying my thoughts out loud."

"Me too."

Desiree chuckled and gave him a playful punch. "I liked hearing you."

He leaned back, pulling her in tight. "You were in control."

"And that made all the difference! It was pure sex, just like you wanted me to try a month ago...only not with Andy tugging at my bra. Babe, I didn't think I could do it with you watching because I needed to let go and not worry about love. But you were supportive. I was able to give in to the concept. I knew your love would be there when I needed it."