Keeping the Secret

[All characters are 18 years or older.]

Keeping the Secret

A hot-wife succumbs to blackmail to keep a secret from hubby

Erotic Fiction

by

Casey Bea

Chelsea didn't care much for her husband's poker buddy, Carl. Physically, he was damned near an Adonis with striking good looks and a ripped body, but his personality was more akin to Narcissus. He saw himself as God's gift to women.

But Carl owned a small body and paint shop, and Chelsea needed his help. Her husband was away for a week on a business trip, and she had scraped the rear fender of his prized Jaguar while backing her Toyota out of the garage. She had asked him to come to the house to look at the car because she couldn't drive a stick, and wouldn't dare drive it across town if she could.

Chelsea was getting ready to go to the gym when Carl stopped by so she was dressed in her workout yoga pants and a low-cut sports bra. She hadn't intentionally dressed to look sexy, but that's the way she came across to Carl. He gave her a friends-and-family discount on the work and assured her that he could have it done before Tom got home.

"Oh, and um, could you do me a huge favor," she said while they were standing next to the car, "and not tell Tom about this? He's told me a hundred times to be careful around his Jag. I'll pay you with cash so he won't know and you don't have to report it. That's a win, win, right?" she added with a chuckle.

"Yeah, I can keep a secret," Carl answered seriously. "But it'll cost you extra."

Chelsea sighed and said to herself, You prick! Resignedly, she said to him, "How much?"

"One of your gargling deep-throat blowjobs that Tom brags about," he replied.

His crude bluntness shocked her momentarily, but then she laughed, assuming he was joking. When he didn't laugh or even smile, she said, "What? You're serious? No! I'm not going to ..." Then the second part of his sentence registered and she said, "Wait. What do you mean that Tom brags about?"

"Oh, yeah! Tom's always bragging about you," Carl said with no qualms about throwing his buddy under the bus. "About how you take his cock down your throat and do some kind of gargle thing around it; how you can fuck all night and never seem to run out of orgasms; how you take his cock up the ass; how much you like him to squirt his hot cum all over your face ..."

"Bullshit!" Chelsea snapped. "He would never talk about me like that!"

"Really?" Carl said calmly. "Then how would I know about the deep-throat gargle thing? You think I just guessed at that? And I also know that when you take him up the ass you like to shove your ass up in the air and have him squat over you so you can get every inch of his cock up your tight, little butt-hole. Oh, and you like him to use the slime that his cock dredges up out of your throat rather than bottled lube."

Her mouth hung open in shock. He was exactly right. Tom must have told him all about their sex life! That son-of-a-bitch! Then a thought occurred to her. "Who did he brag about me to? Was it just you?"

"Oh, no," he replied, happy that she was no longer in denial. "All of us have heard his stories around the poker table. I think he likes to send us all home with hard-ons and jealous that we don't have nymphomaniac trophy-wives. The others probably have, too, but I know I've jerked off after one of Tom's brag sessions." He went on, "I'm single, but I have to admit that none of my lady friends—and there've been plenty—have ever gargled my cock in their throat. Hell, most of them can't even take my cock in their throat."

Part of her was pissed as hell that her husband would tell all of his friends about the things they did in the privacy of their bedroom, but another part—a more primal part—found it a bit of an ego boost that he was bragging about her and apparently referring to her as his trophy wife. Then the thought that his buddies were envious of him and that they all got hard-ons and jerked off thinking about her made her pussy tingle. Carl's raw, crude language added to that spark, as well.

Then, a word he had used registered and she said, "Did he call me a nymphomaniac, or is that your word?"

He laughed, and answered, "Oh yeah, he told us about your folks taking you to a shrink when you were like eighteen and you being diagnosed with hypersexuality disorder. Only he likes the word nympho much better." He laughed again, and said, "He told us you'd fuck every night if he could keep up with you, but when he can't, you've got a drawer full of toys to take his place."

Carl could see in her eyes that she was fuming at her husband, and as he pulled down his fly, he said, "Come on, Chelsea; here's your chance to get back at the prick for talking about you behind your back. Open your pretty mouth and swallow my dick, and I'll keep my mouth shut about the Jag ... and about this, of course, too." He wormed his half-hard pecker out through his fly and added, "How about it?"

Switches began flipping in Chelsea's head that she never even knew were there. That her husband had betrayed her trust by telling his friends that she was a diagnosed nympho and what a good-and-frequent fuck she was flipped a revenge switch. That she was apparently a jerk-off fantasy for at least Carl and probably his other buddies flipped an ego switch that made her pussy tingle even more. That she seemed to be able to do something with a cock in her throat that none of Carl's many girlfriends could do—or had maybe never even thought about doing—flipped a pride switch. Being called a trophy wife in her late forties made sure the pride thing was solidly switched on.

Then she looked down at the pecker in Carl's hand. It had grown into a full-fledged cock worthy of Adonis! It was thick and straight and long, and had a pair of pronounced veins that snaked their way along its length. It was capped by a fat knob that was partially covered by his uncut foreskin. She loved playing with and sucking an uncut cock and hadn't done it since college.

The last and final switch, with good and faithful wife on one side and vengeful-nympho-slut-wife on the other was thrown and she lowered herself to her knees.

She licked the drop of pre-cum from the tip of his dick and then let his knob push her lips apart as she leaned forward. She could feel with her lips that his cock-head had a thick ridge but it was covered by his foreskin. As she swirled her tongue over his knob adding more and more suction, she felt his foreskin sliding back. But she could see that he was no longer holding his cock so he wasn't pulling the skin back. That meant that she was making his already-engorged cock continue to grow and that stoked her ego.

When his skin slipped back over his knob-ridge and her lips closed around the fire helmet, he let out a low groan. She tightened her lip-lock, pulled a hard suction, and poked the tip of her tongue into his pee-hole. He leaned back against the fender of the Jag and she followed him with her mouth firmly attached to his cock.

That she was giving Tom's buddy a blowjob while he rested his ass against his precious Jag seemed all the more fitting revenge for his telling her deep, dark secrets.

When his foreskin pulled back to expose his cock-ridge Chelsea picked up on a taste that she hadn't experienced in years. It was the musky, masculine taste of a cock that had just been pulled out for impromptu sex. She and Tom always washed up—at least with a facecloth if not a shower—before getting it on. The almost-forgotten taste and smell of raw, spur-of-the-moment sex sent a clear message from her nymphomaniac brain cells straight to her cunt and she moaned around Carl's cock-head as her pussy leaked into her yoga pants.

She leaned forward and let her lips glide over the soft bulges of the thick cock-veins atop his rock-hard boner. She bobbed a few times enjoying everything about the slutty situation. The feel and taste of an unwashed, strange cock—the first she'd had since marrying Tom; the depravity of giving a blowjob in her garage while both she and Carl were fully dressed; and getting revenge on her big-mouth son-of-a-bitch husband all combined to make her pussy buzz and soak her pants with a small hands-free orgasm.

On her fourth bob down his cock, she grabbed the pockets of his pants and pulled herself forward, shoving his cock into her throat. She forced herself forward until her face was pressed into his open fly. She was rewarded with a grunted, "Oh, God!" from deep in Carl's throat. If her mouth hadn't been stretched open around his cock she'd have smiled at his reaction. Then, she drove her face even harder against him, getting another half-inch of his boner down her throat before she forced air out of her lungs and "gargled" his cock.

"Holy fucking shit!" he growled as he slapped both of his hands against the car while looking down at the top of his buddy's wife's head while her face was mashed halfway inside his pants. "Tommy wasn't fucking kidding! Nobody's ever done that to my cock before!"

Running out of air, Chelsea gave Carl's dick another short gargle and then pulled off of him, drawing out a string of throat-slime that hung over her bottom lip. She looked up at him and said with a smile, "Is that enough to ensure you keep our little secret?"

"Do that again, and I'll take any secrets you want to my fucking grave!" he replied.

As she pulled in a deep breath she took hold of his hands. When she went forward over his slimy cock again, she put his hands on the back of her head with obvious intent.

He pulled her head hard and fast and crushed her face into his pants. He then shifted his hips a few degrees and got yet another half-inch of his cock down her throat. While he held her she gave him three short gargles in quick succession. "Oh, fuck yeah!" he growled.

The gargling, of course, made her run out of air quickly, but she held enough in reserve for a big finish. She reached up and brushed his hands away from her head, put her hands against his legs, and gargling the whole way, she pushed herself off his cock.

"Fucking aye!" he groaned as he looked down at his glistening, bobbing cock connected to his friend's wife's lips by a web of thick slime. "That is frigging amazing! Have you patented that move?"

As she got to her feet, she chuckled and said, "It might be a little hard to collect royalties on." She then added, "So, we're good? Secret—secrets—kept?"

"Oh, yeah!" he said. "A deal's a deal. You have my word on that!" He pulled her into an embrace as he leaned against her husband's car, and added, "Maybe you'd like to work off the materials and labor, too. That way you don't have to come up with any cash and I don't have to cheat the IRS."

She laughed and said, "I'm sure that cheating on your taxes weighs heavily on your mind. You probably feel as guilty about that as fucking your friend's wife."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you get your hubby's car fixed and get revenge on him for being such an asshole at the same time," he replied.

She laughed again, and said, "Yes, you're quite the gentleman."

He laughed in return, and said, "That's not something I've been accused of very often ... if ever."

Her reply was to cover his mouth with hers and go into a steaming kiss. She had given him the blowjob out of revenge, but although she was still pissed at her husband, every nympho synapse connection in her brain was now firing.

As they tangled tongues and sucked each other's lips, she rocked her pelvis and humped his cock as it pointed upward, trapped between them. He hooked his thumbs under her sports bra and pulled it up, exposing her c-cup tits. He ran his hands firmly over both of them and rubbed his thumbs across her stiff nipples. His calloused "tradesman's" hands were rough and nearly scratched her tits as he mauled them. The contrast to her husband's smooth office-worker hands reinforced the depravity of what she was doing and where she was doing it. Her pussy was on frigging fire!

He gripped her tits hard and held her fat nipples between his coarse fingers and thumbs, and broke their kiss long enough to say, "Oh, yeah! Tommy wasn't lying about how stiff your nipples get when you're horny, was he?"

"Fucker!" she snarled and bit Carl's lip.

He wasn't sure if she was talking about her husband for sharing all of her intimate secrets or about him for taunting her with them. It really didn't matter; it had the desired effect, either way.

He slid his hands upward off of her tits, grabbed the bra, and pushed it up. She broke their kiss after pulling out his lip with her teeth then raised her arms to let him get her top off. As she re-engaged his mouth she backed herself away from him enough to get her hands between them and she began to unbuckle his belt. He stuck his thumbs into the elastic waistband of her yoga pants and pushed them down over her ass.

Thirty seconds later they were both naked and he walked her backward against the fender of her husband's car. He twisted her back and forth to rub her naked, cum-wet ass against the scratch she had put in the paint, and then slid her up to sit on the trunk.

He gave an evil chuckle, and said, "You think Tommy will be more pissed that I'm about to eat his hot-wife's pussy or that you're sitting your bare ass on his precious car while I'm doing it?"

She laughed and answered, "The dumb prick will probably care more about violating his stupid car than his wife!" She squirmed her ass around a bit and added, "But who gives a fuck! Get in there and eat my cunt! I'm sure he's told you how much I like to have my clit sucked."

"Oh, yeah! And how big it is, too!" He reached up and with no pretense of being delicate, he pulled her pussy-lips apart to expose the wet inner folds and her clit. "Oh, fuck, yeah!" he exclaimed. "Look at that fucking thing! He said it looks like a tiny cock, and damned if it doesn't! Is that why you're such a nympho? A giant clit?"

"Who knows and who cares!" she replied. "Get in there and suck it! Give my fat clit a little mini-blowjob!"

Carl was not gay, bisexual, or even bi-curious, but he couldn't resist putting his lips around the largest clit he had ever seen and sucking it as if it was a miniature cock. He sucked, bobbed his head to stretch the big nub in and out, and rubbed his tongue across its clit-head.

She let out a deep, "Ohh!" then grabbed his head tightly and began fucking her cunt with his face. She pushed his head up and down and felt his long, stiff tongue dragging through her enflamed pussy lips. She then lined him up on her cunt-hole and began mashing his head into her gash to jab his tongue up her cunt while his nose smacked into her clit. "Oh, fuck!" she growled. "How'd you like a mouthful of hot, nympho-wife cum?"

"Fuck yes!" he mumbled into her pussy as he moved one hand to shove two coarse fingers up her drenched cunt. With the other hand, he spread her pussy-lips away from her clit and went back to sucking and rubbing it with his tongue.

"Jesus—fucking—Christ!" she shouted as her pussy erupted around his jabbing fingers. He slurped up some of her cum-juice while still focusing on her clit but he let most of it run down her ass and down the fender of hubby's car. He lifted his mouth from her mini-cock just enough to joke, "I hope your hot cum doesn't leave a stain I can't polish out."

"Fuck him!" she snarled. "I hope he sees my naked ass-print on his trunk and smells the cum that's leaked into the cracks!"

He stood up, slid her soaked ass off the car, and gave her a hot, pussy-flavored kiss. He then spun her around and bent her over the trunk. "Give him some nice tit-prints to find, too!" he said as he pushed her down against the car. She laughed and squirmed around in the wetness of her own cum.

He gave one of her wet, round ass-cheeks a glancing-but-stinging slap and said, "You're downright mean when you're pissed!" He slapped the other cheek and added, "I like that in a woman!"

"So hubby told you that I like to get my ass slapped, too, huh?" she said as she rocked her hips while she continued to mash her tits into Tom's paint, wishing her stiff nipples could leave a mark for him wonder about.

Carl smacked one then the other cheek hard enough to bring out red spots, and said, "Actually, he didn't mention that. That was just an educated guess on my part that a hot nympho would be into getting her sexy ass slapped." He punctuated the statement with another smack on each red-spot.

She clenched her teeth and let out a deep growl as the glorious, searing burns on each cheek shot bolts of electricity to her cunt. "Just fuck me, already!" she shouted. "Shove that fat cock up my cunt and fuck the shit out of me!"

He held his boner and stepped forward, rubbing his cock-head up and down through her soaking wet pussy-lips. He easily found the entrance to her cunt-hole and he pushed his knob inside.

Her husband's knob was barely larger than the rest of his cock—which was about the same thickness as Carl's—so when Carl's well-defined mushroom popped inside her and her cunt was able to close around its neck she let out a soft, "Oh, God!" It had been ages since she felt a big cock-head get plugged into her cunt like that!

"Tip fuck me!" she told him. "Work my cunt-hole with your fat knob!"

"Such talk from a lady!" he said as he leaned back and withdrew his knob from her clenched cunt with delightfully excruciating slowness. He then slapped one of her red spots, and said, "But if you insist." Carl loved to tip-fuck—whether it was a cunt, an ass, or a mouth—and he had the perfect knob for it.

He began short, quick hip rocks that popped his cock-head in and out of her pussy time after time. With each poke, she seemed to get a little wetter, and then her tightness began to increase and he knew she was getting ready to cum.

"Oh, fuck, yes!" she groaned as her cunt gushed around his knob. As her hot pussy-juice forced its way out around his mushroom he leaned into her and drove his cock deep into her constricted and gushing cunt, pressing her tightly against the fender of her husband's car. Her cum ran down her legs and across the shiny paint.

He grabbed her shoulders and began banging into her with deep, hard, sloshing strokes that kept her orgasm going for a surprisingly long time. When her cunt began to relax slightly, he pulled his dick from her pussy, lifted her up and spun her around, then kissed her hard. When he broke the kiss, he said, "Well that about covers the materials. You let me fuck your ass and this whole job will be on the house!"

She answered by lowering herself to her knees and replying, "We're going to need some lube for that." She then took his pussy-drenched cock in her mouth, grabbed his ass, and pulled herself forward driving it down her throat in one motion.

He groaned as she did her gargle and then she added a swallow thing that was unlike anything he'd ever felt on his cock before. "Fuck, woman! You got moves I've never even heard of!"

When she pulled back off of his boner, she pooled the phlegm it had drawn out of her throat into her mouth as she took his hand. She spit the slime into his palm and said, "That ought to be enough for my asshole and your cock."

She stood up but she didn't bend back over the trunk as he expected. Instead, she opened the door of the car and leaned inside with her naked ass sticking out. "If there was room to fuck in this thing that's what we'd be doing, but this'll have to do."