My Husband Is a Slut Ch. 02

My husband is such a slut.

He's pretending not to know this, though. It's been a week or so since my husband, John, was spitroasted in the park across the street from our home, bent over a picnic table slobbering on my cock while our straight neighbor, Jason, creampied John's hot, hairy bubble butt.

John and I are a hot couple and we have great sex together. But due to some internalized homophobia I blame on his Catholic upbringing, he could be getting gangbanged in a sling and still call himself a strict top. I know he has fantasies that make his dick rock hard, but his brain gets in the way, telling him to be ashamed of these desires.

So I lied to my husband. I gave him a plain gummy bear and told him it was a special edible that would essentially hypnotize him. It was an innocent, white lie, that let him fully embrace his true self.

But then he lied to me, too. He claimed not to remember any of it, which I know to be impossible. But he doesn't know that I lied to him. And he doesn't know I know he lied to me.

Not that I'm complaining. He's been far more relaxed with sex since then, even though he's gone back to playing the top. But he's been much more enthusiastic with fucking my face, eating my ass, and railing my hole with his beautiful dick.

Oh, but there is one way I've punished him for lying to me about remembering what happened in the park. I haven't ever told him what happened. At least not everything. I had pressed him on this the following morning a bit and he doubled-down on not remembering anything.

"It must be that gummy you gave me," he said, blushing slightly, as we drank coffee the next Saturday morning.

"I guess. Did you have any dreams this week, like your subconscious remembering what happened?" I asked.

"No. I slept really well that night, though. And you must have fucked me harder than you ever have before because my hole still felt a bit loose and used for several days."

So this is how he's going to play it? I had to work hard to stifle a grin.

"Yeah. I got a bit carried away. Your ass is just so hot and you don't let me fuck you that often."

"Maybe we should change that," he said. "I kind of like the way I feel this morning. That gummy must have awakened my inner bottom, and I think it's good for me to let go a bit. And as long as you don't take one at the same time, I feel safe putting myself in your hands."

"So, you want me to give you a special gummy bear anytime I want you to bottom for me?" I asked.

"Well, not anytime you want, necessarily," he replied, his eyes glancing downward, "but if I'm in the mood to bottom and I have one of those gummies..." and he trailed off. He does this all the time. But if he wanted to keep this ruse going to get his slutty kicks, he was going to have to say it out loud.

"What? You have a gummy and what?"

He looked me straight in the eyes. "If I have one of those gummies, I'm placing my trust in you to do with my body as you see fit."

John just giggled in his coffee as my eyebrows -- and dick -- sprang sky-high.

That very evening started our next adventure. John asked for a gummy and that we shower together. We have the perfect shower for sex and we took our time making out, sucking each other off, and eating each other's asses. It was getting pretty late by the time we finished. I had almost forgotten about the gummy, but as I was doing a bit of post-shower primping, John came strolling back into the bathroom in a black Nasty Pig jockstrap.

"What now, Sir?" he asked. I guess this Sir business was part of his gummy fantasy. I honestly couldn't tell whether this was all a joke or he was still pretending this was real. The line was getting blurry.

"It's time for some fun," I said, and led him into the bedroom. I kissed him while pushing him back toward our bed until he laid down and scooted backward. Since he was wearing the jockstrap to go with it, I decided it was time to make him a true nasty pig. I went and got the bin I keep in our closet, with all of the gear I've amassed with a lifetime of gay sex.

First, I found the hood. Neither one of us had seen it in a while -- it was pretty hardcore for our usual escapades. It was basically a tight cap that went over John's entire head except for his nostrils and mouth, with extra padding in the eye and ear area. Like a cheap sensory depravation cap. Who knows if it works all that well -- we'd used it once a decade earlier -- but if John was going to pretend this gummy is what made him a slut, then he can pretend not to see or hear anything, too.

All I could really see of him at this point was a sort of smirk in the opening at the bottom of the hood. Oh, and his beautiful, rock hard cock straining the pouch of that jockstrap.

Then I got out the cuffs, put one on each of John's wrists, clipped the cuffs to the straps, and then secured those on the corners of our headboard. Then I placed the other two cuffs on each of John's ankles and secured those straps to the feet under the end of our bed. He was tied spread eagle on our bed.

He looked like such a slut.

I spent the next half hour or so just exploring his body. Sucking and biting his nipples, making out with him, rubbing his cock through the pouch of the jockstrap, but not enough to give him any kind of relief. He was writhing in ecstasy.

My own dick was pulsing with excitement, so I crawled up John's hot body, straddled his face, and slid my cock in his mouth. He moaned loudly, just like he had that night bent over the picnic table taking our neighbor's dick. It only egged me on.

"Take my dick, slut," I sneered as I fucked his face, the gurgling and gagging echoing through our bedroom.

I was getting too close and didn't want this to end. I pulled out, both of our breath heavy, with spit running down the corners of his puffy, red lips.

"Let's work on that ass now," I said, and climbed down off the bed. I unclipped his ankle cuffs and proceeded to re-clip his cuffed ankles to his respective wrists, taking advantage of the extreme flexibility John had developed as a result of his beloved hot yoga classes.

He looked like such a hot slut on our bed, basically making a slutty "V" shape strapped to our headboard. And toward the center of this hot picture was that strained pouch and, right below that, that slightly hairy pucker that was just calling to me.

"Fuck!" he screamed as I dove into his hole with my tongue. I spent what felt like forever bathing that hole with my tongue, darting it into the quickly loosening slut hole, rubbing my beard around before spitting on it some more and starting the same process all over again. It was driving John crazy.

Then the doorbell rang.

"Shit!" I yelled as I sprang back from John's hole. It was glistening with my spit, and I realized a puddle had formed on our comforter. Oh well, I guess we can afford the dry cleaning, I thought, before a second ring of the doorbell shook me out of my stupor once again.

It suddenly occurred to me that John wasn't reacting to the doorbell ringing or my yelling when it first surprised me. So without even thinking much about it, I just knew I needed to keep him quiet while I saw what was going on outside. I spotted a ball gag in the bin of toys and strapped that onto John as quickly as I could, then grabbed a pair of my running shorts and stumbled into them as I worked my way down our hall.

I was finally opening our front door as the doorbell rang for a third time. As I opened it, I was met with quite the surprise.

"Jason!"

"Hey, neighbor!" Jason drunkenly slurred. He was being propped up by two guys who looked like brothers. "These are my buddies, Mike and Greg. They wanted to take my keys because they think I'm drunk, but the joke's on them. I don't know where my keys are!" And then he cackled loudly.

"Shh, come inside!" I exclaimed, not wanting to draw more attention this late at night. Our other neighbors were quiet, uptight types. Mike and Greg deposited Jason in the closest chair and he rolled his head back, demonstrating the dizziness surely coursing through his head.

"You don't have your keys? Are you saying you're locked out? Where's your family?" I asked, peppering him with questions as I tried to make sense of what was going on.

"Where are your clothes, dude?" Jason slurred, again laughing hysterically. It was the first time I realized I had invited these three men into our house with just a very short pair of shorts on. I guess I should be thankful the adrenaline of everything had ruined my hardon. "Just giving you shit, man! Beth took the kids to her parents' house for the weekend. And I told her I couldn't skip out on my buddy, Mike's, bachelor party."

"Especially since the strip club was his idea," the guy I now assumed to be Mike directed at me, rolling his eyes.

"I thought your man would appreciate I was taking you to a see lady strippers, but we don't have to tell David about the peep show Eric is giving you right now," Jason laughed, before sitting upright quickly, "Hey, wait! Where's John?"

"John?" I asked, like a deer in headlights, "Um, John is...tied up at the moment." Wow, Eric. My inner self both laughed at me and rolled their eyes. "So, how are you going to get back in your house, Jason?"

"Oh, yeah, that's why we came here, man," he said to me, "Beth told me she gave you guys a key for emergencies."

Great, I thought to myself. Another one of John's attempts to be a model neighbor. Too bad he never tells me when he makes such commitments, but at least I have an idea of where to look.

"I assume it's in one of our kitchen drawers. While I look I'm going to get you some water, Jason, so you can sober up. Can I get you guys anything?" I asked the other two.

"Nothing for me, thanks," Mike replied, and I finally heard Greg for the first time. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah, it's down the hall," I said, and dipped into our kitchen and headed right to our junk drawer. I wanted these guys out of my house so I could get back to my husband. John may be embracing his inner slut, but he's going to be pissed his legs have been tied over his head this long. I was rummaging through the drawer to find anything that looked like a key. I was pretty sure I'd find a few and we'd have to narrow it down.

I was bent over practically diving into the drawer when I heard Mike behind me -- like, right behind me. "I sure didn't see anything this nice at the strip club Jason took me to." I bolted upright and turned to find myself face-to-face with a smirking Mike.

"Right...for your bachelor party?" I asked, quizzically.

"Yeah, but we're both strict tops," Mike shrugged, "so we have to get creative."

Strict tops. Always think they're such masculine men because they won't let anyone slip a dick in their holes. They moan just as loud as the next horny bitch when that same hole gets swiped by a wet tongue. How else did my husband end up tied up with a slit-glistened hole in our bedroom while I tried to get these guys out of our house. Then, of course, there was the tingle in my own hungry hole as Mike seemed to move even closer.

"I was telling my buddy, Jason, about how it had been a while since I had some tight pussy wrapped around my cock. Jason and I have been friends for a long time, a very long time. And so I know how loose-lipped he gets when he's drunk. Sure, not loose-lipped enough to suck my dick, but I'm still working on that. And tonight after a few drinks, he told me about this hot cumdump he found in a park that turned out to be his neighbor."

Mike's hand had snaked its way around my waist by now and I felt his fingers under the waistband of my shorts. "So I told him I needed to meet this neighbor and see if I could drop a load in him, too."

"That wasn't me..." I started, without really thinking about why I was clarifying it was my husband, not me, who was the cumdump Jason found in the park.

"Oh, I know," Mike continued, "Jason told me all about the furry butt cheeks he grabbed onto while plowing a tight hole. Since you answered the door in nothing but these tiny, slutty shorts, I figured you had a warm, smooth pussy to match the rest of your body."

As he finished his comparison between my body and my husband's -- without ever meeting John -- his long, thick middle finger found my hot, pulsing hole. He pressed insistently until my hole let the tip of his finger slip in just a little bit. I couldn't let this get out of control, so I wrestled away from Mike and grabbed a glass out of the nearby cupboard.

"Jason really needs to sober up," I said to Mike as I filled the glass with water from our fridge, "so you can all be on your way. I'll keep looking for the key." With the glass full, I walked back into our living room and stopped dead in my tracks.

Jason was sitting right where we'd left him, but his jeans and boxer briefs were now bunched up around his ankles and that big, fat dick that had pummeled John's hole over a picnic bench was lightly bobbing with Jason's heartbeat. I hadn't gotten a good look at his dick in that dark park, but here in the light of our home it was glorious.

"I have my keys, Eric," Jason said to me as he grabbed his cock and waved it at me a bit. "My buddies found the strip club a little boring, so I told them I knew a place where we could all get our rocks off."

"What is happening?" I asked, frozen in the middle of our living room. I was suddenly very thirsty, so I downed the glass of water I had brought for Jason.

"Yeah, keep that mouth nice and wet," Mike said, suddenly right behind me once again. "What's happening is that you're going to get on your knees like a good, little slut, and suck Jason's dick."

"I know you want a taste of the dick that stretched your husband's pussy open," Jason said to me with a smirk.

"Go ahead slut," Mike whispered in my ear as I felt his hand once again slide down my back and underneath he waistband of my shorts. "Let's have some fun."

I stepped forward to get away from Mike and found myself, of course, even closer to Jason and his massive erection. Shit. What the hell is going on? In a split second, I justified my actions in that my husband was tied up so it's not like he could catch me being a slut, right?

"Fuck it," I said, setting the glass down on the table next to the chair Jason was in as I got on my knees and dove on his cock.

"Fuck, Jason, he actually did it," Mike said.

"I told you my neighbors were sluts, dude," Jason said back to him, as if I wasn't even there. And then he placed both of his hands on my head near my ears and started slamming my head down on his cock. I started descending into my own slutty thoughts as my neighbor skull-fucked me. See, this was one of my favorite things to do, and I have the experienced throat for it. I loved to deepthroat John, but no matter how much I begged him, he could just never bring himself to fuck my face for more than 10 seconds. He's so fucking respectful of me. Ugh.

Here, though, I could just let go and let my absolutely adoration for cock really shine. The way Jason was fucking my face was making me feel accomplished, with my throat taking his cock down, but it still being a tight enough fit that I gave him some hot gagging sounds -- the straight guys love to gag sluts with their cocks -- and it was producing a lot of spit that was running down Jason's balls and making a mess in the chair. Good thing it was faux leather and could be wiped down.

As I completed my own slutty thoughts, I realized I could only barely hear what was being discussed over me. I think I heard some commentary about how good I was at sucking dick and maybe Jason asking Mike if he was going to take a crack at that pussy and Mike saying he had to find it first.

Find it first, what does that even mean? I force myself off of Jason's cock, which found me gasping for air as I looked up at him? I'm sure I looked like a slutty mess. I could feel the spit running down my chin and my eyes were watering.

"Don't worry, Eric," Jason said, as he beat his cock on my lips and tongue. "We plan on giving that pussy a workout, too." And then he grabbed the hair on the top of my head and slammed his cock back down my throat and held it there. I tried to relax and find a way to breathe, but I was starting to see floating stars. For some reason, I still felt calm. And then I felt sleepy. Was I dreaming this big cock stretching my jaw? I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, and then I drifted off.

In my dream, I was being carried like Prince Charming carrying Snow White. Or was I slung over the shoulder of a firefighter? I was laid down in the grass. Or was it a couch? And there was a voice. Or was it the TV? Had John left the TV on? Was there a football game? I heard cheering. But not cheering from the TV -- it was like a group of guys watching together. Or were they playing a video game and cheering each other on?

I woke up with a start. Where was I? I was looking up at the ceiling of a lit room. But which room? I turned my head to the side and could see our TV. OK, I'm in the living room. But the TV is off. Is John watching TV in our bedroom? What was I hearing?

My mouth felt dry, so I opened it to lick my lips. I could feel my skin cracking, like breaking up dried spit. Oh, right. I was sucking cock. No, wait, I was being skull-fucked.

Fuck. I was being skull-fucked by my neighbor, Jason, but his buddies weren't in the room. No one is in the room but me now. Fuck, where are they? Did they leave? Shit, John's been tied up for quite a long time now.

I heard that cheering again.

It was coming from our bedroom.

John!

I leapt from the couch and ran down the hall. I threw the door open and, for the second time tonight, stopped dead in my tracks.

My husband, John, our neighbor, Jason, and his friends, Mike and Greg, were all in the middle of our bed, and the picture they created was absolutely filthy. Mike was laying on the bed, with John straddled on top. Jason was behind John and I could see his cock fucking in and out of John's hole. It was then I could see that Mike's cock was up my husband's hole already.

My husband was getting double-penetrated by our next door neighbor and his buddy. But that's not all. With each thrust of Jason's cock into his widely stretched hole, John's mouth was being thrust forward onto Greg's dick.

Jason looked over at me. "Hey, neighbor! Sorry about choking you out with my dick, but you seemed OK when I carried you over to the couch for a little nap. I figured I'd join the guys in tag teaming your husband's hairy snatch, but all his holes were full so I had to make more room. John took a second dick in his hole with barely any resistance."

I thought about defending my husband by telling them about the special gummy bear that made him a slut, but then I reminded myself that the gummy was fake. There was nothing making my husband a slut other than him wanting to be a slut. Which at this moment found him choking on one dick while two more stretched out the asshole of this supposedly proud top.

It was a moment of extreme clarity for me. My husband is a slut. And if he's a slut, then he won't stop me from being a slut, right?

"So what about me?" I asked, dropping my shorts to my ankles and kicking them across the floor. "If you think my husband is a slut, you haven't seen what I can do yet."

I was going to outslut my husband. And I wasn't even going to hide behind a fake pot gummy.

"Come sit on my face," I heard Mike say from underneath Greg's assault on John's mouth.

So I did. It forced Greg's cock out of John's mouth, however, and as I straddled Mike's face and sat my ass right down on his tongue, I came face to face with my husband, spit running down his chin just like it had run down mine earlier. He still had the hood on, so I couldn't see his eyes, and it struck me that with the padding around his ears, he probably wasn't all that aware of what was happening. Well, not coherently, at least. His holes were probably filling in the blanks for what he couldn't hear. He had three cocks inside him and he hadn't made any effort to stop it from happening, even after they had untied him from the bed, obviously.