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We were together with the Fishers every weekend all through the winter and into the beginning of the summer. Sometimes with our spouses, sometimes with our lovers. But like all other good things it began to end and by the fall we were down to once or maybe twice a month and by the holidays it stopped.
By that time I had a new toy, Mal, my husband. He was my cuckold, my lover or what ever else I wanted him to be. I had admonished Norman not to humiliate him but then I turned around and completed what Norman had started. It was a bigger turn on for me than Norman's cock.
Whenever I wanted some strange cock or pussy I merely had to tell Mal I had a date and out I went. I even brought a few lovers home just to tease him, but I made sure he knew it was just for my fun and he was always included if he so wanted. He accepted everything I did as long as I was happy.
The power I had over that man. He learned to make love to me like a woman would or like a man could. Although, his cock was not as big as Norman's, he did a good enough job to keep me happy and he was mine to use as I wished. I could dress him as I wanted to fit my mood, as a male or female, and make love with him either way. He was human dildo for me when I wanted a cock or my whore when I wore my strap-on. He was everything I wanted him to be. I loved him more than ever.
Life was never better.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousabout 1 month agoI'm just sad that one or two or three hundred kilobytes of precious magnetic media are wasted to store this garbage.
Anonymous4 months agoThen, one night, Norman came over unannounced. She didn't want her husband to watch... The bed springs were really squeaking... Mal had tears flowing down his cheeks... thinking; "How could she... She promised this night was mine, ours. She purposely dressed in that new lingerie for me... after all, this is my birthday and now that bastard is here and she prefers him to me? ON MY BIRTHDAY ???" His shoulders drupe'd. Mal had finally seen the light... He felt he had been abused enough... ,He kept mumbling and repeating "On my birthday..." He went into the bedroom. opened up the bottom drawer in his dresser bureau... between the piled clothes, he pulled out his dad's souvenir German P-38 pistol. shoved the loaded 9 mm magazine into the handle, slide the action back loading the first round, turned around looking at his wife's closed eyes as she was again experiencing another orgasm. Cleared his throat loudly catching norm's attention... Norman turned his head to yell at Mal to obey the wife's orders to get out ... Clearity suddenly shown on Norman's face when he realized what Mal was pointing at his head... Mal kept repeating... "On my Birthday... on my..." He shot Norman right between the eyes. "Birthday... You fucking promised... whore." and shot her too. Mal backed away from the bed. falling onto the chair in a seated position.. "On my Birthday... you promised, you lied." Mal found himself in a psycho ward. Had to be fed through tubes... he kept staring at nothing saying. "On my Birthday..." Mal was incarcerated for five years...it was obvious in court. Mal had gone insane... but, finally, he began to come around asking.. "Where's Patti...? Where am I? He was judged sane and released... He visited his wife's grave... went to Norman's burial site and pissed on the grave... He then went to his new apartment having gotten his old job back...
Anonymous7 months agoThese stories are quite entertaining, sexy, and fun until the writer's psychosis takes over the story, and things get extreme, fetishy, and stupid. They diverge from that path where 90% of normal people could find something to enjoy. The story enters that realm of mucky, twisted visions, where all human dignity the characters previously possessed disappears. We realize that a twisted (and not in a fun way) mind is pounding out this screed in a sort of literary "no wire hangers" moment, albeit somewhat subdued. Perhaps the coolness with which the script is flipped into a sexual dystopia is the most disturbing thing of all.
