The Bully Pt. 24

They say that the truth hurts, and Crystal, despite being out of line, was definitely speaking the truth. I let the comment go as it was clearly made in anger at the situation, rather than out of spite for me. However, I felt flushed as my face reddened.

"How did Stacey get out of there in one piece, Crystal?" I asked, as my shame at being called out as a pussy overwhelmed me.

"I was in such a state of panic that I did the only thing that I could to temporarily halt the proceedings," Crystal said proudly. "I ran into the reception area and smashed the fire alarm on the wall outside Moe's office."

"Quick thinking," I praised her. "Smart move."

"Less than five minutes later, about a dozen firefighters showed up in two fire trucks, and the majority of the gangsters bailed," Crystal added. "When I got back to the motel room, all that was left was Stacey lying on the floor covered in ejaculate, and the frightened young fluffer who was still kneeling naked just inside the motel door."

That night, after I deposited a load inside Crystal's anal-passage, I just couldn't fall asleep. It seemed like there was so much drama in my life, between my relationships with Lela, Crystal and now Stacey. As I lay next to the sleeping teen, all I could think about was Samantha. Classy, educated, driven, and yet at the same time flawless in her physical form, Samantha was my soulmate, of that I was sure.

If we were a couple, our combined income would have been well over one hundred thousand dollars a month, and while my sex life would be a touch more vanilla, the absence of any drama would more than make up for it. I knew that I had made a colossal error by choosing the CumSlut over the future partner at the law firm, and I felt as if I would regret that decision for the rest of my life.

If only I could combine the two, Crystal and Samantha, I mused, as I finally started to doze off. That would be the perfect relationship, to be living with Samantha but to enjoy the level of control that I exerted over Crystal. A man can dream.

After the Bukkake party and Stacey's subsequent exit from my life, Crystal and I quickly got things back on track. There was an underlying current of disquiet as we both processed how rapidly Stacey's life had collapsed.

"I am stunned that such a determined young girl could suffer a meteoric relapse, Crystal," I said as we rehashed the event.

"It just demonstrates the power of drug addiction, Mark," Crystal responded without empathy. "Stacey was a beautiful teen goddess and yet she was in such desperate need of a fix that she would consent to a Bukkake party. She invited twelve niggers to jerk off onto her teenage face in exchange for methamphetamine."

"Maybe they forced her, Crystal?" I mused, trying to find any sense in the matter.

"The circle-jerk was definitely consensual, Mark," Crystal assured me. "I spoke to Kneepads, the young fluffer at the event," Crystal continued. "She guaranteed me that both of them were there as willing participants in exchange for drugs."

"Kneepads?" I said angrily. "Who the fuck is Kneepads?"

"I think her name is Lucy," Crystal said quietly. "But you know on the streets everybody has a tag. Lucy is referred to by her street name, Kneepads. I think it is because of the fact..."

"Yeah, I get it, Crystal," I interjected, abruptly cutting my girlfriend off. "Jesus," I exclaimed, barely able to contain my disdain for the Dolphin Motel and its seedy inhabitants. "That asshole Joker is as bad as Snake. Promise me that you will stay the fuck away from that prick."

While it was disappointing to lose Stacey, and all of the sexual delights that she added to my life, Crystal had numerous teenage friends that were open to a quid pro quo sexual relationship. We had fully acclimated to life in a luxury hotel, and the Executive room's proximity to the elevator ensured that Crystal was able to fulfill her promise to sneak her teenage friends in on a regular basis. I enjoyed many sexually fulfilling threesomes in the weeks following Stacey's departure. Life was good.

Then one day I stepped out of the elevator and walked into a fine mist of my favorite scent, Samantha's signature fragrance. It probably wasn't surprising that I would eventually cross paths with my boss in this opulent hotel. The Four Seasons, in addition to being the finest hotel in our city, was also a known gathering place for investment bankers, lawyers, judges and other respected professionals.

Rotating one hundred and eighty degrees so that I could greet my boss, I was instead shocked to see Lela as she stood in the Four Seasons lobby. Dressed in pink from head to toe my wife resembled Barbie, albeit with jet black hair. Lela was wearing the pink Fendi suit that she had threatened to fuck everyone in my universe in. She had either had a recent breast augmentation surgery, or the Fendi suit had been tailored in such a way to showcase her tits, because they were literally threatening to pop out of her push-up bra. As much as Lela looked like a very expensive fuck-toy, it was her massive upturned jugs that instantly commanded my attention, and it was impossible to avert my eyes from them.

"38 E cup," Lela whispered, as I finally made eye-contact with her. "Paid for using the good old fashioned barter system," she added with a giggle, clarifying the fact that her plastic surgeon had succumbed to her sexual wiles.

I felt that familiar twitch in my pants as my cock reflexively responded to Lela's taunts.

"He had to wait the requisite eight weeks after my breast enhancement," Lela continued to mock me, "but Dr. Simpson was the first man to oil them up and titty-fuck me, Mark."

I wasn't surprised at Lela's revelation that Dr. Simpson had allowed her to use sexual favors as currency. The talented plastic surgeon was renowned for his work, but was also widely sought out by young co-eds, strippers and escorts for his unorthodox payment plans. Many of Lela's coworkers at the Agency had undergone surgical procedures at the skilled hands of Dr. Simpson, before kneeling in front of him to take care of the first installment.

"Dr. Simpson blew his load all over my face as I held my brand new E cups together for his enjoyment," Lela added with a smile. "For an older man he is still capable of releasing an impressive amount of semen."

I could feel my cock slowly stiffening as Lela continued to fuck with me. She had a smug look on her face as my eyes absorbed every detail of her slutty appearance. The Fendi suit had definitely been altered as the hemline was ridiculously short, almost to the point of being obscene. Even as she stood upright, Lela's garter-belt straps were clearly visible, and she had paired the suit with matching sky-high, fuck-me pumps and pink silk stockings.

As I stood there rooted to the spot, with my mouth agape and my erection continuing to strengthen, Lela rotated slowly.

"I have already booked a vaginal-rejuvenation surgery with Dr. Simpson for exactly three months from now," Lela taunted. "I will be in desperate need of it by then, after I have been fucked by every single one of your friends, relatives and coworkers. I promised Dr. Simpson that he could have first crack at my new pussy."

Despite her sexual allure, Lela was dressed so inappropriately for an upscale hotel bar, that I wasn't sure if she would be permitted entry. Her hair was much longer, and even though it was styled in pigtails, the beautifully coiffured mane cascaded down her back almost to her ass. Lela had tied two pink ribbons in her hair, which made her look youthful and coquettish at the same time.

"Hair extensions," Lela said, as if she had anticipated my line of questioning. "I am all dolled up for one of your work colleagues," she added with a smile. "The first of many, I guarantee you."

A few seconds later, as I stood there awkwardly wondering which one of my fellow employees was about to enjoy my wife, Pete Hudson came into my periphery view, and acknowledged me.

"Hi Mark," he said nervously. "I had no idea that you would be here too."

Pete wasn't a close work associate of mine, although he reported to me as he was a junior member of the legal team. Unfortunately for me, he and Lela already had some history. Pete had been the first of my co-workers to fold when Lela made herself available as an employee perk at our company retreat in Joshua Tree. Lela had seduced Pete in the jacuzzi, sucking him off as he sat on the edge of the hot-tub and admired the "CumSlut" tattoo on the back of her neck. Now, years later it appeared that Pete had again been lucky enough to be the first of my subordinates to fuck my wife.

"Pete," I responded coldly, wondering if word of this uneasy exchange would make its way around the office.

Satisfied that she had rubbed my nose in her infidelity sufficiently, Lela turned to my co-worker and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

"Let's get a drink in the bar first, Pete," Lela whispered seductively. "I love an apple martini before I fuck. Pete will be late to work tomorrow, Mark," Lela added maliciously, "if he even makes it."

I watched on forlornly as my wife led my co-worker into the opulent Four Seasons Bar. Any doubts that I harbored about Lela being denied entry evaporated as the Bar Manager greeted her, and warmly welcomed her back. Judging by their familiarity, Lela was a frequent patron of this establishment, and I watched as my wife pointed to a couple of vacant stools located in the center of the well-illuminated mahogany bar.

I can only assume that Lela's choice of seating was designed to further emasculate me. I remained rooted to the spot, transfixed by her slutty appearance as my wife eased into the elevated seat and rested her sky-high pumps on the stool's footrest. This seating position further exposed Lela, and as the silk Fendi skirt embraced her form, I could clearly see the outline of her garter-belt straps against her toned thighs. Lela flashed me a devious smile, and then leaned into Pete and placed her glossed lips against his earlobe.

I will never know what words of encouragement my wife was whispering into my co-worker's ear. However, when Lela rested her dainty manicured hand in Pete's lap, he shuffled around uncomfortably in his bar stool as he struggled to contain his obvious erection. Overwhelmed by his desire, Pete shot me a furtive glance, and then leaned into my wife and began to kiss her tenderly. Lela eagerly reciprocated, and they were french kissing with more intensity within seconds. I left shortly after their very public display of affection, unable to watch my wife offer herself up unabashedly to another man.

When I got to the elevator I was awash with conflicting emotions. The cuckold in me wanted to slip unnoticed into the opulent surroundings of the upscale bar, and watch from afar as my subordinate enjoyed my wife. I knew Lela well enough to surmise that her choice of elevated bar stool in the most illuminated area of the bar was for my benefit. I imagine as soon as I left with my tail between my legs, Lela and Pete would retreat to the comfort and relative privacy of a dimly-lit booth.

Having been regaled with the specifics of my wife's dates over the years, I knew exactly how Lela's choreographed performance in a darkened booth would unfurl. Pete wasn't going to get balls-deep in my wife until they checked into a room at the Four Seasons, but it was reasonable to assume that Lela would offer my co-worker some kind of release as they enjoyed a few cocktails.

Perhaps my wife would give Pete a hand-job as he ogled her new tits, I mused, as the elevator slowly ascended to the third floor. Maybe if the booth offered sufficient privacy, Lela would perform her signature move and drop her napkin or a piece of cutlery. Then, under the pretense of retrieving it from the floor, my wife would slip under the oversized linen tablecloth and fellate her date.

I was in an elevated state of arousal when I entered the Executive room. I reached for my iPhone to ascertain Crystal's whereabouts so that I could bust a nut inside one of her teenage orifices. As the 'Find my Phone' app triangulated Crystal's exact location, I was interrupted by the distinct sound of a text.

My heart sank as I processed the fact that it was from Lela, and I positively recoiled when I realized that she had attached a photo to it. It wasn't unusual for Lela to share photographic evidence of her dates with me, after the fact. The cuckold within me enjoyed the occasional graphic picture of my wife performing a lewd act for another man, particularly as I would invariably get some kind of release from Lela, as soon as my cock involuntarily stiffened.

However, Lela's current attempt to arouse the cuckold within me felt different. Firstly, judging by the time-stamp that is ubiquitous on Apple products, this sordid act was occurring in real time. Secondly, Lela was not available to provide sexual release, at least not as far as I was concerned.

My hands were shaking as I opened the attachment and viewed the photo. Taken using Lela's state of the art iPhone Pro 15, and its forty-eight megapixel camera, the high resolution image showed my wife peeking from beneath the linen table cloth in the private, dimly-lit booth, as she playfully brandished a spoon. The caption read 'Oops, clumsy me. I found it though,' which I understood immediately was a reference to her signature move.

My 'Find my phone' app had now fully triangulated Crystal's exact location, and I was relieved to see that my girlfriend was in the hotel gym, presumably working out. I wasn't sure how I was going to use Crystal to bust a nut, but the gym had beautifully appointed shower facilities so that was certainly an option. I grabbed my wash-kit and two towels and made a bee-line for the exit to my room.

The next photo from Lela arrived less than one minute after the first. Captioned 'Look what else I found under the table cloth!' the high resolution image showed Lela kneeling between a man's legs as she extracted his erection from his underwear. Even though the picture itself gave few clues as to the identity of the man, obviously I knew that it was Pete.

I was quite surprised that the bar was turning a blind eye to this illicit activity. However, the fact that Lela had chosen a dimly-lit booth probably made it easier to hide their sexual indiscretions. It wasn't the first time that Lela had fellated a man in this manner. In fact, immediately after we broke up, Lela sent me some lewd photos of her sucking off her VIP black paramour in the hotel bar. However, that wealthy investment banker had booked into the most expensive suite in the Four Seasons, and as such was undoubtedly given some latitude.

My coworker, Pete, was not a VIP, wielded little status or clout, and certainly couldn't afford a Suite in the Four Seasons. And yet the bar manager had basically ignored Lela and Pete as they fooled around in the semi-private booth. I imagine that lucky bastard's hands were shaking as he held Lela's phone just above her face and snapped the picture. Fortunately for him, and any future viewers of the lewd image, Apple's patented second‑generation sensor‑shift optical image stabilization did a wonderful job of capturing Lela's submission to my co-worker.

I was securing the door to my Executive room when the third photo arrived by text. Judging by the minimal amount of time that had elapsed, things were evolving quickly in that booth in the Four Seasons bar. Lela had Pete's erect cock in her dainty hands and was photographed kissing the glans as she winked playfully at the camera. This picture was captioned 'Looks like someone is ready to bust a nut!'

I was in the communal hallway outside my third floor Executive room, which probably wasn't the ideal location in which to view a pornographic image. However, the cuckold inside me surfaced, and I found myself zooming in on Lela's face, as she pampered my subordinate.

Pete was definitely ready to bust a nut, as Lela had so eloquently described it. His erection was at full-mast, the veins clearly visible in his blood-engorged member, as Lela's glossed lips peppered his cock-head. Traces of my wife's lipstick were visible all over Pete's glans, and pre-cum pooled at his meatus. Lela winked at the camera, her one open eye twinkling with delight as she openly cuckolded me.

I entered the elevator breathing heavily and trying to conceal my erection with my wash-kit as I slowly descended to the subterranean gymnasium. When the elevator reached the ground floor, the doors opened to allow two hotel guests to board. The cuckold in me sought to seize the opportunity to exit at this point, and enter the bar for a closer look at my wife and her date. However, as the couple entered the elevator, I regained control of my senses and remained on board, heading for the gym.

My phone dinged again, right as the doors opened on the subterranean floor, which contained the recreational facilities and the hotel's valet parking lot. Pausing to allow the other guests to leave first, I was relieved when they headed off in the direction of the parking garage, instead of towards the gym. Things were moving rapidly in the dimly-lit booth of the Four Seasons bar, just one floor above me. Lela was now depicted sucking Pete's cock, her glossed lips closed about half-way down Pete's shaft, as she looked directly into the f/1.78 aperture of the main camera. Even as she pleasured my subordinate, my wife mocked me with her eyes, her look being a strange mixture of pride at the control that she had over Pete, and of utter contempt for me.

I entered the workout facility with a purposeful stride, encouraged to see that the entire gym was almost empty. I noticed Crystal immediately, running on a treadmill with her AirPods in each ear. There was a guy who I recognized as the resident trainer, doing some paperwork at the small desk which also served as the sign-in area. Lastly, the gym cleaner, who was using the quiet time at the facility to wipe down the equipment.

I didn't want to startle Crystal so I reached for my phone, my intention being to send her a text informing her of my presence in the gym. Before I could type the message, the next photo of Lela popped up in my texts. By my reckoning, less than six minutes had elapsed since Lela first intentionally dropped the spoon under the table. However, as the latest photo confirmed, that was sufficient time to allow Lela to extract Pete's first load of the evening from his obviously swollen nuts. Judging by the photographic evidence, it was a copious load too. Lela usually swallowed her lover's semen, particularly after she had performed her usual battery of tests for STIs. However, in this case, Pete's ejaculate was visible all over Lela's upturned breasts, and the text didn't address how exactly it had got there.

'First load of many for this lucky young buck' the caption read, which created more questions than it answered, particularly to a cuckold like myself.

My first thought was one of utter contempt for Pete's lack of stamina and self-control. That pussy obviously didn't spend too much time in the company of beautiful women, judging by the fact that he blew his wad in about six minutes. Then my heart sank as I realized that the CumSlut, to whom I was still legally married, was intent in giving each of my coworkers the night of their lives, irrespective of their sexual experience. Lela didn't care if Pete was prone to premature ejaculation, or if possessed the stamina of a seasoned lothario. Either way, regardless of his sexual prowess, Lela was going to completely drain his nuts.

My next thought was why Pete had unloaded all over my wife's tits instead of between her glossed lips. Had Lela removed her lips from my co-worker's cock just prior to ejaculation, and directed his cum shots onto her recently augmented titties? Or had my wife permitted Pete to blow his wad inside her warm, moist mouth before lowering her head and allowing the seminal fluids to drip down onto her massive mammaries. Either way, this young man who deferred to me at our mutual place of employment, had enjoyed my wife's soft lips on his cock and had blown his load in such a way that it had landed squarely on Lela's recently enhanced breasts.