Under Pressure

Peter walked out of the bathroom and admired his wife from afar, as she rubbed her body with lotion in front of the mirror. Anna's short frame didn't stop her from having great legs - toned and curved in the right spots, with juicy thighs that connected to her wide hips and a bubble butt covered in peachy skin. Her natural ass cheeks were fat and succulent, and they wiggled slightly as she moved her body.

When she bent down, Peter could see a hint of her shaved pussy between her thighs. He felt proud that his wife had the most heavenly pussy he had ever seen - perfect, pink lips and peachy cushions around her tight, rosy entrance. He felt a sudden fire in his chest and his dick grew inside his pants.

He could see her arched back and a hint of her natural breasts between her torso and her armpit - they were an average size, but looked full and embellished by large, pink nipples. Her arms, on the other hand, were thin and delicate, and her small hands moved toward her peachy neck and her round face. At 27, she still preserved a sweet and girlish face, except for her deep, cunning blue eyes that seemed to know many secrets. Her light-brown hair complimented her pale complexion.

Peter thought they were a good match - he was taller, but still average. His body was equally soft and pink, and his eyes were a darker shade of blue. His dark-blond hair was Anna's favorite part - she had always preferred blond guys - and his body was fit and slim; the product of a lot of swimming. But most importantly, they were the same age, which connected them in many ways.

"Are we gonna have fun tonight?" asked Peter, as he approached Anna and grabbed her small waist.

Anna turned around to face him and showed a dirty smile.

"You naughty boy," said Anna, with her unbearably sweet voice. "Are you already thinking about that?"

"Well, we haven't fucked since Monday, Anna. Are you trying to hurt me?" protested Peter, playfully.

Anna moved her hands to her mouth and laughed like an innocent nun.

"You dirty pervert! Hand me my dress," said Anna, moving away from his arms.

Anna enjoyed playing games with him. She would tease and edge him, and do dirty things to tempt his lust, and when Peter tried to take her, she would pretend to be all innocent and break his heart. Peter knew that the game would continue until she couldn't say no anymore - and then she would give herself to him, and let the fire in her husband's chest turn into an intense fuck. Peter secretly enjoyed that little game of denial and eventual release, as it went on for almost five years of their marriage.

Anna dressed up, did her hair and makeup, and put on Peter's favorite high heels - a pair of gold, slutty shoes that elevated her legs and made her look like a movie star. She looked good enough to eat in a short, white dress. Peter tried to think about something else and they talked about family and work, as they walked out of the house and into the car.

Peter drove to their favorite bar in the bay area, as he listened to Anna talk and giggle about her coworkers. They laughed at each other's stupid remarks, but things got slightly less funny when Anna mentioned that one of the men was hitting on her at the office. Peter's face burned slightly, as Anna described what had happened.

"...and then he grabbed the desk behind me, like he was trying to hold me, and gave me a filthy smile," said Anna.

"He grabbed you, Anna?" said Peter, alarmed.

"Well, he didn't touch me, but he got very close. I just told him to get away and I walked out," replied Anna.

"You should denounce him, or at least warn HR about it," suggested Peter, seriously.

"It was nothing. He's a playful type. Besides, he's a sponsor," said Anna, nonchalantly.

"What's his name?"

"Bob. A dirty, old fuck. His beer gut almost touched me by an inch," laughed Anna.

"Oh, Anna, I'm so sorry," said Peter.

He kept driving in silence for a minute.

"Did you get wet?" he asked, prompting Anna to almost spit from laughter.

"You sick fuck," she said, slapping him on the head. "You men are all the same."

"Just checking," he joked.

That wasn't the first time someone tried to steal his beautiful wife from him. She was young and gorgeous, after all, and men were constantly trying to approach her, and were left disappointed when she showed her wedding ring and playfully encouraged them to embarrass themselves in front of Peter. They all failed miserably, because none of them looked like Anna's type anyway.

"I would never trade my perfect, hot husband for some dirty bastard," Anna had confessed, on a particular night, before Peter buried his face in her soft cunt and made her cum in his mouth.

He parked the car and they entered the bar around 8. They met with some friends and ended up getting fairly drunk. Anna became even more playful and falsely innocent, and Peter felt like devouring her right there in front of everyone.

Later that night, the two of them went to a hotel that Anna had booked. She insisted that they jumped in the pool, which was empty at midnight, but Peter felt lazy and uncomfortable, and ended up sitting by the pool and watching his wife swim in the water, moving her soft body like an angel, in her white underwear. The fabric was light enough that it became slightly transparent, and Peter could see the shadow of her nipples as her natural tits bounced up and down innocently. She didn't notice, and her drunk brain prompted her to giggle as he drooled over her.

Then Peter noticed they weren't alone anymore, and that he wasn't the only person drooling over his wife. A tall, fat man sat down on the chair near him, and released a dirty chuckle, as he stared right at Anna's tits over the water. He was a balding, fat fuck, with broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms and a dark stubble on his red face. But what shocked Peter the most was his expression of relaxed contempt, as if he owned the place and didn't feel remorse for staring at a young girl right in front of her partner. He was around 60 years old - a massive old man.

Peter stared at the man seriously, and the old fuck finally noticed him, opened a shit-eating grin and winked.

"That's a good piece of fuckmeat right there," he said, with a deep, raspy voice.

"She's my wife," said Peter, drunkenly.

"I figured," the man laughed. "Hot chicks these days end up marrying weak wimps like you."

"Excuse me?" said Peter, standing up.

A hand grabbed Peter's shoulder. Anna had walked out of the pool and suddenly stood between him and the old man.

"It's okay, Peter. That's Bob, our sponsor," said Anna, as she walked toward Bob and shook his massive hand. "What are you doing here?"

Bob laughed louder. His fat, hairy arm dwarfed Anna's small frame.

"I'm staying here, sweetheart. I don't own a house in every city, y'know?"

"Oh, I didn't know you were here. W-what a coincidence," said Anna, awkwardly.

"I agree. What a sweet coincidence. So sweet and so hot," said Bob, a strong amount of mockery in his voice. "You look so fucking hot swimming in the water like that. Those pink nipples are sending blood into my cock, pussycat."

Anna looked down at her breasts and quickly covered them with her arms. Her skin became immediately red with embarrassment, and her drunken body shook left and right in front of Bob's big gut. The man stood up in front of her and grabbed her hand. He puffed up his chest and Peter could see the hairy bush beneath his unbuttoned black polo shirt.

"Don't be shy, cupcake. Let daddy see your naughty tits," the man smirked and held her hands as if she were a cat.

Peter felt a cold fury penetrate his body. He ran toward the old fuck and tried to grab his arm and push him away from Anna. The man didn't move an inch - his massive arm was like a concrete column and his large frame was unshakable. Peter tried several times, from different angles, until the man finally grabbed his neck with one hand and threw him in the pool, like a rag doll.

"Learn your place, faggot," said Bob, nonchalantly, as Anna released an impotent shriek.

Peter's head was spinning from the fall and all the alcohol. His clothes were drenched in water, and he struggled to get out of the pool, as the man grabbed his wife and enveloped her in a wet, forced kiss that echoed on the walls.

Peter fought against the water and finally crawled on the floor, feeling breathless, and walked slowly toward his wife. She was drowned in Bob's big arms, and between his crouched legs. He devoured her mouth in a sick, thunderous kiss, and her body suddenly seemed to give in to his touch, as he held her back and moved his strong hands down to her ass cheeks, grabbing her luxuriously, pressing his red fingers against her pale flesh, and then touching her pussy from behind.

Anna released a soft moan of surprise, and the man chuckled and devoured her neck intensely, as Peter watched, completely impotent and not knowing how to save her from his arms. Peter didn't even think of screaming for help, and neither did Anna. He could've ran and talked to the hotel staff. He could've grabbed his phone and called the police. He could've found a gun somewhere and shot the motherfucker. But he didn't. The mixture of shock and drunkenness made him feel weak and dumb. He felt under pressure - under the power of that big, strong fucker.

Bob grabbed Anna more and more, consuming her body intensely in a way that she had never experienced before. Peter had cherished her and treated her like a princess. He would never think of manhandling her like a whore, but Bob was comfortable and confident enough to do it. He possessed her body like a big, fat troll. She was soft like a bunny, drunkenly moaning louder and louder, until the man slid his fingers into her panties and massaged her lewdly.

Anna stared deep into the bastard's eyes and he showed her a shit-eating grin, as his thick, sausage fingers rubbed her pussy nonchalantly. She gasped and her entire body seemed to shake in his arms. He laughed and raised his wet fingers in the air, looking at Peter.

"I think she likes me, hubby. Right, pumpkin?" Bob winked at Anna and gave her another kiss. This time, she didn't seem to resist.

"P-please, Bob," sighed Anna.

"Don't worry, pussycat. I'm gonna give you what ya need."

Bob slapped her ass lightly and made her jump a little. He looked at Peter again.

"Hey, wake up, retard. Guide us to your room," the man ordered, in a loud, intimidating tone, while snapping his fingers to wake Peter from his shocked trance.

Peter decided to obey, somehow. He thought it was embarrassing enough to be emasculated and watch his wife being forcefully taken by a bigger man. He didn't need anybody else to see it. What would people say, if they knew he just stood there, powerless? What would people say of his wife, as she moaned in Bob's arms? He had to take them both to the room and then he could find a way to save his wife.

He led the way into the elevator. Bob grabbed his wife's back with one arm, as if he was the husband, and Peter was his valet.

"Hurry up, faggot cuck," shouted Bob, and then he slapped Peter's ass to make him press the numbers on the board.

When the elevator door closed, Bob embraced Anna again and gave her loud and wet kisses that echoed inside Peter's head.

"A-are you okay, Anna?" asked Peter, pathetically.

Anna moaned intensely, lost with Bob's dirty tongue inside her mouth. The man raised a fat middle finger in front of Peter's face and kept tongue-fucking his wife's mouth.

"Please, don't hurt her," begged Peter.

Bob slapped his face hard and Anna moaned in shock.

"What are ya gonna do to stop me, huh? Just be a good boy and I'll let you watch and touch your stiff friend," mocked Bob, pointing at Peter's crotch.

Peter finally noticed he was rock-hard. Anna looked at his tent, with an open mouth and a confused expression.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, that happens a lot," Bob said to her, while kissing her ear. "I could spot the cuckold miles away."

Anna gave in and kissed Bob eagerly, wrapping her arms around his thick neck, and then looking back at Peter and observing the way he casually watched her, the tent in his pants throbbing from the action. Peter felt the shame involve his entire body, washing away any trace of dignity he had left.

When the elevator stopped, he placed his hands in front of his crotch and walked down the corridor, while Bob giggled behind him, calling him a wimp and a faggot. Peter opened the door to their room and Bob pushed him aside and carried Anna to the king-sized bed. The man laid his wife on her back, and removed her shoes swiftly. Then he grabbed her plump legs and spread them open, throwing himself on top of her, kissing her mouth and neck lewdly.

Bob turned his head around and grinned.

"What's your name, again?"

"Peter."

"I'm going to fuck your wife, Peter. Do you hear that? I'm about to fuck your sweet wife hard. Do you object?"

Peter looked at Anna's eager expression. She looked as if she was begging for it.

"N-no, sir," said Peter, defeated.

Bob guffawed confidently and pulled down Anna's bra. Her tits jumped out lewdly and he sucked on her hard, pink nipples, left and right. Then he buried his face between her breasts and gave her loud smooches that forced her to giggle. Her body relaxed and he went down on her, kissing her belly and grabbing her wet panties to reveal her shaved pussy. Peter stood in the corner, watching every movement, until his knees felt weak and he sat on the couch behind him.

When Bob touched her pussy with his thick stubble, she moaned and screamed in pleasure. He devoured her wet cunt, tongue-fucking her pink entrance with his dirty tongue and rubbing his old nose against her clitoris. She wrapped her legs around him and grabbed his balding head, almost begging for more. The more he devoured her pussy, the more she screamed and waved her hips toward his mouth.

Bob kneeled between her legs and took off his shirt, revealing his wide, hairy back that made him look like some type of beast. Then he opened his belt and dropped his pants to his knees. His fat ass was equally hairy and disgusting, red and sweaty like the rest of his body.

Anna seemed to be shocked by Bob's fat cock - it was a long, veined schlong, accompanied by a large pair of balls inside a loose, hairy sack. Peter thought that cock was ugly and revolting - too big and too masculine - but Anna's face exhibited a different opinion. Her mouth was open in pure awe. She had probably never seen a dick so thick and manly.

"C'mon, buttercup, make it wet for us. It will feel better," ordered Bob, as he lay on the bed.

Anna helped him remove his pants and shoes, and then she timidly lay between his legs.

"Don't be shy. Give me a nice tongue bath," said Bob.

Anna placed his big head inside her mouth and moaned quietly. She cupped his balls with one hand and tried to swallow his shaft the best she could. His cock was too big for her mouth. She was only able to swallow one-third, before she gagged on it, prompting Bob to chuckle confidently.

"Bob on it, slut. Bob on my big cock in front of your husband," the man provoked, grinning at Peter.

Anna obeyed like a good slut. She started sucking and slurping his cock, making wet suction sounds and letting some of her sweet saliva drool on his sweaty shaft. Her wet tits bounced and bumped on each other, clapping lewdly. Her ass cheeks wiggled a little as she sucked harder, and her dainty feet waved in the air. She suddenly moved one hand to her pussy and started rubbing herself.

"Aw, look at your slut wife touching herself to my cock," mocked Bob, in a victorious tone.

Peter's dick throbbed hard, and he felt his face going red.

Bob grabbed her head and bent his legs to facefuck her without resistance. He thrust his hips against her face and made her swallow another inch, as he banged into her throat. Anna choked and whined, but didn't protest. She kept touching her pussy to the wet sounds of her mouth fucking, until Bob started pounding her throat so hard that her hands moved toward his hairy thighs, caressing him and trying to convince him to slow down.

Bob didn't seem to care about Anna's pleading face. He kept banging her throat with gusto, face fucking her like a cheap whore, ruining her reputation in front of her husband. His dirty toes contorted with the pleasure of owning her mouth. He kept invading her until his entire shaft was wet enough.

Then, the man placed Anna on her back again, and positioned his cock between her legs. When his wet head found her soaked pussy hole, Peter knew there was no turning back - Bob was going to invade and own her in ways she had never imagined.

Bob shoved his thick shaft inside her with ease, calmly applying every inch into her, until he was balls-deep in her cunt. The sensation made her scream and moan in a thunderous orgasm. Her body jumped and trembled underneath the old bastard, and her feet lay on his hairy ass.

"Yeah, cum on my dick, whore. I'm your daddy now," said Bob in her ear.

"Yes, d-daddy, please..." she whined.

Bob started to lay pipe on top of her, embracing her soft frame with his monstrous arms and whispering nasty things in her ear. Peter was surprised that the old fuck could move his body so fast and so hard, pounding his wife like there was no tomorrow. Bob really showed her pussy who's boss, massaging her pink walls with every inch of his veined shaft.

The bed creaked and whined under their weight. Bob fucked her so hard and so well that Peter started to question his sanity. Was that really happening, or was it all a nightmare? Anna cried in pleasure under that hairy beast, getting the fucking of her life. He moved his hips professionally, hitting every special spot inside her.

After a while, the man stood on his knees and lifted her up against his fat torso, grabbing her legs as she hugged his neck, and started giving it to her again, creating loud sounds of flesh against flesh. Plap, plap, plap. The intense pounding and the lewd sounds were enough to make her cum again. Peter could hear her pussy turn into a lake, as she trembled in his arms. Bob didn't stop for one second, using her pussy juice to slide in and out faster.

"Please, please, Bob, fuck me! Fuck me!" begged Anna, lost in her own pleasure.

"I am fucking you," said Bob.

"Please, harder, harder!"

"Take it, take it," roared Bob, intensifying the pace. "Who's your new daddy?"

"You're my new daddy!" moaned Anna, as her tits bounced up and down.

"You hear that, cuck?" mocked Bob. "Come here, boy. Get a better view."

Peter approached the bed slowly, observing his wife's angelical face contorting with ecstasy. Now he could see every inch of Bob's cock pounding into her cute pussy.

"Lie on the bed, cuck," Bob commanded.

"What?"

"You heard me. Lie down, or I'll knock you out, faggot."

Peter slowly lay down on his back, over the sweaty sheets. The man suddenly laid Anna on top of Peter, her ass on his chest and her wet pussy in front of his face. Then the man lay on top of them both and started to pound her again.

The weight was enough to move the air out of Peter's lungs, and he begged for mercy in silence, as he watched his wife's pussy get banged right in his face. Bob's cock looked gigantic up close, and his fat balls bounced in front of Peter's eyes, dangerously close to him.

Peter felt the pressure and the weight of every heavy thrust. Anna screamed in pleasure as her pussy juices dripped onto her husband's face.

"Are you okay down there, buddy?" mocked Bob. "Look at it, wimp. Look at my cock entering your wife's pussy. I don't care if you get crushed."

Peter heard the entire bed shake and squeak with the pressure, as the fucking intensified on top of him. He looked right into Anna's pussy and observed how beautiful it looked, getting stretched and reshaped by that large monster cock.