Lydia Gordon - A degraded honeymoon

"That's right," Bailey said approvingly. "Now, use your tongue."

Though Cathy wasn't exactly sure what he meant for her to do, she was more than willing to try to please him if he would just continue rewarding her by playing with her cunt, and she flicked her tongue hesitantly from her mouth, searching over the saliva-moistened head until she found the slitted little hole at the tip and lapped up another tasty little droplet that had issued from the tiny opening. And at the teasing contact the surging instrument seemed to extend even longer, flexing and throbbing in the tight grasp of her hand like a powerful weapon. Then, her body shuddering as Bailey began a slow fucking rhythm of his finger in her cunt, she parted and ovaled her lips, slipping them glove-like back over the head of his cock and again sucking it warmly into her mouth.

Letting go of her inhibitions completely, she worked her tongue swiftly up and down its pulsing length and over the blood-swollen head, wetting and slickening it with her freely flowing moisture, lashing her tongue in velvety submission over the palpitating tip, savoring her naughty experimentation as Bailey once more arched his buttocks up from the bed, pushing the bludgeoning cock again all the way to the hilt. And this time she didn't resist. She accepted it hungrily, relishing even the choking sensation in her throat in her determination to do whatever she had to do to please him and repay him for the way he was pleasing her.

And all the while his finger was still working swiftly in and out of the greedily clasping lips of her cunt, his thumb teasing and prodding at the tightly-clenched hole of her anus, moistening and slickening the cringing little aperture with the vaginal fluids that now flowed freely from her loins. Her sucking of his cock was becoming steadily more fervent and submissive, her efforts driving him to a rhythmic undulation of hips, surging the lust-swollen hardness of his cock repeatedly in and out between her tinseled lips.

Cathy was letting herself go completely, her mouth grotesquely stretched and filled by the distended and gigantic organ thrusting brutally to the back of its hungry warmth. She could sense him building toward a peak of frenzy, and now her own loins were crying out to have the huge punishing cock again ramming into them, violating and tearing her all the way to the belly. She wanted to be fucked. She was ready, her whole body burning with her building passion and need. Every nerve in her being was becoming hyper-sensitive from the overwhelming surges of fantastic sensation and eroticism whipping relentlessly through her.

Then faintly, as though from far away, she heard the footsteps and the creaking sound of the door. For a moment it didn't even register, then something snapped in her mind and she realized what in her body and soul surrender she'd completely forgotten. Bailey, at her instruction, had left the door open. She had been perfectly prepared to have Bob walk in on them at any minute. That was the game she'd started out to play and somehow it was as though she'd gone to sleep right on the field of contest. Now, she was rudely awakened by her husband's incredulous voice.

"Jesus Christ! You goddamn fucking whore!"

Cathy felt Bailey stiffen beneath her. She jerked her head suddenly upward, his cock slipping from her lips to stand up in obscene nakedness, still pointed right at the side of her head as she turned her face toward the door and Bob's flushed and gawking face.

"What the hell are you doing fucking my wife?" he gasped as though he didn't even believe what he saw.

"You fucked mine this afternoon," Bailey answered, his finger still plunged deeply up into Cathy's cunt as he used his other hand to try to turn her face forcibly back toward his erectly twitching cock.

"Cathy…?" Bob gasped, staring at her as if in demand of an explanation of an enigma he still suspected to be some kind of optical illusion.

"You asked for it, Bob," she managed in a quivering voice. "I told you I wanted to leave."

It was the moment that earlier in the night, she'd told herself she'd been waiting for. But it wasn't exactly what she'd planned. Bob was getting the surprise of his life, as she'd intended. But somehow now it didn't seem important. It was just an interruption, an irritation that had toppled her from the pinnacles of near orgasmic release, sending dull throbs of frustration ripping over every inch of her nakedly perspiring flesh. And somehow, bent over Bailey's loins, her mouth filled with saliva and seminal fluid, her buttocks waggling shamelessly from the continued thrustings of his finger into her cunt, she felt hardly in a position to exploit the holier-than-thou feelings she'd previously felt toward her husband.

Then, with a sudden mighty growl Bailey ripped his finger from her cunt. With both hands he turned her face forcibly back down toward his churning loins. He arched his buttocks up from the bed, driving his twitching cock again straight up between her lips and teeth, ramming it angrily all the way to the back of her throat as his cum-bloated balls exploded and the thick load of his sperm came surging furiously up the length of the plundering weapon of flesh to erupt like a shot from a gun, pelting into her throat in spurt after spurt of white gushing fluid.

And in spite of all her shame and embarrassment, in spite of the fact that she really hadn't had this in mind, Cathy could do nothing but gulp submissively, gurgling audibly to keep from choking as the tidal wave flood of cum went spewing into her mouth. And all the while he used both hands to hold her face to his loins, pumping the white liquid into her throat until she thought it must be running out of her ears before he finally sank back tiredly on the bed, lay motionless for a moment, still holding her in place.

Then he released her. She raised her head up, the slickened cock again dropping from her mouth as she turned to stare red-faced at her still incredulously gawking husband, tears of frustration suddenly filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. She felt Bailey's hands move around her torso, turning her back toward him on the bed. Then her eyes widened as she heard his voice:

"Come on, baby, we're not through yet. I'm not going to leave you hung-up in front of a witness."

As Cathy stared at him in astonishment, he slid his leg between her thighs, lifting upward so she suddenly found herself sitting astraddle over his loins. Looking down between their bodies, she saw his cock was still rock-hard, blood-filled red. A moment later, as he pulled down on her pelvis, she felt the blunt head of it insert itself between her burning vaginal lips, and with a low spontaneous sigh she sank her buttocks downward, taking it all deep up inside of her.

Bob Mason's legs felt weak beneath him. His head was spinning, his vision blurred. He felt somehow very small, not in the sense of being shamed or humiliated, but in the sense of being simply incapable of grasping what was happening right before his eyes. He felt like an amoeba looking through a telescope at the milky way.

His wife had been sucking Jack Bailey's cock. She'd sucked him and let him cum in her mouth, and she'd never so much as even kissed the tip of his own cock, her own husband's cock. And now she was sitting astraddle him, lowering her buttocks down against his loins, taking that redwood tree sized prick all the way to hilt up into her once tight little cunt; she was moaning, trembling, her whole body swaying, her face contorted with lust. Lust!

She was being fucked and she wanted it, and somehow, watching her here like this he found himself thinking that she was more beautiful than he'd ever seen her, not the prissy cheerleader he'd married but a real red-blooded hot cunted woman, a veritable whore in heat. And she was his wife. She was still his goddamned wife. And that, somehow, was what he couldn't come to terms with – that, and what in God's name he was supposed to do about it.