Don Scott: The hottest wife

"Wake up! Hey, wake up!" Jeff shook my leg angrily. I blinked my eyes, trying unsuccessfully to focus my vision. "Get your bottom off that couch and have same coffee."

"Ohhhhhhh, Christ," I groaned miserably. My head felt like someone had used it for a battering ram. I rubbed my face and finally I could see straight. Near me, on the coffee table, was the empty bottle of wine that had helped to get me through the night. Unfortunately, it provided for a very rotten morning.

"Since when did you start sleeping on the couch?" Jeff asked with a sneer.

"Don't raz me today. I've got a hangover you just wouldn't believe," I said, easing my aching body into a sitting position.

"You're becoming worse and worse with each day. Yesterday you did that filthy thing with your mouth and this morning I find you with a hangover."

"Drunkenness is preferable to your neglect. If you won't go to bed with me, maybe a bottle will keep me company."

"That's great! That's just fantastic!" Jeff grabbed his suit coat and raced for the door. I almost expected him to spit on me as he went by. When the door slammed I thought my head would fall right off my shoulders.

I sat on the couch for more than fifteen minutes, trying to find some reason for staying with Jeff. Eventually I made my way rather unsteadily to the kitchen and had half a dozen cups of coffee, which straightened me out pretty good.

"Drinkers get fat, Amber," I mumbled quietly, watching the smoke curl from my cigarette. My exercise for exhibition the other morning would have to be a ritual if I started drinking. When there didn't seem to be any alternative that made sense, I walked to the window and filled my lungs with the morning air. To my surprise, the stranger across the way was standing on his balcony, almost as if he were waiting for me.

I tried to do ten sit-ups and finally stopped at seven. The pain in my head was too great. Kicking my legs up, I spread them wide and looked at my stranger over the mountain of my tits. Even though I was dressed in just a skimpy baby-doll nightie, even he appeared to be bored with me and my body.

Being rejected by a stranger and my husband all on the same morning was more than I could take so I chucked the idea of exercises, promising myself to start them in earnest tomorrow, and decided that a long, hot shower might wash away all my troubles.

I turned the water on as hot as I could possibly stand it. The steam rose to the ceiling and quickly enveloped the bathroom in a thick fog. Scrubbing my body with a bar of soap made me feel clean and, surprisingly, very refreshed. By the time I had washed the shampoo out of my hair I actually felt like a human again.

"Let's be together, on our own," I sang into the steam, recalling an old Melanie tune. "Let's be together a-a-alone."

"That's beautiful singing," the stranger across the way said, opening the shower door.

"What are you doing here?" I streamed, vainly trying to cover my huge tits with one hand (a futile attempt, to be sure) and hide my twat with the other. "Get the hell out of here before I call the cops!"

"If you scream at me once more," the stranger said, an evil glint sparkling in his eyes, "I'll break every fucking bone in your body."

I believed him. There was something cold and unyielding in his eyes that frightened me. He stood much taller than I and his biceps bulged impressively under his shirt. Only his mouth, which twitched at one corner, gave any sign of inner emotion.

"Please don't hurt me?"

"I have no intention of hurting you… unless you decide to be uncooperative. Just do as I say and we'll have ourselves a ball." He reached over and turned the water off.

"We should get to know each other better," he said evenly. "My name is John and your name is Amber. Shall we have some breakfast?" He turned his back and headed out of the bathroom. I stepped out and grabbed a towel before he said, "That won't be necessary. It is advisable to ask me whether you can do anything. That way you won't get your neck broken in the most slow and painful manner."

I followed John, still trying to cover myself with just my hands. We went into the kitchen and he sat down at the table.

"I'd like some orange juice first, then you can start on the eggs." John looked at me, a sardonic grin pursing his lips. "Please don't delay with my breakfast. I get very angry when I'm hungry."

"Yes, sir." I abandoned my attempt to conceal my nakedness and got John the orange juice.

"Stick your tit in it, and then feed it to me."

I was so scared I didn't know if my legs, would keep me standing. With shaking hands I held my boob and dipped the nipple into the cold liquid, then held it toward John. He licked the liquid off the brown nipple and, to my dismay, his tongue felt good against my flesh.

"Now make the eggs and be quick about it. By the way, I've already taken all the knives so you needn't try and find any."

I made his eggs just as he ordered. Leaning over the stove my big boobs wiggled freely and John seemed to find that sexy because he mumbled something obscene about them under his breath. While I made the eggs he undressed himself, carefully draping each article of clothing on the back of a chair.

"You really like showing off your body, don't you?" I didn't answer. "I really can't blame you for being proud. There aren't many women around who have curves like you've got. In fact, I would venture to say that there's not another body quite as good as yours in the entire city."

I scraped the eggs from the frying pan onto a plate and put them in front of John. He looked at me casually, his eyes scanning my pendulous tits, then moving down to my crotch. His cock was bigger than I had dreamed. Though only half erect, it was probably eight inches long and two inches in diameter. Never in my life had I seen a weapon like that – it looked dangerous.

"Mmmmmmmm! These are quite good. Now get below the table."

"I can't," I whispered, knees shaking.

John exploded from the chair. Before I could move a muscle he slapped me across the face hard enough to knock me backwards against the wall. I tried to scream – I really wanted to. I was paralyzed with fear. John grabbed my wet hair in both hands and shook me, the muscles in his body easily capable of throwing me clear across the room.

"Don't you ever disobey me, cunt! Do you understand? Now get on your knees and suck my big prick, you cocksucker!"

He bounced my head off the wall and walked back to his chair. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I got to my knees between his spread thighs. By now his cock was rock-solid and a full nine inches long. I held the pulsating, blunt cock in my hand and pointed it toward my face. Opening my mouth wide I wrapped my moist lips around the red tip.

"That's right, bitch, wrap those thick lips of yours around my cock. And if I even think I feel your teeth… I'll cut your fucking tits off."

John's prick was a mouthful and a half. I pushed down on it, the massive girth puffing my cheeks out. Tears trickled down my face and I could taste them when they dropped onto the big tool wedged firmly between my lips. I whined softly, not daring to look up at John for fear of setting off another tirade. The cock in my mouth was so large that I held it with both hands, and worked my lips and tongue slowly over the remaining crown and shaft. My body had dried but my long, thick hair was still dripping wet and I felt a cold trickle of water running down my back, moving between my asscheeks, then cooling my snatch before falling to the floor.

I wanted to dry my hair. I wanted to have my husband make love to me I wanted my mouth to caress my husband's cock. I wanted many, many things, but I was at the mercy of a demented man I had excited because I was bored with my life.