Stephen and Melanie were watching TV. They had enjoyed a quiet evening at home, Stephen had made some risotto, a dish he was very good at making. They'd had a bottle of viognier with that and a little caprese salad they'd made with tomatoes from the garden.
It was a Monday night, so an early night. Around ten-thirty, Stephen woke Melanie up. She'd fallen asl**p in his arms, which was not unusual. They both headed upstairs to bed.
They were a wealthy couple, Stephen had an unexciting but lucrative job as a patent attorney, Melanie was an art dealer for a local gallery. She also took care of the online sales, and was able to work from home quite a bit these days.
When they got to bed, Stephen reached over and kissed her, I love you, he told her. She told him she loved him as well. This inspired him to pull her towards him, to hold her close, her back to his chest. He loved her this way, warm and secure right against him. His slid his hand down her tight belly, and hooked his finger into the elastic rim of her panties.
"I'm actually pretty tired," she said.
"Yeah, me too," Stephen replied. "Sweet dreams."
And he rolled over and went to sl**p.
But she did not, she wanted to, but she couldn't. She went downstairs and poured herself another glass of viognier, thinking maybe more wine would make her drowsy.
She found herself sitting alone in the dark, sipping the wine, and checking her phone. She had been doing that much more than normal, waiting to see a specific number. But that number didn't come.
Maybe he won't ever call, she thought. But he said he would see us again. He said to have Heineken for when he came next.
She didn't know what would happen if he did call. She and Stephen had not discussed that night, the time she tried, he changed the subject immediately. This scared her, since he'd always been so open with her before this, they'd done some fantasy role play and some light bondage stuff in the past. He'd been very open about wanting to know that she'd been with another man, and would lick her pussy after hearing about her having sex with another guy.
This, of course, changed completely when she brought John back to the house, and John seized control of them both and fucked and humiliated her husband. Maybe Stephen was ashamed of himself. He'd never had a homosexual experience that she knew of... maybe he couldn't deal with what he was feeling. Or maybe he didn't like the experience- no, she thought. She remembered seeing his dick squirt all over the floor while being fucked on his knees. She remembered him eagerly licking his own cum off the Bull's fingers.
He enjoyed it. But maybe he can't deal with the fact that he enjoyed it.
She finished the wine, and put her phone down, and went to bed.
The next night they had Caesar salad with some spicy chicken strips on it. There was more television, more wine.
But when they got to bed, and Stephen slipped his fingers into her panties, she allowed it. His fingers found her pussy, found a little moisture, and made the moisture blossom. In the dark, she wordlessly rolled over and opened her legs.
Her husband kissed his way down her belly, which she loved, and put his mouth on her pussy. He kissed her there, and slid a finger in. He began to lick and suck on her clitoris, while sliding his finger in and out of her pussy. She moaned, Stephen was very good at licking pussy. He knew every little bit of her after years of marriage.
But then he did something that he hadn't done before. He pulled his finger from her pussy and pressed it to her asshole. He kept it there, just swirling it around, and she moaned in what seemed to him to be some kind of approval. He slid it in, and kept it there while he licked her clitoris, sucked on her until her hips were bucking against his face. She slid her pussy all up and down his face, finally putting her hands on his head and holding him motionless.
Stephen's cock was hard. He was bucking his own hips a little, sliding his cock up and down their Egyptian cotton sheets. He was about to cum, as he often did, only from that. They would have to strip the bed and get another set of sheets, or sometimes he would trade sides with her and sl**p there.
But Melanie had orgasmed, and stopped him. She was going to do something she hadn't done before, and she had him lie back, propping his back on the pillows. She told him to spread his legs, and she knelt in between them, and put his dick in her mouth.
Her fingers worked in and out of her soaking pussy, but it wasn't for her. She took her finger, and pressed it to his asshole. Oh God, her husband moaned, and she began to work her way inside.
She'd never done this before, and wasn't sure where to put her finger- wasn't sure where the prostate was. It didn't seem to matter, though, her inexperience... he tensed, and yelled, and then her mouth was filled with his cum, and she drank, and drank, and drank, until finally there was no more. He was limp on the mattress, his penis shrinking in her mouth, her finger still in him.
"That was amazing," he told her, and then they washed up, and went to bed. I love you, I love you, and then to sl**p.
He wanted that again the next night. Wanted her to finger his asshole while she sucked on him. But that night, she was tired. And so he went to sl**p.
Again, though, she didn't. She went downstairs and poured a glass of Barolo, and again sat in the darkness, her phone in her hand. He hadn't called.
Her stomach was in knots, even if she had drank enough to have some kind of courage. She dialed his number.
And to her simultaneous relief and terror, John answered.
"Hello," he said, a completely normal thing to say when answering the phone. But she was speechless for a split second... unable to form a thought.
"Melanie?" John asked, and she finally could find a way to answer him with a quiet little yes. "What can I do for you, Melanie?"
It was hard to answer that. Clearly, she wasn't calling to pass the time. What was she going to say? I miss you? She'd only met him twice.
What she wanted to say was that she wanted more of him. But she didn't know how.
"How is your husband, Melanie?"
And she told John that she truthfully didn't know, that he seemed normal outwardly, but wouldn't talk about what had happened.
"Do you want more of me, Melanie?"
Yes, she told him. She found the strength to whisper that, alone in the dark.
"How does he feel about that?"
I don't know, she answered. I could meet you-
"No, I don't want that."
She fell to silence.
"Are you fucking him?"
Sort of. She told him about the other night, how they both had done things that they hadn't in the past.
"I want you to quit fucking him. Do you understand me? No pussy, no blow jobs. No fingering his asshole. Tell him you have the flu or something. Call me in the afternoons, so that I know that you are doing as you are told. OK?"
And so life went on as normal, more or less, except that Melanie now made a daily phone call to John. John would ask her if she had done as she was told, and she would reply that she had.
One day, though, John asked her how she was doing. If she needed to cum.
And she did... as usual during these conversations, her was burning. Every time she made a call and talked about how she hadn't had sex, her pussy became drenched. She would bury a vibrator in herself, and fuck herself that way, hard, until she couldn't any longer.
"Yes, sir," she whispered.
"Ask me if you can cum."
"May I cum please, sir?"
"No," John said. "Not until you listen to me, and tell me what I want to hear."
"I want ownership of you. I want to control you. Is this clear?"
"Yes, sir," she breathed. She was wondering if she could rub her pussy, even though she couldn't cum.
"I want ownership of your asshole, your pussy, and your mouth... all your little fuckholes. I am going to use them when I want, how I want."
"I am going to degrade you and humiliate you, because that makes my cock hard. Is this clear? Do you understand?"
She moaned. She understood. It was clear.
"Now you may beg me to cum."
And she did, she begged, she pleaded, she said she'd be a good little whore and a bitch, she told him he could fuck her asshole, and her pussy, and her mouth, and fill them all up with cum until it was just dripping out of her... she told him she was his, and she belonged to him and she knew it, and finally he told her to cum... she squealed, and got her fingers into her pussy, and onto her clit, and almost instantly, she made herself writhe around while she did what he had allowed her to do.
She heard him grunt, and gasp, and she realized John was cumming also.
"Good, slut. I'll be over Friday night, at nine o'clock."
But what about her husband?
"I'll take care of that."