bull

Emily leaned over the sink and held a breath as she combed mascara into her eye lashes. The bathroom was still steamy from her shower. She looked at her watch on the counter—he would be here in less than half an hour. She took another sip from the glass of wine, her second. She was struggling to quiet her nerves and the wine was not yet helping. She took a bigger gulp of red and breathed in deeply through her nose filling her lungs. She let out a slow hissing breath through pursed lips. Again.



“Richard” she called out as she spread concealer under her eyes. She rotated her face in the mirror lights to inspect her work.



“Yeah?” Richard poked his head in the bathroom door. He was dressed and eager to usher along Emily’s preparation—he wanted her to be ready.



“Go in my sweater drawer and bring me the striped box.” Emily continued to apply her makeup. Richard returned with the gift box and handed it to her. She lifted the lid and pulled out the bottle of perfume and set in on the marble counter. She replaced the lid and returned the box to him. “Lay these out on the bed for me. Tom sent them,” she said, looking straight into Richard’s eyes. She had removed Tom’s note from the box, not wanting to reveal how long she had kept the box a secret. She was relieved when she realized she could use the gift as a last minute taunt—psychological foreplay for her impatient husband. The wine was starting to work now and she felt a curious pleasure from the confounded look on Richard’s face. She closed the door on him and took another drink.



Richard set the box on the foot of the bed and opened the lid. He peeled back the tissue layers and looked at the lacy items. He laid the brassiere neatly on the bed spread, and then placed the panties below them. His legs felt weak. This gift from Tom answered his curiosity about any communications between him and Emily. The realization stung him—not in a completely unpleasant way—but it sent his mind racing about the extent of their collusion ahead of tonight’s meeting. His anticipation of this night had preoccupied him for the last two weeks and now his wife had confirmed its arrival with her abrupt revelation and her distant tone.



The bathroom door opened again and Emily stood in the doorway, her robe hanging open. Richard saw her neatly cropped snatch and he looked up at her freshly penciled eyebrows and bright red lips. She looked vivacious and unfamiliar in this instant. Her eyes were glassy.



“Richard—what are you doing?” Emily quizzed him harshly. “Will you get the fuck out of here? Go down stairs and do something while I get dressed. Put some music on. Have a drink.” Emily was testing her wings ahead of Tom’s arrival and it felt good. She stared Richard out the door and she smiled to herself, pleased by Richard’s obedience.



Emily’s bitchy sternness stiffened Richard’s cock almost instantly; the front of his trousers bulged outward. He couldn’t greet Tom at the door with a fucking hard on. “Fuck!” he thought. Richard busied himself with music and selected a menu of jazzy blues and he set it to playing, filling the room softly and distantly. He walked through the front room and dining room dimming lights for mood—not too dark. And then he poured a drink, guzzled it, and then poured another with which to pace the rooms while he waited.



Emily looked at herself in the mirror on the back of the closet door. It was not the first time she had tried on Tom’s gift, but tonight, she thought it looked even better. How did he find such a perfect fit? She twisted and turned in her heels attempting to see her back in the mirror. She liked how the panties cut across her ass in just the right place, and the dainty bra managed to hike her up, make her look fuller. She felt good. She pulled a skimpy black cocktail dress—her favorite “party” dress—from a hanger and stepped into it. It was too risqué for public wear, but she wore it many times for special nights with Richard. It was one of his favorites too. But as she struggled to pull the zipper up her back it was not Richard she was thinking about. The wine had compressed her inhibitions into a distant corner of her mind and she was feeling ready for the evening. As she smoothed the dress down her hips and ass she heard commotion and voices downstairs and she hurried into the bathroom to check her lipstick one last time.



“Hello Sir,” Richard said as he pushed open the storm door to let Tom in. Richard stood aside as he entered and then closed the front door against the late fall air. Tom seemed taller, more statuesque than he remembered. The cold air still hung around him.



“Hello Richard,” Tom said. He set down a duffle bag at his feet and shook off his coat and handed it to Richard. Richard fumbled with a hanger and the coat—he was anxious and self conscious. He hung the coat in the entry closet and then turned back to Tom.



“Thanks for coming tonight, Sir.”



Tom ignored his welcome, “Why are you dressed?”



Richard looked confused and a little rattled. He wasn’t sure of the right answer to offer, so he offered none and shrugged.



“I’m sure I told you in one of my last emails that you should be naked when I get here. Why the fuck are you all dressed up like you’re going to dinner. Are you going to dinner?” his voice was getting louder.



“No Sir,” Richard answered. “I guess I misunderstood. I thought I would have to…”



“Oh man—shut the fuck up Bitchard. Where’s Emily?



“She’s getting ready. She’ll be right down, Sir.” Richard offered apologetically. Tom pushed the duffle bag toward him with his foot. “Take this over to the dining table. I brought some things for you to wear. You can put them on—right over there!” Tom gestured toward the end of the dining room table. “I hope you’re not going to be a fuck-up all night. I don’t want to be pissed off already. I was feeling good when I got here.”



Richard took the bag into the dining room and started to undress. He heard Emily coming down the steps, but could not see their exchange.



“Hello Tom,” Emily said cheerily as she spotted him.



“Wow,” Tom exclaimed and offered his hand to her as she made the last few steps.



“Emily—you look beautiful. So sexy!” She stepped right next to him and raised her face and they kissed. “M-m-m-m, you smell great too.” He kissed her again and cupped her ass familiarly. “Did you enjoy my gift?”



“I did,” Emily answered. “It’s beautiful. You have great taste.”



“I’m glad. I can’t wait to see it.”



Emily looked around. “Where’s Richard?” Tom nudged her to the dining room doorway by her elbow and pointed at Richard who was down to his socks and underwear. He was already stiff and he didn’t try to hide his erection from them. Emily giggled. “What are you doing Richard?” she asked loudly, in exaggerated bewilderment. She laughed louder as Richard continued undressing.



“I brought Richard an outfit to wear,” Tom said. He whispered in Emily’s ear, “I thought it was only fair since I had gotten a gift for you. I didn’t want him to be jealous. Hey, let’s get a drink while he get’s dressed—I need one.”



“Me too,” said Emily, enthused. She didn’t want to lose her buzz.



Tom turned to Richard, “When you get dressed, come and show us your outfit in the kitchen. We’re going to have a drink.”



Richard didn’t answer.



“Did you hear me?”



“Yes Sir,” Richard said.



“Well then fucking say something!” Tom snapped, his jaw tightened and his neck and face reddened. He moved toward Richard menacingly.



“Yes Sir. I’m sorry Sir.” Richard answered quickly—earnestly.



“You fucking idiot,” Tom said between clenched teeth and left the room



Richard could hear their voices trail off down the hall. He unzipped the gym bag, ready to see what items were inside. He pulled out a pair of woman’s shoes—pumps with a moderate heel; light teal-blue patent leather. They looked enormous for a woman’s shoe. He held them and stared at them for a couple minutes before setting them on the floor. He pushed one foot and then the other into the shiny pair. They fit. He took a couple small steps—awkward and clomping. He returned to the bag and pulled out the remaining items—a pair of blue, lacy woman’s briefs, and a black t-shirt. He held up the shirt, obviously too small for him, and read the glittered cursive lettering on the front—”Bitchard”. He could hear them laughing in the kitchen—the easy chit-chat and joking of intimate companions. Was Tom telling her what he had brought for him to wear? Richard sat down and fed his feet and large shoes through the leg holes of the panties. He stood to pull them up and he tugged them up as high as he could on his waist. His stiff dick would not fit fully inside the lacy briefs; he let the head of his dick stick up over the waist band and his balls barely stayed within the crotch of the panties. Finally, he pulled the t-shirt over his head and he stretched the material to its limit to clear his arms. He yanked down on the shirt, but it left his navel and paunchy midriff exposed. He could just make out his form in the glass of the dining room cabinet. Richard folded his own clothes neatly and laid them across the back of a chair.



Tom and Emily were kissing between sips of their drinks. Tom had her pinned against the island counter, grinding his pelvis against her. Emily responded eagerly, groping his ass and pulling him into her.



“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight,” he whispered as he tongued her ear and kissed her neck. Emily did not speak but moaned softly and hugged him harder to acknowledge his promise. They heard footsteps coming down the hallway—loud, clunky steps on maple planks. Richard appeared in the doorway and stood there.



“Oh—my—god,” Emily stuttered and broke into a full throated laugh. She rested her elbows on the counter and cupped her face in her hands, still laughing.



“Come in here Bitchard,” Tom said chuckling. “Let’s see your new outfit. Turn around.” Richard stepped toward the island and did an awkward 360. Emily lifted her face and shook her head as she eyed Richard up and down more slowly. She turned into Tom and laid her head on his chest and said, “Oh my god,” again. Tom hugged her and lifted her face to kiss her again. Richard could see them tonguing each other’s mouth.



Tom looked back at Richard. “How’s your outfit? I bought all that especially for you Bitchard—had the t-shirt custom made,” Tom said, and he burst out laughing with “Obviously!” Tom gulped the rest of his drink down and took an ice cube into his mouth and chased it around with his tongue. Emily was still giggling



“I like it Sir,” Richard said flatly.



“That’s not very convincing,” Tom came back. “I said I bought it especially for you.”



Richard understood the challenge. “I like it a lot Sir. Thank you for picking it out for me.”



“Does it make you feel stupid?”



“Yes Sir. It’s embarrassing,” Richard responded.



“What are you drinking Bitchard?” Tom suddenly changed the topic.



“Scotch Sir.”



Tom grabbed the scotch from a collection of bottles under the cabinet light and set it on the island counter. “Have another one,” Tom instructed. Richard dropped a few cubes of ice into a cocktail glass and poured the amber liquid over them. He took a sip.



“Drink up Bitchard,” Tom said in a tone not amenable to bargaining. Emily watched the exchange quietly, rubbing her hand in slow circles across Tom’s chest. Richard lifted the glass and gulped the drink down. He winced slightly, but the scotch tasted good and the cold liquid turning to heat in his throat made his face feel warm.



“Have another one,” Tom said. He turned his attention to Emily knowing Richard would follow his directive. He kissed her and ran his hand across her tits. Richard complied and covered the ice again. He took a drink from the glass, and watched Emily respond to Tom’s petting with slow rocking motions of her hips.



Tom broke his embrace with Emily and refilled her glass with wine, and he filled the bottom of his own glass with the scotch. He turned his attention back to Richard.



“Richard, let’s be serious for a minute,” he said.



“Yes Sir?” Tom responded a little warily.



“How does your new outfit feel to you?” Tom asked.



“It feels good Sir.” Richard took another sip of his drink.



“Is this the kind of thing you pictured when you invited me to play with Emily?”



“Uh…yes Sir…I didn’t know exactly how it would go, but I guess this is what I was looking for. It’s humiliating, but in a good way.” Richard felt the scotch now and he was struck by the dreamy-harsh light of the kitchen. Tom’s inquiries excited and concerned him at the same time.



“Well. I think that is important to establish.” He looked at Emily and asked her, “Did you hear what he said—this is the kind of shit he likes. How do you think Richard looks?”



Emily did not break into laughter. She felt Tom’s lead and followed. “I think he looks a like a stupid slut. I think he could use a little lip stick though.” Tom laughed and he caught Richard smiling at the comment. A bead of clear fluid grew on the tip of Richard’s stiff dick, the head still poking out from the panties.



“What are you laughing at Bitchard?” Tom snapped.



“I’m embarrassed Sir. That’s all.” Richard did not smile as he answered.



“But that’s what you want isn’t it?”



“Yes Sir, it is,” Richard answered soberly now. The liquor let him speak directly, “Sir, to be honest, I really enjoyed your last visit, and I’ve been thinking about this visit for weeks. And I’m enjoying this evening. Thank you for coming here tonight.” The admission felt good—the voiced subordination, exhilarating



“You don’t have to thank me, fucker. I thoroughly enjoy making a stupid fuck out of a sex pervert like you; and you haven’t seen anything yet, Bitchard.” Tom’s voice echoed in the room and sent a chill through Richard. “You don’t have to thank me, bitch. You need to thank your wife; you’re beautiful wife who is willing to put up with a pervert like you.” His voice got louder. “You don’t need to thank me—I’m going to fuck your wife like crazy in a few minutes and love every fucking bit of her. This is what you wanted, right?”



“Right, Sir. Yes.” Richard said. He looked at Emily directly. Her one hand hung on Tom’s arm and the other hand held her glass of wine. She stared back at Richard, unflinchingly. “Emily? Thank you honey, for…for putting up with me…and…making me a stupid fuck.” Richard’s voice quivered. “Thank you baby. Thank you so much.” Emily did not answer and pulled Tom’s arm down her abdomen to her waist, then guided it down to her crotch. Richard stared, mesmerized. His dick pulsed and ached with excitement. Emily’s bold display brought him to an edge.



“Drink up Bitchard,” Tom broke the intense moment. Richard threw his head back and finished his drink. Tom poured the glass half full again. “Take your drink and go turn that music up. We’ll be out in a minute.”



He headed out the doorway and down the hall toward the music. His legs were rubbery and unsteady. He was loaded now and felt near ecstasy. He took in a deep breath to fuel the moment and to steady his steps.



Emily threw her arms around Tom’s neck and kissed him passionately. She wanted to climb his tall form. Tom’s hands ran up and down her back and he kneaded her ass firmly, roughly. They kissed for some time and then relaxed their embrace. Emily filled her glass one more time anticipating their move to the front room.



“Take you dress off,” Tom said matter-of-factly. Emily sipped from her glass and smiled at him as she set her glass down.



“Let’s wait a minute—’til we turn the lights down a little more—in the front room maybe.” She laid her hand on his chest and looked up at him coyly. She was desperate to be naked with him, but not exposed to the harsh honesty of the kitchen lights and vulnerable to his visual assessments.



Tom lifted her hand off his chest by the wrist. “I said take your dress off—now—or I’ll rip that fucking dress right off your ass.” Tom looked down at her. Emily’s smile melted instantly. She looked stunned, hurt. The music got louder in the front room. She rolled her wrist out of Tom’s grip and turned her back to him, offering to him her zipper. Tom pulled the tab down slowly, tracing a finger down the recess of her spine to the top of her ass. Emily shivered and turned back to him. She pulled the top of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms. Tom stared intently at her breasts, her nipples discernable beneath the floral lace. He traced the cups of her bra with his fingers. She took another drink from her glass and set in down. Emily slid her hands into the sides of her dress and shimmied it down to her ankles and stepped out of the black pile on the floor. Tom let her stand there nearly naked. He inspected her up and down. He poured another drink and threw his head back to down it.



“Don’t you tell me ‘no’,” Tom said. “Do you understand me?”



“Yes Tom, I’m sorry,” she said. Emily looked close to tears. Everything was so good a minute ago and now she feared losing his adoration and the promise of his fuck.



“Turn around and put your hands on the counter,” Tom instructed her. Emily did not hesitate this time and she laid her hands flat on the cool marble. Tom stepped up behind her and she craned her neck to look at him. He reached around her head and took her jaw in his hand and straightened her face to the wall. “You don’t need to look at me. Look straight ahead. Spread your legs a little.” Emily moved her feet farther apart and away from the cabinets—like a police suspect ready for frisking. She heard Tom dropping more ice into a glass and the long gurgle of liquor pouring over it. He stepped close to her, from the side, and managed a firm grasp of her short hair with one hand and tipped her head back slightly. He put the icy cocktail glass to her lips and tipped it forward. “Big sip,” he said. Emily took a drink and winced as she swallowed. “Again,” he said and tilted another mouthful at her. Emily managed to down the scotch and again she crunched her eyes closed and clenched her jaw until the burn dissipated. “Good girl,” he said. “Good girl.”



Tom stood behind her now, his planted feet inside hers and ground his crotch against her ass. He pulled her to him by her hips and he worked the fleshy handles of her hips in his hands. He leaned up over her back so he could rest his head in the crook of her neck and shoulder. “Are you going to be my dirty fuck tonight?” he whispered in her ear.



“Yes baby. I’m going to be your dirty fuck,” she answered.



“How do you want me to fuck you?”



“I want you to fuck me hard and dirty,” she said. She was so high now. “Please fuck me like a slut. I want to get fucked hard.”



Tom’s hands tugged her panties down just below her ass and he explored her wet pussy with his fingers, rolling her clit in his fingers, massaging and tugging the lips of her cunt, and then pushing his middle finger up into her. He worked it in firmly and deeply, hiking up on her crotch so that she was lifted to her toes for a moment. Emily moaned and arched her back, offering more of her pussy to his hand. She pumped her ass up and down.



“Are you going to be a good girl?” Tom quizzed her sarcastically.



“I’m going to be your good girl. I want to be your dirty fuck,” Emily responded with slutty desperation.



Tom pulled his hand from her pussy and smelled her wetness in deep inhalations. “Mmm—that’s good,” he said, and he rubbed his wet hand all over Emily’s face and pushed his fingers into her mouth and she licked and sucked them eagerly. He ran his moist hand down her neck and shoulders.



“Okay, let’s go see what Bitchard is doing,” Tom announced. “Take your wine baby.” Emily pulled her panties back to her hips. She felt good. She felt hot and ready for cock.

“Don’t make me wait too long Tom,” she looked at him longingly with intoxicated eyes. She couldn’t contain her desire. “I need your cock. I need to be fucked like a whore.”



Tom smiled at her, pleased by her loss of inhibition and any need to maintain a façade of control. “You look so sexy Emily. It won’t be too long.” He kissed her and tongued her mouth wildly. He pulled away and looked deep into her stoned eyes and told her, “Emily, I’m going to fuck you like the slut you want to be. I’m going to fuck you ’til you beg me to stop. It’s going to be very hot—very dirty.”



Emily closed her eyes and smiled. She reached out for his crotch. They kissed again, and then Tom steered her toward the door. He followed her unsteady steps down the hall watching the jiggle of her ass—Tom knew that he owned Emily and her fat ass tonight. She was his.



Richard was sitting on the edge of the sofa when they came in. “Get up!” Tom yelled at him. “What are you doing? I didn’t tell you to sit down. What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Richard bolted up and moved away from the couch. His dick had retreated beneath the band of his panties, but the new assault from Tom renewed his titillation.



“Yeah! What the fuck’s wrong with you Richard?” Emily chimed in with startling meanness in her voice.



Tom prodded her on, “That’s it baby. Show him who’s boss. Tell him what we’re going to do.”



“Tom’s gonna fuck me HARD—like a man—with a real cock. Not like this thing!” Emily pulled the front of Richard’s panties down and let the waist band snap back below his sack. She made a backhand slap at his balls and he reflexively jerked back. Emily laughed.



“Finish your drink Bitchard.” Tom took the glass from the side table where Richard had left it untouched and handed it to him. “This music is good Bitchard. Let’s see you move your ass around a little bit. Come on—let’s go, bitch.”



Richard took another sip and started to sway timidly. Tom reached out for Emily’s hand and he lead her to the couch where, just a few weeks ago, they had kissed and felt each others’ bodies for the first time. The lips of Emily’s pussy swelled with the memory. They sat down and kissed violently. Richard watched them. He wrapped his hand around his cock and squeezed and stroked. He swallowed the last of his drink and set the empty glass on a nearby plant stand. He stroked himself and watched—and watched. He hoped to be called closer to their impassioned foreplay, but they were oblivious to his stiff dick and high heels.



Tom looked up at Richard, still fondling Emily’s tits. “Do you need more to drink?” Tom asked loudly over the music.



“No Sir,” Richard answered.



“Then why aren’t you dancing, getting into it and shaking your bitch ass around?” Addressing Emily, cuddled tightly against his chest, he prompted her, “That’s not dancing is it?”



“No!” she said. “I know he can do a lot better than that. Come on baby, shake your dick. Move it.”



Richard welcomed the attention and he rotated his ass more provocatively and shuffled his feet more. His stiff dick bounced and wagged and it felt good. The couple laughed loudly and egged him on. Tom stood up and moved close to Richard and yanked the panties down to the middle of Richard’s thighs.



“Jesus! You’re a stupid fuck. Look at him. Move it! Come on get into it or I’m going to shove your stupid ass out the front door.” Emily laughed again enjoying the confrontation. She felt no sympathy for Richard—she knew he didn’t want any. Richard moved energetically now, grinding and pumping, as Tom hovered close by, shaking his head in disgust. “Keep it going bitch!”



Tom surveyed the tastefully decorated room and contemplated for a moment the strange scene that he, with satisfying ease, had concocted. He looked at Emily in her bra and panties, waiting on the couch in libidinous, intoxicated comfort. She was his now, and he was getting ready to finish her upstairs. And Richard was in all his fucked-up glory, parading his dick and his desperation for all to see, eager again to see his wife’s legs spread open and receive the cock of a man he scarcely knew anything about. Tom breathed in deeply, expanding his chest and tensing the muscles in his arms and abdomen. He owned them both for the moment, and the exhilaration coursed through him.



“Turn that music off Bitchard,” Tom said. Richard hustled to the audio cabinet, reduced the volume and then stopped the music. Tom found his glass and handed it to Richard. “Go pour a little more in here.”



“Yes Sir,” Richard said and he clomped out of the room.



The silence felt good. Tom walked over to the couch and extended his hand to Emily and pulled her up, out of the leather cushions.



“I don’t think you actually thanked me for the gift,” Richard said to her.



“No—I didn’t,” Emily said with a pouty look on her lips. “I’m sorry. Thank you so much Tom. They are lovely.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.



“I had something else in mind,” he said flatly, and put a heavy hand on her shoulder. Emily understood immediately and did not resist his push downward. She went to her knees and hurriedly undid the buckle of his belt. Tom unbuttoned the waist of his jeans and Emily pulled down the zipper and spread open the flaps of his pants. She lifted his shirt and yanked the band of his underwear out and down, revealing his thick flaccid penis. Emily felt the heat of his crotch on her face and she welcomed the chance to see Tom’s cock again. It was a perfect thing she thought and she wanted it in her mouth. She yanked down harder on his pants and Tom helped her to expose her goal. She cupped his balls and kissed around his sack and nuzzled her face into him. Tom put a hand on her head, his thumb resting on her forehead. With the other hand he held the cock and rubbed it across her face. He let its weight fall on the bridge of her nose and he waved it back and forth, lightly slapping her face with his growing member. He tightened the hand on her head and fed his dick into her mouth and pushed it into her face. Emily took him and sucked, eager to pleasure the cock and its owner. She fondled Tom’s balls and massaged his warm sack. She felt him swell in her mouth—taking his entire penis became harder.



Richard came back into the room and paused for a moment when he spotted Emily on her knees—he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to intrude. He moved closer and extended the drink glass to Tom, but he did not take it from him. He stared at Richard as his dick stiffened and he twisted his torso and pelvis in Richard’s direction to insure a good view of his cock and Emily’s face. He started to pump in and out of her mouth, cupping the back of her head in his hand. Richard watched as Tom’s cock slid in and out of Emily’s willing mouth, and he heard her moans. “How’s that look Bitchard?” Tom asked.



“It looks good Sir,” Richard replied. Tom took the drink from him. “It feels good. I need a lot of cock sucking. Emily knows how to suck a cock” Tom goaded him. He pumped into Emily’s lips with greater intensity and deeper strokes. “I’m getting ready to fuck. Are you ready to get fucked Emily?”



Emily pulled back from his cock and gasped, “Oh yes, baby—I’m ready to fuck.” She continued to stroke Tom’s wet cock. “I’m ready,” she repeated looking up at Richard, holding the hard dick like a trophy for him to see.



“Bitchard, go upstairs and turn the bed down. We’ll be up in a few minutes,” ordered Tom.



“Yes Sir,” he said, and took one last look at Emily as he turned to leave the room.



“Oh—and put some lipstick on. Emily said you need some—right?”



“Yes, put on some lipstick Richard,” Emily giggled. “It’s still on my counter.”



“Yes Sir, Yes Emily,” he said and made his way to the hallway stairs and climbed carefully in his unfamiliar shoes. Richard stepped into the bedroom and turned on the bedside lamps. He pulled back the bedspread and could smell the fragrance of fresh sheets that Emily had put on that afternoon. The pillow cases were smooth and crisp looking. She had prepared a tidy nest for her and Tom. Richard went to the bathroom and looked at himself in the large mirror above the vanity counter. He blinked and squinted in the harsh light. Richard spotted the lipstick among the makeup and toiletries. He took the cylinder and lifted off the cap and turned the bullet of red upward. He held it to his mouth and traced his kiss-pinched lips. He curled them in as he had seen Emily do a thousand times and then relaxed them. He bent closer to the mirror to inspect is work. Richard could see his panties and he turned around to inspect more of them. He looked terrible, but he felt wonderful, and he stroked his dick several times, pinching his nipples through his ridiculous t-shirt. His balls ached with the prolonged pleasures of the night. He heard them coming up the steps and he shut the light off in the bathroom and stepped out to meet them.



Emily entered the room first, naked except for her bra and black high heels. She held her panties in her hand. She looked voluptuous and sexy with her neatly trimmed snatch nested beautifully between her full thighs. He wanted to kneel and kiss the rolling bulge of her tummy. Emily looked at him and shook her head. Without saying anything she walked up to him and shoved her panties in his face. Richard could feel their dampness on his face and he smelled her perfumed pussy in them.



“Open up!” she snapped. Richard opened his red lips and she shoved the lacey ball into his mouth. Tom was pulling off his shirt and prying off each shoe with his feet. His belt still hung open. Emily turned her attention back to Tom and she kissed his chest and rubbed her hands up and down his naked torso.



“Take my pants off”, Tom said, and Emily pulled down on the waist of his jeans and guided them down his legs. She got on her knees and took his cock into her mouth and sucked a few hungry stokes before pulling the pant legs down and around the heel of each foot as he lifted them. Tom stood there in the dim light exhibiting his firm body and stiff cock to Emily and Richard. He moved closer to Richard—he wanted Emily to see the stark contrast between her two men. Tom wrapped his muscular arm around Richard’s neck in a gesture of camaraderie that quickly became an intimidating choke hold. Richard did not resist and he contorted his posture to accommodate the hold. Tom pulled the panties from his mouth.



“Having fun Bitchard,” he asked.



“Yes Sir.”



“What’s going to happen now?”



“You’re going to fuck Emily.”



“That’s right.” Tom squeezed and jerked Richard’s head as if to reinforce his answer. “Emily, baby—lie on the bed and show me your pussy.” Emily climbed onto the sheets and lay back with her feet close to the foot of the bed. She pulled her knees up and spread her legs. Her fingers massaged her clit and lips as she looked back at Tom and her husband. Tom bent his head toward Richard’s ear and talked quietly from the corner of his mouth, “I’m gonna stick my cock in there and fuck your wife, man. And I want you to be ready when I call your number. Understand?”



Richard didn’t understand but he answered, “Yes Sir.”



Tom stuffed the panties back into Richard’s mouth and pointed to the floor at the foot of the bed. He pushed him down there. Richard kneeled; and Tom climbed into the space between Emily’s legs and he could hear Emily let out a squeal of pleasure as Tom’s cock entered her. Tom’s large feet were inches from Richard’s face, but he could not see much but the rise and fall of Tom’s ass as he pumped into Emily. Her feet traveled everywhere, spasmodically, and her toes wriggled erratically.



Emily moaned and puffed breaths of increasing pleasure in the rhythm of Tom’s penetrations. Tom delivered the full weight and force of his body into Emily. She lay trapped underneath his large frame and felt like she would sink deeper and deeper into the mattress with each thrust of his cock. She couldn’t escape if she wanted to—a distant realization that impelled her to embrace the futility of resistance and surrender to his aggressive fuck. She wanted it. Her brain scarcely registered his kisses, bites, and stream of obscene exhortations. Emily’s answers came from somewhere below consciousness: “Yes baby—fuck me—yes I’m your dirty fuck—yes, that’s right—it’s yours Tom—yes baby.” His cock brought her close to orgasm and she was desperate to come—she writhed in frustration and felt his thrusts slow and then stop. She felt him withdraw the thing slowly and he rolled beside her. Emily took her first deep breath and accepted the retreat. Tom kissed her nipples and lingered on them for some moments. He propped Emily’s head and shoulders higher with the pillows. Tom looked back at Richard still kneeling at the foot of the mattress.



“Okay Bitchard—time to do something useful for your wife,” Tom said. Emily giggled. She felt beautiful and deserving of whatever Tom had in mind. Tom’s hand slid down between her legs and his fingers parted her engorged lips exposing her clit and the warm, moist entrance where his dick had been. “Come on. Get in here and eat some pussy. And you better do it good fucker.”



“You better do it good Richard!” Emily practically yelled. She was drunk and desperate to demonstrate her allegiance to Tom. He laughed at her nasty taunt and kissed her. Emily wrapped her arms around Tom’s neck and returned his kiss with greater intensity. Richard moved toward Emily’s wet crotch, situating himself half on the bed, his legs still dangling off the mattress. Tom’s big dick rested in the seam between Emily’s ass and the sheets of the bed, just inches away from her pussy. Richard had never been so close to a man’s cock. His sack looked enormous and he could see that the wet of Emily’s pussy still coated his penis. He put his face into her pussy taking care not to touch the man. His tongue worked up and down Emily’s pussy; he flicked and circled her clit as he had done a thousand times. He knew what her clit needed and he was intent on prodding it to orgasm. Emily rarely came during their fucking, but he could bring her to climax multiple times by chasing her clit in alternating strings of rhythmic and erratic licks.



“How’s that taste?” asked Tom. “Do you taste my cock in there?”



Richard lifted his wet face, a cloud of smeared lipstick around his mouth and nose. “Yes Sir. It tastes good Sir.”



Tom reached down and pulled Richard’s face back into Emily’s cunt. Emily and Tom kissed and whispered and fondled. She felt Richard’s familiar action between her legs and the muscles in her thighs and ass told her she was getting close to coming. Tom could see it in her face.



“Tell him to do it good for you,” Richard whispered, looking directly into her eyes. “Make him your bitch Emily. You can make him do anything you want. Make your pussy feel perfect and then I’m going to fuck you some more.”



“Lick it bitch!” she yelled at Richard. Richard could see her angry face looking down at him as he worked in her wetter and wetter pussy. Her drunken meanness thrilled him; she looked beautiful and frightening in the same instant. He buried his face into her, licking, nibbling, and swallowing frantically. She raised her hips and rode her pussy up and down Richard’s face. “Do it good Richard, you stupid fuck.” And with that Emily’s legs tensed and her whole body jerked. She clenched her jaw and let out a low guttural moan. She wrapped her arms around Tom’s neck as if clinging for life against a torrent. She was silent for a moment—no breaths—her legs shook, and then she let out a climbing moan that could have signaled excruciating pain. Tom kissed her ear and urged her on, “Let it out baby—let it go.” Emil gasped for air and finally found a long, deep breath that she exhaled in a long diminuendo. She rode down from the peak slowly, little aftershocks interrupting her descent. She rejoined the men in the room.



She kissed Tom violently and they moaned in unison. “Thank you baby, thank you baby,” she said. “Oh my god—Oh fuck—oh Tom.” She ran her hands around his head and neck. Tom kissed her, and without breaking her hold, he reached down to flatten her leg against the bed, and he climbed back between her legs. His knee bumped Richard’s head firmly across the bridge of his nose and his eyes watered from the blow. Tom’s feet pushed him back, away from his position at the end of the mattress. Richard could see Tom reach between Emily’s thighs to locate her pussy with the head of his cock and again he could hear her signal the first pass of Tom’s dick between her lips. Richard crawled to the corner chair, took a seat, and sat silently in his panties and high heels watching Tom fuck her. Twice more Emily’s lover would call on him to service the warm place where his cock had been, and twice more Tom would shove him out of the way when his tongue-work was done. And finally, Tom turned Emily over, hiking her ass up so she rested on all fours, and he fucked her from behind until she came and screamed again—a cry Richard had never heard from her. She begged out loud for him to stop. Tom pumped harder, ignoring her pleas. Emily clenched the sheets yanking one corner from the mattress and she buried her head into the pillows muffling her cries. Tom groaned loudly as he came inside her and his orgasm seemed to ameliorate Emily’s unbearable pleasure.



Tom caught his breath and filled his lungs in one long inhalation and breathed out slowly through his nose. He looked over at Richard and stared at him while he slowly slid his spent cock in and out of Emily’s pussy. Richard watched as he rubbed and massaged her ass, bringing her in for a landing. Tom pulled his dick out and let Emily collapse onto her stomach. He remained upright on his knees, hovering over his exhausted conquest. His cock stood out in a softening arc. It looked huge and he exhibited it in Richard’s direction.



“Oh…fuck,” Emily sighed. “Oh my god Tom—thank you Tom—thank you baby, thank you.”



Tom lay beside her and rolled her over onto her side and they kissed and hugged and intertwined their legs. Richard could see Emily’s hand fondling Tom’s cock and his balls. They whispered and kissed and lingered in their mutual pleasure as if Richard was not in the room.



Tom whispered into Emily’s ear, “Don’t let him fuck you tonight. He’ll want to—I know he’s going to want to fuck you. He’s been turned on for a long time.”



“I won’t,” she whispered, giggled, and kissed him.



“You can let him eat you though. He’ll like that—I can almost guarantee it.”



Emily looked at him quizzically—her eyebrows rose. “You think so? I think you left a pretty good deposit down there,” and she laughed.



“Shh—Shhhhh,” Tom hushed her and hugged her, laughing. He whispered again, “See what happens. I think you’ll be surprised.”



Richard could hear the hushed exchanges, but could not make out the content of their conversation and chuckles. He had thoroughly enjoyed the night, but now he was ready for the man to leave. He wanted to talk to his wife unmonitored and unsupervised. He slipped into the bathroom. His dick had softened enough to let him aim it at the toilet and he pissed a long hard piss, a relief that he had delayed for too long. When he returned to the bedroom Tom was pulling up his pants and searching for his socks. Emily lay on her back, slightly propped up onto pillows.



“Richard, go get me a glass of water,” she said. Richard left the room and went to the kitchen. He surveyed the disorder of wine and liquor bottles across the counter top. He hurriedly filled a glass and made his way back to the bedroom. By the time he returned Tom was nearly dressed and sitting on the side of the bed kissing Emily good night. Richard stood there with the glass in his wet hand. Tom got up, buttoned his shirt, and stuffed the tails into his pants. Richard stepped around to the other side of the bed and handed the glass to Emily.

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