Playing the Game

We have a guest on our blog today, author Tom  Covenent. Tom has authored Wives Awakened, Model Wife, Model Wife Part 2, and Fallen (The Princess of the Fall). 

Playing the Game

by

Tom Covenent  

 

The kitchen was in semi darkness, the blinds down but allowing some sunlight to filter in, enough to leave the lights off but not enough to lift the strange sleazy atmosphere reminiscent of a scene from a 'film noir'.

There were four people in the room. A fat guy in a suit a size too small, sweating, hairless, probably in his forties. He stood near the kitchen door, effectively blocking it with his huge bulk. A smooth expensive suited guy with slicked down greasy hair and sallow complexion sat on a chair which had been lazily swung the wrong way round between long thin legs.

A lightly built middle aged man was sitting leaning forward on another chair in the corner of the room, he was straining against the torn tea towels which had been used as ad hoc ties to bind him to the chair. He was gagged with a ball gag and wore nothing but a pair of unflattering grey underpants.

The fourth person in the room was a middle aged woman. She was dressed in a smart medium length black skirt and a plain white blouse like any office worker, though an office worker who would not fail to attract your attention if she walked past your desk. She was standing in front of the smooth guy, glaring at him with dark eyes glittering angrily, bristling with obstinate disobedience.

'I said, take off your clothes,' drawled the smooth guy, his voice held the assertive confidence of a man who was used to being in obeyed.

‘Fuck off,’ she retorted, ‘let him go.’

The smooth guy shook his head slowly, ‘fat boy,’ he said, ‘the lady needs a little help.’

‘You bastard,’ she said, but nevertheless began to unbutton her blouse, her gaze remaining fixed on him as the blouse parted and her breasts swelled into view. The smooth guy sat back, a soft half smile playing on his lips, but his eyes were hard and hawk-like, watching her every move. Despite his anger and fear and probably fueled by his restraints, Andrew felt his cock stiffen involuntarily as he watched his wife take off her top in front of these unpleasant men. Her full breasts were barely restrained, thinly covered by clinging black satin - stiff and generous nipples swelled from dark dimpled texture aureola clearly visible through the sheer material. Like me, he realized with a jolt; it seemed she couldn’t control her arousal either.

With sweat beading on his upper lip, the fat one licked his lips and loosened his tie and stared as she twisted her body, using both hands to un-hook her skirt. The zip rasped and the garment slid gracefully down her nylon clad legs to pool around her ankles on the floor. Her panties were high thigh, black but sheer, matching her bra, her legs long and elegant. The incredible eroticism as she stepped out of her skirt, bending to retrieve it, could not have been lost on the other men - it was certainly not lost on her husband. She tossed the skirt onto a chair and turned back to stand facing the smooth guy, her feet well apart and her hands now on her hips. Although her chin jutted forward in defiance, her nipples continued to betray her sexual arousal and her sheer panties did little to hide the prominent cleft between her legs and her husband was sure he could see wetness there. Sure enough, the smooth guy had also noticed.

‘Getting wet for us babe,’ he drawled.

He reached toward her, his index finger extended. As the tip of his finger touched the satin, he looked up directly into her warm brown eyes and, holding her gaze, gradually and with increasing pressure, pushed the sheer slippery wet silk deeper into the cleft between her legs. The gasp which escaped her lips was of involuntary, undeniable and extreme sexual arousal. She looked up at the kitchen ceiling, quickly to avoid catching any of the men’s eyes, including, and especially, the accusing eyes of her husband. But she hadn’t pulled away, her thighs were thrusting forward and her buttocks were visibly clenched. She closed her eyes, her jaw clamped shut, gritting her teeth in an effort to prevent any further audible revelation of her intense pleasure. But her trembling thighs and the little jerks of her hips told the story clearly enough as her orgasm erupted and her moan, held in, now exploded as a scream. With her mouth hanging open, she panted breathlessly, thrusting against his finger. Deftly, with practiced expertise, he pushed his thumb against the panties, slipped the wet satin over her generous pussy lips and pushed four fingers deep inside her, right up to the palm of his hand.  

The fat one guffawed suddenly and everyone looked to where he was pointing, everyone except the sheepish looking Andrew. It was the prominent bulge in his underpants which was the cause of the fat ones amusement. ‘Hubby likes seeing his bitch finger fucked,’ he giggled, like a teenage girl.

The smooth guy pulled his fingers out of Andrew’s wife with a wet slurp. ‘Take everything off,’ he instructed her dismissively, ‘the fat boy will want to fuck you naked.’

Meekly, unhesitatingly, she slipped off her bra, allowing it to drop limply to the floor. Without its support, her breasts drooped slightly, but for a fifty three year old woman they were unusually firm for their size. She hooked her fingers into her panties, pushed them down, exposing a neat triangle of tight curls.

‘The collar matches the cuffs,’ laughed the smooth guy.

She bent to hook her panties off her feet, her breasts hanging like udders as she did so.

‘Jeez boss,’ said the fat boy, the bitch has great tits.’

The smooth guy nodded, ‘let’s have her on all fours, like a sow.’

Wincing at his crude disrespect, without being told, she knelt down and dropped onto her hands. She felt wetness trickle down her inner thigh from between her legs; his description of her as a sow must surely be an accurate one. All resistance had slipped away with her orgasm, now she wanted more, wanted to be used by these foul men, wanted to be treated like their whore. She realized that the fact that her husband was watching and would realize she was enjoying this debasement was adding to her pleasure. It was to protect him that she was doing this, at least that had been the case, now, she admitted, it was because she wanted it. 

‘OK fat boy,’ said the smooth guy, ‘she’s all yours.’

 ‘Here boss?’ questioned the fat boy.

‘Up to you,’ replied the smooth guy, ‘I have no particular desire to see your fat ass bouncing on the lady, but it’s up to you.’

‘Thanks boss, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to fuck the bitch in private.’

‘No,’ she protested, ‘no please.’ She crawled on all fours across to the fat one, sat back on her haunches began to fumble with his zipper. A sheepish grin spread across his pudgy features and made no protest as she unzipped him, pushed her hand inside and fished out a burgeoning heavily veined cock.

With one hand inside his pants, cupping his balls, she used the other to stroke his shaft to a full and impressive erection. Her ruby painted lips slipped wetly over the tip and he soon began to jerk his thighs in time to the bobbing of her head. It did not take long before the fat one climaxed. Andrew stared in horror as his wife made no attempt to escape as the fat one reached a noisy orgasm, her lips remaining tight around his shaft. The bulge in her husband’s underpants told its own story.  

When the smooth guy and the fat one had gone, Andrew and his wife went to bed, tired but satisfied, cuddling and kissing just like any other couple. It had been fun, playing the cuckold, thought Andrew, but maybe she would let them go the whole way with her next time.