u/GenrePencil

When she walked out of the jetway and into the Salt Lake City airport, she had no idea I was watching her.

And that’s just the way I wanted it. 

The longer I could watch, undetected, the more time I’d have to ensure she was exactly what I was looking for. 

When finding a sub, you have to take your time. You learn to look for clues and subtle little signs. 

After all, the last thing you want to do is waste your time on someone who isn't interested. Or worse yet, someone who will be mortified by your proposal. 

A sub has to be a willing partner; they have to be someone intrigued by exploring what for most people is an extreme taboo. And once a sub has given themselves to you, it’s your task to make sure they’re always happy and safe. 

I watched closely, but still from a distance, as she paused to take in the scene in the concourse. She was clearly overwhelmed by the roiling sea of weary and angry travelers. 

And really, who wouldn’t be? 

People were sitting in chairs, against walls, and even sleeping on whatever floor space they could claim as their own. 

Thick frustration clogged the air like cigarette smoke in a bar back in the days when you could still smoke in a bar. 

With nearly every airport in the country closed because of the biggest winter storm in a decade, nobody was going anywhere for at least the next day, if not two. 

But I already had my hotel room booked for the night and the reservation could easily be extended. That’s just one of the perks of being an experienced traveler with plenty of disposable income and a generous corporate expense account. 

So while nearly everyone else at the airport saw misery and frustration, I saw opportunity. 

I watched her furiously send a few texts, put her phone in the front pocket of her hoodie, and then get in the very long line to speak to a Delta agent. 

I knew it was a futile gesture, but for inexperienced travelers, hope springs eternal. 

But at least the long line meant I could take in the view and size the situation up. I guessed she was nineteen or twenty, the perfect age to begin training. 

The back of her blue hoodie said COACH and the front said NORTH COUNTRY DANCE STUDIO. 

Which made sense, because she definitely had a dancer’s lean, strong body. 

When she lifted her arms to pull her thick brown hair into a ponytail, her sweatshirt rode up above her waist and I was able to get a long look at her muscular ass and legs thanks to her yoga pants. 
 
The way her eyes darted around the concourse, and the way she nervously bit her bottom lip, and the way her exasperated sighs blew air through her hair told me everything I needed to know. 

This was someone who needed guidance and a firm hand. She needed a dom. 

Oh yes, she was going to do nicely. 

I already knew that in just a handful of hours, that fit dancer's ass would be staring up at me from a hotel bed while I spanked it. 

For now, I watched as she slowly made her way to the Delta counter. Once it was finally her turn, it took less than a minute for the agent to make it clear that there wasn’t anything to be done until the storm ended . 

I saw her thank the agent before turning to grab her bag. 

Polite, respectful, and compliant … now this was certainly something I could work with. 

As she headed down the concourse, I followed from a safe distance. 

While keeping my eyes on her, I saw two chairs at the bar in the White Horse open up. I didn’t waste any time and was able to sit in one while putting my bags on the other chair. Best of all, the bar looked out into the concourse, meaning I could keep my eyes on my target. 

As I watched, I saw her body language show the first subtle signs of anxiety as she looked for a place to rest and figure out how she was going to get out of Salt Lake. 

When her eyes began scanning the White Horse, I quickly moved my bags, caught her gaze, and gave the universal “this one’s open” gesture. 

She didn’t hesitate. 

The fly headed straight toward the web. 

In just a few seconds, she’d hopped onto the bar stool, let out a sigh, and finally allowed herself to relax. 

“Welcome to the wonderful world of random Tuesday air travel,” I said to her. 

She turned and smiled. “I’m supposed to be on a connecting flight to Minneapolis, but clearly that’s not happening. 

“Were you on the Delta flight to Minneapolis that was supposed to leave at 1:25?”

“I was,” she said. 

“Small world,” I said. “I was too. I’m Max, by the way.” 

“I’m Aubrey,” she said. 

“I’m guessing it’ll be tomorrow afternoon at the earliest before we’re out of here. “Believe it or not, this is the third time I’ve been delayed in Salt Lake because of weather like this.” 

“You must fly a lot,” Aubrey said, pushing a piece of her thick brown hair away from her face. 

“I do,” I said. “I’m a lawyer and work with corporate clients all over the country. I’m on the road probably twenty days a month.” 

Aubrey laughed self-consciously and said, “Lawyer … that’s impressive. I’m a dance coach; a dance coach for little kids.” 

“So you have the patience of a saint, huh?” 

“Sometimes,” Aubrey said. “But definitely not all the time. My team of nine and ten-year-olds was in Seattle for a national tournament.

“And?” I said. 

“We won our age division,” Aubrey said. “The kids and their parents all flew home yesterday but I stayed an extra day to check out the city.” 

“National champs,” I said, “that’s exciting.” 

“It was,” Aubrey said. “I’ll never forget how loudly the girls screamed when they found out they’d won.” 

I smiled. “You were a dancer too?” 

“I was,” she said. “From the time I was three. I’m getting an elementary education degree and I’d like to teach and coach high school dance.”

“Where do you go to school?”  

“University of Minnesota,” she said. 

I lifted his eyebrows and smiled. “Ski-u-Mah. My alma mater. I think we need a bottle of champagne to celebrate your big win and to toast the kismet of two Golden Gophers randomly meeting each other at the airport in Salt Lake City. 

“Oh I love champagne, but I’m only twenty,” Aubrey said. 

“That’s not going to be a problem,” I said. 

Fueled by chilled champagne, our conversation continued, pleasantly and easily, for the next hour. I could tell she was attracted to me and was flattered by attention from an older, successful man. 

She revealed that she was from a small northern Minnesota lake community; the kind that’s bursting at the seams with people in the summer and is only locals in the winter. 

During a pause in our conversation, my phone rang. “I better take this,” I said. “It’s Delta.” 

Aubrey sat silently next and listened to the conversation. 

“Hello, this Grace from Delta Airlines, is this Mr. Grady?” the voice on the other end of the line said. 

“Yes it is,” I said. 

“I’ve got you booked on the flight that’s scheduled to leave tomorrow at 3:10,” Grace said. “But honestly, there’s a good chance that one will be cancelled too.”

“You can’t control the weather, Grace,” I said. “We’ll just do the best we can.” 

“Thank you for your understanding,” Grace said, “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

I turned to Aubrey and whispered, “What’s your last name?”

Aubrey, a bit taken aback, said, “Arnett.” 

“Grace, my friend Aubrey Arnett was supposed to be on the same flight as me this afternoon, could you book her a seat next to me?”

“Of course, Mr. Grady,” Grace said. “I see Ms. Arnett was sitting in economy class.” 

“Just charge the upgrade to the card you have on file for me.” 

“My pleasure Mr. Grady,” Grace said. “And thank you for being a Delta Diamond Medallion member.”

I set my phone down and turned to look at Aubrey. Her large brown eyes were opened wide and her mouth was slightly parted and the look on her beautiful face told me she was searching for the right words. 

“What was that?” she said, finally. “The airline calls you and just gives you new tickets?” 

“I’m a very good customer,” I said. “I have a few million frequent flier miles and I always sit in first class. I’m the kind of customer they want to take care of.” 

For the record, let me clear up a question I’m sure you have right now. Yes, I’m wealthy. I’m a corporate lawyer with a certain, shall we say, moral flexibility. The kind of flexibility that supplies a six figure income, bonuses, and a no-questions asked expense account.  

As we worked our way through the bottle of champagne, it became clear to me that Aubrey would be, with some training, be the perfect sub. 

The kind of sub you spoil and take care of for a very long time. 

She was fascinated by my career and how much I traveled. She couldn't believe someone could reserve a hotel suite in the middle of a massive nearly coast-to-coast snowstorm, with just one phone call. 

And when I slid the bartender two twenties for bringing us the champagne and two glasses, she whispered, “You just tipped him forty dollars!” 

“Some things are always worth paying for,” I said. “And now, he’ll take care of anything we need or want. For that, forty dollars is a bargain.” 

When I made her laugh, she gently put her hand on my knee. When I told her that I went to Paris for three days every month, she subtly bit her bottom lip. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to Paris … I know it’s a cliche, but it’s true,” she said. 

“Your boyfriend won’t take you?” 

“I don’t have one of those at the moment,” she said. “And most of my previous boyfriends could barely afford to take me to Applebee’s on my birthday.” 

“Well, if I’m being honest, the food in Paris is better than Applebee’s.” 

Another loud laugh. Another hand on my knee.
“You need to be spoiled a little bit,” I said. “So you can experience a bit of the good life.” 

“Aren’t I a little young for you to spoil?” 

She was testing me. I liked it. 

“Not at all,” I said. “Does being spoiled appeal to you?” 

She hesitated and bit her bottom lip again. “I guess … I guess, yes. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be spoiled? I coach, I wait tables, I go to school … I’m always exhausted and I feel lucky if I have five hundred bucks in my checking account.” 

“So there you are. Men your age can’t spoil you. That’s just the way the world works.” 

“You’re funny,” she said “But also interesting. Do you know where a girl can get a hotel room in this town?” 

“That’s already been taken care of.” 

She leaned back in her stool and stared at me. “What are you talking about?” 

“You’ll be staying at the same hotel as me,” I said. “It’s taken care of.” 

“I can’t let you do that,” she said. “I don’t think it’s right.” 

Now here was my chance to test her. 

“You can and you will,” I said. “And I don’t care what you think, it’s done, do you understand me?” 

She ran her fingertips across her throat and not even her dark olive skin could conceal her blushing. 

“If you say so,” she said. 

“I think it’s time for me to take you to dinner.”

“Applebee’s?”

“I think I can do better than that,” I said. 

“Whoa, better than mozzarella sticks?” 

“I like a good mozzarella stick as much as the next guy, but this place is better.” 

While the weather was making things impassable in most of the country, driving in Salt Lake City was more of the “go slow and say a little prayer” variety. 

The car service I always use when I’m in town had an Escalade waiting for us in less than ten minutes. 

Gabe, our driver, opened the door for us and then got back behind the wheel.

“It’s not fit for man or beast out there,” Gabe said. “I just heard they think all flights out of here may be cancelled until the day after tomorrow.” 

“We’re grateful you picked us up,” I said. “The airport was getting a little chaotic.” 

“I can imagine,” Gabe said. “But hey, just because you can’t fly doesn’t mean you can’t drive. I’ve been driving in the mountains all my life, I got you.” 

In a half-hour, which was about twice as long as it would normally take, we stopped in front of Table X, the best restaurant in the city. 

“Oh my God,” Aubrey said. “This looks expensive. We don’t …” 

“Spoiling, remember?” 

“I’m wearing a hoodie!” Aubrey breathed. 

“This place is very nice, not snobby,” I said. “There’s a difference.” 

“All set?” Gabe said. 

“We are,” I told him. 

He got out and opened the door for us. 

I handed him sixty bucks and said, “Can you pick us up right here in two hours?” 

“You got it,” Gabe said. 

Once inside, we were shown to a semi–private booth with a tall leather back. I slid across the bench and Aubrey slid in after me, ending up closer than she needed to be.

I made a mental note of that. 

“This menu is … I’ve never seen anything like this,” Aubrey said. 

“It’s tasting menu, seven courses, it’s a great way to try different things. Let’s start with some wine. Red or white?” 

“I love both, but we had champagne at the airport. So maybe red?” 

“You got it,” I said. 

I ordered a bottle of Bodegas Las Orca, a delicious Spanish red and we were soon sipping and falling back into easy conversation. 

Then the food came. Fresh bread and butter, carrot and fennel salad, gourmet mushrooms, trout, beef bearnaise, olive oil cake. 

It was all superb, and I could tell that Aubrey was enjoying both the food and the ambiance. 

She really was beautiful and while she was clearly very bright, she was also naive and curious in a way that would make her an ideal sub.

After the final course, Aubrey leaned back against the booth and sighed happily. “That was the best meal I’ve ever eaten.”

“Your Applebee’s days are over.” 

“Well, sooner or later, I’ll have to go back to my real life. Like in Pretty Woman.” 

“They ended up together at the end of Pretty Woman,” I said. 

She stared at me for a beat or two and then broke into a smile. 

“Ready to go to the hotel?” I said. 

“About that,” she said. “It’s the Grand America. It’s beautiful and the service is the best.” 

She started laughing. “I can’t afford something like that!” 

“You’ll be staying in my room.” 

She froze. 

She stayed frozen when the server appeared at our table. 

“May I get you anything else tonight?” the server said. 

I handed her my credit card. “I think we’re all set. It was truly a wonderful meal.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, taking my card and heading off. 

Aubrey was still frozen. 

I turned to her. “Are you a good girl?”

“Am I … uh, a what? What do you mean?” 

I smiled. “Are you a good girl? Can you follow orders and be what I need you to be?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. 

“I think you do,” I said. “We’re going to go to the hotel and once we’re in the room, you belong to me.” 

“What the fuck is happening,” she whispered, more the herself than to me. 

“I need a good girl who will submit herself to me. Who will enjoy being my personal property in the bedroom while getting spoiled and pampered outside of it.” 

“Personal property?”

“That’s right,” I said. “In private, you’ll follow my rules. I’ll tell you what to do and you’ll do it. If you don’t, punishment will be doled out.” 

“What do you mean, punishment?” 

I put a hand down on her firm thigh and gave it a squeeze. She didn’t move. “It means that if you don’t follow the rules, you might get a slap, or a hand around the throat. Sometimes I might put you over my lap and spank you until your ass is nice and red and raw.” 

The server brought my card back with a receipt to sign. “I hope we’ll see you again.” 

I handed her two hundred bills. “You will, indeed.” 

The server walked away and I turned attention back to Aubrey. 
“Have you been spanked before?” 

“No.” 

“I know you’ve thought about it though,” I said. “You’re the type. I know you’ve been in bed late at night, horny and alone, and worked your pants and underwear off so you could rub your clit. And as you tried to make yourself cum, you thought about being spanked and choked and thrown around.”

Aubrey bit her lip again. 

“I’m right, yes?” 

“Yes,” she said. 

“I’m going to take you back to the hotel and we’re going to go up to the room and you’re going to do everything I tell you to do. I’m going to explore your body and wrap a hand around your throat while I fuck you.” 

“Jesus,” she said. 

“I’m going to slide my cock into you from behind while pulling your head back by the hair. I’m going to put you on your knees and slide my cock down your obedient little throat.”

Her hands were shaking. 

“You want to submit to me, don’t you?” 

She hesitated. I reached out, picked up her hand, and dropped it onto my cock so she could feel my hardness through my pants. 

She didn’t move her hand. 

“You want to submit to me, don’t you?” I repeated. 

She nodded. 

“You want to be owned and spoiled, don’t you?” I said. 

She nodded.

“Are you my good girl?” 

She nodded. 
“Tell me.”

“I’m your good girl,” she said. 

“Good, let’s go.” 

Gabe was waiting for us and opened the car door. He closed the door behind me and began walking around to the driver’s door. 

I quickly put my coat over Aubrey’s lap. 

“Pull your pants down to the middle of your thighs. 

She did just as Gabe was getting in. 

“Alright, I’ll have you to the Grand America in just a few minutes,” he said. 

As he pulled away from the curb, I slid my hand under the coat and rested it against Aubrey’s slit. I began gently teasing her soft lips. I found her clit and began caressing and teasing it. I savored how wet she was getting. 

I made small chat with Gabe as I continued playing with Aubrey’s pussy under the coat. At one point, I gently nudged one of her inner thighs, signaling her to spread her legs wider. Once she did, I slid a finger into her. The warmth and wetness engulfed my finger. 

I discreetly whispered into her ear, “This tight little pussy belongs to me now, do you understand?”

She nodded. 

“I’m going to fill your pussy with my cum.”

She nodded. 

We pulled up to the hotel and Gabe jumped out. I quickly removed my finger from Aubrey’s pussy. 

“Open your mouth and clean yourself off me.” 

She took my finger between her lips and sucked it clean.

“Good girl, now pull up your pants,” I said as Gabe opened the passenger door. 

I tipped Gabe, thanked him, and sent him on his way. Ten minutes later, we were checked in and in the elevator on the way to the top floor. 

“It’s too bad there are cameras in elevators these days,” I said. “Otherwise I’d order you to suck my cock right here on the ride up. You like sucking cock, don’t you Aubrey?” 

“I do,” she said. 

“I’m going to throat fuck you, do you understand?” 

“I understand.”

“After I cum in your mouth, what are you going to do?” 

“Swallow.”

“That’s right. Swallow like a what?”

“Like a good girl.”

“You catch on very quickly.”

We reached our floor and walked silently to the door. I opened it and held it for her. Once I’d followed and closed it, I walked behind her and took her right arm in my hand. I positioned it behind her and then pressed her entire body against the wall. 

“Are you here of your own free will?” 

“Yes.”

“Do you want to be here?”

“Yes.”

“Are you excited to be here?”

“Yes.” 

“Are you my obedient little slut?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’m your obedient little slut.” 

I told her to stay where she was and then walked to the couch and sat down 

She was still facing the wall. She was so perfect and so beautiful. 

“Take your hoodie off.” 

She did, revealing a tight black tanktop.

“Take your pants off.” She followed my order and wiggled out of her skintight yoga pants. Her long legs were hard and toned. 

“You really are a dancer,” I said. “Turn around and face the wall again.” 

Once she’d turned, I said, “Put your palms against the wall and then bend over nice and low so I can see that ass.” 

She balanced against the wall and lowered her head until her ass was high in the air. Her purple thong rested between her rock-hard cheeks. 

“Very nice,” I said. “Stand up and take your tanktop off.” 

Under the tanktop was a light pink lace bra. I pointed at it and she immediately reached behind her, unhooked it, and let it drop to the floor. 

“How big?” 

“Not big … 34B.” 

“They’re perfect. You’re perfect. You’re my perfect little good girl.” 

She smiled. 

“Take that thong off.” 

She slid the thong down her shapely legs and stepped out of it. 

“You wax,” I said. 

“It’s expensive, but I like the way it feels.” 

“I’ll be paying for it from now on.” 

“You don’t have to do …”

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Get on your hands and knees and crawl to me,” I said. 

Dropping to all fours, she made her way to me and stopped once she was at my knees. 

I looked down at her. “You’re incredibly beautiful.” 

She smiled and began to speak but before she could get a word out, I snatched her throat in my hand and squeezed. She let out a squeak and her eyes bulged, just slightly. 

“Who owns you?” I said, loosening my grip enough to let her answer escape her lips. 

“You do.” 

“Do you want to be owned?”

“Yes.”

“Do you submit?” 

“Yes.” 

“To who?”

“You.”

I slapped her pretty face, just hard enough to get her attention.

“Does anyone else own you?”

“Only you.” 

“Good girl, now take my cock out.” 

With shaking hands, she undid my belt and pants and then worked the zipper down. She reached into my boxers, wrapped her warm hand around my hard cock, and took it out. 

I put my hand under her chin and pushed it up until her eyes met mine. “Time to prove yourself.” 

She lowered her face back down and put her tongue against the underside of my cock and began licking. Once she’d licked every centimeter of it, she wrapped her lips around the tip and sucked. 

“Good girl,” I sighed. 

I leaned back on the coach and took in the view of this beautiful, submissive twenty-year-old sucking my cock. She was doing a good job of getting it down her throat but I was ready for more and ready to test her. 

I stood up and worked my pants and boxers off. Taking my cock in my left hand, I pressed it against her lips and as she opened her mouth, I put my right hand on the back of her head. 

With her head secured, I thrust my cock down her throat. Her eyes went wide and she made loud slurping and choking sounds. 

Is there a better sound? 

Continuing to hold her head in place, I said, “Are you ready to get throat fucked and show me what an obedient girl you are?” 

She nodded yes. 

That’s all I needed. 

Gripping her head in both my hands, I began fucking her eager little mouth. Once she’d grown used to my pace, she found her own rhythm. She moaned softly each time a thrust stretched her throat out. All the while, she flattened her tongue in her mouth and positioned it against my cock, letting me slide up and down it with my thrusts. 

Watching as tears ran down her gorgeous, tan face, I was overwhelmed with desire. Gripping her head even tighter, I began throat fucking her with abandon. And she took it all without complaint.

After a few more thrusts, I let myself go and began filling her soft, warm mouth with hot fresh cum. 

“Don’t swallow it yet,” I said. 

Once I’d shot my entire load, I pulled my cock out of her mouth. “Show me.”

She tilted her head back and opened her mouth wide, showing me that her mouth was practically overflowing with jizz. 

“Down the hatch,” I said. 

She swallowed, smacked her lips, and opened her mouth again. 

Every drop of cum was now swimming in her tummy. 

“Did you like that?” 

“I loved it.”

“Get up and go to the bed and get on your back.” 

Once she was in place, I went to her and positioned myself at the bottom of the mattress. I worked my head between her thighs. Her pussy smelled delicious and hot and ready. 

It was time to take care of my new sub. 

I placed my tongue at the bottom of her slit and slowly ran it to the top. 

“Oh fuck yes,” she groaned. 

I ran my tongue up and down her pink slit while working her slit with my fingers. I loved tasting her getting wetter and wetter. 

After a few minutes of slit licking, I gently spread her open and worked my tongue inside her while continuing to give her clit attention with my fingers.

I kissed and licked her inner thighs and blew warm air against her steaming cunt. 

“Roll over onto your stomach,” I said. 

“Yes, sir.” 

I took in the up-close view of her ass. An ass by the way, so perfect that it should be hanging in the Louvre. I spread her hard ass cheeks and flicked my tongue into her steamy asshole. 

Her entire body tensed and then shivered. All she could mutter was, “Unnnhhh.” 

I then dedicated myself to eating her ass. Using her cheeks for leverage, I spread her asshole open nice and wide and worked my tongue as deeply as I could. I rhythmically worked my tongue in and out of her hot hole and swirled it in circles.
Holding her ass open with my left hand, I used my right hand to work her clit. 

Aubrey writhed and twisted and moaned and groaned while I ate her ass and played with her clit. 

Once I saw her lick her lips and then fold them into her mouth, I knew she was close. 

I worked her clit in a firm, rapid circle while working my tongue deeper and deeper into her asshole. 

She finally exploded. “Fuccccccccccckkk,” she wailed. 

I watched her slowly come down from her orgasm and said, “I knew you were the one the second I saw you walk off that jetway.” 

“I’m all yours,” she said. 

“Put your ass up in the air.”

She put her face on the pillow and wiggled forward until her ass was straight in the air. 

I brought my palm down on her right cheek, hard, She squealed and wiggled her hips. Then I brought my hand down on her left cheek. 

“You’ve always wanted someone to spank you, haven’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’m going to spank this ass until it’s cherry red.” 

“Please, yes.” 

Right cheek. Left cheek. Right cheek. Left cheek. Over and over. The room was filled with the sound of my hand violently slapping her ass cheeks and her hungry moans. 

“My handprints are all over your ass,” I said. 

“Will you take a picture and show me?” 

I got off the bed, grabbed my phone, and snapped a few close-ups. I handed her my phone. 

“That looks so sexy,” she said. “I won’t be able to sit for a week.” 

“When you do sit and your ass stings like it’s on fire, I want you to think about me and what a good owner I’m going to be.” 

“I will, I promise.” 

“Are you ready to get fucked?”

“Yes!”

I got off the bed and stood next to her. 

“Lick it.” 

She eagerly licked my cock until I was ready. 

I got back on the bed, positioned myself behind her on my knees, lined my cock up against her ready snatch and gave one hard thrust. 

She was so wet, so eager, so mine that I filled her instantly.

Gripping her shapely dancer’s hips, I began sliding her up and down my prick. I gently pushed her forward until I was about to slip out of her and then pulled her all the way back down with one hard yank. 

“I’ve never been fucked without a condom before,” she said. 

“Better?”

“So much better.” 

With my cock halfway in her, I smacked her raw, red ass a few more times. 

She giggled. 

Then I reached forward and took her brown ponytail in one hand and yanked her head back, hard. 

I began fucking her as hard as I could. Stretching her and filling her, sliding nearly out, and then stretching her and filling her with a thrust. 

“Who fucking owns you?” I groaned. 

“You do!” 

“When do I get this pussy?”

“Whenever you want it!” 

“When are you going to suck my cock?” 

“Whenever you tell me to!” 

“Good girl.”

I could feel my balls slapping against her hard body while I fucked her with completely abandon. The white pillowcase was smeared with makeup from the friction of her face being pounded up and down on it. 

“You’re going to cum before I do,” I said, smacking her ass again. 

“I’m close,” she said. 

Instead of smacking her ass again, I worked a thumb into her asshole. 

She tensed, then relaxed, and then smiled. 

“That’s nice,” she said. 

I fucked her pussy with my cock and her asshole with my thumb for another minute and then her orgasm started. 

As she came, I squeezed her hips and pulled her down the length of me, burying my straining prick all the way in her. 

I started cumming, filling her with hot spurt after hot spurt.

“I can feel your cum,” she said. “I love it.” 

When I was done cumming, I rolled onto my back and pulled her against me. 

“What did you think of your first time as a sub?” 

“I loved it,” she said. “I was in shock in the restaurant when you said all that, but it’s been a fantasy of mine for a long time.” 

“And we’ve only scratched the surface. You have so much to learn and I can’t wait to teach it all to you.” 

“I can’t wait either.” 

“You’re on winter break for a while, right?” 

“Yes,” she said. “For almost another month.” 

“That’s perfect,” I said. “I have two trips to Paris and one to Rome in the next month and you’ll be coming with me.” 

When she walked out of the jetway and into the Salt Lake City airport, she had no idea I was watching her.

And that’s just the way I wanted it. 

The longer I could watch, undetected, the more time I’d have to ensure she was exactly what I was looking for. 

When finding a sub, you have to take your time. You learn to look for clues and subtle little signs. 

After all, the last thing you want to do is waste your time on someone who isn't interested. Or worse yet, someone who will be mortified by your proposal. 

A sub has to be a willing partner; they have to be someone intrigued by exploring what for most people is an extreme taboo.

And once a sub has given themselves to you, it’s your task to make sure they’re always happy and safe. 

I watched closely, but still from a distance, as she paused to take in the scene in the concourse. She was clearly overwhelmed by the roiling sea of weary and angry travelers. 

And really, who wouldn’t be? 

People were sitting in chairs, against walls, and even sleeping on whatever floor space they could claim as their own. 

Thick frustration clogged the air like cigarette smoke in a bar back in the days when you could still smoke in a bar. 

With nearly every airport in the country closed because of the biggest winter storm in a decade, nobody was going anywhere for at least the next day, if not two. 

But I already had my hotel room booked for the night and the reservation could easily be extended.

That’s just one of the perks of being an experienced traveler with plenty of disposable income and a generous corporate expense account. 

So while nearly everyone else at the airport saw misery and frustration, I saw opportunity. 

I watched her furiously send a few texts, put her phone in the front pocket of her hoodie, and then get in the very long line to speak to a Delta agent. 

I knew it was a futile gesture, but for inexperienced travelers, hope springs eternal. 

But at least the long line meant I could take in the view and size the situation up. I guessed she was nineteen or twenty, the perfect age to begin training. 

The back of her blue hoodie said COACH and the front said NORTH COUNTRY DANCE STUDIO. 

Which made sense, because she definitely had a dancer’s lean, strong body. 

When she lifted her arms to pull her thick brown hair into a ponytail, her sweatshirt rode up above her waist and I was able to get a long look at her muscular ass and legs thanks to her yoga pants. 

The way her eyes darted around the concourse, and the way she nervously bit her bottom lip, and the way her exasperated sighs blew air through her hair told me everything I needed to know. 

This was someone who needed guidance and a firm hand. She needed a dom. 

Oh yes, she was going to do nicely. 

I already knew that in just a handful of hours, that fit dancer's ass would be staring up at me from a hotel bed while I spanked it. 

For now, I watched as she slowly made her way to the Delta counter. Once it was finally her turn, it took less than a minute for the agent to make it clear that there wasn’t anything to be done until the storm ended . 

I saw her thank the agent before turning to grab her bag. 

Polite, respectful, and compliant … now this was certainly something I could work with. 

As she headed down the concourse, I followed from a safe distance. 

While keeping my eyes on her, I saw two chairs at the bar in the White Horse open up. I didn’t waste any time and was able to sit in one while putting my bags on the other chair.

Best of all, the bar looked out into the concourse, meaning I could keep my eyes on my target. 

As I watched, I saw her body language show the first subtle signs of anxiety as she looked for a place to rest and figure out how she was going to get out of Salt Lake. 

When her eyes began scanning the White Horse, I quickly moved my bags, caught her gaze, and gave the universal “this one’s open” gesture. 

She didn’t hesitate. 

The fly headed straight toward the web. 

In just a few seconds, she’d hopped onto the bar stool, let out a sigh, and finally allowed herself to relax. 

“Welcome to the wonderful world of random Tuesday air travel,” I said to her. 

She turned and smiled. “I’m supposed to be on a connecting flight to Minneapolis, but clearly that’s not happening. 

“Were you on the Delta flight to Minneapolis that was supposed to leave at 1:25?”

“I was,” she said. 

“Small world,” I said. “I was too. I’m Max, by the way.” 

“I’m Aubrey,” she said. 

“I’m guessing it’ll be tomorrow afternoon at the earliest before we’re out of here. “Believe it or not, this is the third time I’ve been delayed in Salt Lake because of weather like this.” 

“You must fly a lot,” Aubrey said, pushing a piece of her thick brown hair away from her face. 

“I do,” I said. “I’m a lawyer and work with corporate clients all over the country. I’m on the road probably twenty days a month.” 

Aubrey laughed self-consciously and said, “Lawyer … that’s impressive. I’m a dance coach; a dance coach for little kids.” 

“So you have the patience of a saint, huh?” 

“Sometimes,” Aubrey said. “But definitely not all the time. My team of nine and ten-year-olds was in Seattle for a national tournament.

“And?” I said. 

“We won our age division,” Aubrey said. “The kids and their parents all flew home yesterday but I stayed an extra day to check out the city.” 

“National champs,” I said, “that’s exciting.” 

“It was,” Aubrey said. “I’ll never forget how loudly the girls screamed when they found out they’d won.” 

I smiled. “You were a dancer too?” 

“I was,” she said. “From the time I was three. I’m getting an elementary education degree and I’d like to teach and coach high school dance.”

“Where do you go to school?”  

“University of Minnesota,” she said. 

I lifted his eyebrows and smiled. “Ski-u-Mah. My alma mater. I think we need a bottle of champagne to celebrate your big win and to toast the kismet of two Golden Gophers randomly meeting each other at the airport in Salt Lake City. 

“Oh I love champagne, but I’m only twenty,” Aubrey said. 

“That’s not going to be a problem,” I said. 

Fueled by chilled champagne, our conversation continued, pleasantly and easily, for the next hour. I could tell she was attracted to me and was flattered by attention from an older, successful man. 

She revealed that she was from a small northern Minnesota lake community; the kind that’s bursting at the seams with people in the summer and is only locals in the winter. 

During a pause in our conversation, my phone rang. “I better take this,” I said. “It’s Delta.” 

Aubrey sat silently next and listened to the conversation. 

“Hello, this Grace from Delta Airlines, is this Mr. Grady?” the voice on the other end of the line said. 

“Yes it is,” I said. 

“I’ve got you booked on the flight that’s scheduled to leave tomorrow at 3:10,” Grace said. “But honestly, there’s a good chance that one will be cancelled too.”

“You can’t control the weather, Grace,” I said. “We’ll just do the best we can.” 

“Thank you for your understanding,” Grace said, “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

I turned to Aubrey and whispered, “What’s your last name?”

Aubrey, a bit taken aback, said, “Arnett.” 

“Grace, my friend Aubrey Arnett was supposed to be on the same flight as me this afternoon, could you book her a seat next to me?”

“Of course, Mr. Grady,” Grace said. “I see Ms. Arnett was sitting in economy class.” 

“Just charge the upgrade to the card you have on file for me.” 

“My pleasure Mr. Grady,” Grace said. “And thank you for being a Delta Diamond Medallion member.”

I set my phone down and turned to look at Aubrey.

Her large brown eyes were opened wide and her mouth was slightly parted and the look on her beautiful face told me she was searching for the right words. 

“What was that?” she said, finally. “The airline calls you and just gives you new tickets?” 

“I’m a very good customer,” I said. “I have a few million frequent flier miles and I always sit in first class. I’m the kind of customer they want to take care of.” 

For the record, let me clear up a question I’m sure you have right now. Yes, I’m wealthy. I’m a corporate lawyer with a certain, shall we say, moral flexibility.

The kind of flexibility that supplies a six figure income, bonuses, and a no-questions asked expense account.  

As we worked our way through the bottle of champagne, it became clear to me that Aubrey would be, with some training, be the perfect sub. 

The kind of sub you spoil and take care of for a very long time. 

She was fascinated by my career and how much I traveled. She couldn't believe someone could reserve a hotel suite in the middle of a massive nearly coast-to-coast snowstorm, with just one phone call. 

And when I slid the bartender two twenties for bringing us the champagne and two glasses, she whispered, “You just tipped him forty dollars!” 

“Some things are always worth paying for,” I said. “And now, he’ll take care of anything we need or want. For that, forty dollars is a bargain.” 

When I made her laugh, she gently put her hand on my knee. When I told her that I went to Paris for three days every month, she subtly bit her bottom lip. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to Paris … I know it’s a cliche, but it’s true,” she said. 

“Your boyfriend won’t take you?” 

“I don’t have one of those at the moment,” she said. “And most of my previous boyfriends could barely afford to take me to Applebee’s on my birthday.” 

“Well, if I’m being honest, the food in Paris is better than Applebee’s.” 

Another loud laugh. Another hand on my knee.
“You need to be spoiled a little bit,” I said. “So you can experience a bit of the good life.” 

“Aren’t I a little young for you to spoil?” 

She was testing me. I liked it. 

“Not at all,” I said. “Does being spoiled appeal to you?” 

She hesitated and bit her bottom lip again. “I guess … I guess, yes. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be spoiled? I coach, I wait tables, I go to school … I’m always exhausted and I feel lucky if I have five hundred bucks in my account.” 

“So there you are. Men your age can’t spoil you. That’s just the way the world works.” 

“You’re funny,” she said “But also interesting. Do you know where a girl can get a hotel room in this town?” 

“That’s already been taken care of.” 

She leaned back in her stool and stared at me. “What are you talking about?” 

“You’ll be staying at the same hotel as me,” I said. “It’s taken care of.” 

“I can’t let you do that,” she said. “I don’t think it’s right.” 

Now here was my chance to test her. 

“You can and you will,” I said. “And I don’t care what you think, it’s done, do you understand me?” 

She ran her fingertips across her throat and not even her dark olive skin could conceal her blushing. 

“If you say so,” she said. 

“I think it’s time for me to take you to dinner.”

“Applebee’s?”

“I think I can do better than that,” I said. 

“Whoa, better than mozzarella sticks?” 

“I like a good mozzarella stick as much as the next guy, but this place is better.” 

While the weather was making things impassable in most of the country, driving in Salt Lake City was more of the “go slow and say a little prayer” variety. 

The car service I always use when I’m in town had an Escalade waiting for us in less than ten minutes. 

Gabe, our driver, opened the door for us and then got back behind the wheel.

“It’s not fit for man or beast out there,” Gabe said. “I just heard they think all flights out of here may be cancelled until the day after tomorrow.” 

“We’re grateful you picked us up,” I said. “The airport was getting a little chaotic.” 

“I can imagine,” Gabe said. “But hey, just because you can’t fly doesn’t mean you can’t drive. I’ve been driving in the mountains all my life, I got you.” 

In a half-hour, which was about twice as long as it would normally take, we stopped in front of Table X, the best restaurant in the city. 

“Oh my God,” Aubrey said. “This looks expensive. We don’t …” 

“Spoiling, remember?” 

“I’m wearing a hoodie!” Aubrey breathed. 

“This place is very nice, not snobby,” I said. “There’s a difference.” 

“All set?” Gabe said. 

“We are,” I told him. 

He got out and opened the door for us. 

I handed him sixty bucks and said, “Can you pick us up right here in two hours?” 

“You got it,” Gabe said. 

Once inside, we were shown to a semi–private booth with a tall leather back. I slid across the bench and Aubrey slid in after me, ending up closer than she needed to be.

I made a mental note of that. 

“This menu is … I’ve never seen anything like this,” Aubrey said. 

“It’s tasting menu, seven courses, it’s a great way to try different things. Let’s start with some wine. Red or white?” 

“I love both, but we had champagne at the airport. So maybe red?” 

“You got it,” I said. 

I ordered a bottle of Bodegas Las Orca, a delicious Spanish red and we were soon sipping and falling back into easy conversation. 

Then the food came. Fresh bread and butter, carrot and fennel salad, gourmet mushrooms, trout, beef bearnaise, olive oil cake. 

It was all superb, and I could tell that Aubrey was enjoying both the food and the ambiance. 

She really was beautiful and while she was clearly very bright, she was also naive and curious in a way that would make her an ideal sub.

After the final course, Aubrey leaned back against the booth and sighed happily. “That was the best meal I’ve ever eaten.”

“Your Applebee’s days are over.” 

“Well, sooner or later, I’ll have to go back to my real life. Like in Pretty Woman.” 

“They ended up together at the end of Pretty Woman,” I said. 

She stared at me for a beat or two and then broke into a smile. 

“Ready to go to the hotel?” I said. 

“About that,” she said. “It’s the Grand America. It’s beautiful and the service is the best.” 

She started laughing. “I can’t afford something like that!” 

“You’ll be staying in my room.” 

She froze. 

She stayed frozen when the server appeared at our table. 

“May I get you anything else tonight?” the server said. 

I handed her my credit card. “I think we’re all set. It was truly a wonderful meal.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, taking my card and heading off. 

Aubrey was still frozen. 

I turned to her. “Are you a good girl?”

“Am I … uh, a what? What do you mean?” 

I smiled. “Are you a good girl? Can you follow orders and be what I need you to be?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. 

“I think you do,” I said. “We’re going to go to the hotel and once we’re in the room, you belong to me.” 

“What the fuck is happening,” she whispered, more the herself than to me. 

“I need a good girl who will submit herself to me. Who will enjoy being my personal property in the bedroom while getting spoiled and pampered outside of it.” 

“Personal property?”

“That’s right,” I said. “In private, you’ll follow my rules. I’ll tell you what to do and you’ll do it. If you don’t, punishment will be doled out.” 

“What do you mean, punishment?” 

I put a hand down on her firm thigh and gave it a squeeze. She didn’t move. “It means that if you don’t follow the rules, you might get a slap, or a hand around the throat. Sometimes I might put you over my lap and spank you until your ass is nice and red and raw.” 

The server brought my card back with a receipt to sign. “I hope we’ll see you again.” 

I handed her two hundred bills. “You will, indeed.” 

The server walked away and I turned attention back to Aubrey. 
“Have you been spanked before?” 

“No.” 

“I know you’ve thought about it though,” I said. “You’re the type. I know you’ve been in bed late at night, horny and alone, and worked your pants and underwear off so you could rub your clit. And as you tried to make yourself cum, you thought about being spanked and choked and thrown around.”

Aubrey bit her lip again. 

“I’m right, yes?” 

“Yes,” she said. 

“I’m going to take you back to the hotel and we’re going to go up to the room and you’re going to do everything I tell you to do. I’m going to explore your body and wrap a hand around your throat while I fuck you.” 

“Jesus,” she said. 

“I’m going to slide my cock into you from behind while pulling your head back by the hair. I’m going to put you on your knees and slide my cock down your obedient little throat.”

Her hands were shaking. 

“You want to submit to me, don’t you?” 

She hesitated. I reached out, picked up her hand, and dropped it onto my cock so she could feel my hardness through my pants. 

She didn’t move her hand. 

“You want to submit to me, don’t you?” I repeated. 

She nodded. 

“You want to be owned and spoiled, don’t you?” I said. 

She nodded.

“Are you my good girl?” 

She nodded. 
“Tell me.”

“I’m your good girl,” she said. 

“Good, let’s go.” 

Gabe was waiting for us and opened the car door. He closed the door behind me and began walking around to the driver’s door. 

I quickly put my coat over Aubrey’s lap. 

“Pull your pants down to the middle of your thighs. 

She did just as Gabe was getting in. 

“Alright, I’ll have you to the Grand America in just a few minutes,” he said. 

As he pulled away from the curb, I slid my hand under the coat and rested it against Aubrey’s slit. I began gently teasing her soft lips.

I found her clit and began caressing and teasing it. I savored how wet she was getting. 

I made small chat with Gabe as I continued playing with Aubrey’s pussy under the coat. At one point, I gently nudged one of her inner thighs, signaling her to spread her legs wider.

Once she did, I slid a finger into her. The warmth and wetness engulfed my finger. 

I discreetly whispered into her ear, “This tight little pussy belongs to me now, do you understand?”

She nodded. 

“I’m going to fill your pussy with my cum.”

She nodded. 

We pulled up to the hotel and Gabe jumped out. I quickly removed my finger from Aubrey’s pussy. 

“Open your mouth and clean yourself off me.” 

She took my finger between her lips and sucked it clean.

“Good girl, now pull up your pants,” I said as Gabe opened the passenger door. 

I tipped Gabe, thanked him, and sent him on his way. Ten minutes later, we were checked in and in the elevator on the way to the top floor. 

“It’s too bad there are cameras in elevators these days,” I said. “Otherwise I’d order you to suck my cock right here on the ride up. You like sucking cock, don’t you Aubrey?” 

“I do,” she said. 

“I’m going to throat fuck you, do you understand?” 

“I understand.”

“After I cum in your mouth, what are you going to do?” 

“Swallow.”

“That’s right. Swallow like a what?”

“Like a good girl.”

“You catch on very quickly.”

We reached our floor and walked silently to the door. I opened it and held it for her. Once I’d followed and closed it, I walked behind her and took her right arm in my hand.

I positioned it behind her and then pressed her entire body against the wall. 

“Are you here of your own free will?” 

“Yes.”

“Do you want to be here?”

“Yes.”

“Are you excited to be here?”

“Yes.” 

“Are you my obedient little slut?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’m your obedient little slut.” 

I told her to stay where she was and then walked to the couch and sat down 

She was still facing the wall. She was so perfect and so beautiful. 

“Take your hoodie off.” 

She did, revealing a tight black tanktop.

“Take your pants off.” She followed my order and wiggled out of her skintight yoga pants. Her long legs were hard and toned. 

“You really are a dancer,” I said. “Turn around and face the wall again.” 

Once she’d turned, I said, “Put your palms against the wall and then bend over nice and low so I can see that ass.” 

She balanced against the wall and lowered her head until her ass was high in the air. Her purple thong rested between her rock-hard cheeks. 

“Very nice,” I said. “Stand up and take your tanktop off.” 

Under the tanktop was a light pink lace bra. I pointed at it and she immediately reached behind her, unhooked it, and let it drop to the floor. 

“How big?” 

“Not big … 34B.” 

“They’re perfect. You’re perfect. You’re my perfect little good girl.” 

She smiled. 

“Take that thong off.” 

She slid the thong down her shapely legs and stepped out of it. 

“You wax,” I said. 

“It’s expensive, but I like the way it feels.” 

“I’ll be paying for it from now on.” 

“You don’t have to do …”

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Get on your hands and knees and crawl to me,” I said. 

Dropping to all fours, she made her way to me and stopped once she was at my knees. 

I looked down at her. “You’re incredibly beautiful.” 

She smiled and began to speak but before she could get a word out, I snatched her throat in my hand and squeezed. She let out a squeak and her eyes bulged, just slightly. 

“Who owns you?” I said, loosening my grip enough to let her answer escape her lips. 

“You do.” 

“Do you want to be owned?”

“Yes.”

“Do you submit?” 

“Yes.” 

“To who?”

“You.”

I slapped her pretty face, just hard enough to get her attention.

“Does anyone else own you?”

“Only you.” 

“Good girl, now take my cock out.” 

With shaking hands, she undid my belt and pants and then worked the zipper down. She reached into my boxers, wrapped her warm hand around my hard cock, and took it out. 

I put my hand under her chin and pushed it up until her eyes met mine. “Time to prove yourself.” 

She lowered her face back down and put her tongue against the underside of my cock and began licking. Once she’d licked every centimeter of it, she wrapped her lips around the tip and sucked. 

“Good girl,” I sighed. 

I leaned back on the coach and took in the view of this beautiful, submissive twenty-year-old sucking my cock. She was doing a good job of getting it down her throat but I was ready for more and ready to test her. 

I stood up and worked my pants and boxers off. Taking my cock in my left hand, I pressed it against her lips and as she opened her mouth, I put my right hand on the back of her head. 

With her head secured, I thrust my cock down her throat. Her eyes went wide and she made loud slurping and choking sounds. 

Is there a better sound? 

Continuing to hold her head in place, I said, “Are you ready to get throat fucked and show me what an obedient girl you are?” 

She nodded yes. 

That’s all I needed. 

Gripping her head in both my hands, I began fucking her eager little mouth. Once she’d grown used to my pace, she found her own rhythm. She moaned softly each time a thrust stretched her throat out.

All the while, she flattened her tongue in her mouth and positioned it against my cock, letting me slide up and down it with my thrusts. 

Watching as tears ran down her gorgeous, tan face, I was overwhelmed with desire. Gripping her head even tighter, I began throat fucking her with abandon. And she took it all without complaint.

After a few more thrusts, I let myself go and began filling her soft, warm mouth with hot fresh cum. 

“Don’t swallow it yet,” I said. 

Once I’d shot my entire load, I pulled my cock out of her mouth. “Show me.”

She tilted her head back and opened her mouth wide, showing me that her mouth was practically overflowing with jizz. 

“Down the hatch,” I said. 

She swallowed, smacked her lips, and opened her mouth again. 

Every drop of cum was now swimming in her tummy. 

“Did you like that?” 

“I loved it.”

“Get up and go to the bed and get on your back.” 

Once she was in place, I went to her and positioned myself at the bottom of the mattress. I worked my head between her thighs. Her pussy smelled delicious and hot and ready. 

It was time to take care of my new sub. 

I placed my tongue at the bottom of her slit and slowly ran it to the top. 

“Oh fuck yes,” she groaned. 

I ran my tongue up and down her pink slit while working her slit with my fingers. I loved tasting her getting wetter and wetter. 

After a few minutes of slit licking, I gently spread her open and worked my tongue inside her while continuing to give her clit attention with my fingers.

I kissed and licked her inner thighs and blew warm air against her steaming cunt. 

“Roll over onto your stomach,” I said. 

“Yes, sir.” 

I took in the up-close view of her ass. An ass by the way, so perfect that it should be hanging in the Louvre. I spread her hard ass cheeks and flicked my tongue into her steamy asshole. 

Her entire body tensed and then shivered. All she could mutter was, “Unnnhhh.” 

I then dedicated myself to eating her ass. Using her cheeks for leverage, I spread her asshole open nice and wide and worked my tongue as deeply as I could. I rhythmically worked my tongue in and out of her hot hole and swirled it in circles.

Holding her ass open with my left hand, I used my right hand to work her clit. 

Aubrey writhed and twisted and moaned and groaned while I ate her ass and played with her clit. 

Once I saw her lick her lips and then fold them into her mouth, I knew she was close. 

I worked her clit in a firm, rapid circle while working my tongue deeper and deeper into her asshole. 

She finally exploded. “Fuccccccccccckkk,” she wailed. 

I watched her slowly come down from her orgasm and said, “I knew you were the one the second I saw you walk off that jetway.” 

“I’m all yours,” she said. 

“Put your ass up in the air.”

She put her face on the pillow and wiggled forward until her ass was straight in the air. 

I brought my palm down on her right cheek, hard, She squealed and wiggled her hips. Then I brought my hand down on her left cheek. 

“You’ve always wanted someone to spank you, haven’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’m going to spank this ass until it’s cherry red.” 

“Please, yes.” 

Right cheek. Left cheek. Right cheek. Left cheek. Over and over. The room was filled with the sound of my hand violently slapping her ass cheeks and her hungry moans. 

“My handprints are all over your ass,” I said. 

“Will you take a picture and show me?” 

I got off the bed, grabbed my phone, and snapped a few close-ups. I handed her my phone. 

“That looks so sexy,” she said. “I won’t be able to sit for a week.” 

“When you do sit and your ass stings like it’s on fire, I want you to think about me and what a good owner I’m going to be.” 

“I will, I promise.” 

“Are you ready to get fucked?”

“Yes!”

I got off the bed and stood next to her. 

“Lick it.” 

She eagerly licked my cock until I was ready. 

I got back on the bed, positioned myself behind her on my knees, lined my cock up against her ready snatch and gave one hard thrust. 

She was so wet, so eager, so mine that I filled her instantly.

Gripping her shapely dancer’s hips, I began sliding her up and down my prick. I gently pushed her forward until I was about to slip out of her and then pulled her all the way back down with one hard yank. 

“I’ve never been fucked without a condom before,” she said. 

“Better?”

“So much better.” 

With my cock halfway in her, I smacked her raw, red ass a few more times. 

She giggled. 

Then I reached forward and took her brown ponytail in one hand and yanked her head back, hard. 

I began fucking her as hard as I could. Stretching her and filling her, sliding nearly out, and then stretching her and filling her with a thrust. 

“Who fucking owns you?” I groaned. 

“You do!” 

“When do I get this pussy?”

“Whenever you want it!” 

“When are you going to suck my cock?” 

“Whenever you tell me to!” 

“Good girl.”

I could feel my balls slapping against her hard body while I fucked her with completely abandon. The white pillowcase was smeared with makeup from the friction of her face being pounded up and down on it. 

“You’re going to cum before I do,” I said, smacking her ass again. 

“I’m close,” she said. 

Instead of smacking her ass again, I worked a thumb into her asshole. 

She tensed, then relaxed, and then smiled. 

“That’s nice,” she said. 

I fucked her pussy with my cock and her asshole with my thumb for another minute and then her orgasm started. 

As she came, I squeezed her hips and pulled her down the length of me, burying my straining prick all the way in her. 

I started cumming, filling her with hot spurt after hot spurt.

“I can feel your cum,” she said. “I love it.” 

When I was done cumming, I rolled onto my back and pulled her against me. 

“What did you think of your first time as a sub?” 

“I loved it,” she said. “I was in shock in the restaurant when you said all that, but it’s been a fantasy of mine for a long time.” 

“And we’ve only scratched the surface. You have so much to learn and I can’t wait to teach it all to you.” 

“I can’t wait either.” 

“You’re on winter break for a while, right?” 

“Yes,” she said. “For almost another month.” 

“That’s perfect,” I said. “I have two trips to Paris and one to Rome in the next month and you’ll be coming with me.”

On the day the process server was going to hand my scumbag husband Brian divorce papers, I got a call from one of his co-workers that he’d collapsed at work and was on his way to the emergency room.

How’s that for luck? I mean my luck, by the way, not his.

I left my office and headed to the hospital because what else was I going to do? 

In the parking lot, I used the rear view to practice my sad face.

“Here’s hoping he’s dead,” I said into the mirror before getting out of the car.

Alas, no such luck.

A beefy nurse with a wispy mustache and mustard breath explained to me that my dear husband had suffered what’s called a brainstem stroke.

I’d never heard of it before but here it was blowing up my best laid plans.

“They don’t happen much, especially at his age,” the nurse said. “But these things do happen.”

According to a different nurse, one without a mustache or condiment breath, Brian filling up his coffee mug in his office’s kitchen and talking about fantasy football when boom, down he went.

His face was all bruised because he hit the floor at full speed without breaking his fall.

Honestly, I felt worse for whoever had to clean up the spilled coffee than I did for Brian.

After four days, Brian’s sedation was slowly lifted but he remained completely unresponsive, or so the army of doctors and nurses thought. But one afternoon, an intern noticed a brief flash of eye movement.

Like a cockroach, Brian refused to die.

The eagle-eyed intern’s discovery led to more tests, more poking, and more prodding.

And then came a diagnosis of locked-in syndrome.

If you’re keeping score, that’s two medical diagnoses I’d never heard of until my husband hit the floor face first.

As doctor after doctor told me, all this meant that Brian was now a prisoner in his own body.

His brain (or what passed for his brain) was still chugging away with complete awareness.

Isn’t it really kind of funny?

I mean there he was, lying in a hospital bed with the normal human range of needs and wants and frustrations. But his body wouldn’t let him do a damn thing about it.

When I was sure nobody could see me or hear me, I’d let myself have a little laugh right in Brian’s face.

“My, my, my, this is quite the sticky wicket you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it?” I whispered into his ear one afternoon when we were alone. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to take care of you, mister. I’m as good as gone and guess what? … You won’t be able to chase me.”

While I’d wished Brian dead thousands of times, the pure deliciousness of just knowing that his living brain was stuck inside his dead body was almost enough to make believe in a just and benevolent god.

Let me give you a little backstory, because right now, I’m probably coming across as a complete psychopath. Or would it be sociopath? I can never keep them straight.

Brian and I got together during our sophomore year of college and got married just a few months after we graduated. He was loud and fun and gregarious. Back then, his plan was to go to law school.

Instead, he’d settled into a mid-level sales job and got increasingly lazy and fat.

As for the abuse, it started as soon as we were back from our Costa Rican honeymoon.

He’d backhand me for raising my voice or for not talking loudly enough. He’d kick me or slam me to the floor for leaving a glass on the counter or for taking too long in the shower and “using up all the goddamn fucking hot water.”

I never fought back or told anyone. Not even my mom or sisters or best friends. After a while,

I didn’t even cry anymore. I guess I just accepted that this was my life now. This was the worst part of the whole for better or worse thing.

As bad as the daily abuse was, things got even worse about three years into our marriage when Brian’s drinking got completely out of control. 

Every night, and I mean every night, he’d come home stinking drunk from the bar around midnight and just knock the absolute hell out of me.

He’d throw me across rooms and down hallways by the hair and he’d wrap his hand around my throat and then shove me backward down the stairs.

Sounds pretty bad, right?

Now add to your mental picture that I’m barely five feet tall and a hundred pounds while Brian is six-three and like two-fifty.

He could make me fly like I was nothing more than a toy thrown during a toddler’s tantrum.

Even with the drinking, nothing set Brian off more than the fact that I hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. Before getting married, we’d made it clear to each other that we wanted a bunch of kids.

But there was no fucking way I was going to bring a baby into this madness.

I secretly kept myself on the same birth control I’d been on since my junior year of high school while swearing up and down to Brian that I wasn’t on anything.

By this point, I’d gotten really good at keeping secrets. So I started keeping another one.

On the worst nights, once Brian had passed out or stumbled back out the front door and driven away, I’d quickly lock myself in the bathroom and take photos and videos of what he’d done to me.

I documented every bruise and welt and made sure each picture and video was stamped with the date and time and then backed them up in an account he didn’t know existed.

The handful of times he hurt me badly enough that I had to go to a doctor, I told them that I’d fallen down the stairs or had gotten into a drunken fight with a friend. Then I’d watch as a nurse or doctor jotted down what I was saying, clearly not believing a word of it.

medical records would pair nicely with the hundreds of photos and hours of video I’d already squirreled away.

I had a mountain of evidence just waiting to be turned into an avalanche.

At this point, you’d be right to ask why I stuck around. Why didn’t I just leave the first time he put his hands on me? Honestly, I don’t have a great answer.

Maybe I didn’t want to admit that I’d chosen the wrong person. Maybe I was scared about not having enough money to get my own place. Maybe I thought I didn’t deserve anything better.

Like I said, I just don’t have a good answer for you.

Finally, one night, he came home in a mood and I could tell that trouble was brewing. I hid my phone behind the side lamp, propping it up so the camera was pointed into the living room..

It was time for that mountain of evidence to become an avalanche. 

Three days after that beating, I turned thirty (Brian forgot), and as a birthday present to myself I met with Victoria Walker, who I was told was the best and meanest divorce attorney in the city. 

After I told Victoria my story, I laid the photos of my injuries out across her desk, slid over my medical records, and then played her thirty seconds of that recording. 

Victoria leaned back in her very expensive looking leather chair and stared at me for several seconds without saying a word. Then she smiled at me.

“Honey, we’re going to absolutely gut this motherfucker.” 

Happy birthday to me. 

But then the bastard went and had a stroke. 

Shortly after getting to the emergency room, I snuck away and called Victoria to fill her in on what had happened. 

She told me to begin moving things out of the house and then to move half the money in our joint banking into my personal account.

Luckily for me, Brian had his own health coverage through his company, and I had my own coverage through the nonprofit I worked for as a corporate fundraiser. 

Victoria assured me that she could keep Brian’s medical bills, which would be in the millions, off my back. 

Since his stroke, Brian had been on a ventilator. And while the doctors explained that he could eventually live at home while on one, his insurance company basically said they’d let him die before they covered the cost. 

So before he could be discharged, he’d have to be able to breathe on his own. 

After two months, his doctors decided it was time to try. I leaned against the wall, watching, silently hoping he’d die as soon as they pulled the tube out of his mouth. 

But, of course, he started breathing after just a few seconds. 

Brian’s mom, Sandy, quickly got to work turning our guest room into Brian’s new home. 

“Everything will be good when we get him home,” she said to me one afternoon. “I just know it.” 

In no time, the guest room was bursting at the seams with medical equipment, golf-inspired art, and a huge flatscreen TV. 

The only thing it was missing was a keg. But I guess an alcoholic wife-beater can’t have everything. 

During Brian’s hospital stay, I tried to interact as little as possible with Sandy because I knew she was aware of what Brian had done to me. I’d seen her eyes linger for an extra second or two on my latest bruise and violent red mark. 

She never offered to intervene. She never asked me if I was okay. Yeah, fuck her. 

Once the medical team brought Brian home and dropped him in what was essentially his prison cell, the daily care began. 

He had to be moved regularly to prevent bed sores, he had to be bathed, his vitals needed to be monitored. At least the benevolent insurance company agreed to cover in-home nursing.

Now, you might think Brian’s stroke would make the divorce easier, but you’d be wrong. After all, a husband who can’t speak can’t say anything against you in court. 

But Sandy and Brian’s father Carl, would make sure he’d have an attorney who’d make me the villain. 

“My client,” the lawyer would say, “is a broken man. He’s unable to feed himself and work. He will likely be confined to his bed for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, his wife is healthy and receiving a steady paycheck.” 

And if the judge bought this shameless attempt for sympathy, I might be screwed beyond screwed. 

But Victoria had the photos, videos, and hospital records and I had the one thing they valued more than money: their name. 

Victoria explained to me that she had no intention of letting the case get into a courtroom. Instead, she’d simply sit across a conference table from Brian’s parents and their lawyer and methodically slide the evidence across the table. 

Once Sandy and Carl saw what their golden child had done to me, they’d have to make a decision. And while I knew Sandy had seen my bruises, it would be another thing entirely to sit and watch videos of what caused those bruises.

They could let me go quietly, no muss, no fuss, or they could watch as all of it was entered into evidence during a court proceeding. 

“And I’ll add,” Victoria said, “that though I’d advise her against it, I wouldn’t be able to prevent my client from sending copies of that evidence to your family and friends, neighbors, employers and God knows who else.” 

Yeah, I had definitely had the meanest attorney in town. 

We both knew what option Brian’s parents would choose. 

Be honest with yourself, if Brian was your kid, which one would you choose? 

Yeah, that’s what I thought. 

So everything was set up for me to walk away right then and there. My important stuff was out of the house and I’d moved my money. 

But I had a little parting gift I intended to give Brian before I left for good.

Finally, I had my chance.

Sandy would be gone for a night to attend the wedding of an old family friend.

So with Sandy out of the way the last hurdle was to get rid of Brian’s overnight nurse, Connie. 

Four nights later, I finally got my chance when Connie arrived promptly at ten, like always. But I could tell something was off. She looked tired and worn and her almost impossibly chipper demeanor was nowhere to be found. 

“You okay, Connie?”

“Oh I’m all right, honey,” Connie said. “I didn’t get much sleep after last night’s shift. I came home to three sick kids and a sick husband.” 

This was my chance and probably the only one I’d get for a long time. 

“Take the night off,” I said. “I know the routine, everything will be fine.” 

“Honey, if I leave, they fire me,” Connie said. “Them’s the rules, as the saying goes.” 

“It’ll be our little secret,” I said. “Your family comes first. Go home and take care of them. I’ll handle everything here.” 

Connie opened her mouth to say something but then she hesitated. 

I had her. 

“Go home, get some rest, take care of that family,” I said. “You’ve more than earned a night off.” 

“I really shouldn’t.”

“The morning nurse will be here at six, but she’s always late,” I said. “When she gets here, I’ll tell her you already had to go. Nobody will be the wiser. Please Connie, I’d feel terrible knowing we were keeping you away from your sick kids.” 

She took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay, if you’re sure.” 

“I am.”

Once Connie’s car was down the driveway and out of sight, I got to work. 

Without bothering to look in on the piece of shit who’d soon be my ex-husband, I headed to my closet and got out my smallest and tightest black dress. I wiggled the dress over my white lace bra and underwear. I looked at myself in the mirror. 

The reflection told me that I was tiny, beautiful, and unbroken. 

And now it was time for revenge.

In a half-hour flat, my hair and makeup was done and I was ready to go. 

At the door, I yelled down the hallway, “See you in a bit, fuck face, I’m bringing home some entertainment later.” 

After a quick Uber ride, I strutted into the Portsider like I owned the place and went straight to the bar. God, it had been so long since I’d been in a bar. I savored the music and the noise and the hum of people laughing and enjoying themselves. 

None of these people must have a Brian in their lives, I thought.

After just a few sips of my Tanqueray and tonic, I spotted the one I wanted. 

He was wearing a hoodie from the local college, which meant he was younger than me, which was perfect because I wasn’t looking for any complications. 

He was great looking, more than six-feet tall and firm. I saw him glance over at me, his blue eyes twinkling a bit in light, and I smiled at him. 

That’s all it took. 

He walked over and introduced himself. His name was Jack and he was a sophomore econ major. 

Not that I gave a shit about his major or his future goals. I barely cared about his name. 

I needed Jack for one night’s work and then I’d never see him again. 

But I also intended to give him the kind of story he’d be telling his buddies for the rest of his life. 

After I felt like I’d feigned enough interest in his stories about school and golf and his frat, I put the next part of my plan into motion. 

“Do you think I could get a ride home?” 

Jack smiled down at me. “Sure, no problem” 

“Great, let’s get out of here.” 

As we walked out of the bar, I saw Jack turn and look at his friends with a shit-eating grin. 
We chatted a bit on the ride; nothing serious or all that interesting. Just the chatter that two strangers who know they’re about fuck have before the act takes place 

A few blocks from my place, I reached over and put my hand on Jack’s cock, rubbing it through his jeans. I could feel it getting hard through the denim. It was huge. 

While physical pleasure wasn’t part of my plan, I wasn’t opposed to it being a bonus to what was about to happen. 

Jack pulled into my driveway and turned off the car. 

“What next?” he said. 

“I think you know. Let’s go inside.” 

Inside, I turned on the living room light and told Jack to sit on the couch. 

As he sat watching me, I began stripping off my clothes.  

First the tight dress. 

Then the white lace bra. 

And finally down came the white lace underwear. 

Jack licked his lips. I could see his cock twitch through his jeans. 

“You like?” I said. 

“Very much,” he said. “You have an incredible body.” 

I blushed a bit, in spite of myself. It had been a very long time since a man had paid me a compliment. 

I walked over to the couch and took Jack by the hand. “Follow me.” 

That was all the prodding he needed. I led him into Brian’s room. Unfortunately, Brian was still alive. 

“Oh what the fuck!”

“Jack, this is my husband Brian.” 

Jack pressed himself against the wall and stared at Brian. 

“Is he dead?” Jack whispered. 

“No, not yet,” I said. “More’s the pity.” 

Jack, still pressed firmly against the wall, began nudging himself to the door. 
“I need to get out of here,” he said. 

“He has a condition, it’s called locked-in syndrome,” I said. “He’s alive and awake and all that, but he can’t move. He’s trapped in his own body.” 

“Jesus …” 

“Yeah, pretty rough stuff,” I said. “But between you, me, and God, Jack, he’s getting exactly what he deserves.” 

“This is all too fucking weird,” Jack said. 

I smiled at him and then turned to head out of the room. “Let me show you something,” I said over my shoulder. 

I came back in with my folder full of photos of my bruised and battered body. 

“Take a look, college boy.” 

Jack opened the folder and shuffled through the photos. 

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who did this to you?” 

“He did,” I said, pointing at Brian. 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think, Jack? Because I deserved it or something? He did it because he’s an evil piece of shit. That folder is pretty mild, all things considered. I have lots of videos if you’d like to see me beaten up.” 

He closed the folder and let out a sigh. “I don’t understand why I’m here and what you want from me.” 

“You’re the last part of my revenge plan, Jack.”

“Revenge?”

“That’s right. My lawyer and I have the divorce all set up. I’m actually leaving in the morning for good. But first, you’re going to help me leave my dear husband here with a little something to remember me by.” 

“Lady, I’m not killing anybody,” Jack said. 

“Oh no, no killing,” I said. “That would be too good for him. We’re going to torture his manhood … we’re going to show him what his body is never going to let him enjoy again … and I’m going to show him that I’m not his. Not anymore.” 

Jack shook his head. “I can’t be part of this … whatever this is.” 

I walked over to him and put my hand back on his bulge. “Do you like having your cock sucked?”

He stared down at me and then said, “Well, yeah.” 

I squeezed his bulge a little harder. “And do you like pussy?” 

“I love pussy,” he said. 

“I figured so,” I said. “All you have to do is let me suck that big cock of yours and then I want you to bend me over and fuck me, right in front of my husband.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You’re a good guy, right Jack?” 

“I think so … mostly.” 

“You’d never hit a woman?” 

“No way, my mom would kill me if she found out I did something like that.” 

“And do you think a man who beats his wife, who beats her for years, should be punished\\

“Fuck yeah, I do. A guy like that deserves to die, seriously.” 

“Well, we aren’t killing anyone, Jack. But fucking me while he watches will be enough punishment.”

I could still sense his apprehension. 

Time to take control. 

I walked over to Brian, turned his head so that he could see out into the room and said,

“Time for the show, dear husband.”

Turning my attention back to Jack, I slowly dropped to my knees. With shaky hands, I unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. 

I pulled them down his legs and then off him. I did the same for his boxers. 

Then I took in the huge, thick cock that was practically poking me in the face. 

“Very impressive,” I said. “Look at how much bigger his cock is than yours, Brian.” 

I wrapped my lips around the tip and sucked. 

“Oh fuck yes,” Jack groaned. 

Jack’s cock really was huge, especially compared to Brian’s.

I worked to get more and more of it in my mouth and down my throat. I have to admit that I loved the way a huge, young cock felt in my mouth, especially after everything Brian had put me through. 

It wasn’t long before Brian’s cock was shimmering from my saliva. I was getting into it and Jack certainly was too. 

My head was bobbing up and down his thick shaft, taking as much as I could down my throat. Which admittedly wasn’t much but I definitely deserved an A for effort. My choking and gagging sounds filled the entire room. 

Taking Jack’s cock out of my mouth, I said to Brian, “Do you like watching me suck another man’s cock, you fucking pig? It’s been so long since I’ve had any fun giving head.” 

I put Jack’s cock back in my mouth while thinking about the rage that must be going through Brian’s mind. Watching his wife blowing another man. Knowing that he was powerless to stop it. 

Those thoughts seemed to push me to an almost manic level of lust. I forced myself to take more cock down my throat. For once, the hot tears rushing down my face were from something I wanted, not from something terrible happening to me. 

While sucking, I gently caressed Jack’s balls with my fingertips, producing a shudder and another deep groan of pleasure. 

A few seconds later, he grabbed the back of my head hard, holding me in place. I maneuvered his cock out of my throat so that he was only in my mouth 

And then he began cumming. The hot, thick liquid bounced off my tongue and teeth and the lining of my cheeks. I made sure that I didn’t swallow so much as a drop. 

Oh, I was definitely going to swallow that hot load, but not right away. 

Jack let out a loud moan and yelled, “Fuck yes … that was good.” 

Clearly, any hang ups Jack had about having some fun in front of my kind-of dead husband had evaporated. 

I took Jack’s softening cock out of my mouth, got up off my knees, and walked over to Brian and opened my mouth. 

Holding my mouth open in front of his eyes, I knew he could see just how full of cum my mouth really was. 

I closed my mouth and swallowed everything in one big gulp. I licked my lips and smiled at Brian. 

“Did you see how much cum that was, husband? It was delicious; so much better than that nasty shit you used to force me to swallow.” 

I’d describe the look on Jack’s face as a mix of horror and delight. He knew he was participating in something almost impossibly weird. A woman sucking his cock while her incapacitated husband? But it was exciting all the same. 

“Time for part two,” I announced while I pulled the bedside table next to Brian’s bed.

Then I jumped on top of it. The height of the table perfectly matched the height of the bed, which meant my body was mere inches from Brian’s face. 

I leaned back against the wall, put my feet up on the table and said to Jack, “Time to eat some pussy.” 

His eyes lit up and he came to me immediately. He dropped to his knees and put his tongue against my slit. 

My first thought was that this must be what it feels like to be electrocuted. My body twitched and shivered. I made noises that I was sure I’d never made before. My pussy practically gushed against Jack’s face as he slowly, methodically, and perfectly ran his tongue up and down my pussy while teasing my clit with his strong fingers. 

I grabbed two fistfuls of Jack’s hair and forced his face down onto my pussy. Feeling him alternate between licking me and filling me with his tongue was absolute heaven.

I looked at Brian. “Can you smell my pussy? Doesn’t it smell hot? Too bad you’ll never taste my pussy again .. or any pussy.” 

Jack laughed into my cunt. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall.

“Make me cum, college boy.” 

Hearing that, he absolutely went to town on me. He spread my snatch open with his fingers and worked his tongue into the deepest parts of me. He licked and softly bit my pussy lips.

He sucked in my clit. 

I don’t know who his cunnilingus coach was, but I hope I can meet them and say thanks some day.

When he put two fingers in my pussy and his tongue in my asshole, I lost it. 

“Motherfucker!” I screamed. 

The orgasm hit me like a wave pushing me under the water. My body shook and waved and rolled while I held his face against my pussy. 

Once I was done cumming, I looked down at Jack and took in the sight of his face shining with my wetness. 

I was very pleased with myself. 

And kudos to Jack, too.

“You taste so fucking good,” Jack said. 

“You hear that Brian? The young man here says my pussy tastes great … it must feel terrible to know you’ll never lick a pussy again.” 

Jack shook his head. “This is all so weird.” 

I reached down and took his limp cock in my hand. “We’re not done just yet Jackie boy.”

Dropping to my knees I began licking Jack’s balls while slowly stroking his cock. Once I started sucking his balls, one at a time, between my lips, I could feel his cock rising to attention. 

Once he was hard and ready to go, I said to him, “Ready to stretch my pussy out?” 

“You know I am,” he said. 

I put my hands on the edge of Brian’s bed and bent over, presenting my pussy to Jack so he could fill it up. I put my nose against Brian’s nose. “Ready to watch me get fucked?” 

Brian’s eyes stared at me, alert but powerless. 

I could feel Jack rubbing the head of his cock up and down my excited little cunt. Then he began filling me up. 

“His cock is so much bigger than yours,” I said into Brian’s face. “I’ve never had anything so big, it’s going to break me in half.” 

Jack slowly, centimeter by centimeter, filled my entire dripping pussy with his scorching thickness.

“Jesus fuck!” I screamed. 

“I’m so glad you had that stroke, you pieces of shit,” I said to Brian. “Now I can get new cock whenever I want it while you lie there in a diaper for the rest of your miserable life.” 

Jack had a vice grip on my hips as he pounded me up and down his frat boy prick. He’d push me forward until the tip was barely inside me and then he’d slam me all the way down, hammering the love of God out of me. 

“I never even imagined getting fucked like this,” I whispered at Brian. “It’s so fucking good.” 

I felt tears well up in my eyes as my orgasm drew close. I bent forward even more, pressing my face against Brian’s bed and pushing my ass higher into the air. 

Jack then brought a hand down on my ass, slapping it hard over and over.

“FUCK,” I screamed as I started cumming. 

Had Jack not still been gripping my hips, I could have fallen over. My whole body shook and I couldn’t open my eyes. I felt my pussy gushing fresh wetness around Jack’s pulsating cock. 
For the next thirty seconds, Jack fucked my so hard I thought my soul was going to leave my body. 

“I’m close,” Jack muttered, more to himself than me. 

That was all I needed to hear. 
I pushed myself forward until his cock fell out of me and then in one quick move, I put my hand around his cock and pulled him close to Brian. 

With a few quick, hard strokes, Jack closed his eyes and began groaning. 

I pointed his cock at Brian’s face and kept stroking as he started cumming. Shot after shot landed on Brian’s face. It covered his forehead, cheeks, and nose. 

Jack opened his eyes, looked down at Brian’s cum-covered face, and said, “This is so fucked up.” 

I put a hand on Jack’s cheek and smiled at him. “That was the best sex of my life. Now get your clothes on and get out of my house.” 

Jack didn’t need much motivation. He got dressed quickly and headed to the door. 

Before leaving he turned to me and said, “Can I call you?” 

“No, one time only. Get out.” 

Without another word, Jack left. 

I went back into Brian bedroom and walked up to him. “Did you enjoy the show?”

No response, obviously. 

“My little prisoner … Brian, you just watched me get fucked my another man. That makes you a cuck. Brian the cuck.”

I laughed and laughed. It was cathartic. One chapter was ending and another was just beginning. 

It was after three a.m. when Jack left so I had less than three hours to kill before the night morning nurse arrived. I tidied up Brian’s room, putting everything back in order. 

But I didn’t clean Jack’s cum off his face. 

I made myself some coffee and breakfast and took a final walk around the house to make sure there wasn’t anything incriminating lying around. 
Finally, shortly before six, I ran a wash cloth under the bathroom sink and went into Brian’s room. 

“Unfortunately, I have to clean the cum off your face. I don’t want to raise any suspicions now do I, Brian?” 

It took less than a minute to clean the bastard’s face off. 

“That’s that then, Brian. I won. I just got fucked while making you watch the entire thing. You rapist fuck face. Now I’m leaving and you’ll never see me again. Enjoy this little prison of yours. Please don’t die too soon. I want you to suffer for a long, long time.” 

I heard Sarah the morning nurse unlock the front door and come in, fifteen minutes late. I walked into the living room to greet her. 

“Good morning,” I said. “We have a very uneventful night around here. Connie had to leave right at six. Now I’m off to work.” 

She smiled and hung her coat up. “Sounds good, have a great day. He’s in good hands.” 

I went out to my car and stared at the house as I backed down the driveway. I knew this was the last time I’d see it. Happy tears ran down my cheeks and splashed onto my lap.

At the first stop sign, I texted Victoria: “Just left for good. Never going back. Let’s go.” 

Within seconds she responded with, “I got this.” 

I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and then hit the gas, accelerating down the street and into my new life.

On the day the process server was going to hand my scumbag husband Brian divorce papers, I got a call from one of his co-workers that he’d collapsed at work and was on his way to the emergency room.

How’s that for luck? I mean my luck, by the way, not his.

I left my office and headed to the hospital because what else was I going to do? 

In the parking lot, I used the rear view to practice my sad face.

“Here’s hoping he’s dead,” I said into the mirror before getting out of the car.

Alas, no such luck.

A beefy nurse with a wispy mustache and mustard breath explained to me that my dear husband had suffered what’s called a brainstem stroke.

I’d never heard of it before but here it was blowing up my best laid plans.

“They don’t happen much, especially at his age,” the nurse said. “But these things do happen.”

According to a different nurse, one without a mustache or condiment breath, Brian filling up his coffee mug in his office’s kitchen and talking about fantasy football when boom, down he went.

His face was all bruised because he hit the floor at full speed without breaking his fall.

Honestly, I felt worse for whoever had to clean up the spilled coffee than I did for Brian.

After four days, Brian’s sedation was slowly lifted but he remained completely unresponsive, or so the army of doctors and nurses thought. But one afternoon, an intern noticed a brief flash of eye movement.

Like a cockroach, Brian refused to die.

The eagle-eyed intern’s discovery led to more tests, more poking, and more prodding.

And then came a diagnosis of locked-in syndrome.

If you’re keeping score, that’s two medical diagnoses I’d never heard of until my husband hit the floor face first.

As doctor after doctor told me, all this meant that Brian was now a prisoner in his own body.

His brain (or what passed for his brain) was still chugging away with complete awareness.

Isn’t it really kind of funny?

I mean there he was, lying in a hospital bed with the normal human range of needs and wants and frustrations. But his body wouldn’t let him do a damn thing about it.

When I was sure nobody could see me or hear me, I’d let myself have a little laugh right in Brian’s face.

“My, my, my, this is quite the sticky wicket you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it?” I whispered into his ear one afternoon when we were alone. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to take care of you, mister. I’m as good as gone and guess what? … You won’t be able to chase me.”

While I’d wished Brian dead thousands of times, the pure deliciousness of just knowing that his living brain was stuck inside his dead body was almost enough to make believe in a just and benevolent god.

Let me give you a little backstory, because right now, I’m probably coming across as a complete psychopath. Or would it be sociopath? I can never keep them straight.

Brian and I got together during our sophomore year of college and got married just a few months after we graduated. He was loud and fun and gregarious. Back then, his plan was to go to law school.

Instead, he’d settled into a mid-level sales job and got increasingly lazy and fat.

As for the abuse, it started as soon as we were back from our Costa Rican honeymoon.

He’d backhand me for raising my voice or for not talking loudly enough. He’d kick me or slam me to the floor for leaving a glass on the counter or for taking too long in the shower and “using up all the goddamn fucking hot water.”

I never fought back or told anyone. Not even my mom or sisters or best friends. After a while,

I didn’t even cry anymore. I guess I just accepted that this was my life now. This was the worst part of the whole for better or worse thing.

As bad as the daily abuse was, things got even worse about three years into our marriage when Brian’s drinking got completely out of control. 

Every night, and I mean every night, he’d come home stinking drunk from the bar around midnight and just knock the absolute hell out of me.

He’d throw me across rooms and down hallways by the hair and he’d wrap his hand around my throat and then shove me backward down the stairs.

Sounds pretty bad, right?

Now add to your mental picture that I’m barely five feet tall and a hundred pounds while Brian is six-three and like two-fifty.

He could make me fly like I was nothing more than a toy thrown during a toddler’s tantrum.

Even with the drinking, nothing set Brian off more than the fact that I hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. Before getting married, we’d made it clear to each other that we wanted a bunch of kids.

But there was no fucking way I was going to bring a baby into this madness.

I secretly kept myself on the same birth control I’d been on since my junior year of high school while swearing up and down to Brian that I wasn’t on anything.

By this point, I’d gotten really good at keeping secrets. So I started keeping another one.

On the worst nights, once Brian had passed out or stumbled back out the front door and driven away, I’d quickly lock myself in the bathroom and take photos and videos of what he’d done to me.

I documented every bruise and welt and made sure each picture and video was stamped with the date and time and then backed them up in an account he didn’t know existed.

The handful of times he hurt me badly enough that I had to go to a doctor, I told them that I’d fallen down the stairs or had gotten into a drunken fight with a friend. Then I’d watch as a nurse or doctor jotted down what I was saying, clearly not believing a word of it.

medical records would pair nicely with the hundreds of photos and hours of video I’d already squirreled away.

I had a mountain of evidence just waiting to be turned into an avalanche.

At this point, you’d be right to ask why I stuck around. Why didn’t I just leave the first time he put his hands on me? Honestly, I don’t have a great answer.

Maybe I didn’t want to admit that I’d chosen the wrong person. Maybe I was scared about not having enough money to get my own place. Maybe I thought I didn’t deserve anything better.

Like I said, I just don’t have a good answer for you.

Finally, one night, he came home in a mood and I could tell that trouble was brewing. I hid my phone behind the side lamp, propping it up so the camera was pointed into the living room..

It was time for that mountain of evidence to become an avalanche. 

Three days after that beating, I turned thirty (Brian forgot), and as a birthday present to myself I met with Victoria Walker, who I was told was the best and meanest divorce attorney in the city. 

After I told Victoria my story, I laid the photos of my injuries out across her desk, slid over my medical records, and then played her thirty seconds of that recording. 

Victoria leaned back in her very expensive looking leather chair and stared at me for several seconds without saying a word. Then she smiled at me.

“Honey, we’re going to absolutely gut this motherfucker.” 

Happy birthday to me. 

But then the bastard went and had a stroke. 

Shortly after getting to the emergency room, I snuck away and called Victoria to fill her in on what had happened. 

She told me to begin moving things out of the house and then to move half the money in our joint banking into my personal account.

Luckily for me, Brian had his own health coverage through his company, and I had my own coverage through the nonprofit I worked for as a corporate fundraiser. 

Victoria assured me that she could keep Brian’s medical bills, which would be in the millions, off my back. 

Since his stroke, Brian had been on a ventilator. And while the doctors explained that he could eventually live at home while on one, his insurance company basically said they’d let him die before they covered the cost. 

So before he could be discharged, he’d have to be able to breathe on his own. 

After two months, his doctors decided it was time to try. I leaned against the wall, watching, silently hoping he’d die as soon as they pulled the tube out of his mouth. 

But, of course, he started breathing after just a few seconds. 

Brian’s mom, Sandy, quickly got to work turning our guest room into Brian’s new home. 

“Everything will be good when we get him home,” she said to me one afternoon. “I just know it.” 

In no time, the guest room was bursting at the seams with medical equipment, golf-inspired art, and a huge flatscreen TV. 

The only thing it was missing was a keg. But I guess an alcoholic wife-beater can’t have everything. 

During Brian’s hospital stay, I tried to interact as little as possible with Sandy because I knew she was aware of what Brian had done to me. I’d seen her eyes linger for an extra second or two on my latest bruise and violent red mark. 

She never offered to intervene. She never asked me if I was okay. Yeah, fuck her. 

Once the medical team brought Brian home and dropped him in what was essentially his prison cell, the daily care began. 

He had to be moved regularly to prevent bed sores, he had to be bathed, his vitals needed to be monitored. At least the benevolent insurance company agreed to cover in-home nursing.

Now, you might think Brian’s stroke would make the divorce easier, but you’d be wrong. After all, a husband who can’t speak can’t say anything against you in court. 

But Sandy and Brian’s father Carl, would make sure he’d have an attorney who’d make me the villain. 

“My client,” the lawyer would say, “is a broken man. He’s unable to feed himself and work. He will likely be confined to his bed for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, his wife is healthy and receiving a steady paycheck.” 

And if the judge bought this shameless attempt for sympathy, I might be screwed beyond screwed. 

But Victoria had the photos, videos, and hospital records and I had the one thing they valued more than money: their name. 

Victoria explained to me that she had no intention of letting the case get into a courtroom. Instead, she’d simply sit across a conference table from Brian’s parents and their lawyer and methodically slide the evidence across the table. 

Once Sandy and Carl saw what their golden child had done to me, they’d have to make a decision. And while I knew Sandy had seen my bruises, it would be another thing entirely to sit and watch videos of what caused those bruises.

They could let me go quietly, no muss, no fuss, or they could watch as all of it was entered into evidence during a court proceeding. 

“And I’ll add,” Victoria said, “that though I’d advise her against it, I wouldn’t be able to prevent my client from sending copies of that evidence to your family and friends, neighbors, employers and God knows who else.” 

Yeah, I had definitely had the meanest attorney in town. 

We both knew what option Brian’s parents would choose. 

Be honest with yourself, if Brian was your kid, which one would you choose? 

Yeah, that’s what I thought. 

So everything was set up for me to walk away right then and there. My important stuff was out of the house and I’d moved my money. 

But I had a little parting gift I intended to give Brian before I left for good.

Finally, I had my chance.

Sandy would be gone for a night to attend the wedding of an old family friend.

So with Sandy out of the way the last hurdle was to get rid of Brian’s overnight nurse, Connie. 

Four nights later, I finally got my chance when Connie arrived promptly at ten, like always. But I could tell something was off. She looked tired and worn and her almost impossibly chipper demeanor was nowhere to be found. 

“You okay, Connie?”

“Oh I’m all right, honey,” Connie said. “I didn’t get much sleep after last night’s shift. I came home to three sick kids and a sick husband.” 

This was my chance and probably the only one I’d get for a long time. 

“Take the night off,” I said. “I know the routine, everything will be fine.” 

“Honey, if I leave, they fire me,” Connie said. “Them’s the rules, as the saying goes.” 

“It’ll be our little secret,” I said. “Your family comes first. Go home and take care of them. I’ll handle everything here.” 

Connie opened her mouth to say something but then she hesitated. 

I had her. 

“Go home, get some rest, take care of that family,” I said. “You’ve more than earned a night off.” 

“I really shouldn’t.”

“The morning nurse will be here at six, but she’s always late,” I said. “When she gets here, I’ll tell her you already had to go. Nobody will be the wiser. Please Connie, I’d feel terrible knowing we were keeping you away from your sick kids.” 

She took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay, if you’re sure.” 

“I am.”

Once Connie’s car was down the driveway and out of sight, I got to work. 

Without bothering to look in on the piece of shit who’d soon be my ex-husband, I headed to my closet and got out my smallest and tightest black dress. I wiggled the dress over my white lace bra and underwear. I looked at myself in the mirror. 

The reflection told me that I was tiny, beautiful, and unbroken. 

And now it was time for revenge.

In a half-hour flat, my hair and makeup was done and I was ready to go. 

At the door, I yelled down the hallway, “See you in a bit, fuck face, I’m bringing home some entertainment later.” 

After a quick Uber ride, I strutted into the Portsider like I owned the place and went straight to the bar. God, it had been so long since I’d been in a bar. I savored the music and the noise and the hum of people laughing and enjoying themselves. 

None of these people must have a Brian in their lives, I thought.

After just a few sips of my Tanqueray and tonic, I spotted the one I wanted. 

He was wearing a hoodie from the local college, which meant he was younger than me, which was perfect because I wasn’t looking for any complications. 

He was great looking, more than six-feet tall and firm. I saw him glance over at me, his blue eyes twinkling a bit in light, and I smiled at him. 

That’s all it took. 

He walked over and introduced himself. His name was Jack and he was a sophomore econ major. 

Not that I gave a shit about his major or his future goals. I barely cared about his name. 

I needed Jack for one night’s work and then I’d never see him again. 

But I also intended to give him the kind of story he’d be telling his buddies for the rest of his life. 

After I felt like I’d feigned enough interest in his stories about school and golf and his frat, I put the next part of my plan into motion. 

“Do you think I could get a ride home?” 

Jack smiled down at me. “Sure, no problem” 

“Great, let’s get out of here.” 

As we walked out of the bar, I saw Jack turn and look at his friends with a shit-eating grin. 
We chatted a bit on the ride; nothing serious or all that interesting. Just the chatter that two strangers who know they’re about fuck have before the act takes place 

A few blocks from my place, I reached over and put my hand on Jack’s cock, rubbing it through his jeans. I could feel it getting hard through the denim. It was huge. 

While physical pleasure wasn’t part of my plan, I wasn’t opposed to it being a bonus to what was about to happen. 

Jack pulled into my driveway and turned off the car. 

“What next?” he said. 

“I think you know. Let’s go inside.” 

Inside, I turned on the living room light and told Jack to sit on the couch. 

As he sat watching me, I began stripping off my clothes.  

First the tight dress. 

Then the white lace bra. 

And finally down came the white lace underwear. 

Jack licked his lips. I could see his cock twitch through his jeans. 

“You like?” I said. 

“Very much,” he said. “You have an incredible body.” 

I blushed a bit, in spite of myself. It had been a very long time since a man had paid me a compliment. 

I walked over to the couch and took Jack by the hand. “Follow me.” 

That was all the prodding he needed. I led him into Brian’s room. Unfortunately, Brian was still alive. 

“Oh what the fuck!”

“Jack, this is my husband Brian.” 

Jack pressed himself against the wall and stared at Brian. 

“Is he dead?” Jack whispered. 

“No, not yet,” I said. “More’s the pity.” 

Jack, still pressed firmly against the wall, began nudging himself to the door. 
“I need to get out of here,” he said. 

“He has a condition, it’s called locked-in syndrome,” I said. “He’s alive and awake and all that, but he can’t move. He’s trapped in his own body.” 

“Jesus …” 

“Yeah, pretty rough stuff,” I said. “But between you, me, and God, Jack, he’s getting exactly what he deserves.” 

“This is all too fucking weird,” Jack said. 

I smiled at him and then turned to head out of the room. “Let me show you something,” I said over my shoulder. 

I came back in with my folder full of photos of my bruised and battered body. 

“Take a look, college boy.” 

Jack opened the folder and shuffled through the photos. 

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who did this to you?” 

“He did,” I said, pointing at Brian. 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think, Jack? Because I deserved it or something? He did it because he’s an evil piece of shit. That folder is pretty mild, all things considered. I have lots of videos if you’d like to see me beaten up.” 

He closed the folder and let out a sigh. “I don’t understand why I’m here and what you want from me.” 

“You’re the last part of my revenge plan, Jack.”

“Revenge?”

“That’s right. My lawyer and I have the divorce all set up. I’m actually leaving in the morning for good. But first, you’re going to help me leave my dear husband here with a little something to remember me by.” 

“Lady, I’m not killing anybody,” Jack said. 

“Oh no, no killing,” I said. “That would be too good for him. We’re going to torture his manhood … we’re going to show him what his body is never going to let him enjoy again … and I’m going to show him that I’m not his. Not anymore.” 

Jack shook his head. “I can’t be part of this … whatever this is.” 

I walked over to him and put my hand back on his bulge. “Do you like having your cock sucked?”

He stared down at me and then said, “Well, yeah.” 

I squeezed his bulge a little harder. “And do you like pussy?” 

“I love pussy,” he said. 

“I figured so,” I said. “All you have to do is let me suck that big cock of yours and then I want you to bend me over and fuck me, right in front of my husband.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You’re a good guy, right Jack?” 

“I think so … mostly.” 

“You’d never hit a woman?” 

“No way, my mom would kill me if she found out I did something like that.” 

“And do you think a man who beats his wife, who beats her for years, should be punished\\

“Fuck yeah, I do. A guy like that deserves to die, seriously.” 

“Well, we aren’t killing anyone, Jack. But fucking me while he watches will be enough punishment.”

I could still sense his apprehension. 

Time to take control. 

I walked over to Brian, turned his head so that he could see out into the room and said,

“Time for the show, dear husband.”

Turning my attention back to Jack, I slowly dropped to my knees. With shaky hands, I unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. 

I pulled them down his legs and then off him. I did the same for his boxers. 

Then I took in the huge, thick cock that was practically poking me in the face. 

“Very impressive,” I said. “Look at how much bigger his cock is than yours, Brian.” 

I wrapped my lips around the tip and sucked. 

“Oh fuck yes,” Jack groaned. 

Jack’s cock really was huge, especially compared to Brian’s.

I worked to get more and more of it in my mouth and down my throat. I have to admit that I loved the way a huge, young cock felt in my mouth, especially after everything Brian had put me through. 

It wasn’t long before Brian’s cock was shimmering from my saliva. I was getting into it and Jack certainly was too. 

My head was bobbing up and down his thick shaft, taking as much as I could down my throat. Which admittedly wasn’t much but I definitely deserved an A for effort. My choking and gagging sounds filled the entire room. 

Taking Jack’s cock out of my mouth, I said to Brian, “Do you like watching me suck another man’s cock, you fucking pig? It’s been so long since I’ve had any fun giving head.” 

I put Jack’s cock back in my mouth while thinking about the rage that must be going through Brian’s mind. Watching his wife blowing another man. Knowing that he was powerless to stop it. 

Those thoughts seemed to push me to an almost manic level of lust. I forced myself to take more cock down my throat. For once, the hot tears rushing down my face were from something I wanted, not from something terrible happening to me. 

While sucking, I gently caressed Jack’s balls with my fingertips, producing a shudder and another deep groan of pleasure. 

A few seconds later, he grabbed the back of my head hard, holding me in place. I maneuvered his cock out of my throat so that he was only in my mouth 

And then he began cumming. The hot, thick liquid bounced off my tongue and teeth and the lining of my cheeks. I made sure that I didn’t swallow so much as a drop. 

Oh, I was definitely going to swallow that hot load, but not right away. 

Jack let out a loud moan and yelled, “Fuck yes … that was good.” 

Clearly, any hang ups Jack had about having some fun in front of my kind-of dead husband had evaporated. 

I took Jack’s softening cock out of my mouth, got up off my knees, and walked over to Brian and opened my mouth. 

Holding my mouth open in front of his eyes, I knew he could see just how full of cum my mouth really was. 

I closed my mouth and swallowed everything in one big gulp. I licked my lips and smiled at Brian. 

“Did you see how much cum that was, husband? It was delicious; so much better than that nasty shit you used to force me to swallow.” 

I’d describe the look on Jack’s face as a mix of horror and delight. He knew he was participating in something almost impossibly weird. A woman sucking his cock while her incapacitated husband? But it was exciting all the same. 

“Time for part two,” I announced while I pulled the bedside table next to Brian’s bed.

Then I jumped on top of it. The height of the table perfectly matched the height of the bed, which meant my body was mere inches from Brian’s face. 

I leaned back against the wall, put my feet up on the table and said to Jack, “Time to eat some pussy.” 

His eyes lit up and he came to me immediately. He dropped to his knees and put his tongue against my slit. 

My first thought was that this must be what it feels like to be electrocuted. My body twitched and shivered. I made noises that I was sure I’d never made before. My pussy practically gushed against Jack’s face as he slowly, methodically, and perfectly ran his tongue up and down my pussy while teasing my clit with his strong fingers. 

I grabbed two fistfuls of Jack’s hair and forced his face down onto my pussy. Feeling him alternate between licking me and filling me with his tongue was absolute heaven.

I looked at Brian. “Can you smell my pussy? Doesn’t it smell hot? Too bad you’ll never taste my pussy again .. or any pussy.” 

Jack laughed into my cunt. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall.

“Make me cum, college boy.” 

Hearing that, he absolutely went to town on me. He spread my snatch open with his fingers and worked his tongue into the deepest parts of me. He licked and softly bit my pussy lips.

He sucked in my clit. 

I don’t know who his cunnilingus coach was, but I hope I can meet them and say thanks some day.

When he put two fingers in my pussy and his tongue in my asshole, I lost it. 

“Motherfucker!” I screamed. 

The orgasm hit me like a wave pushing me under the water. My body shook and waved and rolled while I held his face against my pussy. 

Once I was done cumming, I looked down at Jack and took in the sight of his face shining with my wetness. 

I was very pleased with myself. 

And kudos to Jack, too.

“You taste so fucking good,” Jack said. 

“You hear that Brian? The young man here says my pussy tastes great … it must feel terrible to know you’ll never lick a pussy again.” 

Jack shook his head. “This is all so weird.” 

I reached down and took his limp cock in my hand. “We’re not done just yet Jackie boy.”

Dropping to my knees I began licking Jack’s balls while slowly stroking his cock. Once I started sucking his balls, one at a time, between my lips, I could feel his cock rising to attention. 

Once he was hard and ready to go, I said to him, “Ready to stretch my pussy out?” 

“You know I am,” he said. 

I put my hands on the edge of Brian’s bed and bent over, presenting my pussy to Jack so he could fill it up. I put my nose against Brian’s nose. “Ready to watch me get fucked?” 

Brian’s eyes stared at me, alert but powerless. 

I could feel Jack rubbing the head of his cock up and down my excited little cunt. Then he began filling me up. 

“His cock is so much bigger than yours,” I said into Brian’s face. “I’ve never had anything so big, it’s going to break me in half.” 

Jack slowly, centimeter by centimeter, filled my entire dripping pussy with his scorching thickness.

“Jesus fuck!” I screamed. 

“I’m so glad you had that stroke, you pieces of shit,” I said to Brian. “Now I can get new cock whenever I want it while you lie there in a diaper for the rest of your miserable life.” 

Jack had a vice grip on my hips as he pounded me up and down his frat boy prick. He’d push me forward until the tip was barely inside me and then he’d slam me all the way down, hammering the love of God out of me. 

“I never even imagined getting fucked like this,” I whispered at Brian. “It’s so fucking good.” 

I felt tears well up in my eyes as my orgasm drew close. I bent forward even more, pressing my face against Brian’s bed and pushing my ass higher into the air. 

Jack then brought a hand down on my ass, slapping it hard over and over.

“FUCK,” I screamed as I started cumming. 

Had Jack not still been gripping my hips, I could have fallen over. My whole body shook and I couldn’t open my eyes. I felt my pussy gushing fresh wetness around Jack’s pulsating cock. 
For the next thirty seconds, Jack fucked my so hard I thought my soul was going to leave my body. 

“I’m close,” Jack muttered, more to himself than me. 

That was all I needed to hear. 
I pushed myself forward until his cock fell out of me and then in one quick move, I put my hand around his cock and pulled him close to Brian. 

With a few quick, hard strokes, Jack closed his eyes and began groaning. 

I pointed his cock at Brian’s face and kept stroking as he started cumming. Shot after shot landed on Brian’s face. It covered his forehead, cheeks, and nose. 

Jack opened his eyes, looked down at Brian’s cum-covered face, and said, “This is so fucked up.” 

I put a hand on Jack’s cheek and smiled at him. “That was the best sex of my life. Now get your clothes on and get out of my house.” 

Jack didn’t need much motivation. He got dressed quickly and headed to the door. 

Before leaving he turned to me and said, “Can I call you?” 

“No, one time only. Get out.” 

Without another word, Jack left. 

I went back into Brian bedroom and walked up to him. “Did you enjoy the show?”

No response, obviously. 

“My little prisoner … Brian, you just watched me get fucked my another man. That makes you a cuck. Brian the cuck.”

I laughed and laughed. It was cathartic. One chapter was ending and another was just beginning. 

It was after three a.m. when Jack left so I had less than three hours to kill before the night morning nurse arrived. I tidied up Brian’s room, putting everything back in order. 

But I didn’t clean Jack’s cum off his face. 

I made myself some coffee and breakfast and took a final walk around the house to make sure there wasn’t anything incriminating lying around. 
Finally, shortly before six, I ran a wash cloth under the bathroom sink and went into Brian’s room. 

“Unfortunately, I have to clean the cum off your face. I don’t want to raise any suspicions now do I, Brian?” 

It took less than a minute to clean the bastard’s face off. 

“That’s that then, Brian. I won. I just got fucked while making you watch the entire thing. You rapist fuck face. Now I’m leaving and you’ll never see me again. Enjoy this little prison of yours. Please don’t die too soon. I want you to suffer for a long, long time.” 

I heard Sarah the morning nurse unlock the front door and come in, fifteen minutes late. I walked into the living room to greet her. 

“Good morning,” I said. “We have a very uneventful night around here. Connie had to leave right at six. Now I’m off to work.” 

She smiled and hung her coat up. “Sounds good, have a great day. He’s in good hands.” 

I went out to my car and stared at the house as I backed down the driveway. I knew this was the last time I’d see it. Happy tears ran down my cheeks and splashed onto my lap.

At the first stop sign, I texted Victoria: “Just left for good. Never going back. Let’s go.” 

Within seconds she responded with, “I got this.” 

I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and then hit the gas, accelerating down the street and into my new life.

On the day the process server was going to hand my scumbag husband Brian divorce papers, I got a call from one of his co-workers that he’d collapsed at work and was on his way to the emergency room.

How’s that for luck? I mean my luck, by the way, not his.

I left my office and headed to the hospital because what else was I going to do? 

In the parking lot, I used the rear view to practice my sad face.

“Here’s hoping he’s dead,” I said into the mirror before getting out of the car.

Alas, no such luck.

A beefy nurse with a wispy mustache and mustard breath explained to me that my dear husband had suffered what’s called a brainstem stroke.

I’d never heard of it before but here it was blowing up my best laid plans.

“They don’t happen much, especially at his age,” the nurse said. “But these things do happen.”

According to a different nurse, one without a mustache or condiment breath, Brian filling up his coffee mug in his office’s kitchen and talking about fantasy football when boom, down he went.

His face was all bruised because he hit the floor at full speed without breaking his fall.

Honestly, I felt worse for whoever had to clean up the spilled coffee than I did for Brian.

After four days, Brian’s sedation was slowly lifted but he remained completely unresponsive, or so the army of doctors and nurses thought. But one afternoon, an intern noticed a brief flash of eye movement.

Like a cockroach, Brian refused to die.

The eagle-eyed intern’s discovery led to more tests, more poking, and more prodding.

And then came a diagnosis of locked-in syndrome.

If you’re keeping score, that’s two medical diagnoses I’d never heard of until my husband hit the floor face first.

As doctor after doctor told me, all this meant that Brian was now a prisoner in his own body.

His brain (or what passed for his brain) was still chugging away with complete awareness.

Isn’t it really kind of funny?

I mean there he was, lying in a hospital bed with the normal human range of needs and wants and frustrations. But his body wouldn’t let him do a damn thing about it.

When I was sure nobody could see me or hear me, I’d let myself have a little laugh right in Brian’s face.

“My, my, my, this is quite the sticky wicket you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it?” I whispered into his ear one afternoon when we were alone. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to take care of you, mister. I’m as good as gone and guess what? … You won’t be able to chase me.”

While I’d wished Brian dead thousands of times, the pure deliciousness of just knowing that his living brain was stuck inside his dead body was almost enough to make believe in a just and benevolent god.

Let me give you a little backstory, because right now, I’m probably coming across as a complete psychopath. Or would it be sociopath? I can never keep them straight.

Brian and I got together during our sophomore year of college and got married just a few months after we graduated. He was loud and fun and gregarious. Back then, his plan was to go to law school.

Instead, he’d settled into a mid-level sales job and got increasingly lazy and fat.

As for the abuse, it started as soon as we were back from our Costa Rican honeymoon.

He’d backhand me for raising my voice or for not talking loudly enough. He’d kick me or slam me to the floor for leaving a glass on the counter or for taking too long in the shower and “using up all the goddamn fucking hot water.”

I never fought back or told anyone. Not even my mom or sisters or best friends. After a while,

I didn’t even cry anymore. I guess I just accepted that this was my life now. This was the worst part of the whole for better or worse thing.

As bad as the daily abuse was, things got even worse about three years into our marriage when Brian’s drinking got completely out of control. 

Every night, and I mean every night, he’d come home stinking drunk from the bar around midnight and just knock the absolute hell out of me.

He’d throw me across rooms and down hallways by the hair and he’d wrap his hand around my throat and then shove me backward down the stairs.

Sounds pretty bad, right?

Now add to your mental picture that I’m barely five feet tall and a hundred pounds while Brian is six-three and like two-fifty.

He could make me fly like I was nothing more than a toy thrown during a toddler’s tantrum.

Even with the drinking, nothing set Brian off more than the fact that I hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. Before getting married, we’d made it clear to each other that we wanted a bunch of kids.

But there was no fucking way I was going to bring a baby into this madness.

I secretly kept myself on the same birth control I’d been on since my junior year of high school while swearing up and down to Brian that I wasn’t on anything.

By this point, I’d gotten really good at keeping secrets. So I started keeping another one.

On the worst nights, once Brian had passed out or stumbled back out the front door and driven away, I’d quickly lock myself in the bathroom and take photos and videos of what he’d done to me.

I documented every bruise and welt and made sure each picture and video was stamped with the date and time and then backed them up in an account he didn’t know existed.

The handful of times he hurt me badly enough that I had to go to a doctor, I told them that I’d fallen down the stairs or had gotten into a drunken fight with a friend. Then I’d watch as a nurse or doctor jotted down what I was saying, clearly not believing a word of it.

medical records would pair nicely with the hundreds of photos and hours of video I’d already squirreled away.

I had a mountain of evidence just waiting to be turned into an avalanche.

At this point, you’d be right to ask why I stuck around. Why didn’t I just leave the first time he put his hands on me? Honestly, I don’t have a great answer.

Maybe I didn’t want to admit that I’d chosen the wrong person. Maybe I was scared about not having enough money to get my own place. Maybe I thought I didn’t deserve anything better.

Like I said, I just don’t have a good answer for you.

Finally, one night, he came home in a mood and I could tell that trouble was brewing. I hid my phone behind the side lamp, propping it up so the camera was pointed into the living room..

It was time for that mountain of evidence to become an avalanche. 

Three days after that beating, I turned thirty (Brian forgot), and as a birthday present to myself I met with Victoria Walker, who I was told was the best and meanest divorce attorney in the city. 

After I told Victoria my story, I laid the photos of my injuries out across her desk, slid over my medical records, and then played her thirty seconds of that recording. 

Victoria leaned back in her very expensive looking leather chair and stared at me for several seconds without saying a word. Then she smiled at me.

“Honey, we’re going to absolutely gut this motherfucker.” 

Happy birthday to me. 

But then the bastard went and had a stroke. 

Shortly after getting to the emergency room, I snuck away and called Victoria to fill her in on what had happened. 

She told me to begin moving things out of the house and then to move half the money in our joint banking into my personal account.

Luckily for me, Brian had his own health coverage through his company, and I had my own coverage through the nonprofit I worked for as a corporate fundraiser. 

Victoria assured me that she could keep Brian’s medical bills, which would be in the millions, off my back. 

Since his stroke, Brian had been on a ventilator. And while the doctors explained that he could eventually live at home while on one, his insurance company basically said they’d let him die before they covered the cost. 

So before he could be discharged, he’d have to be able to breathe on his own. 

After two months, his doctors decided it was time to try. I leaned against the wall, watching, silently hoping he’d die as soon as they pulled the tube out of his mouth. 

But, of course, he started breathing after just a few seconds. 

Brian’s mom, Sandy, quickly got to work turning our guest room into Brian’s new home. 

“Everything will be good when we get him home,” she said to me one afternoon. “I just know it.” 

In no time, the guest room was bursting at the seams with medical equipment, golf-inspired art, and a huge flatscreen TV. 

The only thing it was missing was a keg. But I guess an alcoholic wife-beater can’t have everything. 

During Brian’s hospital stay, I tried to interact as little as possible with Sandy because I knew she was aware of what Brian had done to me. I’d seen her eyes linger for an extra second or two on my latest bruise and violent red mark. 

She never offered to intervene. She never asked me if I was okay. Yeah, fuck her. 

Once the medical team brought Brian home and dropped him in what was essentially his prison cell, the daily care began. 

He had to be moved regularly to prevent bed sores, he had to be bathed, his vitals needed to be monitored. At least the benevolent insurance company agreed to cover in-home nursing.

Now, you might think Brian’s stroke would make the divorce easier, but you’d be wrong. After all, a husband who can’t speak can’t say anything against you in court. 

But Sandy and Brian’s father Carl, would make sure he’d have an attorney who’d make me the villain. 

“My client,” the lawyer would say, “is a broken man. He’s unable to feed himself and work. He will likely be confined to his bed for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, his wife is healthy and receiving a steady paycheck.” 

And if the judge bought this shameless attempt for sympathy, I might be screwed beyond screwed. 

But Victoria had the photos, videos, and hospital records and I had the one thing they valued more than money: their name. 

Victoria explained to me that she had no intention of letting the case get into a courtroom. Instead, she’d simply sit across a conference table from Brian’s parents and their lawyer and methodically slide the evidence across the table. 

Once Sandy and Carl saw what their golden child had done to me, they’d have to make a decision. And while I knew Sandy had seen my bruises, it would be another thing entirely to sit and watch videos of what caused those bruises.

They could let me go quietly, no muss, no fuss, or they could watch as all of it was entered into evidence during a court proceeding. 

“And I’ll add,” Victoria said, “that though I’d advise her against it, I wouldn’t be able to prevent my client from sending copies of that evidence to your family and friends, neighbors, employers and God knows who else.” 

Yeah, I had definitely had the meanest attorney in town. 

We both knew what option Brian’s parents would choose. 

Be honest with yourself, if Brian was your kid, which one would you choose? 

Yeah, that’s what I thought. 

So everything was set up for me to walk away right then and there. My important stuff was out of the house and I’d moved my money. 

But I had a little parting gift I intended to give Brian before I left for good.

Finally, I had my chance.

Sandy would be gone for a night to attend the wedding of an old family friend.

So with Sandy out of the way the last hurdle was to get rid of Brian’s overnight nurse, Connie. 

Four nights later, I finally got my chance when Connie arrived promptly at ten, like always. But I could tell something was off. She looked tired and worn and her almost impossibly chipper demeanor was nowhere to be found. 

“You okay, Connie?”

“Oh I’m all right, honey,” Connie said. “I didn’t get much sleep after last night’s shift. I came home to three sick kids and a sick husband.” 

This was my chance and probably the only one I’d get for a long time. 

“Take the night off,” I said. “I know the routine, everything will be fine.” 

“Honey, if I leave, they fire me,” Connie said. “Them’s the rules, as the saying goes.” 

“It’ll be our little secret,” I said. “Your family comes first. Go home and take care of them. I’ll handle everything here.” 

Connie opened her mouth to say something but then she hesitated. 

I had her. 

“Go home, get some rest, take care of that family,” I said. “You’ve more than earned a night off.” 

“I really shouldn’t.”

“The morning nurse will be here at six, but she’s always late,” I said. “When she gets here, I’ll tell her you already had to go. Nobody will be the wiser. Please Connie, I’d feel terrible knowing we were keeping you away from your sick kids.” 

She took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay, if you’re sure.” 

“I am.”

Once Connie’s car was down the driveway and out of sight, I got to work. 

Without bothering to look in on the piece of shit who’d soon be my ex-husband, I headed to my closet and got out my smallest and tightest black dress. I wiggled the dress over my white lace bra and underwear. I looked at myself in the mirror. 

The reflection told me that I was tiny, beautiful, and unbroken. 

And now it was time for revenge.

In a half-hour flat, my hair and makeup was done and I was ready to go. 

At the door, I yelled down the hallway, “See you in a bit, fuck face, I’m bringing home some entertainment later.” 

After a quick Uber ride, I strutted into the Portsider like I owned the place and went straight to the bar. God, it had been so long since I’d been in a bar. I savored the music and the noise and the hum of people laughing and enjoying themselves. 

None of these people must have a Brian in their lives, I thought.

After just a few sips of my Tanqueray and tonic, I spotted the one I wanted. 

He was wearing a hoodie from the local college, which meant he was younger than me, which was perfect because I wasn’t looking for any complications. 

He was great looking, more than six-feet tall and firm. I saw him glance over at me, his blue eyes twinkling a bit in light, and I smiled at him. 

That’s all it took. 

He walked over and introduced himself. His name was Jack and he was a sophomore econ major. 

Not that I gave a shit about his major or his future goals. I barely cared about his name. 

I needed Jack for one night’s work and then I’d never see him again. 

But I also intended to give him the kind of story he’d be telling his buddies for the rest of his life. 

After I felt like I’d feigned enough interest in his stories about school and golf and his frat, I put the next part of my plan into motion. 

“Do you think I could get a ride home?” 

Jack smiled down at me. “Sure, no problem” 

“Great, let’s get out of here.” 

As we walked out of the bar, I saw Jack turn and look at his friends with a shit-eating grin. 
We chatted a bit on the ride; nothing serious or all that interesting. Just the chatter that two strangers who know they’re about fuck have before the act takes place 

A few blocks from my place, I reached over and put my hand on Jack’s cock, rubbing it through his jeans. I could feel it getting hard through the denim. It was huge. 

While physical pleasure wasn’t part of my plan, I wasn’t opposed to it being a bonus to what was about to happen. 

Jack pulled into my driveway and turned off the car. 

“What next?” he said. 

“I think you know. Let’s go inside.” 

Inside, I turned on the living room light and told Jack to sit on the couch. 

As he sat watching me, I began stripping off my clothes.  

First the tight dress. 

Then the white lace bra. 

And finally down came the white lace underwear. 

Jack licked his lips. I could see his cock twitch through his jeans. 

“You like?” I said. 

“Very much,” he said. “You have an incredible body.” 

I blushed a bit, in spite of myself. It had been a very long time since a man had paid me a compliment. 

I walked over to the couch and took Jack by the hand. “Follow me.” 

That was all the prodding he needed. I led him into Brian’s room. Unfortunately, Brian was still alive. 

“Oh what the fuck!”

“Jack, this is my husband Brian.” 

Jack pressed himself against the wall and stared at Brian. 

“Is he dead?” Jack whispered. 

“No, not yet,” I said. “More’s the pity.” 

Jack, still pressed firmly against the wall, began nudging himself to the door. 
“I need to get out of here,” he said. 

“He has a condition, it’s called locked-in syndrome,” I said. “He’s alive and awake and all that, but he can’t move. He’s trapped in his own body.” 

“Jesus …” 

“Yeah, pretty rough stuff,” I said. “But between you, me, and God, Jack, he’s getting exactly what he deserves.” 

“This is all too fucking weird,” Jack said. 

I smiled at him and then turned to head out of the room. “Let me show you something,” I said over my shoulder. 

I came back in with my folder full of photos of my bruised and battered body. 

“Take a look, college boy.” 

Jack opened the folder and shuffled through the photos. 

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who did this to you?” 

“He did,” I said, pointing at Brian. 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think, Jack? Because I deserved it or something? He did it because he’s an evil piece of shit. That folder is pretty mild, all things considered. I have lots of videos if you’d like to see me beaten up.” 

He closed the folder and let out a sigh. “I don’t understand why I’m here and what you want from me.” 

“You’re the last part of my revenge plan, Jack.”

“Revenge?”

“That’s right. My lawyer and I have the divorce all set up. I’m actually leaving in the morning for good. But first, you’re going to help me leave my dear husband here with a little something to remember me by.” 

“Lady, I’m not killing anybody,” Jack said. 

“Oh no, no killing,” I said. “That would be too good for him. We’re going to torture his manhood … we’re going to show him what his body is never going to let him enjoy again … and I’m going to show him that I’m not his. Not anymore.” 

Jack shook his head. “I can’t be part of this … whatever this is.” 

I walked over to him and put my hand back on his bulge. “Do you like having your cock sucked?”

He stared down at me and then said, “Well, yeah.” 

I squeezed his bulge a little harder. “And do you like pussy?” 

“I love pussy,” he said. 

“I figured so,” I said. “All you have to do is let me suck that big cock of yours and then I want you to bend me over and fuck me, right in front of my husband.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You’re a good guy, right Jack?” 

“I think so … mostly.” 

“You’d never hit a woman?” 

“No way, my mom would kill me if she found out I did something like that.” 

“And do you think a man who beats his wife, who beats her for years, should be punished\\

“Fuck yeah, I do. A guy like that deserves to die, seriously.” 

“Well, we aren’t killing anyone, Jack. But fucking me while he watches will be enough punishment.”

I could still sense his apprehension. 

Time to take control. 

I walked over to Brian, turned his head so that he could see out into the room and said,

“Time for the show, dear husband.”

Turning my attention back to Jack, I slowly dropped to my knees. With shaky hands, I unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. 

I pulled them down his legs and then off him. I did the same for his boxers. 

Then I took in the huge, thick cock that was practically poking me in the face. 

“Very impressive,” I said. “Look at how much bigger his cock is than yours, Brian.” 

I wrapped my lips around the tip and sucked. 

“Oh fuck yes,” Jack groaned. 

Jack’s cock really was huge, especially compared to Brian’s.

I worked to get more and more of it in my mouth and down my throat. I have to admit that I loved the way a huge, young cock felt in my mouth, especially after everything Brian had put me through. 

It wasn’t long before Brian’s cock was shimmering from my saliva. I was getting into it and Jack certainly was too. 

My head was bobbing up and down his thick shaft, taking as much as I could down my throat. Which admittedly wasn’t much but I definitely deserved an A for effort. My choking and gagging sounds filled the entire room. 

Taking Jack’s cock out of my mouth, I said to Brian, “Do you like watching me suck another man’s cock, you fucking pig? It’s been so long since I’ve had any fun giving head.” 

I put Jack’s cock back in my mouth while thinking about the rage that must be going through Brian’s mind. Watching his wife blowing another man. Knowing that he was powerless to stop it. 

Those thoughts seemed to push me to an almost manic level of lust. I forced myself to take more cock down my throat. For once, the hot tears rushing down my face were from something I wanted, not from something terrible happening to me. 

While sucking, I gently caressed Jack’s balls with my fingertips, producing a shudder and another deep groan of pleasure. 

A few seconds later, he grabbed the back of my head hard, holding me in place. I maneuvered his cock out of my throat so that he was only in my mouth 

And then he began cumming. The hot, thick liquid bounced off my tongue and teeth and the lining of my cheeks. I made sure that I didn’t swallow so much as a drop. 

Oh, I was definitely going to swallow that hot load, but not right away. 

Jack let out a loud moan and yelled, “Fuck yes … that was good.” 

Clearly, any hang ups Jack had about having some fun in front of my kind-of dead husband had evaporated. 

I took Jack’s softening cock out of my mouth, got up off my knees, and walked over to Brian and opened my mouth. 

Holding my mouth open in front of his eyes, I knew he could see just how full of cum my mouth really was. 

I closed my mouth and swallowed everything in one big gulp. I licked my lips and smiled at Brian. 

“Did you see how much cum that was, husband? It was delicious; so much better than that nasty shit you used to force me to swallow.” 

I’d describe the look on Jack’s face as a mix of horror and delight. He knew he was participating in something almost impossibly weird. A woman sucking his cock while her incapacitated husband? But it was exciting all the same. 

“Time for part two,” I announced while I pulled the bedside table next to Brian’s bed.

Then I jumped on top of it. The height of the table perfectly matched the height of the bed, which meant my body was mere inches from Brian’s face. 

I leaned back against the wall, put my feet up on the table and said to Jack, “Time to eat some pussy.” 

His eyes lit up and he came to me immediately. He dropped to his knees and put his tongue against my slit. 

My first thought was that this must be what it feels like to be electrocuted. My body twitched and shivered. I made noises that I was sure I’d never made before. My pussy practically gushed against Jack’s face as he slowly, methodically, and perfectly ran his tongue up and down my pussy while teasing my clit with his strong fingers. 

I grabbed two fistfuls of Jack’s hair and forced his face down onto my pussy. Feeling him alternate between licking me and filling me with his tongue was absolute heaven.

I looked at Brian. “Can you smell my pussy? Doesn’t it smell hot? Too bad you’ll never taste my pussy again .. or any pussy.” 

Jack laughed into my cunt. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall.

“Make me cum, college boy.” 

Hearing that, he absolutely went to town on me. He spread my snatch open with his fingers and worked his tongue into the deepest parts of me. He licked and softly bit my pussy lips.

He sucked in my clit. 

I don’t know who his cunnilingus coach was, but I hope I can meet them and say thanks some day.

When he put two fingers in my pussy and his tongue in my asshole, I lost it. 

“Motherfucker!” I screamed. 

The orgasm hit me like a wave pushing me under the water. My body shook and waved and rolled while I held his face against my pussy. 

Once I was done cumming, I looked down at Jack and took in the sight of his face shining with my wetness. 

I was very pleased with myself. 

And kudos to Jack, too.

“You taste so fucking good,” Jack said. 

“You hear that Brian? The young man here says my pussy tastes great … it must feel terrible to know you’ll never lick a pussy again.” 

Jack shook his head. “This is all so weird.” 

I reached down and took his limp cock in my hand. “We’re not done just yet Jackie boy.”

Dropping to my knees I began licking Jack’s balls while slowly stroking his cock. Once I started sucking his balls, one at a time, between my lips, I could feel his cock rising to attention. 

Once he was hard and ready to go, I said to him, “Ready to stretch my pussy out?” 

“You know I am,” he said. 

I put my hands on the edge of Brian’s bed and bent over, presenting my pussy to Jack so he could fill it up. I put my nose against Brian’s nose. “Ready to watch me get fucked?” 

Brian’s eyes stared at me, alert but powerless. 

I could feel Jack rubbing the head of his cock up and down my excited little cunt. Then he began filling me up. 

“His cock is so much bigger than yours,” I said into Brian’s face. “I’ve never had anything so big, it’s going to break me in half.” 

Jack slowly, centimeter by centimeter, filled my entire dripping pussy with his scorching thickness.

“Jesus fuck!” I screamed. 

“I’m so glad you had that stroke, you pieces of shit,” I said to Brian. “Now I can get new cock whenever I want it while you lie there in a diaper for the rest of your miserable life.” 

Jack had a vice grip on my hips as he pounded me up and down his frat boy prick. He’d push me forward until the tip was barely inside me and then he’d slam me all the way down, hammering the love of God out of me. 

“I never even imagined getting fucked like this,” I whispered at Brian. “It’s so fucking good.” 

I felt tears well up in my eyes as my orgasm drew close. I bent forward even more, pressing my face against Brian’s bed and pushing my ass higher into the air. 

Jack then brought a hand down on my ass, slapping it hard over and over.

“FUCK,” I screamed as I started cumming. 

Had Jack not still been gripping my hips, I could have fallen over. My whole body shook and I couldn’t open my eyes. I felt my pussy gushing fresh wetness around Jack’s pulsating cock. 
For the next thirty seconds, Jack fucked my so hard I thought my soul was going to leave my body. 

“I’m close,” Jack muttered, more to himself than me. 

That was all I needed to hear. 
I pushed myself forward until his cock fell out of me and then in one quick move, I put my hand around his cock and pulled him close to Brian. 

With a few quick, hard strokes, Jack closed his eyes and began groaning. 

I pointed his cock at Brian’s face and kept stroking as he started cumming. Shot after shot landed on Brian’s face. It covered his forehead, cheeks, and nose. 

Jack opened his eyes, looked down at Brian’s cum-covered face, and said, “This is so fucked up.” 

I put a hand on Jack’s cheek and smiled at him. “That was the best sex of my life. Now get your clothes on and get out of my house.” 

Jack didn’t need much motivation. He got dressed quickly and headed to the door. 

Before leaving he turned to me and said, “Can I call you?” 

“No, one time only. Get out.” 

Without another word, Jack left. 

I went back into Brian bedroom and walked up to him. “Did you enjoy the show?”

No response, obviously. 

“My little prisoner … Brian, you just watched me get fucked my another man. That makes you a cuck. Brian the cuck.”

I laughed and laughed. It was cathartic. One chapter was ending and another was just beginning. 

It was after three a.m. when Jack left so I had less than three hours to kill before the night morning nurse arrived. I tidied up Brian’s room, putting everything back in order. 

But I didn’t clean Jack’s cum off his face. 

I made myself some coffee and breakfast and took a final walk around the house to make sure there wasn’t anything incriminating lying around. 
Finally, shortly before six, I ran a wash cloth under the bathroom sink and went into Brian’s room. 

“Unfortunately, I have to clean the cum off your face. I don’t want to raise any suspicions now do I, Brian?” 

It took less than a minute to clean the bastard’s face off. 

“That’s that then, Brian. I won. I just got fucked while making you watch the entire thing. You rapist fuck face. Now I’m leaving and you’ll never see me again. Enjoy this little prison of yours. Please don’t die too soon. I want you to suffer for a long, long time.” 

I heard Sarah the morning nurse unlock the front door and come in, fifteen minutes late. I walked into the living room to greet her. 

“Good morning,” I said. “We have a very uneventful night around here. Connie had to leave right at six. Now I’m off to work.” 

She smiled and hung her coat up. “Sounds good, have a great day. He’s in good hands.” 

I went out to my car and stared at the house as I backed down the driveway. I knew this was the last time I’d see it. Happy tears ran down my cheeks and splashed onto my lap.

At the first stop sign, I texted Victoria: “Just left for good. Never going back. Let’s go.” 

Within seconds she responded with, “I got this.” 

I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and then hit the gas, accelerating down the street and into my new life.

On the day the process server was going to hand my scumbag husband Brian divorce papers, I got a call from one of his co-workers that he’d collapsed at work and was on his way to the emergency room.

How’s that for luck? I mean my luck, by the way, not his.

I left my office and headed to the hospital because what else was I going to do? 

In the parking lot, I used the rear view to practice my sad face.

“Here’s hoping he’s dead,” I said into the mirror before getting out of the car.

Alas, no such luck.

A beefy nurse with a wispy mustache and mustard breath explained to me that my dear husband had suffered what’s called a brainstem stroke.

I’d never heard of it before but here it was blowing up my best laid plans.

“They don’t happen much, especially at his age,” the nurse said. “But these things do happen.”

According to a different nurse, one without a mustache or condiment breath, Brian filling
up his coffee mug in his office’s kitchen and talking about fantasy football when boom, down he went.

His face was all bruised because he hit the floor at full speed without breaking his fall.

Honestly, I felt worse for whoever had to clean up the spilled coffee than I did for Brian.

After four days, Brian’s sedation was slowly lifted but he remained completely unresponsive, or so the army of doctors and nurses thought. But one afternoon, an
intern noticed a brief flash of eye movement.

Like the cockroach he is, Brian refused to die.

The eagle-eyed intern’s discovery led to more tests, more poking, and more prodding.

And then, finally, a diagnosis of locked-in syndrome.

If you’re keeping score, that’s two medical diagnoses I’d never heard of until my slap-happy husband hit the floor face first.

As doctor after doctor told me, all this meant that Brian was now a prisoner in his own body. His brain (or what passed for his brain) was still chugging away with complete awareness.

Isn’t it really kind of funny?

I mean there he was, lying in a hospital bed with the normal human range of needs and wants and frustrations. But his body wouldn’t let him do a damn thing about it.

When I was sure nobody could see me or hear me, I’d let myself have a little laugh right in Brian’s face.

“My, my, my, this is quite the sticky wicket you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it?” I whispered into his ear one afternoon when we were alone. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to take care of you, mister. I’m as good as gone and guess what? … You won’t be
able to chase me.”

While I’d wished Brian dead thousands of times, the pure deliciousness of just knowing that his living brain was stuck inside his dead body was almost enough to make believe in a just and benevolent god.

Let me give you a little backstory, because right now, I’m probably coming across as a complete psychopath. Or would it be sociopath? I can never keep them straight.

Brian and I got together during our sophomore year of college and got married just a few months after we graduated. He was loud and fun and gregarious. Back then, his plan was to go to law school.

Instead, he’d settled into a mid-level sales job and got increasingly lazy and fat.

As for the abuse, it started as soon as we were back from our Costa Rican honeymoon.

He’d backhand me for raising my voice or for not talking loudly enough. He’d kick me or slam me to the floor for leaving a glass on the counter or for taking too long in the shower and “using up all the goddamn fucking hot water.”

I never fought back or told anyone. Not even my mom or sisters or best friends. After a while, I didn’t even cry anymore. I guess I just accepted that this was my life now.

This was the worst part of the whole for better or worse thing.

As bad as the daily abuse was, things got even worse about three years into our marriage when Brian’s drinking got completely out of control. 

Every night, and I mean EVERY night, he’d come home stinking drunk from the bar around midnight and just knock the absolute hell out of me.

He’d throw me across rooms and down hallways by the hair and he’d wrap his hand around my throat and then shove me backward down the stairs.

Sounds pretty bad, right?

Now add to your mental picture that I’m barely five feet tall and a hundred pounds while Brian is six-three and like two-fifty.

He could make me fly like I was nothing more than a toy thrown during a toddler’s tantrum.

Even with the drinking, nothing set Brian off more than the fact that I hadn’t gotten pregnant
yet.

Before getting married, we’d made it clear to each other that we wanted a bunch of
kids.

But there was no fucking way I was going to bring a baby into this madness.

I secretly kept myself on the same birth control I’d been on since my junior year of high school while swearing up and down to Brian that I wasn’t on anything.

By this point, I’d gotten really good at keeping secrets, so I started keeping another one.

On the worst nights, once Brian had passed out or stumbled back out the front door and driven away, I’d quickly lock myself in the bathroom and take photos and videos of what he’d done to me.

I documented every bruise and welt and made sure each picture and video was stamped with the date and time and then backed them up in an account he didn’t know existed.

The handful of times he hurt me badly enough that I had to go to a doctor, I told them that I’d fallen down the stairs or had gotten into a drunken fight with a friend.

Then I’d watch as a nurse or doctor jotted down what I was saying, clearly not believing a word of it.

My medical records would pair nicely with the hundreds of photos and hours of video I’d already squirreled away.

I had a mountain of evidence just waiting to be turned into an avalanche.

At this point, you’d be right to ask why I stuck around. Why didn’t I just leave the first time he put his hands on me? Honestly, I don’t have a great answer.

Maybe I didn’t want to admit that I’d chosen the wrong person.

Maybe I was scared about not having enough money to get my own place.

Maybe I thought I didn’t deserve anything better.

Like I said, I just don’t have a good answer for you.

But eventually, Brian grew so angry that I hadn’t gotten pregnant, that he’d rape me whenever he was in the mood.

He’d rip my clothes off, bend me over, and fuck me before I was ready, which was both humiliating and horrifically painful. 

Then when he was finished, he’d pull out of me without saying a word, and then pull up his pants and head out to meet his friends at the bar. 

But thanks to a chlamydia diagnosis I figured out he wasn’t always going out to meet his friends. 

Rapes, beatings, and STIs. I was a very lucky girl, wasn’t I? 

Finally, one night, he came home in a mood and I could tell that trouble was brewing. I hid my phone behind the side lamp, propping it up so the camera was pointed at the bed.

It was time for that mountain of evidence to become an avalanche. 

Three days after that rape, I turned thirty (Brian forgot), and as a birthday present to myself I met with Victoria Walker, who I was told was the best and meanest divorce attorney in the city. 

After I told Victoria my story, I laid the photos of my injuries out across her desk, slid over my medical records, and then played her thirty seconds of that recording. 

Victoria leaned back in her very expensive looking leather chair and stared at me for several seconds without saying a word. Then she smiled at me.

“Honey, we’re going to absolutely gut this motherfucker.” 

Happy birthday to me. 

But then the bastard went and had a stroke. 

Shortly after getting to the emergency room, I snuck away and called Victoria to fill her in on what had happened. 

She told me to begin moving things out of the house and then to move half the money in our joint banking into my personal account.

Luckily for me, Brian had his own health coverage through his company, and I had my own coverage through the nonprofit I worked for as a corporate fundraiser. 

Victoria assured me that she could keep Brian’s medical bills, which would be in the millions, off my back. 

Since his stroke, Brian had been on a ventilator. And while the doctors explained that he could eventually live at home while on one, his insurance company basically said they’d let him die before they covered the cost. 

So before he could be discharged, he’d have to be able to breathe on his own. 

After two months, his doctors decided it was time to try. I leaned against the wall, watching, silently hoping he’d die as soon as they pulled the tube out of his mouth. 

But, of course, he started breathing after just a few seconds. 

Brian’s mom, Sandy, quickly got to work turning our guest room into Brian’s new home. 

“Everything will be good when we get him home,” she said to me one afternoon. “I just know it.” 

In no time, the guest room was bursting at the seams with medical equipment, golf-inspired art, and a huge flatscreen TV. 

The only thing it was missing was a keg. But I guess an alcoholic wife-beater can’t have everything. 

During Brian’s hospital stay, I tried to interact as little as possible with Sandy because I knew she was aware of what Brian had done to me. I’d seen her eyes linger for an extra second or two on my latest bruise and violent red mark. 

She never offered to intervene. She never asked me if I was okay. Yeah, fuck her. 

Once the medical team brought Brian home and dropped him in what was essentially his prison cell, the daily care began. 

He had to be moved regularly to prevent bed sores, he had to be bathed, his vitals needed to be monitored. At least the benevolent insurance company agreed to cover in-home nursing. 

Now, you might think Brian’s stroke would make the divorce easier, but you’d be wrong. After all, a husband who can’t speak can’t say anything against you in court. 

But Sandy and Brian’s father Carl, would make sure he’d have an attorney who’d make me the villain. “My client,” the lawyer would say, “is a broken man. He’s unable to feed himself and work. He will likely be confined to his bed for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, his wife is healthy and receiving a steady paycheck."

And if the judge bought this shameless attempt for sympathy, I might be screwed beyond screwed. 

But Victoria had the photos, videos, and hospital records and I had the one thing they valued more than money: their name. 

Victoria explained to me that she had no intention of letting the case get into a courtroom. Instead, she’d simply sit across a conference table from Brian’s parents and their lawyer and methodically slide the evidence across the table. 

Once Sandy and Carl saw what their golden child had done to me, they’d have to make a decision. And while I knew Sandy had seen my bruises, it would be another thing entirely to sit and watch and hear her drunk son rape me. 

They could let me go quietly, no muss, no fuss, or they could watch as all of it was entered into evidence during a court proceeding. 

“And I’ll add,” Victoria said, “that though I’d advise her against it, I wouldn’t be able to prevent my client from sending copies of that evidence to your family and friends, neighbors, employers and God knows who else.” 

Yeah, I had definitely had the meanest attorney in town. 

We both knew what option Brian’s parents would choose. 

Be honest with yourself, if Brian was your kid, which one would you choose? 

Yeah, that’s what I thought. 

So everything was set up for me to walk away right then and there. My important stuff was out of the house and I’d moved my money. 

But I had a little parting gift I intended to give Brian before I left for good.

And then I finally caught a break that would allow me to put my place into motion.

Sandy would be gone for a night to attend the wedding of an old family friend.

So with Sandy out of the way the last hurdle was to get rid of Brian’s overnight nurse, Connie. 

Four nights later, I finally got my chance when Connie arrived promptly at ten, like always.

But I could tell something was off. She looked tired and worn and her almost impossibly chipper demeanor was nowhere to be found. 

“You okay, Connie?”

“Oh I’m all right, honey,” Connie said. “I didn’t get much sleep after last night’s shift. I came home to three sick kids and a sick husband.” 

This was my chance and probably the only one I’d get for a long time. 

“Take the night off,” I said. “I know the routine, everything will be fine.” 

“Honey, if I leave, they fire me,” Connie said. “Them’s the rules, as the saying goes.” 

“It’ll be our little secret,” I said. “Your family comes first. Go home and take care of them. I’ll handle everything here.” 

Connie opened her mouth to say something but then she hesitated. 

I had her. 

“Go home, get some rest, take care of that family,” I said. “You’ve more than earned a night off.” 

“I really shouldn’t.”

“The morning nurse will be here at six, but she’s always late,” I said. “When she gets here, I’ll tell her you already had to go. Nobody will be the wiser. Please Connie, I’d feel terrible knowing we were keeping you away from your sick kids.” 

She took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay, if you’re sure.” 

“I am.”

Once Connie’s car was down the driveway and out of sight, I got to work. 

Without bothering to look in on the piece of shit who’d soon be my ex-husband, I headed to my closet and got out my smallest and tightest black dress. I wiggled the dress over my white lace bra and underwear. I looked at myself in the mirror. 

The reflection told me that I was tiny, beautiful, and unbroken. 

And now it was time for revenge.

In a half-hour flat, my hair and makeup was done and I was ready to go. 

At the door, I yelled down the hallway, “See you in a bit, fuck face, I’m bringing home some entertainment later.” 

After a quick Uber ride, I strutted into the Portsider like I owned the place and went straight to the bar. God, it had been so long since I’d been in a bar. I savored the music and the noise and the hum of people laughing and enjoying themselves. 

None of these people must have a Brian in their lives, I thought.

After just a few sips of my Tanqueray and tonic, I spotted the one I wanted. 

He had on a hoodie from the local college, which meant he was younger than me, which was perfect because I wasn’t looking for any complications. 

He was great looking, more than six-feet tall and firm. I saw him glance over at me, his blue eyes twinkling a bit in light, and I smiled at him. 

That’s all it took. 

He walked over and introduced himself. His name was Jack and he was a sophomore econ major. 

Not that I gave a shit about his major or his future goals. I barely cared about his name. 

I needed Jack for one night’s work and then I’d never see him again. 

But I also intended to give him the kind of story he’d be telling his buddies for the rest of his life. 

After I felt like I’d feigned enough interest in his stories about school and golf and his frat, I put the next part of my plan into motion. 

“Do you think I could get a ride home?” 

Jack smiled down at me. “Sure, no problem” 

“Great, let’s get out of here.” 

As we walked out of the bar, I saw Jack turn and look at his friends with a shit-eating grin. 

We chatted a bit on the ride; nothing serious or all that interesting. Just the chatter that two strangers who know they’re about fuck have before the act takes place 

A few blocks from my place, I reach over and put my hand on Jack cock’s, rubbing it through his jeans. I could feel it getting hard through the denim. It was huge. 

While physical pleasure wasn’t part of my plan, I wasn’t opposed to it being a bonus to what was about to happen. 

Jack pulled into my driveway and turned off the car. 

“What next?” he said. 

“I think you know. Let’s go inside.” 

Inside, I turned on the living room light and told Jack to sit on the couch. 

As he sat watching me, I began stripping off my clothes.  

First the tight dress. 

Then the white lace bra. 

And finally down came the white lace underwear. 

Jack licked his lips. I could see his cock twitch through his jeans. 

“You like?” I said. 

“Very much,” he said. “You have an incredible body.” 

I blushed a bit, in spite of myself. It had been a very long time since a man had paid me a compliment. 

I walked over to the couch and took Jack by the hand. “Follow me.” 

That was all the prodding he needed. I led him into Brian’s room. Unfortunately, Brian was still alive. 

“Oh what the fuck!”

“Jack, this is Brian, my husband.” 

Jack pressed himself against the wall and stared at Brian. 

“Is he dead?” Jack whispered. 

“No, not yet,” I said. “More’s the pity.” 

Jack, still pressed firmly against the wall, began nudging himself toward the door.

“I need to get out of here,” he said. 

“He has a condition, it’s called locked-in syndrome,” I said. “He’s alive and awake and all that, but he can’t move. He’s trapped in his own body.” 

“Jesus …” 

“Yeah, pretty rough stuff,” I said. “But between you, me, and God, Jack, he’s getting exactly what he deserves.” 

“This is all too fucking weird,” Jack said. 

I smiled at him and then turned to head out of the room. “Let me show you something,” I said over my shoulder. 

I came back in with my folder full of photos of my bruised and battered body. 

“Take a look, college boy.” 

Jack opened the folder and shuffled through the photos. 

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who did this to you?” 

“He did,” I said, pointing at Brian. 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think, Jack? Because I deserved it or something? He did it because he’s an evil piece of shit. That folder is pretty mild, all things considered. I have lots of videos if you’d like to see me beaten up and raped.” 

He closed the folder and let out a sigh. “I don’t understand why I’m here and what you want from me.” 

“You’re the last part of my revenge plan, Jack.”

“Revenge?”

“That’s right. My lawyer and I have the divorce all set up. I’m actually leaving in the morning for good. But first, you’re going to help me leave my dear husband here with a little something to remember me by.” 

“Lady, I’m not killing anybody,” Brian said. 

“Oh no, no killing,” I said. “That would be too good for him. We’re going to torture his manhood … we’re going to show him what his body is never going to let him enjoy again … and I’m going to show him that I’m not his. Not anymore.” 

Brian shook his head. “I can’t be part of this … whatever this is.” 

I walked over to him and put my hand back on his bulge. “Do you like having your cock sucked?”

He stared down at me and then said, “Well, yeah.” 

I squeezed his bulge a little harder. “And do you like pussy?” 

“I love pussy,” he said. 

“I figured so,” I said. “All you have to do is let me suck that big cock of yours and then I want you to bend me over and fuck me, right in front of my husband.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You’re a good guy, right Jack?” 

“I think so … mostly.” 

“You’d never hit a woman?” 

“My mom would kill me if she found out I did something like that.” 

“And have you ever raped anyone?” 

“No way! I’ve only been with two people.” 

“And do you think a man who beats his wife, who beats her for years, should be punished?” 

“Fuck yeah, I do.” 

“And what do you think should happen to a man who rapes his wife? Who just comes home drunk and rapes her whenever he feels like it?” 

“He deserves to die, seriously.” 

“Well, we aren’t killing anyone, Jack. But fucking me while he watches will be enough punishment.”

I could still sense his apprehension. 

Time to take control. 

I walked over to Brian, turned his head so that he could see out into the room and said, “

Time for the show, dear husband.”

Turning my attention back to Jack, I slowly dropped to my knees. With shaky hands, I unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. 

I pulled them down his legs and then off him. I did the same for his boxers. 

Then I took in the huge, thick cock that was practically poking me in the face. 

“Very impressive,” I said. “Look at how much bigger his cock is than yours, Brian.” 

I wrapped my lips around the tip and sucked. 

“Oh fuck yes,” Jack groaned. 

Jack’s cock really was huge, especially compared to Brian’s I’d say in the range of eight inches and insanely thick. 

I worked to get more and more of it in my mouth and down my throat. I have to admit that I loved the way a huge, young cock felt in my mouth, especially after everything Brian had put me through. 

It wasn’t long before Brian’s cock was shimmering from my saliva. I was getting into it and

Jack certainly was too. 

My head was bobbing up and down his thick shaft, taking as much as I could down my throat. Which admittedly wasn’t much but I definitely deserved an A for effort. My choking and gagging sounds filled the entire room. 

Taking Jack’s cock out of my mouth, I said to Brian, “Do you like watching me suck another man’s cock, you fucking pig? It’s been so long since I’ve had any fun giving head.” 

I put Jack’s cock back in my mouth while thinking about the rage that must be going through Brian’s mind. Watching his wife blowing another man. Knowing that he was powerless to stop it. 

Those thoughts seemed to push me to an almost manic level of lust. I forced myself to take more cock down my throat. For once, the hot tears rushing down my face were from something I wanted, not from something terrible happening to me. 

While sucking, I gently caressed Jack’s balls with my fingertips, producing a shudder and another deep groan of pleasure. 

A few seconds later, he grabbed the back of my head hard, holding me in place. I maneuvered his cock out of my throat so that he was only in my mouth.

And then he began cumming. The hot, thick liquid bounced off my tongue and teeth and the lining of my cheeks. I made sure that I didn’t swallow so much as a drop. 

Oh, I was definitely going to swallow that hot load, but not right away. 

Jack let out a loud moan and yelled, “Fuck yes … that was good.” 

Clearly, any hang ups Jack had about having some fun in front of my kind-of dead husband had evaporated. 

I took Jack’s softening cock out of my mouth, got up off my knees, and walked over to Brian and opened my mouth. 

Holding my mouth open in front of his eyes, I knew he could see just how full of cum my mouth really was. 

I closed my mouth and swallowed everything in one big gulp. I licked my lips and smiled at Brian. 

“Did you see how much cum that was, husband? It was delicious; so much better than that nasty shit you used to force me to swallow.” 

I’d describe the look on Jack’s face as a mix of horror and delight. He knew he was participating in something almost impossibly weird. A woman sucking his cock while her incapacitated husband? But it was exciting all the same. 

“Time for chapter two,” I announced while I pulled the bedside table next to Brian’s bed.

Then I jumped on top of it. The height of the table perfectly matched the height of the bed, which meant my body was mere inches from Brian’s body. 

I leaned back against the wall, put my feet up on the table and said to Jack, “Time to eat some pussy.” 

His eyes lit up and he came to me immediately. He dropped to his knees and immediately put his tongue against my slit. 

My first thought was that this must be what it feels like to be electrocuted. My body twitched and shivered. I made noises that I was sure I’d never made before.

My pussy practically gushed against Jack’s face as he slowly, methodically, and perfectly ran his tongue up and down my slit while teasing my clit with his strong fingers. 

I grabbed two fistfuls of Jack’s hair and forced his face down onto my pussy. Feeling him alternate between licking me and filling me with his tongue was absolute heaven.

I looked at Brian. “Can you smell my pussy, husband? Doesn’t it smell hot? Too bad you’ll never taste my pussy again .. or any pussy.” 

Jack laughed into my cunt. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. 
“Make me cum, college boy.” 

Hearing that, he absolutely went to town on me. He spread my snatch open with his fingers and worked his tongue into the deepest parts of me. He licked and softly bit my pussy lips. He sucked in my clit. 

I don’t know who his cunnilingus coach was, but I hope I can meet them and say thanks some day.

When he put two fingers in my pussy and his tongue in my asshole, I lost it. 

“Motherfucker!” I screamed. 

The orgasm hit me like a wave pushing me under the water. My body shook and waved and rolled while I held his face against my pussy. 

Once I was done cumming, I looked down at Jack and took in the sight of his face shining with my wetness. 

I was very pleased with myself. 

And kudos to Jack, too.

“You taste so fucking good,” Jack said. 

“You hear that Brian? The young man here says my pussy tastes great … it must feel terrible to know you’ll never lick a pussy again.” 

Jack shook his head. “This is all so weird.” 

I reached down and took his limp cock in my hand. “We’re not done just yet Jackie boy.” 

Dropping to my knees I began licking Jack’s balls while slowly stroking his cock. Once I start sucking his balls, one at a time, between my lips, I could feel his cock rising to attention. 

Once he was hard and ready to go, I said to him, “Ready to stretch my pussy out?” 

“Fuck yes,” he said. 

I put my hands on the edge of Brian’s bed and bent over, presenting my pussy to Jack so he could fill it up. I put my nose against Brian’s nose. “Ready to watch me get fucked, husband?” 

Brian’s eyes stared at me, alert but powerless. 

I could feel Jack rubbing the head of his cock up and down my excited little cunt. Then he began filling me up. 

“His cock is so much bigger than yours,” I said into Brian’s face. “I’ve never had anything so much, it’s stretching me out so much.” 

Jack slowly, centimeter by centimeter, filled my entire dripping pussy with his scorching thickness.

“Jesus fuck!” I screamed. 

“I’m so glad you had that stroke, you pieces of shit,” I said to Brian. “Now I can get new cock whenever I want it while you lie there in a diaper for the rest of your miserable life.” 

Jack had a vice grip on my hips as he pounded me up and down his frat boy prick. He’d push me forward until the tip was barely inside me and then he’d slam me all the way down, hammering the love of God out of me. 

“I never even imagined getting fucked like this,” I whispered at Brian. “It’s so fucking good.”

I felt tears well up in my eyes as my orgasm drew close. I bent forward even more, pressing my face against Brian’s bed and pushing my ass higher into the air. 

Jack then brought a hand down on my ass, slapping it hard over and over.

“FUCK,” I screamed as I started cumming. 

Had Brian not still been gripping my hips, I could have fallen over. My whole body shook and I couldn’t open my eyes. I felt my pussy gushing fresh wetness around Jack’s pulsating cock. 

For the next thirty seconds, Jack fucked me so hard I thought my soul was going to leave my body. 

“I’m close,” Jack muttered, more to himself than me. 

That was all I needed to hear. 

I pushed myself forward until his cock fell out of me and then in one quick move, I put my hand around his cock and pulled him close to Brian. 

With a few quick, hard strokes, Jack closed his eyes and began groaning. 

I pointed his cock at Brian’s face and kept stroking as he started cumming. Shot after shot landed on Brian’s face. It covered his forehead, cheeks, and nose. 

Jack opened his eyes, looked down at Brian’s cum-covered face, and said, “This is so fucked up.” 

I put a hand on Jack’s cheek and smiled at him. “That was the best sex of my life. Now get your clothes on and get out of my house.” 

Jack didn’t need much motivation. He got dressed quickly and headed to the door. 

Before leaving he turned to me and said, “Can I call you?” 

“No, one time only. Get out.” 

Without another word, Jack left. 

I went back into Brian bedroom and walked up to him.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

No response, obviously. 

“My little prisoner … Brian, you just watched me get fucked my another man. That makes you a cuck. Brian the cuck.”

I laughed and laughed. It was cathartic. One chapter was ending and another was just beginning. 

It was after three a.m. when Jack left so I had less than three hours to kill before the night morning nurse arrived. I tidied up Brian’s room, putting everything back in order. 

But I didn’t clean Jack’s cum off his face. 

I made myself some coffee and breakfast and took a final walk around the house to make sure there wasn’t anything incriminating lying around. 

Finally, shortly before six, I ran a wash cloth under the bathroom sink and went into Brian’s room. 

“Unfortunately, I have to clean the cum off your face. I don’t want to raise any suspicions now do I, Brian?” 

It took less than a minute to clean the bastard’s face off. 

“That’s that then, Brian. I won. I just got fucked while making you watch the entire thing. You rapist fuck face. Now I’m leaving and you’ll never see me again. Enjoy this little prison of yours. Please don’t die too soon. I want you to suffer for a long, long time.” 

I heard Sarah the morning nurse unlock the front door and come in. I walked into the living room to greet her. 

“Good morning,” I said. “We have a very uneventful night around here. Now I’m off to work early.” 

She smiled and hung her coat up. “Sounds good, have a great day. He’s in good hands.” 

I went out to my car and stared at the house as I backed down the driveway. I knew this was the last time I’d see it. Happy tears ran down my cheeks and splashed onto my lap. 

At the first stop sign, I texted Victoria: “Just left for good. Never going back. Let’s go.” 

Within seconds she responded with, “I got this. Go live your life.” 

I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and then hit the gas, accelerating down the street and into my new life. 

On the day the process server was going to hand my scumbag husband Brian divorce papers, I got a call from one of his co-workers that he’d collapsed at work and was on his way to the emergency room.

How’s that for luck? I mean my luck, by the way, not his.

I left my office and headed to the hospital because what else was I going to do? 

In the parking lot, I used the rear view to practice my sad face.

“Here’s hoping he’s dead,” I said into the mirror before getting out of the car.

Alas, no such luck.

A beefy nurse with a wispy mustache and mustard breath explained to me that my dear husband had suffered what’s called a brainstem stroke.

I’d never heard of it before but here it was blowing up my best laid plans.

“They don’t happen much, especially at his age,” the nurse said. “But these things do happen.”

According to a different nurse, one without a mustache or condiment breath, Brian filling
up his coffee mug in his office’s kitchen and talking about fantasy football when boom, down he went.

His face was all bruised because he hit the floor at full speed without breaking his fall.

Honestly, I felt worse for whoever had to clean up the spilled coffee than I did for Brian.

After four days, Brian’s sedation was slowly lifted but he remained completely unresponsive, or so the army of doctors and nurses thought. But one afternoon, an
intern noticed a brief flash of eye movement.

Like the cockroach he is, Brian refused to die.

The eagle-eyed intern’s discovery led to more tests, more poking, and more prodding.

And then, finally, a diagnosis of locked-in syndrome.

If you’re keeping score, that’s two medical diagnoses I’d never heard of until my slap-happy husband hit the floor face first.

As doctor after doctor told me, all this meant that Brian was now a prisoner in his own body. His brain (or what passed for his brain) was still chugging away with complete awareness.

Isn’t it really kind of funny?

I mean there he was, lying in a hospital bed with the normal human range of needs and wants and frustrations. But his body wouldn’t let him do a damn thing about it.

When I was sure nobody could see me or hear me, I’d let myself have a little laugh right in Brian’s face.

“My, my, my, this is quite the sticky wicket you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it?” I whispered into his ear one afternoon when we were alone. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to take care of you, mister. I’m as good as gone and guess what? … You won’t be
able to chase me.”

While I’d wished Brian dead thousands of times, the pure deliciousness of just knowing that his living brain was stuck inside his dead body was almost enough to make believe in a just and benevolent god.

Let me give you a little backstory, because right now, I’m probably coming across as a complete psychopath. Or would it be sociopath? I can never keep them straight.

Brian and I got together during our sophomore year of college and got married just a few months after we graduated. He was loud and fun and gregarious. Back then, his plan was to go to law school.

Instead, he’d settled into a mid-level sales job and got increasingly lazy and fat.

As for the abuse, it started as soon as we were back from our Costa Rican honeymoon.

He’d backhand me for raising my voice or for not talking loudly enough. He’d kick me or slam me to the floor for leaving a glass on the counter or for taking too long in the shower and “using up all the goddamn fucking hot water.”

I never fought back or told anyone. Not even my mom or sisters or best friends. After a while, I didn’t even cry anymore. I guess I just accepted that this was my life now.

This was the worst part of the whole for better or worse thing.

As bad as the daily abuse was, things got even worse about three years into our marriage when Brian’s drinking got completely out of control. 

Every night, and I mean EVERY night, he’d come home stinking drunk from the bar around midnight and just knock the absolute hell out of me.

He’d throw me across rooms and down hallways by the hair and he’d wrap his hand around my throat and then shove me backward down the stairs.

Sounds pretty bad, right?

Now add to your mental picture that I’m barely five feet tall and a hundred pounds while Brian is six-three and like two-fifty.

He could make me fly like I was nothing more than a toy thrown during a toddler’s tantrum.

Even with the drinking, nothing set Brian off more than the fact that I hadn’t gotten pregnant
yet.

Before getting married, we’d made it clear to each other that we wanted a bunch of
kids.

But there was no fucking way I was going to bring a baby into this madness.

I secretly kept myself on the same birth control I’d been on since my junior year of high school while swearing up and down to Brian that I wasn’t on anything.

By this point, I’d gotten really good at keeping secrets, so I started keeping another one.

On the worst nights, once Brian had passed out or stumbled back out the front door and driven away, I’d quickly lock myself in the bathroom and take photos and videos of what he’d done to me.

I documented every bruise and welt and made sure each picture and video was stamped with the date and time and then backed them up in an account he didn’t know existed.

The handful of times he hurt me badly enough that I had to go to a doctor, I told them that I’d fallen down the stairs or had gotten into a drunken fight with a friend.

Then I’d watch as a nurse or doctor jotted down what I was saying, clearly not believing a word of it.

My medical records would pair nicely with the hundreds of photos and hours of video I’d already squirreled away.

I had a mountain of evidence just waiting to be turned into an avalanche.

At this point, you’d be right to ask why I stuck around. Why didn’t I just leave the first time he put his hands on me? Honestly, I don’t have a great answer.

Maybe I didn’t want to admit that I’d chosen the wrong person.

Maybe I was scared about not having enough money to get my own place.

Maybe I thought I didn’t deserve anything better.

Like I said, I just don’t have a good answer for you.

But eventually, Brian grew so angry that I hadn’t gotten pregnant, that he’d rape me whenever he was in the mood.

He’d rip my clothes off, bend me over, and fuck me before I was ready, which was both humiliating and horrifically painful. 

Then when he was finished, he’d pull out of me without saying a word, and then pull up his pants and head out to meet his friends at the bar. 

But thanks to a chlamydia diagnosis I figured out he wasn’t always going out to meet his friends. 

Rapes, beatings, and STIs. I was a very lucky girl, wasn’t I? 

Finally, one night, he came home in a mood and I could tell that trouble was brewing. I hid my phone behind the side lamp, propping it up so the camera was pointed at the bed.

It was time for that mountain of evidence to become an avalanche. 

Three days after that rape, I turned thirty (Brian forgot), and as a birthday present to myself I met with Victoria Walker, who I was told was the best and meanest divorce attorney in the city. 

After I told Victoria my story, I laid the photos of my injuries out across her desk, slid over my medical records, and then played her thirty seconds of that recording. 

Victoria leaned back in her very expensive looking leather chair and stared at me for several seconds without saying a word. Then she smiled at me.

“Honey, we’re going to absolutely gut this motherfucker.” 

Happy birthday to me. 

But then the bastard went and had a stroke. 

Shortly after getting to the emergency room, I snuck away and called Victoria to fill her in on what had happened. 

She told me to begin moving things out of the house and then to move half the money in our joint banking into my personal account.

Luckily for me, Brian had his own health coverage through his company, and I had my own coverage through the nonprofit I worked for as a corporate fundraiser. 

Victoria assured me that she could keep Brian’s medical bills, which would be in the millions, off my back. 

Since his stroke, Brian had been on a ventilator. And while the doctors explained that he could eventually live at home while on one, his insurance company basically said they’d let him die before they covered the cost. 

So before he could be discharged, he’d have to be able to breathe on his own. 

After two months, his doctors decided it was time to try. I leaned against the wall, watching, silently hoping he’d die as soon as they pulled the tube out of his mouth. 

But, of course, he started breathing after just a few seconds. 

Brian’s mom, Sandy, quickly got to work turning our guest room into Brian’s new home. 

“Everything will be good when we get him home,” she said to me one afternoon. “I just know it.” 

In no time, the guest room was bursting at the seams with medical equipment, golf-inspired art, and a huge flatscreen TV. 

The only thing it was missing was a keg. But I guess an alcoholic wife-beater can’t have everything. 

During Brian’s hospital stay, I tried to interact as little as possible with Sandy because I knew she was aware of what Brian had done to me. I’d seen her eyes linger for an extra second or two on my latest bruise and violent red mark. 

She never offered to intervene. She never asked me if I was okay. Yeah, fuck her. 

Once the medical team brought Brian home and dropped him in what was essentially his prison cell, the daily care began. 

He had to be moved regularly to prevent bed sores, he had to be bathed, his vitals needed to be monitored. At least the benevolent insurance company agreed to cover in-home nursing. 

Now, you might think Brian’s stroke would make the divorce easier, but you’d be wrong. After all, a husband who can’t speak can’t say anything against you in court. 

But Sandy and Brian’s father Carl, would make sure he’d have an attorney who’d make me the villain. “My client,” the lawyer would say, “is a broken man. He’s unable to feed himself and work. He will likely be confined to his bed for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, his wife is healthy and receiving a steady paycheck."

And if the judge bought this shameless attempt for sympathy, I might be screwed beyond screwed. 

But Victoria had the photos, videos, and hospital records and I had the one thing they valued more than money: their name. 

Victoria explained to me that she had no intention of letting the case get into a courtroom. Instead, she’d simply sit across a conference table from Brian’s parents and their lawyer and methodically slide the evidence across the table. 

Once Sandy and Carl saw what their golden child had done to me, they’d have to make a decision. And while I knew Sandy had seen my bruises, it would be another thing entirely to sit and watch and hear her drunk son rape me. 

They could let me go quietly, no muss, no fuss, or they could watch as all of it was entered into evidence during a court proceeding. 

“And I’ll add,” Victoria said, “that though I’d advise her against it, I wouldn’t be able to prevent my client from sending copies of that evidence to your family and friends, neighbors, employers and God knows who else.” 

Yeah, I had definitely had the meanest attorney in town. 

We both knew what option Brian’s parents would choose. 

Be honest with yourself, if Brian was your kid, which one would you choose? 

Yeah, that’s what I thought. 

So everything was set up for me to walk away right then and there. My important stuff was out of the house and I’d moved my money. 

But I had a little parting gift I intended to give Brian before I left for good.

And then I finally caught a break that would allow me to put my place into motion.

Sandy would be gone for a night to attend the wedding of an old family friend.

So with Sandy out of the way the last hurdle was to get rid of Brian’s overnight nurse, Connie. 

Four nights later, I finally got my chance when Connie arrived promptly at ten, like always.

But I could tell something was off. She looked tired and worn and her almost impossibly chipper demeanor was nowhere to be found. 

“You okay, Connie?”

“Oh I’m all right, honey,” Connie said. “I didn’t get much sleep after last night’s shift. I came home to three sick kids and a sick husband.” 

This was my chance and probably the only one I’d get for a long time. 

“Take the night off,” I said. “I know the routine, everything will be fine.” 

“Honey, if I leave, they fire me,” Connie said. “Them’s the rules, as the saying goes.” 

“It’ll be our little secret,” I said. “Your family comes first. Go home and take care of them. I’ll handle everything here.” 

Connie opened her mouth to say something but then she hesitated. 

I had her. 

“Go home, get some rest, take care of that family,” I said. “You’ve more than earned a night off.” 

“I really shouldn’t.”

“The morning nurse will be here at six, but she’s always late,” I said. “When she gets here, I’ll tell her you already had to go. Nobody will be the wiser. Please Connie, I’d feel terrible knowing we were keeping you away from your sick kids.” 

She took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay, if you’re sure.” 

“I am.”

Once Connie’s car was down the driveway and out of sight, I got to work. 

Without bothering to look in on the piece of shit who’d soon be my ex-husband, I headed to my closet and got out my smallest and tightest black dress. I wiggled the dress over my white lace bra and underwear. I looked at myself in the mirror. 

The reflection told me that I was tiny, beautiful, and unbroken. 

And now it was time for revenge.

In a half-hour flat, my hair and makeup was done and I was ready to go. 

At the door, I yelled down the hallway, “See you in a bit, fuck face, I’m bringing home some entertainment later.” 

After a quick Uber ride, I strutted into the Portsider like I owned the place and went straight to the bar. God, it had been so long since I’d been in a bar. I savored the music and the noise and the hum of people laughing and enjoying themselves. 

None of these people must have a Brian in their lives, I thought.

After just a few sips of my Tanqueray and tonic, I spotted the one I wanted. 

He had on a hoodie from the local college, which meant he was younger than me, which was perfect because I wasn’t looking for any complications. 

He was great looking, more than six-feet tall and firm. I saw him glance over at me, his blue eyes twinkling a bit in light, and I smiled at him. 

That’s all it took. 

He walked over and introduced himself. His name was Jack and he was a sophomore econ major. 

Not that I gave a shit about his major or his future goals. I barely cared about his name. 

I needed Jack for one night’s work and then I’d never see him again. 

But I also intended to give him the kind of story he’d be telling his buddies for the rest of his life. 

After I felt like I’d feigned enough interest in his stories about school and golf and his frat, I put the next part of my plan into motion. 

“Do you think I could get a ride home?” 

Jack smiled down at me. “Sure, no problem” 

“Great, let’s get out of here.” 

As we walked out of the bar, I saw Jack turn and look at his friends with a shit-eating grin. 

We chatted a bit on the ride; nothing serious or all that interesting. Just the chatter that two strangers who know they’re about fuck have before the act takes place 

A few blocks from my place, I reach over and put my hand on Jack cock’s, rubbing it through his jeans. I could feel it getting hard through the denim. It was huge. 

While physical pleasure wasn’t part of my plan, I wasn’t opposed to it being a bonus to what was about to happen. 

Jack pulled into my driveway and turned off the car. 

“What next?” he said. 

“I think you know. Let’s go inside.” 

Inside, I turned on the living room light and told Jack to sit on the couch. 

As he sat watching me, I began stripping off my clothes.  

First the tight dress. 

Then the white lace bra. 

And finally down came the white lace underwear. 

Jack licked his lips. I could see his cock twitch through his jeans. 

“You like?” I said. 

“Very much,” he said. “You have an incredible body.” 

I blushed a bit, in spite of myself. It had been a very long time since a man had paid me a compliment. 

I walked over to the couch and took Jack by the hand. “Follow me.” 

That was all the prodding he needed. I led him into Brian’s room. Unfortunately, Brian was still alive. 

“Oh what the fuck!”

“Jack, this is Brian, my husband.” 

Jack pressed himself against the wall and stared at Brian. 

“Is he dead?” Jack whispered. 

“No, not yet,” I said. “More’s the pity.” 

Jack, still pressed firmly against the wall, began nudging himself toward the door.

“I need to get out of here,” he said. 

“He has a condition, it’s called locked-in syndrome,” I said. “He’s alive and awake and all that, but he can’t move. He’s trapped in his own body.” 

“Jesus …” 

“Yeah, pretty rough stuff,” I said. “But between you, me, and God, Jack, he’s getting exactly what he deserves.” 

“This is all too fucking weird,” Jack said. 

I smiled at him and then turned to head out of the room. “Let me show you something,” I said over my shoulder. 

I came back in with my folder full of photos of my bruised and battered body. 

“Take a look, college boy.” 

Jack opened the folder and shuffled through the photos. 

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who did this to you?” 

“He did,” I said, pointing at Brian. 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think, Jack? Because I deserved it or something? He did it because he’s an evil piece of shit. That folder is pretty mild, all things considered. I have lots of videos if you’d like to see me beaten up and raped.” 

He closed the folder and let out a sigh. “I don’t understand why I’m here and what you want from me.” 

“You’re the last part of my revenge plan, Jack.”

“Revenge?”

“That’s right. My lawyer and I have the divorce all set up. I’m actually leaving in the morning for good. But first, you’re going to help me leave my dear husband here with a little something to remember me by.” 

“Lady, I’m not killing anybody,” Brian said. 

“Oh no, no killing,” I said. “That would be too good for him. We’re going to torture his manhood … we’re going to show him what his body is never going to let him enjoy again … and I’m going to show him that I’m not his. Not anymore.” 

Brian shook his head. “I can’t be part of this … whatever this is.” 

I walked over to him and put my hand back on his bulge. “Do you like having your cock sucked?”

He stared down at me and then said, “Well, yeah.” 

I squeezed his bulge a little harder. “And do you like pussy?” 

“I love pussy,” he said. 

“I figured so,” I said. “All you have to do is let me suck that big cock of yours and then I want you to bend me over and fuck me, right in front of my husband.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You’re a good guy, right Jack?” 

“I think so … mostly.” 

“You’d never hit a woman?” 

“My mom would kill me if she found out I did something like that.” 

“And have you ever raped anyone?” 

“No way! I’ve only been with two people.” 

“And do you think a man who beats his wife, who beats her for years, should be punished?” 

“Fuck yeah, I do.” 

“And what do you think should happen to a man who rapes his wife? Who just comes home drunk and rapes her whenever he feels like it?” 

“He deserves to die, seriously.” 

“Well, we aren’t killing anyone, Jack. But fucking me while he watches will be enough punishment.”

I could still sense his apprehension. 

Time to take control. 

I walked over to Brian, turned his head so that he could see out into the room and said, “

Time for the show, dear husband.”

Turning my attention back to Jack, I slowly dropped to my knees. With shaky hands, I unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. 

I pulled them down his legs and then off him. I did the same for his boxers. 

Then I took in the huge, thick cock that was practically poking me in the face. 

“Very impressive,” I said. “Look at how much bigger his cock is than yours, Brian.” 

I wrapped my lips around the tip and sucked. 

“Oh fuck yes,” Jack groaned. 

Jack’s cock really was huge, especially compared to Brian’s I’d say in the range of eight inches and insanely thick. 

I worked to get more and more of it in my mouth and down my throat. I have to admit that I loved the way a huge, young cock felt in my mouth, especially after everything Brian had put me through. 

It wasn’t long before Brian’s cock was shimmering from my saliva. I was getting into it and

Jack certainly was too. 

My head was bobbing up and down his thick shaft, taking as much as I could down my throat. Which admittedly wasn’t much but I definitely deserved an A for effort. My choking and gagging sounds filled the entire room. 

Taking Jack’s cock out of my mouth, I said to Brian, “Do you like watching me suck another man’s cock, you fucking pig? It’s been so long since I’ve had any fun giving head.” 

I put Jack’s cock back in my mouth while thinking about the rage that must be going through Brian’s mind. Watching his wife blowing another man. Knowing that he was powerless to stop it. 

Those thoughts seemed to push me to an almost manic level of lust. I forced myself to take more cock down my throat. For once, the hot tears rushing down my face were from something I wanted, not from something terrible happening to me. 

While sucking, I gently caressed Jack’s balls with my fingertips, producing a shudder and another deep groan of pleasure. 

A few seconds later, he grabbed the back of my head hard, holding me in place. I maneuvered his cock out of my throat so that he was only in my mouth.

And then he began cumming. The hot, thick liquid bounced off my tongue and teeth and the lining of my cheeks. I made sure that I didn’t swallow so much as a drop. 

Oh, I was definitely going to swallow that hot load, but not right away. 

Jack let out a loud moan and yelled, “Fuck yes … that was good.” 

Clearly, any hang ups Jack had about having some fun in front of my kind-of dead husband had evaporated. 

I took Jack’s softening cock out of my mouth, got up off my knees, and walked over to Brian and opened my mouth. 

Holding my mouth open in front of his eyes, I knew he could see just how full of cum my mouth really was. 

I closed my mouth and swallowed everything in one big gulp. I licked my lips and smiled at Brian. 

“Did you see how much cum that was, husband? It was delicious; so much better than that nasty shit you used to force me to swallow.” 

I’d describe the look on Jack’s face as a mix of horror and delight. He knew he was participating in something almost impossibly weird. A woman sucking his cock while her incapacitated husband? But it was exciting all the same. 

“Time for chapter two,” I announced while I pulled the bedside table next to Brian’s bed.

Then I jumped on top of it. The height of the table perfectly matched the height of the bed, which meant my body was mere inches from Brian’s body. 

I leaned back against the wall, put my feet up on the table and said to Jack, “Time to eat some pussy.” 

His eyes lit up and he came to me immediately. He dropped to his knees and immediately put his tongue against my slit. 

My first thought was that this must be what it feels like to be electrocuted. My body twitched and shivered. I made noises that I was sure I’d never made before.

My pussy practically gushed against Jack’s face as he slowly, methodically, and perfectly ran his tongue up and down my slit while teasing my clit with his strong fingers. 

I grabbed two fistfuls of Jack’s hair and forced his face down onto my pussy. Feeling him alternate between licking me and filling me with his tongue was absolute heaven.

I looked at Brian. “Can you smell my pussy, husband? Doesn’t it smell hot? Too bad you’ll never taste my pussy again .. or any pussy.” 

Jack laughed into my cunt. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. 
“Make me cum, college boy.” 

Hearing that, he absolutely went to town on me. He spread my snatch open with his fingers and worked his tongue into the deepest parts of me. He licked and softly bit my pussy lips. He sucked in my clit. 

I don’t know who his cunnilingus coach was, but I hope I can meet them and say thanks some day.

When he put two fingers in my pussy and his tongue in my asshole, I lost it. 

“Motherfucker!” I screamed. 

The orgasm hit me like a wave pushing me under the water. My body shook and waved and rolled while I held his face against my pussy. 

Once I was done cumming, I looked down at Jack and took in the sight of his face shining with my wetness. 

I was very pleased with myself. 

And kudos to Jack, too.

“You taste so fucking good,” Jack said. 

“You hear that Brian? The young man here says my pussy tastes great … it must feel terrible to know you’ll never lick a pussy again.” 

Jack shook his head. “This is all so weird.” 

I reached down and took his limp cock in my hand. “We’re not done just yet Jackie boy.” 

Dropping to my knees I began licking Jack’s balls while slowly stroking his cock. Once I start sucking his balls, one at a time, between my lips, I could feel his cock rising to attention. 

Once he was hard and ready to go, I said to him, “Ready to stretch my pussy out?” 

“Fuck yes,” he said. 

I put my hands on the edge of Brian’s bed and bent over, presenting my pussy to Jack so he could fill it up. I put my nose against Brian’s nose. “Ready to watch me get fucked, husband?” 

Brian’s eyes stared at me, alert but powerless. 

I could feel Jack rubbing the head of his cock up and down my excited little cunt. Then he began filling me up. 

“His cock is so much bigger than yours,” I said into Brian’s face. “I’ve never had anything so much, it’s stretching me out so much.” 

Jack slowly, centimeter by centimeter, filled my entire dripping pussy with his scorching thickness.

“Jesus fuck!” I screamed. 

“I’m so glad you had that stroke, you pieces of shit,” I said to Brian. “Now I can get new cock whenever I want it while you lie there in a diaper for the rest of your miserable life.” 

Jack had a vice grip on my hips as he pounded me up and down his frat boy prick. He’d push me forward until the tip was barely inside me and then he’d slam me all the way down, hammering the love of God out of me. 

“I never even imagined getting fucked like this,” I whispered at Brian. “It’s so fucking good.”

I felt tears well up in my eyes as my orgasm drew close. I bent forward even more, pressing my face against Brian’s bed and pushing my ass higher into the air. 

Jack then brought a hand down on my ass, slapping it hard over and over.

“FUCK,” I screamed as I started cumming. 

Had Brian not still been gripping my hips, I could have fallen over. My whole body shook and I couldn’t open my eyes. I felt my pussy gushing fresh wetness around Jack’s pulsating cock. 

For the next thirty seconds, Jack fucked me so hard I thought my soul was going to leave my body. 

“I’m close,” Jack muttered, more to himself than me. 

That was all I needed to hear. 

I pushed myself forward until his cock fell out of me and then in one quick move, I put my hand around his cock and pulled him close to Brian. 

With a few quick, hard strokes, Jack closed his eyes and began groaning. 

I pointed his cock at Brian’s face and kept stroking as he started cumming. Shot after shot landed on Brian’s face. It covered his forehead, cheeks, and nose. 

Jack opened his eyes, looked down at Brian’s cum-covered face, and said, “This is so fucked up.” 

I put a hand on Jack’s cheek and smiled at him. “That was the best sex of my life. Now get your clothes on and get out of my house.” 

Jack didn’t need much motivation. He got dressed quickly and headed to the door. 

Before leaving he turned to me and said, “Can I call you?” 

“No, one time only. Get out.” 

Without another word, Jack left. 

I went back into Brian bedroom and walked up to him.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

No response, obviously. 

“My little prisoner … Brian, you just watched me get fucked my another man. That makes you a cuck. Brian the cuck.”

I laughed and laughed. It was cathartic. One chapter was ending and another was just beginning. 

It was after three a.m. when Jack left so I had less than three hours to kill before the night morning nurse arrived. I tidied up Brian’s room, putting everything back in order. 

But I didn’t clean Jack’s cum off his face. 

I made myself some coffee and breakfast and took a final walk around the house to make sure there wasn’t anything incriminating lying around. 

Finally, shortly before six, I ran a wash cloth under the bathroom sink and went into Brian’s room. 

“Unfortunately, I have to clean the cum off your face. I don’t want to raise any suspicions now do I, Brian?” 

It took less than a minute to clean the bastard’s face off. 

“That’s that then, Brian. I won. I just got fucked while making you watch the entire thing. You rapist fuck face. Now I’m leaving and you’ll never see me again. Enjoy this little prison of yours. Please don’t die too soon. I want you to suffer for a long, long time.” 

I heard Sarah the morning nurse unlock the front door and come in. I walked into the living room to greet her. 

“Good morning,” I said. “We have a very uneventful night around here. Now I’m off to work early.” 

She smiled and hung her coat up. “Sounds good, have a great day. He’s in good hands.” 

I went out to my car and stared at the house as I backed down the driveway. I knew this was the last time I’d see it. Happy tears ran down my cheeks and splashed onto my lap. 

At the first stop sign, I texted Victoria: “Just left for good. Never going back. Let’s go.” 

Within seconds she responded with, “I got this. Go live your life.” 

I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and then hit the gas, accelerating down the street and into my new life. 

On the day the process server was going to hand my scumbag husband Brian divorce papers, I got a call from one of his co-workers that he’d collapsed at work and was on his way to the emergency room.

How’s that for luck? I mean my luck, by the way, not his.

I left my office and headed to the hospital because what else was I going to do? 

In the parking lot, I used the rear view to practice my sad face.

“Here’s hoping he’s dead,” I said into the mirror before getting out of the car.

Alas, no such luck.

A beefy nurse with a wispy mustache and mustard breath explained to me that my dear husband had suffered what’s called a brainstem stroke.

I’d never heard of it before but here it was blowing up my best laid plans.

“They don’t happen much, especially at his age,” the nurse said. “But these things do happen.”

According to a different nurse, one without a mustache or condiment breath, Brian filling
up his coffee mug in his office’s kitchen and talking about fantasy football when boom, down he went.

His face was all bruised because he hit the floor at full speed without breaking his fall.

Honestly, I felt worse for whoever had to clean up the spilled coffee than I did for Brian.

After four days, Brian’s sedation was slowly lifted but he remained completely unresponsive, or so the army of doctors and nurses thought. But one afternoon, an
intern noticed a brief flash of eye movement.

Like the cockroach he is, Brian refused to die.

The eagle-eyed intern’s discovery led to more tests, more poking, and more prodding.

And then, finally, a diagnosis of locked-in syndrome.

If you’re keeping score, that’s two medical diagnoses I’d never heard of until my slap-happy husband hit the floor face first.

As doctor after doctor told me, all this meant that Brian was now a prisoner in his own body. His brain (or what passed for his brain) was still chugging away with complete awareness.

Isn’t it really kind of funny?

I mean there he was, lying in a hospital bed with the normal human range of needs and wants and frustrations. But his body wouldn’t let him do a damn thing about it.

When I was sure nobody could see me or hear me, I’d let myself have a little laugh right in Brian’s face.

“My, my, my, this is quite the sticky wicket you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it?” I whispered into his ear one afternoon when we were alone. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to take care of you, mister. I’m as good as gone and guess what? … You won’t be
able to chase me.”

While I’d wished Brian dead thousands of times, the pure deliciousness of just knowing that his living brain was stuck inside his dead body was almost enough to make believe in a just and benevolent god.

Let me give you a little backstory, because right now, I’m probably coming across as a complete psychopath. Or would it be sociopath? I can never keep them straight.

Brian and I got together during our sophomore year of college and got married just a few months after we graduated. He was loud and fun and gregarious. Back then, his plan was to go to law school.

Instead, he’d settled into a mid-level sales job and got increasingly lazy and fat.

As for the abuse, it started as soon as we were back from our Costa Rican honeymoon.

He’d backhand me for raising my voice or for not talking loudly enough. He’d kick me or slam me to the floor for leaving a glass on the counter or for taking too long in the shower and “using up all the goddamn fucking hot water.”

I never fought back or told anyone. Not even my mom or sisters or best friends. After a while, I didn’t even cry anymore. I guess I just accepted that this was my life now.

This was the worst part of the whole for better or worse thing.

As bad as the daily abuse was, things got even worse about three years into our marriage when Brian’s drinking got completely out of control. 

Every night, and I mean EVERY night, he’d come home stinking drunk from the bar around midnight and just knock the absolute hell out of me.

He’d throw me across rooms and down hallways by the hair and he’d wrap his hand around my throat and then shove me backward down the stairs.

Sounds pretty bad, right?

Now add to your mental picture that I’m barely five feet tall and a hundred pounds while Brian is six-three and like two-fifty.

He could make me fly like I was nothing more than a toy thrown during a toddler’s tantrum.

Even with the drinking, nothing set Brian off more than the fact that I hadn’t gotten pregnant
yet.

Before getting married, we’d made it clear to each other that we wanted a bunch of
kids.

But there was no fucking way I was going to bring a baby into this madness.

I secretly kept myself on the same birth control I’d been on since my junior year of high school while swearing up and down to Brian that I wasn’t on anything.

By this point, I’d gotten really good at keeping secrets, so I started keeping another one.

On the worst nights, once Brian had passed out or stumbled back out the front door and driven away, I’d quickly lock myself in the bathroom and take photos and videos of what he’d done to me.

I documented every bruise and welt and made sure each picture and video was stamped with the date and time and then backed them up in an account he didn’t know existed.

The handful of times he hurt me badly enough that I had to go to a doctor, I told them that I’d fallen down the stairs or had gotten into a drunken fight with a friend.

Then I’d watch as a nurse or doctor jotted down what I was saying, clearly not believing a word of it.

My medical records would pair nicely with the hundreds of photos and hours of video I’d already squirreled away.

I had a mountain of evidence just waiting to be turned into an avalanche.

At this point, you’d be right to ask why I stuck around. Why didn’t I just leave the first time he put his hands on me? Honestly, I don’t have a great answer.

Maybe I didn’t want to admit that I’d chosen the wrong person.

Maybe I was scared about not having enough money to get my own place.

Maybe I thought I didn’t deserve anything better.

Like I said, I just don’t have a good answer for you.

But eventually, Brian grew so angry that I hadn’t gotten pregnant, that he’d rape me whenever he was in the mood.

He’d rip my clothes off, bend me over, and fuck me before I was ready, which was both humiliating and horrifically painful. 

Then when he was finished, he’d pull out of me without saying a word, and then pull up his pants and head out to meet his friends at the bar. 

But thanks to a chlamydia diagnosis I figured out he wasn’t always going out to meet his friends. 

Rapes, beatings, and STIs. I was a very lucky girl, wasn’t I? 

Finally, one night, he came home in a mood and I could tell that trouble was brewing. I hid my phone behind the side lamp, propping it up so the camera was pointed at the bed.

It was time for that mountain of evidence to become an avalanche. 

Three days after that rape, I turned thirty (Brian forgot), and as a birthday present to myself I met with Victoria Walker, who I was told was the best and meanest divorce attorney in the city. 

After I told Victoria my story, I laid the photos of my injuries out across her desk, slid over my medical records, and then played her thirty seconds of that recording. 

Victoria leaned back in her very expensive looking leather chair and stared at me for several seconds without saying a word. Then she smiled at me.

“Honey, we’re going to absolutely gut this motherfucker.” 

Happy birthday to me. 

But then the bastard went and had a stroke. 

Shortly after getting to the emergency room, I snuck away and called Victoria to fill her in on what had happened. 

She told me to begin moving things out of the house and then to move half the money in our joint banking into my personal account.

Luckily for me, Brian had his own health coverage through his company, and I had my own coverage through the nonprofit I worked for as a corporate fundraiser. 

Victoria assured me that she could keep Brian’s medical bills, which would be in the millions, off my back. 

Since his stroke, Brian had been on a ventilator. And while the doctors explained that he could eventually live at home while on one, his insurance company basically said they’d let him die before they covered the cost. 

So before he could be discharged, he’d have to be able to breathe on his own. 

After two months, his doctors decided it was time to try. I leaned against the wall, watching, silently hoping he’d die as soon as they pulled the tube out of his mouth. 

But, of course, he started breathing after just a few seconds. 

Brian’s mom, Sandy, quickly got to work turning our guest room into Brian’s new home. 

“Everything will be good when we get him home,” she said to me one afternoon. “I just know it.” 

In no time, the guest room was bursting at the seams with medical equipment, golf-inspired art, and a huge flatscreen TV. 

The only thing it was missing was a keg. But I guess an alcoholic wife-beater can’t have everything. 

During Brian’s hospital stay, I tried to interact as little as possible with Sandy because I knew she was aware of what Brian had done to me. I’d seen her eyes linger for an extra second or two on my latest bruise and violent red mark. 

She never offered to intervene. She never asked me if I was okay. Yeah, fuck her. 

Once the medical team brought Brian home and dropped him in what was essentially his prison cell, the daily care began. 

He had to be moved regularly to prevent bed sores, he had to be bathed, his vitals needed to be monitored. At least the benevolent insurance company agreed to cover in-home nursing. 

Now, you might think Brian’s stroke would make the divorce easier, but you’d be wrong. After all, a husband who can’t speak can’t say anything against you in court. 

But Sandy and Brian’s father Carl, would make sure he’d have an attorney who’d make me the villain. “My client,” the lawyer would say, “is a broken man. He’s unable to feed himself and work. He will likely be confined to his bed for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, his wife is healthy and receiving a steady paycheck."

And if the judge bought this shameless attempt for sympathy, I might be screwed beyond screwed. 

But Victoria had the photos, videos, and hospital records and I had the one thing they valued more than money: their name. 

Victoria explained to me that she had no intention of letting the case get into a courtroom. Instead, she’d simply sit across a conference table from Brian’s parents and their lawyer and methodically slide the evidence across the table. 

Once Sandy and Carl saw what their golden child had done to me, they’d have to make a decision. And while I knew Sandy had seen my bruises, it would be another thing entirely to sit and watch and hear her drunk son rape me. 

They could let me go quietly, no muss, no fuss, or they could watch as all of it was entered into evidence during a court proceeding. 

“And I’ll add,” Victoria said, “that though I’d advise her against it, I wouldn’t be able to prevent my client from sending copies of that evidence to your family and friends, neighbors, employers and God knows who else.” 

Yeah, I had definitely had the meanest attorney in town. 

We both knew what option Brian’s parents would choose. 

Be honest with yourself, if Brian was your kid, which one would you choose? 

Yeah, that’s what I thought. 

So everything was set up for me to walk away right then and there. My important stuff was out of the house and I’d moved my money. 

But I had a little parting gift I intended to give Brian before I left for good.

And then I finally caught a break that would allow me to put my place into motion.

Sandy would be gone for a night to attend the wedding of an old family friend.

So with Sandy out of the way the last hurdle was to get rid of Brian’s overnight nurse, Connie. 

Four nights later, I finally got my chance when Connie arrived promptly at ten, like always.

But I could tell something was off. She looked tired and worn and her almost impossibly chipper demeanor was nowhere to be found. 

“You okay, Connie?”

“Oh I’m all right, honey,” Connie said. “I didn’t get much sleep after last night’s shift. I came home to three sick kids and a sick husband.” 

This was my chance and probably the only one I’d get for a long time. 

“Take the night off,” I said. “I know the routine, everything will be fine.” 

“Honey, if I leave, they fire me,” Connie said. “Them’s the rules, as the saying goes.” 

“It’ll be our little secret,” I said. “Your family comes first. Go home and take care of them. I’ll handle everything here.” 

Connie opened her mouth to say something but then she hesitated. 

I had her. 

“Go home, get some rest, take care of that family,” I said. “You’ve more than earned a night off.” 

“I really shouldn’t.”

“The morning nurse will be here at six, but she’s always late,” I said. “When she gets here, I’ll tell her you already had to go. Nobody will be the wiser. Please Connie, I’d feel terrible knowing we were keeping you away from your sick kids.” 

She took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay, if you’re sure.” 

“I am.”

Once Connie’s car was down the driveway and out of sight, I got to work. 

Without bothering to look in on the piece of shit who’d soon be my ex-husband, I headed to my closet and got out my smallest and tightest black dress. I wiggled the dress over my white lace bra and underwear. I looked at myself in the mirror. 

The reflection told me that I was tiny, beautiful, and unbroken. 

And now it was time for revenge.

In a half-hour flat, my hair and makeup was done and I was ready to go. 

At the door, I yelled down the hallway, “See you in a bit, fuck face, I’m bringing home some entertainment later.” 

After a quick Uber ride, I strutted into the Portsider like I owned the place and went straight to the bar. God, it had been so long since I’d been in a bar. I savored the music and the noise and the hum of people laughing and enjoying themselves. 

None of these people must have a Brian in their lives, I thought.

After just a few sips of my Tanqueray and tonic, I spotted the one I wanted. 

He had on a hoodie from the local college, which meant he was younger than me, which was perfect because I wasn’t looking for any complications. 

He was great looking, more than six-feet tall and firm. I saw him glance over at me, his blue eyes twinkling a bit in light, and I smiled at him. 

That’s all it took. 

He walked over and introduced himself. His name was Jack and he was a sophomore econ major. 

Not that I gave a shit about his major or his future goals. I barely cared about his name. 

I needed Jack for one night’s work and then I’d never see him again. 

But I also intended to give him the kind of story he’d be telling his buddies for the rest of his life. 

After I felt like I’d feigned enough interest in his stories about school and golf and his frat, I put the next part of my plan into motion. 

“Do you think I could get a ride home?” 

Jack smiled down at me. “Sure, no problem” 

“Great, let’s get out of here.” 

As we walked out of the bar, I saw Jack turn and look at his friends with a shit-eating grin. 

We chatted a bit on the ride; nothing serious or all that interesting. Just the chatter that two strangers who know they’re about fuck have before the act takes place 

A few blocks from my place, I reach over and put my hand on Jack cock’s, rubbing it through his jeans. I could feel it getting hard through the denim. It was huge. 

While physical pleasure wasn’t part of my plan, I wasn’t opposed to it being a bonus to what was about to happen. 

Jack pulled into my driveway and turned off the car. 

“What next?” he said. 

“I think you know. Let’s go inside.” 

Inside, I turned on the living room light and told Jack to sit on the couch. 

As he sat watching me, I began stripping off my clothes.  

First the tight dress. 

Then the white lace bra. 

And finally down came the white lace underwear. 

Jack licked his lips. I could see his cock twitch through his jeans. 

“You like?” I said. 

“Very much,” he said. “You have an incredible body.” 

I blushed a bit, in spite of myself. It had been a very long time since a man had paid me a compliment. 

I walked over to the couch and took Jack by the hand. “Follow me.” 

That was all the prodding he needed. I led him into Brian’s room. Unfortunately, Brian was still alive. 

“Oh what the fuck!”

“Jack, this is Brian, my husband.” 

Jack pressed himself against the wall and stared at Brian. 

“Is he dead?” Jack whispered. 

“No, not yet,” I said. “More’s the pity.” 

Jack, still pressed firmly against the wall, began nudging himself toward the door.

“I need to get out of here,” he said. 

“He has a condition, it’s called locked-in syndrome,” I said. “He’s alive and awake and all that, but he can’t move. He’s trapped in his own body.” 

“Jesus …” 

“Yeah, pretty rough stuff,” I said. “But between you, me, and God, Jack, he’s getting exactly what he deserves.” 

“This is all too fucking weird,” Jack said. 

I smiled at him and then turned to head out of the room. “Let me show you something,” I said over my shoulder. 

I came back in with my folder full of photos of my bruised and battered body. 

“Take a look, college boy.” 

Jack opened the folder and shuffled through the photos. 

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who did this to you?” 

“He did,” I said, pointing at Brian. 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think, Jack? Because I deserved it or something? He did it because he’s an evil piece of shit. That folder is pretty mild, all things considered. I have lots of videos if you’d like to see me beaten up and raped.” 

He closed the folder and let out a sigh. “I don’t understand why I’m here and what you want from me.” 

“You’re the last part of my revenge plan, Jack.”

“Revenge?”

“That’s right. My lawyer and I have the divorce all set up. I’m actually leaving in the morning for good. But first, you’re going to help me leave my dear husband here with a little something to remember me by.” 

“Lady, I’m not killing anybody,” Brian said. 

“Oh no, no killing,” I said. “That would be too good for him. We’re going to torture his manhood … we’re going to show him what his body is never going to let him enjoy again … and I’m going to show him that I’m not his. Not anymore.” 

Brian shook his head. “I can’t be part of this … whatever this is.” 

I walked over to him and put my hand back on his bulge. “Do you like having your cock sucked?”

He stared down at me and then said, “Well, yeah.” 

I squeezed his bulge a little harder. “And do you like pussy?” 

“I love pussy,” he said. 

“I figured so,” I said. “All you have to do is let me suck that big cock of yours and then I want you to bend me over and fuck me, right in front of my husband.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You’re a good guy, right Jack?” 

“I think so … mostly.” 

“You’d never hit a woman?” 

“My mom would kill me if she found out I did something like that.” 

“And have you ever raped anyone?” 

“No way! I’ve only been with two people.” 

“And do you think a man who beats his wife, who beats her for years, should be punished?” 

“Fuck yeah, I do.” 

“And what do you think should happen to a man who rapes his wife? Who just comes home drunk and rapes her whenever he feels like it?” 

“He deserves to die, seriously.” 

“Well, we aren’t killing anyone, Jack. But fucking me while he watches will be enough punishment.”

I could still sense his apprehension. 

Time to take control. 

I walked over to Brian, turned his head so that he could see out into the room and said, “

Time for the show, dear husband.”

Turning my attention back to Jack, I slowly dropped to my knees. With shaky hands, I unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. 

I pulled them down his legs and then off him. I did the same for his boxers. 

Then I took in the huge, thick cock that was practically poking me in the face. 

“Very impressive,” I said. “Look at how much bigger his cock is than yours, Brian.” 

I wrapped my lips around the tip and sucked. 

“Oh fuck yes,” Jack groaned. 

Jack’s cock really was huge, especially compared to Brian’s I’d say in the range of eight inches and insanely thick. 

I worked to get more and more of it in my mouth and down my throat. I have to admit that I loved the way a huge, young cock felt in my mouth, especially after everything Brian had put me through. 

It wasn’t long before Brian’s cock was shimmering from my saliva. I was getting into it and

Jack certainly was too. 

My head was bobbing up and down his thick shaft, taking as much as I could down my throat. Which admittedly wasn’t much but I definitely deserved an A for effort. My choking and gagging sounds filled the entire room. 

Taking Jack’s cock out of my mouth, I said to Brian, “Do you like watching me suck another man’s cock, you fucking pig? It’s been so long since I’ve had any fun giving head.” 

I put Jack’s cock back in my mouth while thinking about the rage that must be going through Brian’s mind. Watching his wife blowing another man. Knowing that he was powerless to stop it. 

Those thoughts seemed to push me to an almost manic level of lust. I forced myself to take more cock down my throat. For once, the hot tears rushing down my face were from something I wanted, not from something terrible happening to me. 

While sucking, I gently caressed Jack’s balls with my fingertips, producing a shudder and another deep groan of pleasure. 

A few seconds later, he grabbed the back of my head hard, holding me in place. I maneuvered his cock out of my throat so that he was only in my mouth.

And then he began cumming. The hot, thick liquid bounced off my tongue and teeth and the lining of my cheeks. I made sure that I didn’t swallow so much as a drop. 

Oh, I was definitely going to swallow that hot load, but not right away. 

Jack let out a loud moan and yelled, “Fuck yes … that was good.” 

Clearly, any hang ups Jack had about having some fun in front of my kind-of dead husband had evaporated. 

I took Jack’s softening cock out of my mouth, got up off my knees, and walked over to Brian and opened my mouth. 

Holding my mouth open in front of his eyes, I knew he could see just how full of cum my mouth really was. 

I closed my mouth and swallowed everything in one big gulp. I licked my lips and smiled at Brian. 

“Did you see how much cum that was, husband? It was delicious; so much better than that nasty shit you used to force me to swallow.” 

I’d describe the look on Jack’s face as a mix of horror and delight. He knew he was participating in something almost impossibly weird. A woman sucking his cock while her incapacitated husband? But it was exciting all the same. 

“Time for chapter two,” I announced while I pulled the bedside table next to Brian’s bed.

Then I jumped on top of it. The height of the table perfectly matched the height of the bed, which meant my body was mere inches from Brian’s body. 

I leaned back against the wall, put my feet up on the table and said to Jack, “Time to eat some pussy.” 

His eyes lit up and he came to me immediately. He dropped to his knees and immediately put his tongue against my slit. 

My first thought was that this must be what it feels like to be electrocuted. My body twitched and shivered. I made noises that I was sure I’d never made before.

My pussy practically gushed against Jack’s face as he slowly, methodically, and perfectly ran his tongue up and down my slit while teasing my clit with his strong fingers. 

I grabbed two fistfuls of Jack’s hair and forced his face down onto my pussy. Feeling him alternate between licking me and filling me with his tongue was absolute heaven.

I looked at Brian. “Can you smell my pussy, husband? Doesn’t it smell hot? Too bad you’ll never taste my pussy again .. or any pussy.” 

Jack laughed into my cunt. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. 
“Make me cum, college boy.” 

Hearing that, he absolutely went to town on me. He spread my snatch open with his fingers and worked his tongue into the deepest parts of me. He licked and softly bit my pussy lips. He sucked in my clit. 

I don’t know who his cunnilingus coach was, but I hope I can meet them and say thanks some day.

When he put two fingers in my pussy and his tongue in my asshole, I lost it. 

“Motherfucker!” I screamed. 

The orgasm hit me like a wave pushing me under the water. My body shook and waved and rolled while I held his face against my pussy. 

Once I was done cumming, I looked down at Jack and took in the sight of his face shining with my wetness. 

I was very pleased with myself. 

And kudos to Jack, too.

“You taste so fucking good,” Jack said. 

“You hear that Brian? The young man here says my pussy tastes great … it must feel terrible to know you’ll never lick a pussy again.” 

Jack shook his head. “This is all so weird.” 

I reached down and took his limp cock in my hand. “We’re not done just yet Jackie boy.” 

Dropping to my knees I began licking Jack’s balls while slowly stroking his cock. Once I start sucking his balls, one at a time, between my lips, I could feel his cock rising to attention. 

Once he was hard and ready to go, I said to him, “Ready to stretch my pussy out?” 

“Fuck yes,” he said. 

I put my hands on the edge of Brian’s bed and bent over, presenting my pussy to Jack so he could fill it up. I put my nose against Brian’s nose. “Ready to watch me get fucked, husband?” 

Brian’s eyes stared at me, alert but powerless. 

I could feel Jack rubbing the head of his cock up and down my excited little cunt. Then he began filling me up. 

“His cock is so much bigger than yours,” I said into Brian’s face. “I’ve never had anything so much, it’s stretching me out so much.” 

Jack slowly, centimeter by centimeter, filled my entire dripping pussy with his scorching thickness.

“Jesus fuck!” I screamed. 

“I’m so glad you had that stroke, you pieces of shit,” I said to Brian. “Now I can get new cock whenever I want it while you lie there in a diaper for the rest of your miserable life.” 

Jack had a vice grip on my hips as he pounded me up and down his frat boy prick. He’d push me forward until the tip was barely inside me and then he’d slam me all the way down, hammering the love of God out of me. 

“I never even imagined getting fucked like this,” I whispered at Brian. “It’s so fucking good.”

I felt tears well up in my eyes as my orgasm drew close. I bent forward even more, pressing my face against Brian’s bed and pushing my ass higher into the air. 

Jack then brought a hand down on my ass, slapping it hard over and over.

“FUCK,” I screamed as I started cumming. 

Had Brian not still been gripping my hips, I could have fallen over. My whole body shook and I couldn’t open my eyes. I felt my pussy gushing fresh wetness around Jack’s pulsating cock. 

For the next thirty seconds, Jack fucked me so hard I thought my soul was going to leave my body. 

“I’m close,” Jack muttered, more to himself than me. 

That was all I needed to hear. 

I pushed myself forward until his cock fell out of me and then in one quick move, I put my hand around his cock and pulled him close to Brian. 

With a few quick, hard strokes, Jack closed his eyes and began groaning. 

I pointed his cock at Brian’s face and kept stroking as he started cumming. Shot after shot landed on Brian’s face. It covered his forehead, cheeks, and nose. 

Jack opened his eyes, looked down at Brian’s cum-covered face, and said, “This is so fucked up.” 

I put a hand on Jack’s cheek and smiled at him. “That was the best sex of my life. Now get your clothes on and get out of my house.” 

Jack didn’t need much motivation. He got dressed quickly and headed to the door. 

Before leaving he turned to me and said, “Can I call you?” 

“No, one time only. Get out.” 

Without another word, Jack left. 

I went back into Brian bedroom and walked up to him.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

No response, obviously. 

“My little prisoner … Brian, you just watched me get fucked my another man. That makes you a cuck. Brian the cuck.”

I laughed and laughed. It was cathartic. One chapter was ending and another was just beginning. 

It was after three a.m. when Jack left so I had less than three hours to kill before the night morning nurse arrived. I tidied up Brian’s room, putting everything back in order. 

But I didn’t clean Jack’s cum off his face. 

I made myself some coffee and breakfast and took a final walk around the house to make sure there wasn’t anything incriminating lying around. 

Finally, shortly before six, I ran a wash cloth under the bathroom sink and went into Brian’s room. 

“Unfortunately, I have to clean the cum off your face. I don’t want to raise any suspicions now do I, Brian?” 

It took less than a minute to clean the bastard’s face off. 

“That’s that then, Brian. I won. I just got fucked while making you watch the entire thing. You rapist fuck face. Now I’m leaving and you’ll never see me again. Enjoy this little prison of yours. Please don’t die too soon. I want you to suffer for a long, long time.” 

I heard Sarah the morning nurse unlock the front door and come in. I walked into the living room to greet her. 

“Good morning,” I said. “We have a very uneventful night around here. Now I’m off to work early.” 

She smiled and hung her coat up. “Sounds good, have a great day. He’s in good hands.” 

I went out to my car and stared at the house as I backed down the driveway. I knew this was the last time I’d see it. Happy tears ran down my cheeks and splashed onto my lap. 

At the first stop sign, I texted Victoria: “Just left for good. Never going back. Let’s go.” 

Within seconds she responded with, “I got this. Go live your life.” 

I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and then hit the gas, accelerating down the street and into my new life. 

Naomi’s phone chimed with an alert. She grabbed it and saw that it was a text from her husband. It read: “Getting on plane. All good. See you Monday. Hope you have time to get caught up on cleaning.”

She sighed and set her phone down. Her husband, Chad, was a minister and on his way to a professional conference in San Antonio. Truth be told, she couldn’t wait to have an entire weekend to herself.

Naomi and Chad had met on their first day of college at a conservative Christian liberal arts school. It was the kind of place where people went to get a degree but to also find a spouse. Nearly everyone who lived on Naomi’s residence hall floor that first year married someone they met in their first few months on campus.

Both Naomi and Chad were virgins, and, at Chad’s insistence, it remained that way until their wedding night, which came a month to the day they graduated from college. Before their wedding night, they’d had make out and heavy petting sessions that Chad always put a stop to, though Naomi desperately wanted to keep going.

After their wedding night, she and Chad had perfunctory missionary sex twice a week, always at 9:30 at night. Chad would get on top of her, place his penis inside her, and thrust exactly seven times before cumming. After that, he’d immediately get off Naomi and go to sleep.

Chad wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn’t a thoughtful or fun man, either.

Though she tried not to very often, there were times when Naomi wondered what her life would look like had she gone to a different college or had waited to seek out a husband until after she’d earned her degree.

And it’s not as though she wouldn’t have had options.

She was five-eight with a ballerina’s build, small perky breasts, large green eyes and clear, alabaster skin. Her bright red hair had earned her smiles and pleasant comments since she was a little girl.

She wore little makeup and made no effort to make herself look like a woman on a magazine cover. If you’ve read Roald Dahl’s Matilda, she’d make you think of Miss Honey.

To accurately describe Naomi, you’d only need one word: Lovely.

“So, hubby is out of town all weekend, right?” said Laura, Naomi’s best friend at the office. “That means you can finally go to our Friday night happy hour.”

Naomi worked at a downtown advertising agency. She was a graphic designer. She loved her job but often felt slightly out of place. Her social circle, which consisted of college friends and Chad’s colleagues, were all religious. There was no drinking, no dirty jokes, no conversations about the latest R rated movies.

Her work colleagues, who were all roughly her age, were just the opposite. They were funny and loud. Told dirty jokes. Drank and excitedly debated movies. Laura did her best to look out for her, though she was often frustrated by how sheltered Naomi was.

“He just got on the plane,” Naomi told Laura. “But I don’t know about happy hour. I should get caught up on some cleaning and errands.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Please? It’s my birthday!”

“Your birthday is in three weeks,” Naomi replied.

“Fine, it’s almost my birthday,” Laura said, laughing. “Please come for at least an hour or two.”

Naomi thought to herself that there wouldn’t be any harm in it. Chad would never know. “Okay, I can come for a while.”

“Yes!” Laura shouted, before standing up and announcing to the entire office, “attention please, everyone, attention please! Naomi will be joining us tonight at happy hour! I repeat, Naomi will be joining us tonight at happy hour!”

Every employee clapped and yelled exaggerated cheers.

Naomi’s alabaster skin immediately flushed, but she laughed.

A few minutes after Laura’s announcement, Max came over and sat down next to her. Her heart immediately began to race. She adored Max. He was just a few years older than Naomi, but he was worldly and sophisticated. He was the company’s copywriter and had also published several short stories, which Naomi read again and again. Max was always giving her books — many of which Chad deemed “inappropriate” — to read.

Often, when out for a walk by herself or when soaking in a bubble bath, she fantasized about a life with Max.

Max was just over six-feet tall with light brown hair and blue eyes and kept himself in shape with daily runs and weekend ultimate frisbee games. He made Naomi laugh but he also made her sad — not because of anything he’d done — but because he represented a different kind of like that she could have had if she’d made other choices.

For Naomi, Max was everything Chad wasn’t.

“I’m really glad you’re coming tonight,” Max said to her. “We always go to Heart’s Tavern, on Elm, do you know it?”

“I do,” she said, “I drive by it quite a bit, but I’ve never been in it.”

“Great,” Max said. “The parking lot is really small, but I live just three blocks away, on Dunwoody, so everyone parks in my driveway or on the street right in front of my house. You should too.”

“Thank you, I will,” Naomi said, smile beaming. She felt the pleasurable squirm between her thighs that always came when Max was speaking to her.

As with most offices on Fridays, very little work was done that afternoon. Instead, people goofed off, tossing a foam football around, and showing each other funny clips on YouTube.

When it was time to lock up and head out, everyone excitedly headed for the door.

Laura was riding with Naomi because her boyfriend was meeting them at the bar and Naomi was glad to have someone to help her find Max’s place and the bar.

Max’s place was only a few minutes from the office and when she pulled up to the curb in front of the house, Naomi was impressed. He’d purchased it a few years earlier from an elderly man who’d allowed it to fall into disrepair and immediately went to work remodeling it himself. Today, the house was beautiful. Not huge, not ostentatious, but charming and welcoming.

Naomi and Laura quickly made their way to the bar and found their colleagues. Tense at first, Naomi quickly loosened up and began having more fun than she’d had in years. Laura helped her pick out a pink drink that came with an umbrella. It was sweet and the alcohol made her feel just slightly woozy.

The group shared appetizers and challenged each other to darts and even went outside and used the bar’s horseshoe pit.

At nine, Naomi received a text from Chad: “Goodnight Naomi, sleep well.”

She didn’t bother replying.

At ten, Laura told everyone that she and her boyfriend had to leave because they had to be up early the next morning to attend her cousin’s wedding. From there, the group slowly thinned until it was just Naomi and Max.

“I’m really glad you came,” Max said.

“Me too,” Naomi said. “I probably should have a long time ago.”

They sat and chatted for several minutes. They talked about work, books, movies. The conversation came easy and, to Naomi, seemed completely natural.

“I really love your house,” she said to Max.

“Thanks! It’s been a lot of work, but I actually finished the basement last weekend, so I’m all done.”

“Does the inside look as good as the outside?” Naomi said.

“I think so … I hope so,” Max responded, laughing. “Want to see for yourself?”

“Yeah, I do,” she said.

They made the short walk to Max’s house, and he let her in the front door. The tour began in the basement, which Max had turned into a movie theater and bar. Naomi knew Max loved movies and was impressed by the theater.

He showed her the master bedroom and bathroom, the impressive kitchen, and his library which doubled as his writing room. Three of the four walls were built-in bookshelves. From there they headed into the living room and Max turned on the fireplace before retreating into the kitchen and coming back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

He poured her a glass and she curled her legs underneath her in the chair and took a sip. Max sat in the chair next to her and they once again dropped into an easy and warm conversation.

After two glasses of wine, Naomi felt more relaxed and content than she ever had. She felt like an adult. An adult with real friends and real interests.

“Oh, I should show you one more thing, come on,” Max said, heading to the back door, opening it, and disappearing into the dark.

Naomi followed him and came through the doorway just as Max turned the lights on. She saw a hot tub. Max turned on the jets and at the same time blue LED lights came to life under the water.

“I just installed it myself,” Max said. “I’ve always wanted one. I spent less than I thought I would on the basement, so I was able to get this.”

Naomi walked over and put her hand in the water. It felt luxurious. “This is wonderful, too bad I didn’t bring a suit.”

“Privacy fence,” Max said, pointing. “I built that so nobody could see in. I don’t like using a suit every time I go in.”

Naomi giggled softly. “Well, you’re braver than I am. I’m afraid I’d have to wear a swimsuit in front of you.”

But God, she thought to herself, I would love to be in that water with you, Max.

Max stepped closer to her. She could feel his warmth and her pulse quickened.

“How about this,” Max said, “I go in the house and get some more wine, and you undress and get in the water before I get back. With the bubbles, I won’t see you naked.”

A small part of Naomi wanted to say yes, but all the other parts said no. She was married. What would Chad say? The idea of Chad doing something as fun as building a theater in the basement or installing a hot tub on the back patio was laughable.

Max stepped forward and put his hand on her back. His touch felt incredible, and a wave of desire rushed up her thighs and into her pussy. Her nipples went from soft to hard almost instantly. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, “It’s just you and me here. Our secret.”

Naomi stood silently for a few seconds before saying, “Okay.”

Max headed toward the door, “I’ll give you a few minutes and then I’ll be back with that wine.”

Naomi took a step toward the hot tub and looked around. Because of how Max had built the fence, none of the nearby houses could see the hot tub. He’d created a completely private spot. She took a deep breath and pulled her sweater off and then the T-shirt under that. She could feel her nipples practically knifing through the satin of her bra.

She then took her jeans off. Naomi couldn’t quite explain what was happening. Here she was, standing in her bra and panties in her hot co-worker’s backyard. Her husband was 1,000 miles away and completely unaware. What had come over her? She didn’t care. She was happy.

She quickly removed her bra and her pink, cotton panties, and got into the water. Only her head was visible.

Max came out with a bottle of wine and poured her another glass.

“I have to drive home at some point,” Naomi said.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Max replied.

Naomi was grateful that the lighting around the hot tub was dim enough that Max couldn’t see her blush.

“May I join you?” he said.

“Please do,” Naomi said.

Max stood in the middle of the patio, allowing Naomi to see all of him, and began to undress. She felt more and more agony between her legs with each item of clothing he took off. Finally, his boxers were all that remained.

After he removed them, Naomi could see his soft, thick cock hanging between his legs. She gasped, but not loudly enough to be heard over the hot tub’s jets. Max’s cock dwarfed Chad’s.

Once Max was in the water, they drank their wine and fell back into conversation. Naomi forgot she was naked, and that Max was naked. She enjoyed talking to him and felt completely at ease.

During a pause in the conversation, Max slid closer to her. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you.”

“Really?” she said. “I had no idea.”

Max put his hand on her knee, and she felt delirious but then, just as quickly, conflicted.

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m married.”

“Is he here?” Max said.

“That’s not the point,” Naomi said.

“Are you happy?” Max said.

Naomi didn’t have an answer which was all the answer Max needed. He leaned in and kissed her. Naomi tried to resist the urge but once Max’s tongue found its way into her mouth, she knew it was over. She relented and melted into his kiss.

Her tongue found his and Max wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. The kissing continued, passionately, as he explored her body with his hands. He cupped her small breasts in his hands and played with her nipples. She moaned.

He worked his hands behind her and took one of her small, firm ass cheeks in each of his hands and squeezed. She sighed.

Then he found her clit. He began kissing her neck and clavicles as he worked her clit in a circle. Naomi thought to herself that this must be what it feels like to be electrocuted.

“Nobody’s touched that before,” she said.

Max stopped kissing her but kept rubbing her clit. “Nobody’s played with your pussy before?” he asked. “Not even your husband?”

“No, no one,” she said, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

She knew from others in the office that Max wasn’t someone who slept around or tried to get into the pants of every girl who crossed his path, but she knew he dated regularly, and her lack of experience made her feel like a child.

“That’s okay,” Max said, kissing her forehead sweetly. “Has anyone ever licked your pussy? You know, gone down on you?”

Naomi felt even more embarrassed, “No,” she said and deciding to get it all out in the open, added, “I’d never kissed anyone before Chad. I was a virgin on my wedding night. I’ve never had or given oral sex. The only position I’ve done is missionary. We have sex twice a week and it lasts for less than a minute.”

Max was clearly taken aback, but quickly said, “I want you to spend the weekend here with me. We can worry about what comes next on Monday. But this weekend is for you. I want to do everything that a man should do to a woman.”

Naomi felt herself choking up. She was relieved and scared. She wanted to stay and knew she would, but she didn’t know what to say. But she didn’t need to say anything.

Max kissed her again and every worry evaporated from her mind. She kissed him back as he began exploring her again. He took her hand and moved it onto his cock, which was now completely hard.

Touching it was incredible and she immediately began picturing him sliding it into her pussy.

“Why don’t we go inside now?” Max said.

Naomi smiled and nodded her head yes.

Max got out of the hot tub first and extended his hand to Naomi, who took it and got out, nakedness on full display, wanting — craving — Max to see her body.

He grabbed a towel and led her into the living room where he stood her in front of the fire and slowly and lovingly dried her off.

“Your body is gorgeous, and I love this,” he said, rubbing his fingers through her full red bush.

He then picked her up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom. Setting her down gently, he crawled next to her. It occurred to Naomi in that moment that Max had shown her more affection and attention in a half hour than Chad had during their entire marriage.

“Every fantasy, every desire … everything you’ve ever wanted is going to happen this weekend,” Max said as he kissed her. “You only need to do one thing for me.”

“What?” Naomi said.

“You just need to let yourself go, don’t think or worry, just enjoy yourself.”

“I think I can do that,” she said.

With that, Max began kissing down her chest, pausing to suck and lick each of her pink nipples, she whimpered and ran her fingers through Max’s hair. He kissed her flat, pale tummy for several seconds before maneuvering himself lower.

He ran the tip of his nose through Naomi’s thick, ginger bush and kissed her through the hair. And then he did it. He began licking her pussy, slowly and softly, up and down. Her body bucked, as if in a spasm. She couldn’t believe that anything could feel so good.

She was 28 years old and was finally having her pussy licked, something she’d fantasized about since she was 14. After getting married she’d thought Chad would go down on her, but he never did. Now she wasn’t even sure he’d know how.

Once, while Chad was out, she went to a porn site to find a video of a woman getting oral and she’d watched for about five seconds before chickening out and closing her incognito tab.

But she wasn’t chickening out this time because she was in ecstasy. Max was sucking on her clit and gently fingering her pussy. While sucking on her clit, he flicked his tongue over it, forcing Naomi to utter a sustained “ohhhhhh.”

Finally, Max began rubbing her clit again while working his tongue up and down her slit. “I love the way you taste,” he said.

He worked his tongue inside her pussy, exploring her, before returning his tongue to the most sensitive part of her pussy. Naomi knew she was wet enough that she was soaking the sheet. After another minute, she felt something big and unexplainable building inside her. It grew and grew until it overwhelmed her. Her pussy exploded and she shook, a cascade of pleasure ran down the entire length of her body.

Max stopped licking and took her into his arms and held her tightly as she continued to shake. “I don’t … I can’t …”

Max kissed her cheek softly. “You had an orgasm,” he said.

They remained there together, enjoying the warmth, and kissing gently.

“Am I a bad person?” Naomi said.

“What does that even mean?”

“I’m married … I made a vow, a promise,” she said.

“So did he,” Max said. “Does he take care of you? Take care of your needs?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think he really wanted to be married. It’s just something he thought he was supposed to do, probably.”

“That’s not enough,” Max said. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long, since like your second week at work.”

“I had no idea,” Naomi said … “I’ve had a crush on you, too.”

They went back to kissing and Naomi could feel Max’s cock brushing against her.

“Can I give you a blow job?” she said.

“This weekend is about you,” Max said.

“I want to … I never have.”

Max looked at her and said, “I want to do whatever you want to do.”

“Let me,” she said.

Max got on his back and Naomi maneuvered herself down to his cock and took it in her hand. It was huge. Long, thick, and warm. She wasn’t sure what to do. She’d once tried to give Chad a blow job, but he immediately rebuffed her.

She licked Max’s cock up and down, which, based on his noises, she could tell he liked. She then wrapped her lips around the head. It made her mouth feel full. She worked her mouth down onto more of it.

So far, so good, she thought.

“Is this right?” she said.

“It’s very right, you’re a natural,” Max said.

She liked that.

“Should I go up and down?”

“Yes,” Max said.

Naomi knew that teeth weren’t part of the equation, so she was careful to only use her lips and tongue. She was quickly getting the hang of it. She felt the head go down her throat a bit and froze, panicking just slightly at the loss of breath. But she realized she could handle it. She let more head slide down her throat and could feel her eyes water. Her soft choking and slurping noises seemed to be turning Max on.

“I’m close,” Max said. “Are you okay if I cum in your mouth?”

“Yes,” Naomi said, and a second later Max was blasting cum into her mouth. Naomi’s eyes bulged and some cum escaped out the sides of her lips, but most remained in her mouth. Her natural inclination was to swallow, so she did. The taste and texture weren’t unpleasant.

“That was your first blow job?” Max said.

“It was,” she said.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that it was,” Max said.

“There was a lot of sexual frustration tied up in it,” she said, before putting Max’s cock back into her mouth.

“Whoa!” Max said and Naomi giggled.

She gently sucked and licked until he was hard in her mouth again. She loved the feeling of control and giving pleasure. This time, she focused on the head and tip while gently stroking and caressing the rest of the shaft with her hand. She happily swallowed Max’s pre-cum.

“I’m about to cum again,” Max said.

“Can I watch this time?” she said.

Max smiled and told Naomi to get on her back. He got on his knees and began stroking his cock. Naomi thought it was the single hottest thing she’d ever seen, until … Max groaned and began shooting his cum. Naomi took it all in with her green eyes. She felt the cum hit her stomach and breasts. She used an index finger to scoop some off her right nipple and licked it off.

Max collapsed next to her. Naomi just stared at him. What a happy thing, she thought to herself, to discover a man who found her beautiful, who actually cared about her pleasure and happiness.

His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She played with his hair and softly stroked his body with her fingers.

“Can I fall asleep with you tonight?” she said.

“You’d better,” he said, smiling.

“But not just yet,” she said.

“No?” he said.

She took his cock back into her hand, “Nope.”

Naomi played with Max’s cock until he was hard again. “Will you go inside me?” she said.

“You know I will.”

He gently pushed her onto her stomach and got on top of her. He leaned down and nibbled both her earlobes. Then, beginning at the top of her neck, he kissed all the way down her back, following her spinal column. He kissed and gently bit her hips. He sucked on all ten of her toes, which made her wet while also making her laugh uncontrollably.

She’d never felt so alive and so valued.

Using her hips, Max lifted her lower half into the air. Her head remained on the pillow. She knew what was coming and she couldn’t wait. Max lined his cock up against her wet and ready cunt and slowly and carefully filled her.

“Tell me right away if it’s uncomfortable,” he said.

“I will, it’s great so far.”

Gently, he pushed forward until his entire cock was buried inside her.

Naomi couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Her pussy was being stretched out in ways she didn’t think were physically possible. Max’s cock was twice the size of Chad’s. She was in pure lust as she felt her eager pussy adjusting to what was inside her.

Once Max could tell she was used to the size, he began using her hips to push her forward and back on his cock, which was now covered in her white wetness. Naomi’s breathing became deeper, and her moans became louder and bolder, as Max picked up the pace.

Max’s cock was finding places in Naomi’s pussy that she didn’t even know were there. She felt like she was losing her virginity, that what she and Chad had done, barely counted.

Sex with Chad had never lasted more than a minute. He did his seven pumps and that was that. But Max had been fucking her for several minutes when she felt that same something building again inside her. She gave up. She closed her eyes. She stopped breathing. She stopped thinking. The thing that was building inside her could have her.

And have her it did. Wetness gushed inside her pussy and her body spasmed. She loudly screamed into the pillow and began to cry. Max put a hand on her back and began rubbing.

“Another orgasm,” he said. “Do you feel okay?”

“I feel amazing … I feel” … she began crying again … “I just didn’t” … “I feel …”

“I understand,” he said. “Are you sore?”

“Just a little.”

“I should stop now,” he said.

“No, no! I’m okay … I need you to go inside me, please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“You won’t, I promise.”

Max put her on her side and got behind her. He showered her neck with deep, full kisses as he softly thrust in and out of her.

Naomi put her hand on his forearm that was wrapped around her and said, “Oh, Max.”

He unloaded inside her. Naomi could feel shot after shot of cum filling her. She had never felt safer or happier. In two hours, her sex life had exploded, and she had no intention of letting this be a one-time thing.

She knew Max was so much more than what she’d settled for. She knew he had so much more to teach her and offer her.

She knew — absolutely knew — that she deserved Max.

“This house is big enough for two people,” Max said.

She smiled and wiggled against him, and he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her tightly against him.

“Let’s have a long adventure together,” she said. “I finally know where I’m supposed to be.” 

Naomi’s phone chimed with an alert. She grabbed it and saw that it was a text from her husband. It read: “Getting on plane. All good. See you Monday. Hope you have time to get caught up on cleaning.”

She sighed and set her phone down. Her husband, Chad, was a minister and on his way to a professional conference in San Antonio. Truth be told, she couldn’t wait to have an entire weekend to herself.

Naomi and Chad had met on their first day of college at a conservative Christian liberal arts school. It was the kind of place where people went to get a degree but to also find a spouse. Nearly everyone who lived on Naomi’s residence hall floor that first year married someone they met in their first few months on campus.

Both Naomi and Chad were virgins, and, at Chad’s insistence, it remained that way until their wedding night, which came a month to the day they graduated from college. Before their wedding night, they’d had make out and heavy petting sessions that Chad always put a stop to, though Naomi desperately wanted to keep going.

After their wedding night, she and Chad had perfunctory missionary sex twice a week, always at 9:30 at night. Chad would get on top of her, place his penis inside her, and thrust exactly seven times before cumming. After that, he’d immediately get off Naomi and go to sleep.

Chad wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn’t a thoughtful or fun man, either.

Though she tried not to very often, there were times when Naomi wondered what her life would look like had she gone to a different college or had waited to seek out a husband until after she’d earned her degree.

And it’s not as though she wouldn’t have had options.

She was five-eight with a ballerina’s build, small perky breasts, large green eyes and clear, alabaster skin. Her bright red hair had earned her smiles and pleasant comments since she was a little girl.

She wore little makeup and made no effort to make herself look like a woman on a magazine cover. If you’ve read Roald Dahl’s Matilda, she’d make you think of Miss Honey.

To accurately describe Naomi, you’d only need one word: Lovely.

“So, hubby is out of town all weekend, right?” said Laura, Naomi’s best friend at the office. “That means you can finally go to our Friday night happy hour.”

Naomi worked at a downtown advertising agency. She was a graphic designer. She loved her job but often felt slightly out of place. Her social circle, which consisted of college friends and Chad’s colleagues, were all religious. There was no drinking, no dirty jokes, no conversations about the latest R rated movies.

Her work colleagues, who were all roughly her age, were just the opposite. They were funny and loud. Told dirty jokes. Drank and excitedly debated movies. Laura did her best to look out for her, though she was often frustrated by how sheltered Naomi was.

“He just got on the plane,” Naomi told Laura. “But I don’t know about happy hour. I should get caught up on some cleaning and errands.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Please? It’s my birthday!”

“Your birthday is in three weeks,” Naomi replied.

“Fine, it’s almost my birthday,” Laura said, laughing. “Please come for at least an hour or two.”

Naomi thought to herself that there wouldn’t be any harm in it. Chad would never know. “Okay, I can come for a while.”

“Yes!” Laura shouted, before standing up and announcing to the entire office, “attention please, everyone, attention please! Naomi will be joining us tonight at happy hour! I repeat, Naomi will be joining us tonight at happy hour!”

Every employee clapped and yelled exaggerated cheers.

Naomi’s alabaster skin immediately flushed, but she laughed.

A few minutes after Laura’s announcement, Max came over and sat down next to her. Her heart immediately began to race. She adored Max. He was just a few years older than Naomi, but he was worldly and sophisticated. He was the company’s copywriter and had also published several short stories, which Naomi read again and again. Max was always giving her books — many of which Chad deemed “inappropriate” — to read.

Often, when out for a walk by herself or when soaking in a bubble bath, she fantasized about a life with Max.

Max was just over six-feet tall with light brown hair and blue eyes and kept himself in shape with daily runs and weekend ultimate frisbee games. He made Naomi laugh but he also made her sad — not because of anything he’d done — but because he represented a different kind of like that she could have had if she’d made other choices.

For Naomi, Max was everything Chad wasn’t.

“I’m really glad you’re coming tonight,” Max said to her. “We always go to Heart’s Tavern, on Elm, do you know it?”

“I do,” she said, “I drive by it quite a bit, but I’ve never been in it.”

“Great,” Max said. “The parking lot is really small, but I live just three blocks away, on Dunwoody, so everyone parks in my driveway or on the street right in front of my house. You should too.”

“Thank you, I will,” Naomi said, smile beaming. She felt the pleasurable squirm between her thighs that always came when Max was speaking to her.

As with most offices on Fridays, very little work was done that afternoon. Instead, people goofed off, tossing a foam football around, and showing each other funny clips on YouTube.

When it was time to lock up and head out, everyone excitedly headed for the door.

Laura was riding with Naomi because her boyfriend was meeting them at the bar and Naomi was glad to have someone to help her find Max’s place and the bar.

Max’s place was only a few minutes from the office and when she pulled up to the curb in front of the house, Naomi was impressed. He’d purchased it a few years earlier from an elderly man who’d allowed it to fall into disrepair and immediately went to work remodeling it himself. Today, the house was beautiful. Not huge, not ostentatious, but charming and welcoming.

Naomi and Laura quickly made their way to the bar and found their colleagues. Tense at first, Naomi quickly loosened up and began having more fun than she’d had in years. Laura helped her pick out a pink drink that came with an umbrella. It was sweet and the alcohol made her feel just slightly woozy.

The group shared appetizers and challenged each other to darts and even went outside and used the bar’s horseshoe pit.

At nine, Naomi received a text from Chad: “Goodnight Naomi, sleep well.”

She didn’t bother replying.

At ten, Laura told everyone that she and her boyfriend had to leave because they had to be up early the next morning to attend her cousin’s wedding. From there, the group slowly thinned until it was just Naomi and Max.

“I’m really glad you came,” Max said.

“Me too,” Naomi said. “I probably should have a long time ago.”

They sat and chatted for several minutes. They talked about work, books, movies. The conversation came easy and, to Naomi, seemed completely natural.

“I really love your house,” she said to Max.

“Thanks! It’s been a lot of work, but I actually finished the basement last weekend, so I’m all done.”

“Does the inside look as good as the outside?” Naomi said.

“I think so … I hope so,” Max responded, laughing. “Want to see for yourself?”

“Yeah, I do,” she said.

They made the short walk to Max’s house, and he let her in the front door. The tour began in the basement, which Max had turned into a movie theater and bar. Naomi knew Max loved movies and was impressed by the theater.

He showed her the master bedroom and bathroom, the impressive kitchen, and his library which doubled as his writing room. Three of the four walls were built-in bookshelves. From there they headed into the living room and Max turned on the fireplace before retreating into the kitchen and coming back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

He poured her a glass and she curled her legs underneath her in the chair and took a sip. Max sat in the chair next to her and they once again dropped into an easy and warm conversation.

After two glasses of wine, Naomi felt more relaxed and content than she ever had. She felt like an adult. An adult with real friends and real interests.

“Oh, I should show you one more thing, come on,” Max said, heading to the back door, opening it, and disappearing into the dark.

Naomi followed him and came through the doorway just as Max turned the lights on. She saw a hot tub. Max turned on the jets and at the same time blue LED lights came to life under the water.

“I just installed it myself,” Max said. “I’ve always wanted one. I spent less than I thought I would on the basement, so I was able to get this.”

Naomi walked over and put her hand in the water. It felt luxurious. “This is wonderful, too bad I didn’t bring a suit.”

“Privacy fence,” Max said, pointing. “I built that so nobody could see in. I don’t like using a suit every time I go in.”

Naomi giggled softly. “Well, you’re braver than I am. I’m afraid I’d have to wear a swimsuit in front of you.”

But God, she thought to herself, I would love to be in that water with you, Max.

Max stepped closer to her. She could feel his warmth and her pulse quickened.

“How about this,” Max said, “I go in the house and get some more wine, and you undress and get in the water before I get back. With the bubbles, I won’t see you naked.”

A small part of Naomi wanted to say yes, but all the other parts said no. She was married. What would Chad say? The idea of Chad doing something as fun as building a theater in the basement or installing a hot tub on the back patio was laughable.

Max stepped forward and put his hand on her back. His touch felt incredible, and a wave of desire rushed up her thighs and into her pussy. Her nipples went from soft to hard almost instantly. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, “It’s just you and me here. Our secret.”

Naomi stood silently for a few seconds before saying, “Okay.”

Max headed toward the door, “I’ll give you a few minutes and then I’ll be back with that wine.”

Naomi took a step toward the hot tub and looked around. Because of how Max had built the fence, none of the nearby houses could see the hot tub. He’d created a completely private spot. She took a deep breath and pulled her sweater off and then the T-shirt under that. She could feel her nipples practically knifing through the satin of her bra.

She then took her jeans off. Naomi couldn’t quite explain what was happening. Here she was, standing in her bra and panties in her hot co-worker’s backyard. Her husband was 1,000 miles away and completely unaware. What had come over her? She didn’t care. She was happy.

She quickly removed her bra and her pink, cotton panties, and got into the water. Only her head was visible.

Max came out with a bottle of wine and poured her another glass.

“I have to drive home at some point,” Naomi said.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Max replied.

Naomi was grateful that the lighting around the hot tub was dim enough that Max couldn’t see her blush.

“May I join you?” he said.

“Please do,” Naomi said.

Max stood in the middle of the patio, allowing Naomi to see all of him, and began to undress. She felt more and more agony between her legs with each item of clothing he took off. Finally, his boxers were all that remained.

After he removed them, Naomi could see his soft, thick cock hanging between his legs. She gasped, but not loudly enough to be heard over the hot tub’s jets. Max’s cock dwarfed Chad’s.

Once Max was in the water, they drank their wine and fell back into conversation. Naomi forgot she was naked, and that Max was naked. She enjoyed talking to him and felt completely at ease.

During a pause in the conversation, Max slid closer to her. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you.”

“Really?” she said. “I had no idea.”

Max put his hand on her knee, and she felt delirious but then, just as quickly, conflicted.

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m married.”

“Is he here?” Max said.

“That’s not the point,” Naomi said.

“Are you happy?” Max said.

Naomi didn’t have an answer which was all the answer Max needed. He leaned in and kissed her. Naomi tried to resist the urge but once Max’s tongue found its way into her mouth, she knew it was over. She relented and melted into his kiss.

Her tongue found his and Max wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. The kissing continued, passionately, as he explored her body with his hands. He cupped her small breasts in his hands and played with her nipples. She moaned.

He worked his hands behind her and took one of her small, firm ass cheeks in each of his hands and squeezed. She sighed.

Then he found her clit. He began kissing her neck and clavicles as he worked her clit in a circle. Naomi thought to herself that this must be what it feels like to be electrocuted.

“Nobody’s touched that before,” she said.

Max stopped kissing her but kept rubbing her clit. “Nobody’s played with your pussy before?” he asked. “Not even your husband?”

“No, no one,” she said, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

She knew from others in the office that Max wasn’t someone who slept around or tried to get into the pants of every girl who crossed his path, but she knew he dated regularly, and her lack of experience made her feel like a child.

“That’s okay,” Max said, kissing her forehead sweetly. “Has anyone ever licked your pussy? You know, gone down on you?”

Naomi felt even more embarrassed, “No,” she said and deciding to get it all out in the open, added, “I’d never kissed anyone before Chad. I was a virgin on my wedding night. I’ve never had or given oral sex. The only position I’ve done is missionary. We have sex twice a week and it lasts for less than a minute.”

Max was clearly taken aback, but quickly said, “I want you to spend the weekend here with me. We can worry about what comes next on Monday. But this weekend is for you. I want to do everything that a man should do to a woman.”

Naomi felt herself choking up. She was relieved and scared. She wanted to stay and knew she would, but she didn’t know what to say. But she didn’t need to say anything.

Max kissed her again and every worry evaporated from her mind. She kissed him back as he began exploring her again. He took her hand and moved it onto his cock, which was now completely hard.

Touching it was incredible and she immediately began picturing him sliding it into her pussy.

“Why don’t we go inside now?” Max said.

Naomi smiled and nodded her head yes.

Max got out of the hot tub first and extended his hand to Naomi, who took it and got out, nakedness on full display, wanting — craving — Max to see her body.

He grabbed a towel and led her into the living room where he stood her in front of the fire and slowly and lovingly dried her off.

“Your body is gorgeous, and I love this,” he said, rubbing his fingers through her full red bush.

He then picked her up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom. Setting her down gently, he crawled next to her. It occurred to Naomi in that moment that Max had shown her more affection and attention in a half hour than Chad had during their entire marriage.

“Every fantasy, every desire … everything you’ve ever wanted is going to happen this weekend,” Max said as he kissed her. “You only need to do one thing for me.”

“What?” Naomi said.

“You just need to let yourself go, don’t think or worry, just enjoy yourself.”

“I think I can do that,” she said.

With that, Max began kissing down her chest, pausing to suck and lick each of her pink nipples, she whimpered and ran her fingers through Max’s hair. He kissed her flat, pale tummy for several seconds before maneuvering himself lower.

He ran the tip of his nose through Naomi’s thick, ginger bush and kissed her through the hair. And then he did it. He began licking her pussy, slowly and softly, up and down. Her body bucked, as if in a spasm. She couldn’t believe that anything could feel so good.

She was 28 years old and was finally having her pussy licked, something she’d fantasized about since she was 14. After getting married she’d thought Chad would go down on her, but he never did. Now she wasn’t even sure he’d know how.

Once, while Chad was out, she went to a porn site to find a video of a woman getting oral and she’d watched for about five seconds before chickening out and closing her incognito tab.

But she wasn’t chickening out this time because she was in ecstasy. Max was sucking on her clit and gently fingering her pussy. While sucking on her clit, he flicked his tongue over it, forcing Naomi to utter a sustained “ohhhhhh.”

Finally, Max began rubbing her clit again while working his tongue up and down her slit. “I love the way you taste,” he said.

He worked his tongue inside her pussy, exploring her, before returning his tongue to the most sensitive part of her pussy. Naomi knew she was wet enough that she was soaking the sheet. After another minute, she felt something big and unexplainable building inside her. It grew and grew until it overwhelmed her. Her pussy exploded and she shook, a cascade of pleasure ran down the entire length of her body.

Max stopped licking and took her into his arms and held her tightly as she continued to shake. “I don’t … I can’t …”

Max kissed her cheek softly. “You had an orgasm,” he said.

They remained there together, enjoying the warmth, and kissing gently.

“Am I a bad person?” Naomi said.

“What does that even mean?”

“I’m married … I made a vow, a promise,” she said.

“So did he,” Max said. “Does he take care of you? Take care of your needs?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think he really wanted to be married. It’s just something he thought he was supposed to do, probably.”

“That’s not enough,” Max said. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long, since like your second week at work.”

“I had no idea,” Naomi said … “I’ve had a crush on you, too.”

They went back to kissing and Naomi could feel Max’s cock brushing against her.

“Can I give you a blow job?” she said.

“This weekend is about you,” Max said.

“I want to … I never have.”

Max looked at her and said, “I want to do whatever you want to do.”

“Let me,” she said.

Max got on his back and Naomi maneuvered herself down to his cock and took it in her hand. It was huge. Long, thick, and warm. She wasn’t sure what to do. She’d once tried to give Chad a blow job, but he immediately rebuffed her.

She licked Max’s cock up and down, which, based on his noises, she could tell he liked. She then wrapped her lips around the head. It made her mouth feel full. She worked her mouth down onto more of it.

So far, so good, she thought.

“Is this right?” she said.

“It’s very right, you’re a natural,” Max said.

She liked that.

“Should I go up and down?”

“Yes,” Max said.

Naomi knew that teeth weren’t part of the equation, so she was careful to only use her lips and tongue. She was quickly getting the hang of it. She felt the head go down her throat a bit and froze, panicking just slightly at the loss of breath. But she realized she could handle it. She let more head slide down her throat and could feel her eyes water. Her soft choking and slurping noises seemed to be turning Max on.

“I’m close,” Max said. “Are you okay if I cum in your mouth?”

“Yes,” Naomi said, and a second later Max was blasting cum into her mouth. Naomi’s eyes bulged and some cum escaped out the sides of her lips, but most remained in her mouth. Her natural inclination was to swallow, so she did. The taste and texture weren’t unpleasant.

“That was your first blow job?” Max said.

“It was,” she said.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that it was,” Max said.

“There was a lot of sexual frustration tied up in it,” she said, before putting Max’s cock back into her mouth.

“Whoa!” Max said and Naomi giggled.

She gently sucked and licked until he was hard in her mouth again. She loved the feeling of control and giving pleasure. This time, she focused on the head and tip while gently stroking and caressing the rest of the shaft with her hand. She happily swallowed Max’s pre-cum.

“I’m about to cum again,” Max said.

“Can I watch this time?” she said.

Max smiled and told Naomi to get on her back. He got on his knees and began stroking his cock. Naomi thought it was the single hottest thing she’d ever seen, until … Max groaned and began shooting his cum. Naomi took it all in with her green eyes. She felt the cum hit her stomach and breasts. She used an index finger to scoop some off her right nipple and licked it off.

Max collapsed next to her. Naomi just stared at him. What a happy thing, she thought to herself, to discover a man who found her beautiful, who actually cared about her pleasure and happiness.

His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She played with his hair and softly stroked his body with her fingers.

“Can I fall asleep with you tonight?” she said.

“You’d better,” he said, smiling.

“But not just yet,” she said.

“No?” he said.

She took his cock back into her hand, “Nope.”

Naomi played with Max’s cock until he was hard again. “Will you go inside me?” she said.

“You know I will.”

He gently pushed her onto her stomach and got on top of her. He leaned down and nibbled both her earlobes. Then, beginning at the top of her neck, he kissed all the way down her back, following her spinal column. He kissed and gently bit her hips. He sucked on all ten of her toes, which made her wet while also making her laugh uncontrollably.

She’d never felt so alive and so valued.

Using her hips, Max lifted her lower half into the air. Her head remained on the pillow. She knew what was coming and she couldn’t wait. Max lined his cock up against her wet and ready cunt and slowly and carefully filled her.

“Tell me right away if it’s uncomfortable,” he said.

“I will, it’s great so far.”

Gently, he pushed forward until his entire cock was buried inside her.

Naomi couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Her pussy was being stretched out in ways she didn’t think were physically possible. Max’s cock was twice the size of Chad’s. She was in pure lust as she felt her eager pussy adjusting to what was inside her.

Once Max could tell she was used to the size, he began using her hips to push her forward and back on his cock, which was now covered in her white wetness. Naomi’s breathing became deeper, and her moans became louder and bolder, as Max picked up the pace.

Max’s cock was finding places in Naomi’s pussy that she didn’t even know were there. She felt like she was losing her virginity, that what she and Chad had done, barely counted.

Sex with Chad had never lasted more than a minute. He did his seven pumps and that was that. But Max had been fucking her for several minutes when she felt that same something building again inside her. She gave up. She closed her eyes. She stopped breathing. She stopped thinking. The thing that was building inside her could have her.

And have her it did. Wetness gushed inside her pussy and her body spasmed. She loudly screamed into the pillow and began to cry. Max put a hand on her back and began rubbing.

“Another orgasm,” he said. “Do you feel okay?”

“I feel amazing … I feel” … she began crying again … “I just didn’t” … “I feel …”

“I understand,” he said. “Are you sore?”

“Just a little.”

“I should stop now,” he said.

“No, no! I’m okay … I need you to go inside me, please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“You won’t, I promise.”

Max put her on her side and got behind her. He showered her neck with deep, full kisses as he softly thrust in and out of her.

Naomi put her hand on his forearm that was wrapped around her and said, “Oh, Max.”

He unloaded inside her. Naomi could feel shot after shot of cum filling her. She had never felt safer or happier. In two hours, her sex life had exploded, and she had no intention of letting this be a one-time thing.

She knew Max was so much more than what she’d settled for. She knew he had so much more to teach her and offer her.

She knew — absolutely knew — that she deserved Max.

“This house is big enough for two people,” Max said.

She smiled and wiggled against him, and he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her tightly against him.

“Let’s have a long adventure together,” she said. “I finally know where I’m supposed to be.” 

 

Naomi’s phone chimed with an alert. She grabbed it and saw that it was a text from her husband. It read: “Getting on plane. All good. See you Monday. Hope you have time to get caught up on cleaning.”

She sighed and set her phone down. Her husband, Chad, was a minister and on his way to a professional conference in San Antonio. Truth be told, she couldn’t wait to have an entire weekend to herself.

Naomi and Chad had met on their first day of college at a conservative Christian liberal arts school. It was the kind of place where people went to get a degree but to also find a spouse. Nearly everyone who lived on Naomi’s residence hall floor that first year married someone they met in their first few months on campus.

Both Naomi and Chad were virgins, and, at Chad’s insistence, it remained that way until their wedding night, which came a month to the day they graduated from college. Before their wedding night, they’d had make out and heavy petting sessions that Chad always put a stop to, though Naomi desperately wanted to keep going.

After their wedding night, she and Chad had perfunctory missionary sex twice a week, always at 9:30 at night. Chad would get on top of her, place his penis inside her, and thrust exactly seven times before cumming. After that, he’d immediately get off Naomi and go to sleep.

Chad wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn’t a thoughtful or fun man, either.

Though she tried not to very often, there were times when Naomi wondered what her life would look like had she gone to a different college or had waited to seek out a husband until after she’d earned her degree.

And it’s not as though she wouldn’t have had options.

She was five-eight with a ballerina’s build, small perky breasts, large green eyes and clear, alabaster skin. Her bright red hair had earned her smiles and pleasant comments since she was a little girl.

She wore little makeup and made no effort to make herself look like a woman on a magazine cover. If you’ve read Roald Dahl’s Matilda, she’d make you think of Miss Honey.

To accurately describe Naomi, you’d only need one word: Lovely.

“So, hubby is out of town all weekend, right?” said Laura, Naomi’s best friend at the office. “That means you can finally go to our Friday night happy hour.”

Naomi worked at a downtown advertising agency. She was a graphic designer. She loved her job but often felt slightly out of place. Her social circle, which consisted of college friends and Chad’s colleagues, were all religious. There was no drinking, no dirty jokes, no conversations about the latest R rated movies.

Her work colleagues, who were all roughly her age, were just the opposite. They were funny and loud. Told dirty jokes. Drank and excitedly debated movies. Laura did her best to look out for her, though she was often frustrated by how sheltered Naomi was.

“He just got on the plane,” Naomi told Laura. “But I don’t know about happy hour. I should get caught up on some cleaning and errands.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Please? It’s my birthday!”

“Your birthday is in three weeks,” Naomi replied.

“Fine, it’s almost my birthday,” Laura said, laughing. “Please come for at least an hour or two.”

Naomi thought to herself that there wouldn’t be any harm in it. Chad would never know. “Okay, I can come for a while.”

“Yes!” Laura shouted, before standing up and announcing to the entire office, “attention please, everyone, attention please! Naomi will be joining us tonight at happy hour! I repeat, Naomi will be joining us tonight at happy hour!”

Every employee clapped and yelled exaggerated cheers.

Naomi’s alabaster skin immediately flushed, but she laughed.

A few minutes after Laura’s announcement, Max came over and sat down next to her. Her heart immediately began to race. She adored Max. He was just a few years older than Naomi, but he was worldly and sophisticated. He was the company’s copywriter and had also published several short stories, which Naomi read again and again. Max was always giving her books — many of which Chad deemed “inappropriate” — to read.

Often, when out for a walk by herself or when soaking in a bubble bath, she fantasized about a life with Max.

Max was just over six-feet tall with light brown hair and blue eyes and kept himself in shape with daily runs and weekend ultimate frisbee games. He made Naomi laugh but he also made her sad — not because of anything he’d done — but because he represented a different kind of like that she could have had if she’d made other choices.

For Naomi, Max was everything Chad wasn’t.

“I’m really glad you’re coming tonight,” Max said to her. “We always go to Heart’s Tavern, on Elm, do you know it?”

“I do,” she said, “I drive by it quite a bit, but I’ve never been in it.”

“Great,” Max said. “The parking lot is really small, but I live just three blocks away, on Dunwoody, so everyone parks in my driveway or on the street right in front of my house. You should too.”

“Thank you, I will,” Naomi said, smile beaming. She felt the pleasurable squirm between her thighs that always came when Max was speaking to her.

As with most offices on Fridays, very little work was done that afternoon. Instead, people goofed off, tossing a foam football around, and showing each other funny clips on YouTube.

When it was time to lock up and head out, everyone excitedly headed for the door.

Laura was riding with Naomi because her boyfriend was meeting them at the bar and Naomi was glad to have someone to help her find Max’s place and the bar.

Max’s place was only a few minutes from the office and when she pulled up to the curb in front of the house, Naomi was impressed. He’d purchased it a few years earlier from an elderly man who’d allowed it to fall into disrepair and immediately went to work remodeling it himself. Today, the house was beautiful. Not huge, not ostentatious, but charming and welcoming.

Naomi and Laura quickly made their way to the bar and found their colleagues. Tense at first, Naomi quickly loosened up and began having more fun than she’d had in years. Laura helped her pick out a pink drink that came with an umbrella. It was sweet and the alcohol made her feel just slightly woozy.

The group shared appetizers and challenged each other to darts and even went outside and used the bar’s horseshoe pit.

At nine, Naomi received a text from Chad: “Goodnight Naomi, sleep well.”

She didn’t bother replying.

At ten, Laura told everyone that she and her boyfriend had to leave because they had to be up early the next morning to attend her cousin’s wedding. From there, the group slowly thinned until it was just Naomi and Max.

“I’m really glad you came,” Max said.

“Me too,” Naomi said. “I probably should have a long time ago.”

They sat and chatted for several minutes. They talked about work, books, movies. The conversation came easy and, to Naomi, seemed completely natural.

“I really love your house,” she said to Max.

“Thanks! It’s been a lot of work, but I actually finished the basement last weekend, so I’m all done.”

“Does the inside look as good as the outside?” Naomi said.

“I think so … I hope so,” Max responded, laughing. “Want to see for yourself?”

“Yeah, I do,” she said.

They made the short walk to Max’s house, and he let her in the front door. The tour began in the basement, which Max had turned into a movie theater and bar. Naomi knew Max loved movies and was impressed by the theater.

He showed her the master bedroom and bathroom, the impressive kitchen, and his library which doubled as his writing room. Three of the four walls were built-in bookshelves. From there they headed into the living room and Max turned on the fireplace before retreating into the kitchen and coming back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

He poured her a glass and she curled her legs underneath her in the chair and took a sip. Max sat in the chair next to her and they once again dropped into an easy and warm conversation.

After two glasses of wine, Naomi felt more relaxed and content than she ever had. She felt like an adult. An adult with real friends and real interests.

“Oh, I should show you one more thing, come on,” Max said, heading to the back door, opening it, and disappearing into the dark.

Naomi followed him and came through the doorway just as Max turned the lights on. She saw a hot tub. Max turned on the jets and at the same time blue LED lights came to life under the water.

“I just installed it myself,” Max said. “I’ve always wanted one. I spent less than I thought I would on the basement, so I was able to get this.”

Naomi walked over and put her hand in the water. It felt luxurious. “This is wonderful, too bad I didn’t bring a suit.”

“Privacy fence,” Max said, pointing. “I built that so nobody could see in. I don’t like using a suit every time I go in.”

Naomi giggled softly. “Well, you’re braver than I am. I’m afraid I’d have to wear a swimsuit in front of you.”

But God, she thought to herself, I would love to be in that water with you, Max.

Max stepped closer to her. She could feel his warmth and her pulse quickened.

“How about this,” Max said, “I go in the house and get some more wine, and you undress and get in the water before I get back. With the bubbles, I won’t see you naked.”

A small part of Naomi wanted to say yes, but all the other parts said no. She was married. What would Chad say? The idea of Chad doing something as fun as building a theater in the basement or installing a hot tub on the back patio was laughable.

Max stepped forward and put his hand on her back. His touch felt incredible, and a wave of desire rushed up her thighs and into her pussy. Her nipples went from soft to hard almost instantly. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, “It’s just you and me here. Our secret.”

Naomi stood silently for a few seconds before saying, “Okay.”

Max headed toward the door, “I’ll give you a few minutes and then I’ll be back with that wine.”

Naomi took a step toward the hot tub and looked around. Because of how Max had built the fence, none of the nearby houses could see the hot tub. He’d created a completely private spot. She took a deep breath and pulled her sweater off and then the T-shirt under that. She could feel her nipples practically knifing through the satin of her bra.

She then took her jeans off. Naomi couldn’t quite explain what was happening. Here she was, standing in her bra and panties in her hot co-worker’s backyard. Her husband was 1,000 miles away and completely unaware. What had come over her? She didn’t care. She was happy.

She quickly removed her bra and her pink, cotton panties, and got into the water. Only her head was visible.

Max came out with a bottle of wine and poured her another glass.

“I have to drive home at some point,” Naomi said.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Max replied.

Naomi was grateful that the lighting around the hot tub was dim enough that Max couldn’t see her blush.

“May I join you?” he said.

“Please do,” Naomi said.

Max stood in the middle of the patio, allowing Naomi to see all of him, and began to undress. She felt more and more agony between her legs with each item of clothing he took off. Finally, his boxers were all that remained.

After he removed them, Naomi could see his soft, thick cock hanging between his legs. She gasped, but not loudly enough to be heard over the hot tub’s jets. Max’s cock dwarfed Chad’s.

Once Max was in the water, they drank their wine and fell back into conversation. Naomi forgot she was naked, and that Max was naked. She enjoyed talking to him and felt completely at ease.

During a pause in the conversation, Max slid closer to her. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you.”

“Really?” she said. “I had no idea.”

Max put his hand on her knee, and she felt delirious but then, just as quickly, conflicted.

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m married.”

“Is he here?” Max said.

“That’s not the point,” Naomi said.

“Are you happy?” Max said.

Naomi didn’t have an answer which was all the answer Max needed. He leaned in and kissed her. Naomi tried to resist the urge but once Max’s tongue found its way into her mouth, she knew it was over. She relented and melted into his kiss.

Her tongue found his and Max wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. The kissing continued, passionately, as he explored her body with his hands. He cupped her small breasts in his hands and played with her nipples. She moaned.

He worked his hands behind her and took one of her small, firm ass cheeks in each of his hands and squeezed. She sighed.

Then he found her clit. He began kissing her neck and clavicles as he worked her clit in a circle. Naomi thought to herself that this must be what it feels like to be electrocuted.

“Nobody’s touched that before,” she said.

Max stopped kissing her but kept rubbing her clit. “Nobody’s played with your pussy before?” he asked. “Not even your husband?”

“No, no one,” she said, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

She knew from others in the office that Max wasn’t someone who slept around or tried to get into the pants of every girl who crossed his path, but she knew he dated regularly, and her lack of experience made her feel like a child.

“That’s okay,” Max said, kissing her forehead sweetly. “Has anyone ever licked your pussy? You know, gone down on you?”

Naomi felt even more embarrassed, “No,” she said and deciding to get it all out in the open, added, “I’d never kissed anyone before Chad. I was a virgin on my wedding night. I’ve never had or given oral sex. The only position I’ve done is missionary. We have sex twice a week and it lasts for less than a minute.”

Max was clearly taken aback, but quickly said, “I want you to spend the weekend here with me. We can worry about what comes next on Monday. But this weekend is for you. I want to do everything that a man should do to a woman.”

Naomi felt herself choking up. She was relieved and scared. She wanted to stay and knew she would, but she didn’t know what to say. But she didn’t need to say anything.

Max kissed her again and every worry evaporated from her mind. She kissed him back as he began exploring her again. He took her hand and moved it onto his cock, which was now completely hard.

Touching it was incredible and she immediately began picturing him sliding it into her pussy.

“Why don’t we go inside now?” Max said.

Naomi smiled and nodded her head yes.

Max got out of the hot tub first and extended his hand to Naomi, who took it and got out, nakedness on full display, wanting — craving — Max to see her body.

He grabbed a towel and led her into the living room where he stood her in front of the fire and slowly and lovingly dried her off.

“Your body is gorgeous, and I love this,” he said, rubbing his fingers through her full red bush.

He then picked her up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom. Setting her down gently, he crawled next to her. It occurred to Naomi in that moment that Max had shown her more affection and attention in a half hour than Chad had during their entire marriage.

“Every fantasy, every desire … everything you’ve ever wanted is going to happen this weekend,” Max said as he kissed her. “You only need to do one thing for me.”

“What?” Naomi said.

“You just need to let yourself go, don’t think or worry, just enjoy yourself.”

“I think I can do that,” she said.

With that, Max began kissing down her chest, pausing to suck and lick each of her pink nipples, she whimpered and ran her fingers through Max’s hair. He kissed her flat, pale tummy for several seconds before maneuvering himself lower.

He ran the tip of his nose through Naomi’s thick, ginger bush and kissed her through the hair. And then he did it. He began licking her pussy, slowly and softly, up and down. Her body bucked, as if in a spasm. She couldn’t believe that anything could feel so good.

She was 28 years old and was finally having her pussy licked, something she’d fantasized about since she was 14. After getting married she’d thought Chad would go down on her, but he never did. Now she wasn’t even sure he’d know how.

Once, while Chad was out, she went to a porn site to find a video of a woman getting oral and she’d watched for about five seconds before chickening out and closing her incognito tab.

But she wasn’t chickening out this time because she was in ecstasy. Max was sucking on her clit and gently fingering her pussy. While sucking on her clit, he flicked his tongue over it, forcing Naomi to utter a sustained “ohhhhhh.”

Finally, Max began rubbing her clit again while working his tongue up and down her slit. “I love the way you taste,” he said.

He worked his tongue inside her pussy, exploring her, before returning his tongue to the most sensitive part of her pussy. Naomi knew she was wet enough that she was soaking the sheet. After another minute, she felt something big and unexplainable building inside her. It grew and grew until it overwhelmed her. Her pussy exploded and she shook, a cascade of pleasure ran down the entire length of her body.

Max stopped licking and took her into his arms and held her tightly as she continued to shake. “I don’t … I can’t …”

Max kissed her cheek softly. “You had an orgasm,” he said.

They remained there together, enjoying the warmth, and kissing gently.

“Am I a bad person?” Naomi said.

“What does that even mean?”

“I’m married … I made a vow, a promise,” she said.

“So did he,” Max said. “Does he take care of you? Take care of your needs?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think he really wanted to be married. It’s just something he thought he was supposed to do, probably.”

“That’s not enough,” Max said. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long, since like your second week at work.”

“I had no idea,” Naomi said … “I’ve had a crush on you, too.”

They went back to kissing and Naomi could feel Max’s cock brushing against her.

“Can I give you a blow job?” she said.

“This weekend is about you,” Max said.

“I want to … I never have.”

Max looked at her and said, “I want to do whatever you want to do.”

“Let me,” she said.

Max got on his back and Naomi maneuvered herself down to his cock and took it in her hand. It was huge. Long, thick, and warm. She wasn’t sure what to do. She’d once tried to give Chad a blow job, but he immediately rebuffed her.

She licked Max’s cock up and down, which, based on his noises, she could tell he liked. She then wrapped her lips around the head. It made her mouth feel full. She worked her mouth down onto more of it.

So far, so good, she thought.

“Is this right?” she said.

“It’s very right, you’re a natural,” Max said.

She liked that.

“Should I go up and down?”

“Yes,” Max said.

Naomi knew that teeth weren’t part of the equation, so she was careful to only use her lips and tongue. She was quickly getting the hang of it. She felt the head go down her throat a bit and froze, panicking just slightly at the loss of breath. But she realized she could handle it. She let more head slide down her throat and could feel her eyes water. Her soft choking and slurping noises seemed to be turning Max on.

“I’m close,” Max said. “Are you okay if I cum in your mouth?”

“Yes,” Naomi said, and a second later Max was blasting cum into her mouth. Naomi’s eyes bulged and some cum escaped out the sides of her lips, but most remained in her mouth. Her natural inclination was to swallow, so she did. The taste and texture weren’t unpleasant.

“That was your first blow job?” Max said.

“It was,” she said.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that it was,” Max said.

“There was a lot of sexual frustration tied up in it,” she said, before putting Max’s cock back into her mouth.

“Whoa!” Max said and Naomi giggled.

She gently sucked and licked until he was hard in her mouth again. She loved the feeling of control and giving pleasure. This time, she focused on the head and tip while gently stroking and caressing the rest of the shaft with her hand. She happily swallowed Max’s pre-cum.

“I’m about to cum again,” Max said.

“Can I watch this time?” she said.

Max smiled and told Naomi to get on her back. He got on his knees and began stroking his cock. Naomi thought it was the single hottest thing she’d ever seen, until … Max groaned and began shooting his cum. Naomi took it all in with her green eyes. She felt the cum hit her stomach and breasts. She used an index finger to scoop some off her right nipple and licked it off.

Max collapsed next to her. Naomi just stared at him. What a happy thing, she thought to herself, to discover a man who found her beautiful, who actually cared about her pleasure and happiness.

His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She played with his hair and softly stroked his body with her fingers.

“Can I fall asleep with you tonight?” she said.

“You’d better,” he said, smiling.

“But not just yet,” she said.

“No?” he said.

She took his cock back into her hand, “Nope.”

Naomi played with Max’s cock until he was hard again. “Will you go inside me?” she said.

“You know I will.”

He gently pushed her onto her stomach and got on top of her. He leaned down and nibbled both her earlobes. Then, beginning at the top of her neck, he kissed all the way down her back, following her spinal column. He kissed and gently bit her hips. He sucked on all ten of her toes, which made her wet while also making her laugh uncontrollably.

She’d never felt so alive and so valued.

Using her hips, Max lifted her lower half into the air. Her head remained on the pillow. She knew what was coming and she couldn’t wait. Max lined his cock up against her wet and ready cunt and slowly and carefully filled her.

“Tell me right away if it’s uncomfortable,” he said.

“I will, it’s great so far.”

Gently, he pushed forward until his entire cock was buried inside her.

Naomi couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Her pussy was being stretched out in ways she didn’t think were physically possible. Max’s cock was twice the size of Chad’s. She was in pure lust as she felt her eager pussy adjusting to what was inside her.

Once Max could tell she was used to the size, he began using her hips to push her forward and back on his cock, which was now covered in her white wetness. Naomi’s breathing became deeper, and her moans became louder and bolder, as Max picked up the pace.

Max’s cock was finding places in Naomi’s pussy that she didn’t even know were there. She felt like she was losing her virginity, that what she and Chad had done, barely counted.

Sex with Chad had never lasted more than a minute. He did his seven pumps and that was that. But Max had been fucking her for several minutes when she felt that same something building again inside her. She gave up. She closed her eyes. She stopped breathing. She stopped thinking. The thing that was building inside her could have her.

And have her it did. Wetness gushed inside her pussy and her body spasmed. She loudly screamed into the pillow and began to cry. Max put a hand on her back and began rubbing.

“Another orgasm,” he said. “Do you feel okay?”

“I feel amazing … I feel” … she began crying again … “I just didn’t” … “I feel …”

“I understand,” he said. “Are you sore?”

“Just a little.”

“I should stop now,” he said.

“No, no! I’m okay … I need you to go inside me, please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“You won’t, I promise.”

Max put her on her side and got behind her. He showered her neck with deep, full kisses as he softly thrust in and out of her.

Naomi put her hand on his forearm that was wrapped around her and said, “Oh, Max.”

He unloaded inside her. Naomi could feel shot after shot of cum filling her. She had never felt safer or happier. In two hours, her sex life had exploded, and she had no intention of letting this be a one-time thing.

She knew Max was so much more than what she’d settled for. She knew he had so much more to teach her and offer her.

She knew — absolutely knew — that she deserved Max.

“This house is big enough for two people,” Max said.

She smiled and wiggled against him, and he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her tightly against him.

“Let’s have a long adventure together,” she said. “I finally know where I’m supposed to be.” 

 

My boss Charlie and I decided to hire Colin for the open position in our communications department because I was a graphic designer and we needed a writer.

Colin was a newspaper reporter looking to finally transition out of the notoriously low-paid industry. 

I’d been with the school district for a year and during that time Charlie had been doing the writing, but he’d recently been promoted to Director of Community Relations, which meant he’d be spending more of his time at community events and meetings, helping promote our schools to our residents. 

And that meant Charlie’s writing days were over. 

We had a lot of good candidates, but Colin was always my choice. Like me, he was in his mid-thirties and married with two daughters. In fact, our oldest daughters were both six and our youngest daughters were both three. 

I also liked that he was laid back and quick to make a joke. He seemed self-confident without a shred of arrogance. 

When Charlie called to offer him the job, he accepted immediately. 

Two weeks later there he was, working at the desk right across from me. 

Over the next few months, he quickly became far more than a colleague; he also became one of my best friends. 

I was excited to get to the office every day because I knew we’d do work together while joking around and laughing the day away. 

We shared nearly identical tastes in books, movies, music, and food. 

One afternoon, Charlie told us he was sending us to a national conference in New Orleans the following spring and we excitedly plotted the restaurants and music venues we’d check out. 

Yeah, Colin was definitely the right hire. 

I’d also be lying to you if I didn’t admit that he was attractive. He was tall and I was tiny. He had light hair and I had dark hair. He had blue eyes and I had brown eyes. 

Even though we’d already grown very close, Colin never did anything to suggest he viewed me as any more than a friend. 

One Friday after Colin and I had been working together for about six months, I received a text from my best friend Carrie, who worked at an advertising firm in downtown Minneapolis. 

It read: “Have some, shall we say, big gossip about your friend Colin …”

After a flurry of back-and-forth texts. I learned that Carrie had a new co-worker, Katie, who was from the same small town as Colin and who had a friend who was his high school girlfriend. 

Carrie refused to get the specifics about what this alleged gossip really was, so I agreed to meet her and Katie for drinks. 

We met at a piano bar downtown near Carrie’s office. It was a bit of a drive for me, but I appreciated getting out of the suburbs for a few hours. 

The drinks were fantastic and so was the music. Katie and I hit it off right away. She was a few years younger than us but was definitely our kind of girl. 

Once our third round of drinks arrived, it was time to get down to the gossip.

Okay, Katie, take it away,” Carrie said with a conspiratorial giggle. 

“So, my older sister Molly’s best friend was a girl named Sammie. She was my friend too but she and Molly were in the same class and they did everything together,” Carrie said. “And she was Colin’s girlfriend the last two years of high school. They broke up when they went off to different colleges.” 

“Oh God,” I said, “you aren’t going to tell me something about Colin that makes me think less of him, are you?”

Carrie absolutely squealed with delight. “Oh no, you’re about to think a lot more of him … much, much more!”

Carrie smiled and continued her story. “After they’d been dating for a few months, they started having sex. They were both virgins so Sammie wasn’t sure if what she was seeing was real.”

“And what was it she saw?” I said.

Now Carrie was roaring with laughter and her laughter was making Katie laugh. 

“Tell me!” I shouted through my own laughter. 

Katie stifled her laughter, wiped the tears from her eyes and said, “Sammie asked my sister how big an average size dick was … and none of them really knew. They asked their friends and none of them knew either. I mean, how many high school girls know how big a dick is supposed to be?”

“I know I didn’t have any idea,” I said.

“Me either,” Carrie added. 

Katie nodded. “Well, Molly and their other friends finally made her measure it … like with an actual fucking tape measure!” 

“Oh Jesus,” I said. 

“Tell her!” Carrie shouted. 

Katie looked around to make sure nobody was too close. “It was ten inches” 

“Fuck you,” I said, way too loud. 

“Dead serious,” Katie said. 

“Ten-fucking-inches,” Carrie said. “Tell her what else, Katie.” 

Katie brought her voice down to almost whisper, like we were trading state secrets or something. “It’s thick too, like ‘oh my fucking God’ thick.” 

I started to say, “Ten inches …

“And thick,” Carrie said.

“Yeah, right, ten inches and thick … is that even physically possible? I mean isn’t the average like five inches or something,” I said. 

“Five and a half,” Katie said. 

“Okay then, so twice as big as the average, that can’t be right,” I said. “I mean seven inches, even eight, okay … but ten.” 

“And thick,” Carrie said. “But we spent all afternoon on Google and while ten is very, very rare, it’s not unheard of. Some porn stars. Some randos down through history. It’s happened.” 

“But it’s fair to say that you’re sharing an office with a super dick,” Katie said. 

“Quite possibly one of the biggest dicks in the world,” Carrie said. 

We spent another hour talking about the big dick breaking news, our husbands, our jobs … it was a great night out. 

And I sure had a lot to think about on my drive home. 

When I got there, the kids were asleep and I could tell my husband was looking for a little something. 

My husband is very nice and very attentive but let’s just say he’s not exactly ten inches. Not even close, in fact. The sex wasn’t too bad though and he went to sleep right after, which gave me time to think about Colin and his massive dick. 

His allegedly massive member was pretty much all I could think about all week. My daughters could barely even get my attention, which isn’t something I’m proud of, but hey, cartoonishly big dick. 

On Monday, I got to work before Colin and watched him walk in wearing his normal outfit of khakis, button-up Oxford, and gray New Balance sneakers. 

“Hey Em,” he said. “Good weekend?” 

“Pretty ho hum,” I said, taking a quick glance at his nether region. Now that I’d been supplied with the blueprints, I was pretty sure I could make out the outline of a bigger than necessary dick. 

This went on for three days. I was constantly sneaking peeks at Colin’s pants, hoping for clear proof. But I didn’t see anything definitive

One interesting thing did happen though. On the fourth day, Thursday, I wore a sundress and, because Colin sat right across from me, he had a perfect view right up my dress if I didn’t keep my legs closed. 

I’d worn dresses and skirts plenty of times but I’d never caught him sneaking a peek. Always the gentleman, that Colin. 

But today, I was almost positive I caught him taking a very quick look at my skinny little legs. 

So, I thought, why not conduct a little test? 

I spread my legs just enough that if Colin looked at the right angle, he’d be able to see my lacey, light purple panties. 

My thighs were only open for about five minutes before out of the corner of my eye, I saw him looking up my dress. His eyes widened just slightly. 
Busted, I said to myself, while inwardly celebrating. 

Late Thursday morning, Charlie emailed asking us to meet him at a piece of rural land a few miles out of town that the school district had purchased in the hopes of building a new school. It was our job in the coming months to convince the voters to give us the money we needed to build it. 

When it was time to head out, Colin said he’d drive and we jumped into his Honda Passport. There was little traffic and before I knew it, Colin was turning onto the unmarked gravel road and slowly making his way down the rocky and rutted road. 

He pulled under a huge tree and killed the engine. We chatted for several minutes about this and that, waiting for Charlie, 

And yes, I kept taking glances at his lap and now there wasn’t any doubt he was packing a serious hog in his khakis. 

I was also pretty sure he was stealing glances at my legs. 

Once Charlie was already ten minutes late – which was out of character for him – he texted both of us and said he was stuck in a meeting with the superintendent and the school board. He apologized and said it would be another half hour before he could leave. 

“That leaves us with forty-five minutes to kill,” Colin said. “Should we go back into town or just wait?” 

“Let’s just wait,” I said. “It’s nice to get out of the office. Especially out here. There’s no people and it’s so quiet.” 

We sat in silence for a minute, just taking in the large old trees and sweeping views. 

Finally, I said, “I met an old high school friend of yours last Friday.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, Katie … Molly’s sister,” I said. 

“Oh wow, that’s a blast from the past,” Colin said. “I dated Molly’s best friend …” 

“Sammie,” I said. 

“Uh … yeah, Sammie.” 

“We talked all about you,” I said. 
He squinted playfully at me. “That sounds ominous.” 

“Not at all,” I laughed. “It was all good stuff.” 

I recapped our conversation, or most of it, anyway. 

Colin laughed and shared some stories about Sammie, Molly, and Katie. 

The whole time, my mind was racing and visions of big huge dicks danced through my head. I wanted to ask him. I need to know. But how the fuck do you ask that kind of question. 

The hell with it, I finally decided. 

“Katie shared one other very interesting factoid about you,” I said. 

“Do tell.” 

I blushed and giggled. “Well, according to Katie, Molly and Sammie talked a lot about your …” 

“My what?” 

I sighed and went for it. “Your ten inch dick.” 

He stared at me with a blank expression on his face. 

“Is it true?” I said. 

Colin continued staring at me. “Are you asking if I have a big dick?” 

“Yes,” I said, “or more specifically, if you have a ten inch dick … and thick.” 

He shook his head and laughed faintly. “This isn’t a conversation I was expecting.” 

“By the way, I caught you sneaking peeks at my legs.”

“They’re nice legs, what can I say?” Colin said. 

“Thank you,” I said. “As for that dick, do you confirm or deny?”

“You want to see it?” 

“Very much,” I said. 

“Then take it out,” he said. 
Now it was my turn to stare silently. 

“If you want to see my dick, you have to take it out,” he said. 

I undid my seatbelt and moved closer to him. With shaking hands, I undid his belt, unsnapped his pants, and worked the zipper down. 

Still shaking, I reached my right hand into the fly of his boxers, wrapped my hand around his flaccid cock, and took it out. 

“Oh my good fucking God,” I said. 

It was everything, and I mean everything, that Katie said it was.

My already tiny hand looked even smaller, wrapped around Colin’s dick. “How is this even possible?” 

“You like?” he said. 

“It’s insane … and it’s not even hard. What’s this monster like when it’s actually hard?” 

He smiled at me. “Put it in your mouth and get it nice and hard. Then you’ll know.” 

I shook my head. “I can’t give you head man, I’m married and you have a wife.” 

“Emily, you traded gossip about my cock. You asked me to show you my cock. You took my cock out of my pants.” 

He pulled my sundress up to my waist and squeezed my petite ass. I loved how it felt to have his hands on me like that. 

“There’s nobody around,” he said. “Now suck that big dick before Charlie gets here.” 

Before I could think about right or wrong or see reason, I wrapped my lips around Colin’s dick. I could feel it pulsate and come to attention. I worked my mouth down a few inches and then swirled my tongue over the head and then worked it over his pee hole, firmly. 

He groaned when he felt my soft, wet tongue on his opening. 

Once he was completely hard, the feeling in my mouth was truly bonkers. In college, I was an eager little knee slut, so I’d had plenty of cocks in my mouth. But with Colin, it was like having two cocks in my mouth at once. 

And for the record, no, I’d never sucked off two guys at once. 
My jaw was getting sore but I wasn’t going to tap out mainly because I was already infatuated with this mega meat, but also because Colin’s hand was between my slender thighs, rubbing my clit and slit through the lace. 

It felt so fucking good. 

“During my first interview I’d look at you and think, ‘I bet that little slut knows how to suck a cock like a champion.’ And I was right.” 

His dirty talk, something I never got at home from my nice guy husband, was driving me out of my mind.

“Little Emily the cock sucker,” he purred. “You’re going to swallow all my cum, aren’t you?”

I knew I wouldn’t be able to say anything intelligible, so I simply nodded. 

Fuck yeah I was going to swallow his load. 

“I’m not hearing enough slurping and choking,” he said. “You aren’t trying hard enough.” 

Fuck you, I thought, as I began working his cock down my throat. I don’t know how much I was able to get down, probably not much from Colin’s perspective, but it was a hell of a lot from my perspective. 

I thought my head was going to split in two. My eyes watered and drool poured out of the corners of my mouth. The intense slurping noises echoed in Colin’s SUV. I could take the first tiny drop of pre-cum. That hot veiny volcano was about to erupt. 

Suddenly, I felt Colin’s hand on the back of my head. He was pressing down, pushing me to take more of him. 

Though to his credit, he seemed to sense just how much I could handle, and didn’t try to push me further than that. 

But it turns out I could handle a lot. A whole fucking lot. 

Using a fistful of my hair for leverage, he worked my head up and down his throbbing member fast and aggressively. 

Now I was drooling like crazy and the “glub glub glub” noises were so loud you could have probably heard them from outside.

“You’re my deep-throat whore,” he whispered. “I’m going to take your mouth, and your throat, whenever I want it. I love a job with fringe benefits.” 
“Fuck yes,” I said, but because my mouth was full of fat cock, I doubt Colin understood me. 

My throat was getting sore, my eyes were leaking, and my pussy was absolutely dripping from the clit play I was getting. 

Suddenly, Colin pulled my head off his cock by my hair, and grabbed it with his left hand. 

“Wrap your lips around the head, just the head.” 

I did exactly as I was told. 

Colin grunted and began shooting cum into my mouth. It was a load befitting a thick, ten-inch cock. I felt it shoot down my throat and off the lining of my cheeks. I could feel it coating my teeth. 

I swallowed everything Colin gave me. And I loved it. 

When he was finally done, I opened my mouth to show him it was empty. 

He wrapped his hand around my throat and said, “Clean it off your teeth.” 

I whimpered and ran my tongue over my pearly whites. I loved the way the pressure on my throat made my pussy feel. 

“Get over here,” Colin said, grabbing me and pulling onto his lap. I was so small and he was so big it was like he was picking up a toy. 

“This isn’t going to be a one time thing, you understand me?” 

“Yes,” I said. 

“You wanted this big cock and now you’re going to get it everyday.”

“Yes, please,” I said. 

I tucked Colin’s cock back into his pants and got him buttoned and zipped back up. 

He held me on his lap, my head against his chest. 

“We’re going to have so much fun,” he said. 

“I know,” I said. “And I can’t wait.” 

A few seconds later, our phones buzzed with another text from Charlie. He apologized profusely and said he wouldn’t be able to meet us because his meeting was going to last the rest of the day. 

Colin didn’t waste any time. He threw his phone onto the console, opened the door with his left hand and scooped me up with his right arm. 

Once he was out of the Passport and on his feet, he used his strength and leverage to bend me over. I put my hands down on the driver’s seat so I would fall forward on my face. 

He roughly pulled my purple panties to the side and began playing with my clit. 

“Oh Jesus,” I said. 

It felt so fucking good. 

I heard him use his free hand to undo his belt and pant’s button. Then the zipper came down. 

“Now that pussy is going to know what ten inches feels like,” he said. 

“Ten thick inches,” I added. 

He rubbed the head up and down my slit. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been so wet. 

Colin then worked the head into my eager little cunt. Thank God he went slowly, letting me stretch and get used to it. 

Had he thrust in all at once, you would have been able to hear my screams for miles. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly he filled me. 

“You’re going to take the whole thing,” he said. 

“I won't be able to take all ten,” I said. “It’s impossible.” 

“It’s all about the angles,” he said. 

“Colin, I weigh a hundred pounds,” I whispered. “Just be glad you can get most of it in.” 

“Nope, it’s all our nothing,” he said. 

He pushed my head down on the seat, which pushed my ass higher. I could feel myself opening up wider. 

“There we go,” Colin sighed. He put a hand on each of my hips and began sliding me up and down his cock. 

It was like getting fucked by a Lousiville Slugger. 

“There we go, it’s buried,” Colin said, with triumph in his voice. 

“You’re lying,” I said. 

He reached around me and grabbed his phone. A few seconds later, he held it in front of my face. 

It was photographic evidence that I was, in fact, taking a thick, ten inch cock all the way to the hilt. 

The human body is truly capable of amazing feats. 

“Now that you’ve got the whole thing, how about I fuck you like I really mean it?” Colin said. 

“Please don’t kill me.” 

He laughed, reapplied his grip on my hips, and began absolutely hammering me up and down his ten-inch shaft. 

I screamed. I moaned. I cried. I banged my fists down on the car seat. 

It was completely overwhelming. It was ecstasy. 

I might as well have been a virgin, because he was hitting places inside my pussy that no man has gone before, boldly or otherwise. I could feel the tip attacking my cervix and I savored the throbbing feeling of my pussy muscles squeezing his cock. 

“You’re so fucking tight, I love it,” Colin growled into my ear. 

Now those are the kinds of words that every woman loves to hear. 

I’d lost all track of time, but it couldn’t have been more than two or three minutes after Colin buried himself all the way inside me that I felt my orgasm. 

“Godfuckjesusfuck,” I said as it hit me like a swinging anvil. My knees nearly buckled as the rest of my legs began shaking violently. As if by instinct, I tried to lift myself off his cock, but he wouldn’t let me go. 

He just kept fucking me, pounding through my orgasm. By now, my pussy was so drenched that the wet smacking sound of him fucking me filled my ears. 

“Was that a good orgasm, little Emily?” 

“Fucking …” 

But I didn’t have any words. Besides, I was still in heaven because he was still fucking me. 

Or he was fucking me until he bucked his hips a final time, held me forward with his body weight, and flooded my tired but happy cunt with cum. 

Honest to God, I think he came even more this time than he did in my mouth. 

When he was done, he straightened my panties and pulled my dress down. 

“Turn around,” he said. 

When I turned to face him, he had his softening cock in his hand and said, “kiss it.” 

I bent at the hips and planted a long, firm kiss right on the head.

“Good girl,” he said, as he tucked his dick back in his pants.

Twenty minutes later, we were back in the office, trying to pretend nothing had happened. He did his work and I did my work. 

But at four, Colin got up, went to our office door and closed and locked it. Then he turned off the lights. 

Watching him, my pussy twitched. 

“Stand up and take your dress off,” he said. “I didn’t get to see those pretty little tits this afternoon.” 

I got to my feet and worked my dress off and set it on my desk. 

“Bra,” he said. 

I took that off too. 

Five minutes later, I was bent over my desk, as Colin absolutely rearranged my guts and broke my brain. 

My eyes were closed until I heard my phone buzz. It was a text from my husband asking me if I'd like tacos for dinner. 

I picked up my phone and began typing, which was difficult because I was getting fucked so hard I was like a bingo ball getting tossed around inside the cage. 

I managed to type: Running late. Will bring dinner. Had a really great day. 

Colin grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerked my head back and said, “I’m going to send you home with a pussy full of cum.” 

“I like that,” I said. “And make sure you’re here a little early in the morning so we can work on my deep throating skills.” 

My boss Charlie and I decided to hire Colin for the open position in our communications department because I was a graphic designer and we needed a writer.

Colin was a newspaper reporter looking to finally transition out of the notoriously low-paid industry. 

I’d been with the school district for a year and during that time Charlie had been doing the writing, but he’d recently been promoted to Director of Community Relations, which meant he’d be spending more of his time at community events and meetings, helping promote our schools to our residents. 

And that meant Charlie’s writing days were over. 

We had a lot of good candidates, but Colin was always my choice. Like me, he was in his mid-thirties and married with two daughters. In fact, our oldest daughters were both six and our youngest daughters were both three. 

I also liked that he was laid back and quick to make a joke. He seemed self-confident without a shred of arrogance. 

When Charlie called to offer him the job, he accepted immediately. 

Two weeks later there he was, working at the desk right across from me. 

Over the next few months, he quickly became far more than a colleague; he also became one of my best friends. 

I was excited to get to the office every day because I knew we’d do work together while joking around and laughing the day away. 

We shared nearly identical tastes in books, movies, music, and food. 

One afternoon, Charlie told us he was sending us to a national conference in New Orleans the following spring and we excitedly plotted the restaurants and music venues we’d check out. 

Yeah, Colin was definitely the right hire. 

I’d also be lying to you if I didn’t admit that he was attractive. He was tall and I was tiny. He had light hair and I had dark hair. He had blue eyes and I had brown eyes. 

Even though we’d already grown very close, Colin never did anything to suggest he viewed me as any more than a friend. 

One Friday after Colin and I had been working together for about six months, I received a text from my best friend Carrie, who worked at an advertising firm in downtown Minneapolis. 

It read: “Have some, shall we say, big gossip about your friend Colin …”

After a flurry of back-and-forth texts. I learned that Carrie had a new co-worker, Katie, who was from the same small town as Colin and who had a friend who was his high school girlfriend. 

Carrie refused to get the specifics about what this alleged gossip really was, so I agreed to meet her and Katie for drinks. 

We met at a piano bar downtown near Carrie’s office. It was a bit of a drive for me, but I appreciated getting out of the suburbs for a few hours. 

The drinks were fantastic and so was the music. Katie and I hit it off right away. She was a few years younger than us but was definitely our kind of girl. 

Once our third round of drinks arrived, it was time to get down to the gossip.

Okay, Katie, take it away,” Carrie said with a conspiratorial giggle. 

“So, my older sister Molly’s best friend was a girl named Sammie. She was my friend too but she and Molly were in the same class and they did everything together,” Carrie said. “And she was Colin’s girlfriend the last two years of high school. They broke up when they went off to different colleges.” 

“Oh God,” I said, “you aren’t going to tell me something about Colin that makes me think less of him, are you?”

Carrie absolutely squealed with delight. “Oh no, you’re about to think a lot more of him … much, much more!”

Carrie smiled and continued her story. “After they’d been dating for a few months, they started having sex. They were both virgins so Sammie wasn’t sure if what she was seeing was real.”

“And what was it she saw?” I said.

Now Carrie was roaring with laughter and her laughter was making Katie laugh. 

“Tell me!” I shouted through my own laughter. 

Katie stifled her laughter, wiped the tears from her eyes and said, “Sammie asked my sister how big an average size dick was … and none of them really knew. They asked their friends and none of them knew either. I mean, how many high school girls know how big a dick is supposed to be?”

“I know I didn’t have any idea,” I said.

“Me either,” Carrie added. 

Katie nodded. “Well, Molly and their other friends finally made her measure it … like with an actual fucking tape measure!” 

“Oh Jesus,” I said. 

“Tell her!” Carrie shouted. 

Katie looked around to make sure nobody was too close. “It was ten inches” 

“Fuck you,” I said, way too loud. 

“Dead serious,” Katie said. 

“Ten-fucking-inches,” Carrie said. “Tell her what else, Katie.” 

Katie brought her voice down to almost whisper, like we were trading state secrets or something. “It’s thick too, like ‘oh my fucking God’ thick.” 

I started to say, “Ten inches …

“And thick,” Carrie said.

“Yeah, right, ten inches and thick … is that even physically possible? I mean isn’t the average like five inches or something,” I said. 

“Five and a half,” Katie said. 

“Okay then, so twice as big as the average, that can’t be right,” I said. “I mean seven inches, even eight, okay … but ten.” 

“And thick,” Carrie said. “But we spent all afternoon on Google and while ten is very, very rare, it’s not unheard of. Some porn stars. Some randos down through history. It’s happened.” 

“But it’s fair to say that you’re sharing an office with a super dick,” Katie said. 

“Quite possibly one of the biggest dicks in the world,” Carrie said. 

We spent another hour talking about the big dick breaking news, our husbands, our jobs … it was a great night out. 

And I sure had a lot to think about on my drive home. 

When I got there, the kids were asleep and I could tell my husband was looking for a little something. 

My husband is very nice and very attentive but let’s just say he’s not exactly ten inches. Not even close, in fact. The sex wasn’t too bad though and he went to sleep right after, which gave me time to think about Colin and his massive dick. 

His allegedly massive member was pretty much all I could think about all week. My daughters could barely even get my attention, which isn’t something I’m proud of, but hey, cartoonishly big dick. 

On Monday, I got to work before Colin and watched him walk in wearing his normal outfit of khakis, button-up Oxford, and gray New Balance sneakers. 

“Hey Em,” he said. “Good weekend?” 

“Pretty ho hum,” I said, taking a quick glance at his nether region. Now that I’d been supplied with the blueprints, I was pretty sure I could make out the outline of a bigger than necessary dick. 

This went on for three days. I was constantly sneaking peeks at Colin’s pants, hoping for clear proof. But I didn’t see anything definitive

One interesting thing did happen though. On the fourth day, Thursday, I wore a sundress and, because Colin sat right across from me, he had a perfect view right up my dress if I didn’t keep my legs closed. 

I’d worn dresses and skirts plenty of times but I’d never caught him sneaking a peek. Always the gentleman, that Colin. 

But today, I was almost positive I caught him taking a very quick look at my skinny little legs. 

So, I thought, why not conduct a little test? 

I spread my legs just enough that if Colin looked at the right angle, he’d be able to see my lacey, light purple panties. 

My thighs were only open for about five minutes before out of the corner of my eye, I saw him looking up my dress. His eyes widened just slightly. 
Busted, I said to myself, while inwardly celebrating. 

Late Thursday morning, Charlie emailed asking us to meet him at a piece of rural land a few miles out of town that the school district had purchased in the hopes of building a new school. It was our job in the coming months to convince the voters to give us the money we needed to build it. 

When it was time to head out, Colin said he’d drive and we jumped into his Honda Passport. There was little traffic and before I knew it, Colin was turning onto the unmarked gravel road and slowly making his way down the rocky and rutted road. 

He pulled under a huge tree and killed the engine. We chatted for several minutes about this and that, waiting for Charlie, 

And yes, I kept taking glances at his lap and now there wasn’t any doubt he was packing a serious hog in his khakis. 

I was also pretty sure he was stealing glances at my legs. 

Once Charlie was already ten minutes late – which was out of character for him – he texted both of us and said he was stuck in a meeting with the superintendent and the school board. He apologized and said it would be another half hour before he could leave. 

“That leaves us with forty-five minutes to kill,” Colin said. “Should we go back into town or just wait?” 

“Let’s just wait,” I said. “It’s nice to get out of the office. Especially out here. There’s no people and it’s so quiet.” 

We sat in silence for a minute, just taking in the large old trees and sweeping views. 

Finally, I said, “I met an old high school friend of yours last Friday.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, Katie … Molly’s sister,” I said. 

“Oh wow, that’s a blast from the past,” Colin said. “I dated Molly’s best friend …” 

“Sammie,” I said. 

“Uh … yeah, Sammie.” 

“We talked all about you,” I said. 
He squinted playfully at me. “That sounds ominous.” 

“Not at all,” I laughed. “It was all good stuff.” 

I recapped our conversation, or most of it, anyway. 

Colin laughed and shared some stories about Sammie, Molly, and Katie. 

The whole time, my mind was racing and visions of big huge dicks danced through my head. I wanted to ask him. I need to know. But how the fuck do you ask that kind of question. 

The hell with it, I finally decided. 

“Katie shared one other very interesting factoid about you,” I said. 

“Do tell.” 

I blushed and giggled. “Well, according to Katie, Molly and Sammie talked a lot about your …” 

“My what?” 

I sighed and went for it. “Your ten inch dick.” 

He stared at me with a blank expression on his face. 

“Is it true?” I said. 

Colin continued staring at me. “Are you asking if I have a big dick?” 

“Yes,” I said, “or more specifically, if you have a ten inch dick … and thick.” 

He shook his head and laughed faintly. “This isn’t a conversation I was expecting.” 

“By the way, I caught you sneaking peeks at my legs.”

“They’re nice legs, what can I say?” Colin said. 

“Thank you,” I said. “As for that dick, do you confirm or deny?”

“You want to see it?” 

“Very much,” I said. 

“Then take it out,” he said. 
Now it was my turn to stare silently. 

“If you want to see my dick, you have to take it out,” he said. 

I undid my seatbelt and moved closer to him. With shaking hands, I undid his belt, unsnapped his pants, and worked the zipper down. 

Still shaking, I reached my right hand into the fly of his boxers, wrapped my hand around his flaccid cock, and took it out. 

“Oh my good fucking God,” I said. 

It was everything, and I mean everything, that Katie said it was.

My already tiny hand looked even smaller, wrapped around Colin’s dick. “How is this even possible?” 

“You like?” he said. 

“It’s insane … and it’s not even hard. What’s this monster like when it’s actually hard?” 

He smiled at me. “Put it in your mouth and get it nice and hard. Then you’ll know.” 

I shook my head. “I can’t give you head man, I’m married and you have a wife.” 

“Emily, you traded gossip about my cock. You asked me to show you my cock. You took my cock out of my pants.” 

He pulled my sundress up to my waist and squeezed my petite ass. I loved how it felt to have his hands on me like that. 

“There’s nobody around,” he said. “Now suck that big dick before Charlie gets here.” 

Before I could think about right or wrong or see reason, I wrapped my lips around Colin’s dick. I could feel it pulsate and come to attention. I worked my mouth down a few inches and then swirled my tongue over the head and then worked it over his pee hole, firmly. 

He groaned when he felt my soft, wet tongue on his opening. 

Once he was completely hard, the feeling in my mouth was truly bonkers. In college, I was an eager little knee slut, so I’d had plenty of cocks in my mouth. But with Colin, it was like having two cocks in my mouth at once. 

And for the record, no, I’d never sucked off two guys at once. 
My jaw was getting sore but I wasn’t going to tap out mainly because I was already infatuated with this mega meat, but also because Colin’s hand was between my slender thighs, rubbing my clit and slit through the lace. 

It felt so fucking good. 

“During my first interview I’d look at you and think, ‘I bet that little slut knows how to suck a cock like a champion.’ And I was right.” 

His dirty talk, something I never got at home from my nice guy husband, was driving me out of my mind.

“Little Emily the cock sucker,” he purred. “You’re going to swallow all my cum, aren’t you?”

I knew I wouldn’t be able to say anything intelligible, so I simply nodded. 

Fuck yeah I was going to swallow his load. 

“I’m not hearing enough slurping and choking,” he said. “You aren’t trying hard enough.” 

Fuck you, I thought, as I began working his cock down my throat. I don’t know how much I was able to get down, probably not much from Colin’s perspective, but it was a hell of a lot from my perspective. 

I thought my head was going to split in two. My eyes watered and drool poured out of the corners of my mouth. The intense slurping noises echoed in Colin’s SUV. I could take the first tiny drop of pre-cum. That hot veiny volcano was about to erupt. 

Suddenly, I felt Colin’s hand on the back of my head. He was pressing down, pushing me to take more of him. 

Though to his credit, he seemed to sense just how much I could handle, and didn’t try to push me further than that. 

But it turns out I could handle a lot. A whole fucking lot. 

Using a fistful of my hair for leverage, he worked my head up and down his throbbing member fast and aggressively. 

Now I was drooling like crazy and the “glub glub glub” noises were so loud you could have probably heard them from outside.

“You’re my deep-throat whore,” he whispered. “I’m going to take your mouth, and your throat, whenever I want it. I love a job with fringe benefits.” 
“Fuck yes,” I said, but because my mouth was full of fat cock, I doubt Colin understood me. 

My throat was getting sore, my eyes were leaking, and my pussy was absolutely dripping from the clit play I was getting. 

Suddenly, Colin pulled my head off his cock by my hair, and grabbed it with his left hand. 

“Wrap your lips around the head, just the head.” 

I did exactly as I was told. 

Colin grunted and began shooting cum into my mouth. It was a load befitting a thick, ten-inch cock. I felt it shoot down my throat and off the lining of my cheeks. I could feel it coating my teeth. 

I swallowed everything Colin gave me. And I loved it. 

When he was finally done, I opened my mouth to show him it was empty. 

He wrapped his hand around my throat and said, “Clean it off your teeth.” 

I whimpered and ran my tongue over my pearly whites. I loved the way the pressure on my throat made my pussy feel. 

“Get over here,” Colin said, grabbing me and pulling onto his lap. I was so small and he was so big it was like he was picking up a toy. 

“This isn’t going to be a one time thing, you understand me?” 

“Yes,” I said. 

“You wanted this big cock and now you’re going to get it everyday.”

“Yes, please,” I said. 

I tucked Colin’s cock back into his pants and got him buttoned and zipped back up. 

He held me on his lap, my head against his chest. 

“We’re going to have so much fun,” he said. 

“I know,” I said. “And I can’t wait.” 

A few seconds later, our phones buzzed with another text from Charlie. He apologized profusely and said he wouldn’t be able to meet us because his meeting was going to last the rest of the day. 

Colin didn’t waste any time. He threw his phone onto the console, opened the door with his left hand and scooped me up with his right arm. 

Once he was out of the Passport and on his feet, he used his strength and leverage to bend me over. I put my hands down on the driver’s seat so I would fall forward on my face. 

He roughly pulled my purple panties to the side and began playing with my clit. 

“Oh Jesus,” I said. 

It felt so fucking good. 

I heard him use his free hand to undo his belt and pant’s button. Then the zipper came down. 

“Now that pussy is going to know what ten inches feels like,” he said. 

“Ten thick inches,” I added. 

He rubbed the head up and down my slit. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been so wet. 

Colin then worked the head into my eager little cunt. Thank God he went slowly, letting me stretch and get used to it. 

Had he thrust in all at once, you would have been able to hear my screams for miles. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly he filled me. 

“You’re going to take the whole thing,” he said. 

“I won't be able to take all ten,” I said. “It’s impossible.” 

“It’s all about the angles,” he said. 

“Colin, I weigh a hundred pounds,” I whispered. “Just be glad you can get most of it in.” 

“Nope, it’s all our nothing,” he said. 

He pushed my head down on the seat, which pushed my ass higher. I could feel myself opening up wider. 

“There we go,” Colin sighed. He put a hand on each of my hips and began sliding me up and down his cock. 

It was like getting fucked by a Lousiville Slugger. 

“There we go, it’s buried,” Colin said, with triumph in his voice. 

“You’re lying,” I said. 

He reached around me and grabbed his phone. A few seconds later, he held it in front of my face. 

It was photographic evidence that I was, in fact, taking a thick, ten inch cock all the way to the hilt. 

The human body is truly capable of amazing feats. 

“Now that you’ve got the whole thing, how about I fuck you like I really mean it?” Colin said. 

“Please don’t kill me.” 

He laughed, reapplied his grip on my hips, and began absolutely hammering me up and down his ten-inch shaft. 

I screamed. I moaned. I cried. I banged my fists down on the car seat. 

It was completely overwhelming. It was ecstasy. 

I might as well have been a virgin, because he was hitting places inside my pussy that no man has gone before, boldly or otherwise. I could feel the tip attacking my cervix and I savored the throbbing feeling of my pussy muscles squeezing his cock. 

“You’re so fucking tight, I love it,” Colin growled into my ear. 

Now those are the kinds of words that every woman loves to hear. 

I’d lost all track of time, but it couldn’t have been more than two or three minutes after Colin buried himself all the way inside me that I felt my orgasm. 

“Godfuckjesusfuck,” I said as it hit me like a swinging anvil. My knees nearly buckled as the rest of my legs began shaking violently. As if by instinct, I tried to lift myself off his cock, but he wouldn’t let me go. 

He just kept fucking me, pounding through my orgasm. By now, my pussy was so drenched that the wet smacking sound of him fucking me filled my ears. 

“Was that a good orgasm, little Emily?” 

“Fucking …” 

But I didn’t have any words. Besides, I was still in heaven because he was still fucking me. 

Or he was fucking me until he bucked his hips a final time, held me forward with his body weight, and flooded my tired but happy cunt with cum. 

Honest to God, I think he came even more this time than he did in my mouth. 

When he was done, he straightened my panties and pulled my dress down. 

“Turn around,” he said. 

When I turned to face him, he had his softening cock in his hand and said, “kiss it.” 

I bent at the hips and planted a long, firm kiss right on the head.

“Good girl,” he said, as he tucked his dick back in his pants.

Twenty minutes later, we were back in the office, trying to pretend nothing had happened. He did his work and I did my work. 

But at four, Colin got up, went to our office door and closed and locked it. Then he turned off the lights. 

Watching him, my pussy twitched. 

“Stand up and take your dress off,” he said. “I didn’t get to see those pretty little tits this afternoon.” 

I got to my feet and worked my dress off and set it on my desk. 

“Bra,” he said. 

I took that off too. 

Five minutes later, I was bent over my desk, as Colin absolutely rearranged my guts and broke my brain. 

My eyes were closed until I heard my phone buzz. It was a text from my husband asking me if I'd like tacos for dinner. 

I picked up my phone and began typing, which was difficult because I was getting fucked so hard I was like a bingo ball getting tossed around inside the cage. 

I managed to type: Running late. Will bring dinner. Had a really great day. 

Colin grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerked my head back and said, “I’m going to send you home with a pussy full of cum.” 

“I like that,” I said. “And make sure you’re here a little early in the morning so we can work on my deep throating skills.” 

When I got back to my office after my 10 a.m. meeting, I saw the voice mail alert on my homescreen. It was from Henry. 

“Our date tonight,” he growed, not unpleasantly, “will be about you receiving all the things you deserve.” 

He then told me what to wear and when to be at his house. I was told to let myself in with the key he’d given me a few months ago. Once inside, I was to read the note that would be on the fridge. 

The letter, Henry explained, would spell out the rest of his expectation for my behavior. 

Henry and I had been together for a little more than a year, long enough for me to have semi-moved into his place. To your family and friends, we were the cute all-American couple. Educated and professionally successful. Healthy, fit, and bright eyed. 

While all of that was true, our private life together wasn’t exactly apple pie, main street America. 

Though I’d long wanted to embrace the BDSM lifestyle, Henry was my first dom, and while I wasn’t his first submissive, I was beginning to allow myself to think that maybe I was his favorite. 

When we were alone together, our buzzing chemistry couldn’t be stopped. 

Not that either one of us had any interest in stopping it. 

I loved following all of his rules and commands. 

He loved training me and testing my boundaries. 

We figured out our mutual appetite very soon after we began dating and once those particular cards were on the table, we began exploring the lifestyle with delirious enthusiasm. 

I often wore a collar and leash that he used to guide me around his house while I was naked, on my hands and knees. 

He was always ordering new toys to try out on me and on some days, when I was at work, I’d have to text him and ask his permission to use the bathroom or eat. 

I trust him completely, so none of this ever felt like anything other than the mutually enjoyable exploration of taboos. 

Honestly, I enjoyed living a lifestyle that few people embraced. 

But at the same time, a sexually submissive Rome isn’t built in a day. I was still a work in progress who could occasionally suffer bouts of shyness or unconfidence. 

Thankfully, Henry had mastered the ability to understand what I needed and wanted without me having to tell him. 

Henry knew how much I loved it when he pulled my hair. I was in ecstasy when he forcefully slapped my ass or when he held my head down on his beautiful big cock. He enjoyed watching me shiver delightfully while he gently traced his fingers along my jawline. 

I didn’t feel any shame or awkwardness about falling deeper and deeper into submission with Henry. 

I’d dated plenty, including a few serious relationships. 

But Henry made me feel more alive, more seen, and more loved than I ever had. 

After work, I went to my apartment and took a shower. I did my makeup and hair and then put on the clothes that Henry had directed me to. 

It was a light yellow cotton dress that Henry had bought me on a trip to Mexico, our first getaway as a couple. He loved me in yellow. And I loved that he loved me in yellow. Under the dress, I wore white panties and a white bra, again per his instructions. 

After the short drive to Henry’s, I let myself in the front door. I went to the fridge and read the note which told me that there were gifts waiting for me on the dining room table. 

I walked through the doorway from the kitchen to the dining room and immediately saw a small, elegant black collar as well as a blindfold, the silky kind you wear to bed to block the light. 

The blindfold was yellow. 

Like I said, Henry loves me in yellow.

A small note lying next to the gifts instructed me to put them both on. 

I put the collar on first, which by now was second nature thanks to Henry’s coaching, and then I put the blindfold on. Then I sat down on one of the dining room chairs. I was prepared to wait as long as Henry wanted me to. 

But it was soon clear that he’d been nearby, silently waiting for me to follow his instructions. From the squeak of the wooden floor under his feet, I knew he was coming down the hallway from his bedroom. 

I sat up straighter in the wooden chair and fidgeted with my hands. I could already feel myself getting wet from the anticipation of what was in store for me. 

But he didn’t touch me. And he didn’t say anything to me. Instead, I heard him moving around in the kitchen. Cupboards and drawers opened. Silverware and glasses clanked. Then I heard him setting things down on the table I was sitting at. 

I had no idea what he was doing. But I wasn’t the least bit nervous, I was more like a little kid going to bed on Christmas Eve, eagerly dreaming about what was waiting for me under the tree in the morning. 

“Open up that pretty mouth for me,” Henry finally said. 

I immediately obeyed. He set something on my tongue with his fingers and ordered me to taste it. 

It was sweet and salty and creamy. It was the garlic and herb spread from the cheese shop that Henry and I had stopped at on our fourth date. It was heavenly. 

He fed me more bites until the piece was gone. 

“There’s some left on my fingers,” Henry said. 

I licked every crumb off, taking his fingers into the back of my mouth. 

For the next several minutes, he fed me bites of my favorite foods. Greek olives, corn bread, mandarin oranges, chocolate covered almonds, penne with fresh pesto, ripe berries and bananas, bread with olive oil, and so much more. 

The food was delicious but I think the collar and blindfold made it taste even better. It was as though my sense of taste and smell were heightened. 

Of course, having an exceedingly handsome man doesn’t hurt either. 

As he fed me, I laughed and playfully bit his finger tips. It was difficult to sit still in the chair and passively allow myself to be fed. 

When I got a little too wiggly, he threatened to tie my arms behind the chair and my feet to the chair legs. That was enough to get me to behave myself. 

“Don’t eat too fast,” Henry said “We have plenty of food and we have all night, you aren’t going anywhere until tomorrow. And remember, I promised that you’d get everything you deserve.” 

At that, I felt a surge of pure electricity explode between my thighs. 

He fed me several more bites and then said, “Are you thirsty?” 

I nodded my head. 

Henry gently put a glass to my lips and told me to tilt my head back. Gently, he filled my mouth with bubbling champagne. Champagne. My favorite thing in the world. After each sip of champagne, he filled my mouth with fresh berries. 

The mix of flavors was glorious. 

I savored the combination of champagne and berries, thinking to myself that nothing could taste better. 

But then Henry topped it by tapping my lips with a fork. I opened my mouth again to accept his offer. Once it hit my tongue, the divine flavor of cream cheese and strawberries. My taste buds exploded when I deduced that it was cheesecake from Carmine's, my favorite restaurant. 

He gave me bite after bite, eventually ditching the fork and going back to feeding me with his fingers. I was licking cheese and crumbs and berry juice off his fingers when I felt some of it smear onto my cheek. 

I was feeling so relaxed and so happy that I let out a soft laugh. I heard Henry set the plate down on the table. 

“I’m sorry for laughing sir,” I said. 

“Little girl, you don’t need to apologize for laughing,” he said. “I think you’ve had enough dessert. Now I need something sweet.” 

Little girl. Something sweet. My panties were drenched. I was beyond ready for anything he wanted. 

“I like when you call me sir,” Henry said. “You’re so obedient. I think you might be on your way to become a truly perfect little submissive.”

I whimpered and squirmed on the chair. 

“You need to be quiet and sit still.” 

I focused all my energy on sitting completely still and suppressing any noise that might escape my lips. 

There was a lull in the action, just long enough for me to wonder what was happening. 
Then, in a flash, I was yanked off the chair and pulled down onto Henry’s lap. He tipped me over across his legs, lifted my dress up, and exposed my little ass. He pressed down on the crotch of my soaking wet panties. 

“Remember pet, if this becomes too much, just tell me,” he said. “I’m a very nice dom.” 

He then brought an open palm down hard onto my ass. 

I let out a little scream. 

He gave me two fast, booming slaps. 

“What was that you called me?” 

“I call you sir,,” I said. 

A fourth hard slap onto my willing ass. 

“What else am I?” 

“You’re daddy.”

A fifth spank. “And?” 

“And master.” 

A sixth slap echoed off the dining room walls. “And?”

“I don’t know … I can’t think … I’m sorry.” I was embarrassed by how hysterical I sounded. 

Tears were welling up in my eyes and beginning to saturate the mask. I tried to control my breathing as Henry kept speaking my burning ass with his steady, powerful rhythm. 

“Don’t apologize,” he said, at which point I broke down into full tears. 

Henry slowed the pace and strength of his spanking but didn’t stop entirely. 

“I’m not spanking you because you’re a naughty girl,” he said. “I’m spanking you because you’re a good girl … my good girl. My obedient girl. My girl who does what she’s told.” 

He brought two more full-power slaps down onto my raw, irritated ass. 

“But I also enjoy spanking you,” he added. “I also think you like it too, just as much as I do, even if you are crying. Isn’t that true?” 
“It is,” I choked out. 

“I can tell you like it because your panties are so wet I could ring them out.” 

He put his hand roughly between my thighs and cupped my entire pussy. 

“Ohhhhh,” was the only thing I could manage to get out.

He then spanked my pussy, not as hard as he spanked my ass, but more than hard enough to get me even wetter. 

“I'm very lucky to have a hot little submissive like you in my lap,” he said. “After all, not every girl likes to have her ass spanked until it’s cherry red.” 

He hit my ass again and then again. 

“And not every good girl gets a dripping wet pussy just from getting spanked.” 

Another slap. Then another. 

“Do you get wet when I spank you?” 

“Yes,” I whispered. “So wet.” 

Three more ass slaps. 

“I think it’s time for my good girl to get more of what she deserves,” he said. 

He shoved me down to the floor. 

“Get on your hands and knees, now,” Henry said. 

HIs voice was getting firmer and more commanding. 

“Present that bright red ass to me.” 

I put my face flat on the floor and then angled my body so that my ass was high as I could possibly get it. 

He gripped my panties along my right hip and ripped them off me in one motion. 

I shuddered happily as the cool air hit my aching ass and wet pussy at the same time. Even if I’d wanted to crawl away or dart away and hide, I was still blindfolded. I’d probably run straight into a wall and knock myself silly. 

But that said, why would I ever want to get away from what Henry was doing to me right now? 

I heard him suck his breath in as he took in the view of my ass. 

“I’ll never get tired of staring at this ass, no matter how many times I see it,” he said. 

My only disappointment was that I could watch him lustfully looking at my ass. 

“I appreciate you growing out your bush for me,” he said. “I do like a full bush … and you’ve done a wonderful job of keeping it trimmed and groomed.” 

I felt like I’d been face down, ass up forever. Why wasn’t I hearing him take his belt off? When would the tell-take sound of a zipper fill the room? 

I wanted to scream for him to do something to me. 

Finally, I heard a soft click and then a buzzing noise. 

“It’s been too long since I watched you masturbate,” Henry said. “I really do enjoy watching you play with your hot little cunt.” 

I could feel myself blushing. Off all the things we’d explored together, of all the taboos we’d broken, letting Henry watch me masturbate was the hardest thing I’d done. 

But once I’d gotten over my own self-consciousness, it turned out to be one of the sexiest things I’d ever experienced. 

“I’m glad you liked it, sir.” 

The buzzing got louder as Henry came closer to me. 

“I think you’re going to enjoy this,” he said. 

He then placed the buzzing contraption against my clit and worked it in soft, methodical circles. 

It was all I could do to keep my ass high in the air so that he could find my sweet spot. 

“Stop moving,” he said. “Let me handle things.” 

I did my best to stay completely still but my knees were beginning to shake and my whole body was beginning to ache. 

“I want you to let me know when you’re getting close to cumming,” Henry said. “Tell me how it feels.” 

I felt momentarily bratty because I was enjoying myself too much to start talking. The only thing I wanted to do was savor what this man was doing to me. I was so wet I imagined a puddle on the floor, right under me.

 But I knew I needed to give him something. 

“It … feels … amazing,” I managed to say. “Just keep going, don’t change anything. And please don’t stop.” 

Henry laughed. “Please, huh? You’re so polite. Tell me more.”

He slapped my ass again, causing me to yelp. 

He knew I didn’t want to talk and that I just wanted to savor what was happening. 

But when your dom tells you to talk, you talk. 

“You turn me on … everything you do to me and say to me … I love it. I want your cock in my mouth. I want you to stick in my wet little cunt.”

I patted my ass gently. “Go on.” 

“I want you to take me whenever you want to,” I said, letting go of my inhibitions. “I want you to use me. I want you to own me.” 

“Have you said that to anyone else before?” 

“No,” I whimpered. “You’re the only one, I promise … I need to cum. Please let me cum.” 

“I'm not stopping you,” Henry said. 

“Oh … wow,” I choked out. I could feel my insides moving in response to his permission. My body was getting ready.

He put his mouth to my ear and said, “Do you deserve to cum?”

“I … I …” 

“Of course you deserve it,” Henry said. “You’re obedient in all things and you’ve submitted yourself to me, entirely You’re truly an exceptional submissive.” 

“Thank you … sir.” 

“Do you think you can cum on command?” 

I whimpered and shook my head. I was well past the point of having any words. 

“Let’s try it,” he said, while he continued working my clit with his magic vibrating machine. 

Then he gently said, “I want you to tum right now. It’s time to get what you deserve.” 

That broke me. My knees gave out. My hips started pushing back against Henry’s hand. I let out an insanely loud moan as I hit the floor without bracing myself. 

Henry got behind me, scooped me up, and turned off the vibrator. Then he cupped my pussy. I shook in his arms. I was covered in sweat and pussy. 

Henry took my blindfold off and softly kissed both of my closed eyes through the lids. 

“Sir,” I said. “Did I earn a glass of water?” 

Henry laughed, 

“You certainly did,” he said. “And there’s some of that cheesecake left, too.” 

When I got back to my office after my 10 a.m. meeting, I saw the voice mail alert on my homescreen. It was from Henry. 

“Our date tonight,” he growed, not unpleasantly, “will be about you receiving all the things you deserve.” 

He then told me what to wear and when to be at his house. I was told to let myself in with the key he’d given me a few months ago. Once inside, I was to read the note that would be on the fridge. 

The letter, Henry explained, would spell out the rest of his expectation for my behavior. 

Henry and I had been together for a little more than a year, long enough for me to have semi-moved into his place. To your family and friends, we were the cute all-American couple. Educated and professionally successful. Healthy, fit, and bright eyed. 

While all of that was true, our private life together wasn’t exactly apple pie, main street America. 

Though I’d long wanted to embrace the BDSM lifestyle, Henry was my first dom, and while I wasn’t his first submissive, I was beginning to allow myself to think that maybe I was his favorite. 

When we were alone together, our buzzing chemistry couldn’t be stopped. 

Not that either one of us had any interest in stopping it. 

I loved following all of his rules and commands. 

He loved training me and testing my boundaries. 

We figured out our mutual appetite very soon after we began dating and once those particular cards were on the table, we began exploring the lifestyle with delirious enthusiasm. 

I often wore a collar and leash that he used to guide me around his house while I was naked, on my hands and knees. 

He was always ordering new toys to try out on me and on some days, when I was at work, I’d have to text him and ask his permission to use the bathroom or eat. 

I trust him completely, so none of this ever felt like anything other than the mutually enjoyable exploration of taboos. 

Honestly, I enjoyed living a lifestyle that few people embraced. 

But at the same time, a sexually submissive Rome isn’t built in a day. I was still a work in progress who could occasionally suffer bouts of shyness or unconfidence. 

Thankfully, Henry had mastered the ability to understand what I needed and wanted without me having to tell him. 

Henry knew how much I loved it when he pulled my hair. I was in ecstasy when he forcefully slapped my ass or when he held my head down on his beautiful big cock. He enjoyed watching me shiver delightfully while he gently traced his fingers along my jawline. 

I didn’t feel any shame or awkwardness about falling deeper and deeper into submission with Henry. 

I’d dated plenty, including a few serious relationships. 

But Henry made me feel more alive, more seen, and more loved than I ever had. 

After work, I went to my apartment and took a shower. I did my makeup and hair and then put on the clothes that Henry had directed me to. 

It was a light yellow cotton dress that Henry had bought me on a trip to Mexico, our first getaway as a couple. He loved me in yellow. And I loved that he loved me in yellow. Under the dress, I wore white panties and a white bra, again per his instructions. 

After the short drive to Henry’s, I let myself in the front door. I went to the fridge and read the note which told me that there were gifts waiting for me on the dining room table. 

I walked through the doorway from the kitchen to the dining room and immediately saw a small, elegant black collar as well as a blindfold, the silky kind you wear to bed to block the light. 

The blindfold was yellow. 

Like I said, Henry loves me in yellow.

A small note lying next to the gifts instructed me to put them both on. 

I put the collar on first, which by now was second nature thanks to Henry’s coaching, and then I put the blindfold on. Then I sat down on one of the dining room chairs. I was prepared to wait as long as Henry wanted me to. 

But it was soon clear that he’d been nearby, silently waiting for me to follow his instructions. From the squeak of the wooden floor under his feet, I knew he was coming down the hallway from his bedroom. 

I sat up straighter in the wooden chair and fidgeted with my hands. I could already feel myself getting wet from the anticipation of what was in store for me. 

But he didn’t touch me. And he didn’t say anything to me. Instead, I heard him moving around in the kitchen. Cupboards and drawers opened. Silverware and glasses clanked. Then I heard him setting things down on the table I was sitting at. 

I had no idea what he was doing. But I wasn’t the least bit nervous, I was more like a little kid going to bed on Christmas Eve, eagerly dreaming about what was waiting for me under the tree in the morning. 

“Open up that pretty mouth for me,” Henry finally said. 

I immediately obeyed. He set something on my tongue with his fingers and ordered me to taste it. 

It was sweet and salty and creamy. It was the garlic and herb spread from the cheese shop that Henry and I had stopped at on our fourth date. It was heavenly. 

He fed me more bites until the piece was gone. 

“There’s some left on my fingers,” Henry said. 

I licked every crumb off, taking his fingers into the back of my mouth. 

For the next several minutes, he fed me bites of my favorite foods. Greek olives, corn bread, mandarin oranges, chocolate covered almonds, penne with fresh pesto, ripe berries and bananas, bread with olive oil, and so much more. 

The food was delicious but I think the collar and blindfold made it taste even better. It was as though my sense of taste and smell were heightened. 

Of course, having an exceedingly handsome man doesn’t hurt either. 

As he fed me, I laughed and playfully bit his finger tips. It was difficult to sit still in the chair and passively allow myself to be fed. 

When I got a little too wiggly, he threatened to tie my arms behind the chair and my feet to the chair legs. That was enough to get me to behave myself. 

“Don’t eat too fast,” Henry said “We have plenty of food and we have all night, you aren’t going anywhere until tomorrow. And remember, I promised that you’d get everything you deserve.” 

At that, I felt a surge of pure electricity explode between my thighs. 

He fed me several more bites and then said, “Are you thirsty?” 

I nodded my head. 

Henry gently put a glass to my lips and told me to tilt my head back. Gently, he filled my mouth with bubbling champagne. Champagne. My favorite thing in the world. After each sip of champagne, he filled my mouth with fresh berries. 

The mix of flavors was glorious. 

I savored the combination of champagne and berries, thinking to myself that nothing could taste better. 

But then Henry topped it by tapping my lips with a fork. I opened my mouth again to accept his offer. Once it hit my tongue, the divine flavor of cream cheese and strawberries. My taste buds exploded when I deduced that it was cheesecake from Carmine's, my favorite restaurant. 

He gave me bite after bite, eventually ditching the fork and going back to feeding me with his fingers. I was licking cheese and crumbs and berry juice off his fingers when I felt some of it smear onto my cheek. 

I was feeling so relaxed and so happy that I let out a soft laugh. I heard Henry set the plate down on the table. 

“I’m sorry for laughing sir,” I said. 

“Little girl, you don’t need to apologize for laughing,” he said. “I think you’ve had enough dessert. Now I need something sweet.” 

Little girl. Something sweet. My panties were drenched. I was beyond ready for anything he wanted. 

“I like when you call me sir,” Henry said. “You’re so obedient. I think you might be on your way to become a truly perfect little submissive.”

I whimpered and squirmed on the chair. 

“You need to be quiet and sit still.” 

I focused all my energy on sitting completely still and suppressing any noise that might escape my lips. 

There was a lull in the action, just long enough for me to wonder what was happening. 
Then, in a flash, I was yanked off the chair and pulled down onto Henry’s lap. He tipped me over across his legs, lifted my dress up, and exposed my little ass. He pressed down on the crotch of my soaking wet panties. 

“Remember pet, if this becomes too much, just tell me,” he said. “I’m a very nice dom.” 

He then brought an open palm down hard onto my ass. 

I let out a little scream. 

He gave me two fast, booming slaps. 

“What was that you called me?” 

“I call you sir,,” I said. 

A fourth hard slap onto my willing ass. 

“What else am I?” 

“You’re daddy.”

A fifth spank. “And?” 

“And master.” 

A sixth slap echoed off the dining room walls. “And?”

“I don’t know … I can’t think … I’m sorry.” I was embarrassed by how hysterical I sounded. 

Tears were welling up in my eyes and beginning to saturate the mask. I tried to control my breathing as Henry kept speaking my burning ass with his steady, powerful rhythm. 

“Don’t apologize,” he said, at which point I broke down into full tears. 

Henry slowed the pace and strength of his spanking but didn’t stop entirely. 

“I’m not spanking you because you’re a naughty girl,” he said. “I’m spanking you because you’re a good girl … my good girl. My obedient girl. My girl who does what she’s told.” 

He brought two more full-power slaps down onto my raw, irritated ass. 

“But I also enjoy spanking you,” he added. “I also think you like it too, just as much as I do, even if you are crying. Isn’t that true?” 
“It is,” I choked out. 

“I can tell you like it because your panties are so wet I could ring them out.” 

He put his hand roughly between my thighs and cupped my entire pussy. 

“Ohhhhh,” was the only thing I could manage to get out.

He then spanked my pussy, not as hard as he spanked my ass, but more than hard enough to get me even wetter. 

“I'm very lucky to have a hot little submissive like you in my lap,” he said. “After all, not every girl likes to have her ass spanked until it’s cherry red.” 

He hit my ass again and then again. 

“And not every good girl gets a dripping wet pussy just from getting spanked.” 

Another slap. Then another. 

“Do you get wet when I spank you?” 

“Yes,” I whispered. “So wet.” 

Three more ass slaps. 

“I think it’s time for my good girl to get more of what she deserves,” he said. 

He shoved me down to the floor. 

“Get on your hands and knees, now,” Henry said. 

HIs voice was getting firmer and more commanding. 

“Present that bright red ass to me.” 

I put my face flat on the floor and then angled my body so that my ass was high as I could possibly get it. 

He gripped my panties along my right hip and ripped them off me in one motion. 

I shuddered happily as the cool air hit my aching ass and wet pussy at the same time. Even if I’d wanted to crawl away or dart away and hide, I was still blindfolded. I’d probably run straight into a wall and knock myself silly. 

But that said, why would I ever want to get away from what Henry was doing to me right now? 

I heard him suck his breath in as he took in the view of my ass. 

“I’ll never get tired of staring at this ass, no matter how many times I see it,” he said. 

My only disappointment was that I could watch him lustfully looking at my ass. 

“I appreciate you growing out your bush for me,” he said. “I do like a full bush … and you’ve done a wonderful job of keeping it trimmed and groomed.” 

I felt like I’d been face down, ass up forever. Why wasn’t I hearing him take his belt off? When would the tell-take sound of a zipper fill the room? 

I wanted to scream for him to do something to me. 

Finally, I heard a soft click and then a buzzing noise. 

“It’s been too long since I watched you masturbate,” Henry said. “I really do enjoy watching you play with your hot little cunt.” 

I could feel myself blushing. Off all the things we’d explored together, of all the taboos we’d broken, letting Henry watch me masturbate was the hardest thing I’d done. 

But once I’d gotten over my own self-consciousness, it turned out to be one of the sexiest things I’d ever experienced. 

“I’m glad you liked it, sir.” 

The buzzing got louder as Henry came closer to me. 

“I think you’re going to enjoy this,” he said. 

He then placed the buzzing contraption against my clit and worked it in soft, methodical circles. 

It was all I could do to keep my ass high in the air so that he could find my sweet spot. 

“Stop moving,” he said. “Let me handle things.” 

I did my best to stay completely still but my knees were beginning to shake and my whole body was beginning to ache. 

“I want you to let me know when you’re getting close to cumming,” Henry said. “Tell me how it feels.” 

I felt momentarily bratty because I was enjoying myself too much to start talking. The only thing I wanted to do was savor what this man was doing to me. I was so wet I imagined a puddle on the floor, right under me.

 But I knew I needed to give him something. 

“It … feels … amazing,” I managed to say. “Just keep going, don’t change anything. And please don’t stop.” 

Henry laughed. “Please, huh? You’re so polite. Tell me more.”

He slapped my ass again, causing me to yelp. 

He knew I didn’t want to talk and that I just wanted to savor what was happening. 

But when your dom tells you to talk, you talk. 

“You turn me on … everything you do to me and say to me … I love it. I want your cock in my mouth. I want you to stick in my wet little cunt.”

I patted my ass gently. “Go on.” 

“I want you to take me whenever you want to,” I said, letting go of my inhibitions. “I want you to use me. I want you to own me.” 

“Have you said that to anyone else before?” 

“No,” I whimpered. “You’re the only one, I promise … I need to cum. Please let me cum.” 

“I'm not stopping you,” Henry said. 

“Oh … wow,” I choked out. I could feel my insides moving in response to his permission. My body was getting ready.

He put his mouth to my ear and said, “Do you deserve to cum?”

“I … I …” 

“Of course you deserve it,” Henry said. “You’re obedient in all things and you’ve submitted yourself to me, entirely You’re truly an exceptional submissive.” 

“Thank you … sir.” 

“Do you think you can cum on command?” 

I whimpered and shook my head. I was well past the point of having any words. 

“Let’s try it,” he said, while he continued working my clit with his magic vibrating machine. 

Then he gently said, “I want you to tum right now. It’s time to get what you deserve.” 

That broke me. My knees gave out. My hips started pushing back against Henry’s hand. I let out an insanely loud moan as I hit the floor without bracing myself. 

Henry got behind me, scooped me up, and turned off the vibrator. Then he cupped my pussy. I shook in his arms. I was covered in sweat and pussy. 

Henry took my blindfold off and softly kissed both of my closed eyes through the lids. 

“Sir,” I said. “Did I earn a glass of water?” 

Henry laughed, 

“You certainly did,” he said. “And there’s some of that cheesecake left, too.” 

When I got back to my office after my 10 a.m. meeting, I saw the voice mail alert on my homescreen. It was from Henry. 

“Our date tonight,” he growed, not unpleasantly, “will be about you receiving all the things you deserve.” 

He then told me what to wear and when to be at his house. I was told to let myself in with the key he’d given me a few months ago. Once inside, I was to read the note that would be on the fridge. 

The letter, Henry explained, would spell out the rest of his expectation for my behavior. 

Henry and I had been together for a little more than a year, long enough for me to have semi-moved into his place. To your family and friends, we were the cute all-American couple. Educated and professionally successful. Healthy, fit, and bright eyed. 

While all of that was true, our private life together wasn’t exactly apple pie, main street America. 

Though I’d long wanted to embrace the BDSM lifestyle, Henry was my first dom, and while I wasn’t his first submissive, I was beginning to allow myself to think that maybe I was his favorite. 

When we were alone together, our buzzing chemistry couldn’t be stopped. 

Not that either one of us had any interest in stopping it. 

I loved following all of his rules and commands. 

He loved training me and testing my boundaries. 

We figured out our mutual appetite very soon after we began dating and once those particular cards were on the table, we began exploring the lifestyle with delirious enthusiasm. 

I often wore a collar and leash that he used to guide me around his house while I was naked, on my hands and knees. 

He was always ordering new toys to try out on me and on some days, when I was at work, I’d have to text him and ask his permission to use the bathroom or eat. 

I trust him completely, so none of this ever felt like anything other than the mutually enjoyable exploration of taboos. 

Honestly, I enjoyed living a lifestyle that few people embraced. 

But at the same time, a sexually submissive Rome isn’t built in a day. I was still a work in progress who could occasionally suffer bouts of shyness or unconfidence. 

Thankfully, Henry had mastered the ability to understand what I needed and wanted without me having to tell him. 

Henry knew how much I loved it when he pulled my hair. I was in ecstasy when he forcefully slapped my ass or when he held my head down on his beautiful big cock. He enjoyed watching me shiver delightfully while he gently traced his fingers along my jawline. 

I didn’t feel any shame or awkwardness about falling deeper and deeper into submission with Henry. 

I’d dated plenty, including a few serious relationships. 

But Henry made me feel more alive, more seen, and more loved than I ever had. 

After work, I went to my apartment and took a shower. I did my makeup and hair and then put on the clothes that Henry had directed me to. 

It was a light yellow cotton dress that Henry had bought me on a trip to Mexico, our first getaway as a couple. He loved me in yellow. And I loved that he loved me in yellow. Under the dress, I wore white panties and a white bra, again per his instructions. 

After the short drive to Henry’s, I let myself in the front door. I went to the fridge and read the note which told me that there were gifts waiting for me on the dining room table. 

I walked through the doorway from the kitchen to the dining room and immediately saw a small, elegant black collar as well as a blindfold, the silky kind you wear to bed to block the light. 

The blindfold was yellow. 

Like I said, Henry loves me in yellow.

A small note lying next to the gifts instructed me to put them both on. 

I put the collar on first, which by now was second nature thanks to Henry’s coaching, and then I put the blindfold on. Then I sat down on one of the dining room chairs. I was prepared to wait as long as Henry wanted me to. 

But it was soon clear that he’d been nearby, silently waiting for me to follow his instructions. From the squeak of the wooden floor under his feet, I knew he was coming down the hallway from his bedroom. 

I sat up straighter in the wooden chair and fidgeted with my hands. I could already feel myself getting wet from the anticipation of what was in store for me. 

But he didn’t touch me. And he didn’t say anything to me. Instead, I heard him moving around in the kitchen. Cupboards and drawers opened. Silverware and glasses clanked. Then I heard him setting things down on the table I was sitting at. 

I had no idea what he was doing. But I wasn’t the least bit nervous, I was more like a little kid going to bed on Christmas Eve, eagerly dreaming about what was waiting for me under the tree in the morning. 

“Open up that pretty mouth for me,” Henry finally said. 

I immediately obeyed. He set something on my tongue with his fingers and ordered me to taste it. 

It was sweet and salty and creamy. It was the garlic and herb spread from the cheese shop that Henry and I had stopped at on our fourth date. It was heavenly. 

He fed me more bites until the piece was gone. 

“There’s some left on my fingers,” Henry said. 

I licked every crumb off, taking his fingers into the back of my mouth. 

For the next several minutes, he fed me bites of my favorite foods. Greek olives, corn bread, mandarin oranges, chocolate covered almonds, penne with fresh pesto, ripe berries and bananas, bread with olive oil, and so much more. 

The food was delicious but I think the collar and blindfold made it taste even better. It was as though my sense of taste and smell were heightened. 

Of course, having an exceedingly handsome man doesn’t hurt either. 

As he fed me, I laughed and playfully bit his finger tips. It was difficult to sit still in the chair and passively allow myself to be fed. 

When I got a little too wiggly, he threatened to tie my arms behind the chair and my feet to the chair legs. That was enough to get me to behave myself. 

“Don’t eat too fast,” Henry said “We have plenty of food and we have all night, you aren’t going anywhere until tomorrow. And remember, I promised that you’d get everything you deserve.” 

At that, I felt a surge of pure electricity explode between my thighs. 

He fed me several more bites and then said, “Are you thirsty?” 

I nodded my head. 

Henry gently put a glass to my lips and told me to tilt my head back. Gently, he filled my mouth with bubbling champagne. Champagne. My favorite thing in the world. After each sip of champagne, he filled my mouth with fresh berries. 

The mix of flavors was glorious. 

I savored the combination of champagne and berries, thinking to myself that nothing could taste better. 

But then Henry topped it by tapping my lips with a fork. I opened my mouth again to accept his offer. Once it hit my tongue, the divine flavor of cream cheese and strawberries. My taste buds exploded when I deduced that it was cheesecake from Carmine's, my favorite restaurant. 

He gave me bite after bite, eventually ditching the fork and going back to feeding me with his fingers. I was licking cheese and crumbs and berry juice off his fingers when I felt some of it smear onto my cheek. 

I was feeling so relaxed and so happy that I let out a soft laugh. I heard Henry set the plate down on the table. 

“I’m sorry for laughing sir,” I said. 

“Little girl, you don’t need to apologize for laughing,” he said. “I think you’ve had enough dessert. Now I need something sweet.” 

Little girl. Something sweet. My panties were drenched. I was beyond ready for anything he wanted. 

“I like when you call me sir,” Henry said. “You’re so obedient. I think you might be on your way to become a truly perfect little submissive.”

I whimpered and squirmed on the chair. 

“You need to be quiet and sit still.” 

I focused all my energy on sitting completely still and suppressing any noise that might escape my lips. 

There was a lull in the action, just long enough for me to wonder what was happening. 
Then, in a flash, I was yanked off the chair and pulled down onto Henry’s lap. He tipped me over across his legs, lifted my dress up, and exposed my little ass. He pressed down on the crotch of my soaking wet panties. 

“Remember pet, if this becomes too much, just tell me,” he said. “I’m a very nice dom.” 

He then brought an open palm down hard onto my ass. 

I let out a little scream. 

He gave me two fast, booming slaps. 

“What was that you called me?” 

“I call you sir,,” I said. 

A fourth hard slap onto my willing ass. 

“What else am I?” 

“You’re daddy.”

A fifth spank. “And?” 

“And master.” 

A sixth slap echoed off the dining room walls. “And?”

“I don’t know … I can’t think … I’m sorry.” I was embarrassed by how hysterical I sounded. 

Tears were welling up in my eyes and beginning to saturate the mask. I tried to control my breathing as Henry kept speaking my burning ass with his steady, powerful rhythm. 

“Don’t apologize,” he said, at which point I broke down into full tears. 

Henry slowed the pace and strength of his spanking but didn’t stop entirely. 

“I’m not spanking you because you’re a naughty girl,” he said. “I’m spanking you because you’re a good girl … my good girl. My obedient girl. My girl who does what she’s told.” 

He brought two more full-power slaps down onto my raw, irritated ass. 

“But I also enjoy spanking you,” he added. “I also think you like it too, just as much as I do, even if you are crying. Isn’t that true?” 
“It is,” I choked out. 

“I can tell you like it because your panties are so wet I could ring them out.” 

He put his hand roughly between my thighs and cupped my entire pussy. 

“Ohhhhh,” was the only thing I could manage to get out.

He then spanked my pussy, not as hard as he spanked my ass, but more than hard enough to get me even wetter. 

“I'm very lucky to have a hot little submissive like you in my lap,” he said. “After all, not every girl likes to have her ass spanked until it’s cherry red.” 

He hit my ass again and then again. 

“And not every good girl gets a dripping wet pussy just from getting spanked.” 

Another slap. Then another. 

“Do you get wet when I spank you?” 

“Yes,” I whispered. “So wet.” 

Three more ass slaps. 

“I think it’s time for my good girl to get more of what she deserves,” he said. 

He shoved me down to the floor. 

“Get on your hands and knees, now,” Henry said. 

HIs voice was getting firmer and more commanding. 

“Present that bright red ass to me.” 

I put my face flat on the floor and then angled my body so that my ass was high as I could possibly get it. 

He gripped my panties along my right hip and ripped them off me in one motion. 

I shuddered happily as the cool air hit my aching ass and wet pussy at the same time. Even if I’d wanted to crawl away or dart away and hide, I was still blindfolded. I’d probably run straight into a wall and knock myself silly. 

But that said, why would I ever want to get away from what Henry was doing to me right now? 

I heard him suck his breath in as he took in the view of my ass. 

“I’ll never get tired of staring at this ass, no matter how many times I see it,” he said. 

My only disappointment was that I could watch him lustfully looking at my ass. 

“I appreciate you growing out your bush for me,” he said. “I do like a full bush … and you’ve done a wonderful job of keeping it trimmed and groomed.” 

I felt like I’d been face down, ass up forever. Why wasn’t I hearing him take his belt off? When would the tell-take sound of a zipper fill the room? 

I wanted to scream for him to do something to me. 

Finally, I heard a soft click and then a buzzing noise. 

“It’s been too long since I watched you masturbate,” Henry said. “I really do enjoy watching you play with your hot little cunt.” 

I could feel myself blushing. Off all the things we’d explored together, of all the taboos we’d broken, letting Henry watch me masturbate was the hardest thing I’d done. 

But once I’d gotten over my own self-consciousness, it turned out to be one of the sexiest things I’d ever experienced. 

“I’m glad you liked it, sir.” 

The buzzing got louder as Henry came closer to me. 

“I think you’re going to enjoy this,” he said. 

He then placed the buzzing contraption against my clit and worked it in soft, methodical circles. 

It was all I could do to keep my ass high in the air so that he could find my sweet spot. 

“Stop moving,” he said. “Let me handle things.” 

I did my best to stay completely still but my knees were beginning to shake and my whole body was beginning to ache. 

“I want you to let me know when you’re getting close to cumming,” Henry said. “Tell me how it feels.” 

I felt momentarily bratty because I was enjoying myself too much to start talking. The only thing I wanted to do was savor what this man was doing to me. I was so wet I imagined a puddle on the floor, right under me.

 But I knew I needed to give him something. 

“It … feels … amazing,” I managed to say. “Just keep going, don’t change anything. And please don’t stop.” 

Henry laughed. “Please, huh? You’re so polite. Tell me more.”

He slapped my ass again, causing me to yelp. 

He knew I didn’t want to talk and that I just wanted to savor what was happening. 

But when your dom tells you to talk, you talk. 

“You turn me on … everything you do to me and say to me … I love it. I want your cock in my mouth. I want you to stick in my wet little cunt.”

I patted my ass gently. “Go on.” 

“I want you to take me whenever you want to,” I said, letting go of my inhibitions. “I want you to use me. I want you to own me.” 

“Have you said that to anyone else before?” 

“No,” I whimpered. “You’re the only one, I promise … I need to cum. Please let me cum.” 

“I'm not stopping you,” Henry said. 

“Oh … wow,” I choked out. I could feel my insides moving in response to his permission. My body was getting ready.

He put his mouth to my ear and said, “Do you deserve to cum?”

“I … I …” 

“Of course you deserve it,” Henry said. “You’re obedient in all things and you’ve submitted yourself to me, entirely You’re truly an exceptional submissive.” 

“Thank you … sir.” 

“Do you think you can cum on command?” 

I whimpered and shook my head. I was well past the point of having any words. 

“Let’s try it,” he said, while he continued working my clit with his magic vibrating machine. 

Then he gently said, “I want you to tum right now. It’s time to get what you deserve.” 

That broke me. My knees gave out. My hips started pushing back against Henry’s hand. I let out an insanely loud moan as I hit the floor without bracing myself. 

Henry got behind me, scooped me up, and turned off the vibrator. Then he cupped my pussy. I shook in his arms. I was covered in sweat and pussy. 

Henry took my blindfold off and softly kissed both of my closed eyes through the lids. 

“Sir,” I said. “Did I earn a glass of water?” 

Henry laughed, 

“You certainly did,” he said. “And there’s some of that cheesecake left, too.”