Chapter 4

My fervent hopes that Sharon would require me to do what she'd always wanted were about all I could think of the next day. I truly don't remember even teaching my classes at the college, let alone what I said during the lectures. I do know that when the slowly-advancing clock at last signaled the end of my last class, I was out the door almost before the first student.

I drove home at the highest legal speed, parked my car in the garage, and then rushed into the house, hoping against hope that my wife would be standing there totally naked, holding a whip, and pointing at the floor. In my fevered imagination, she would bark out her orders, almost shouting as she said, "Get naked right now, you worthless little bastard! Get down there on the floor and open your mouth as wide as you can get it! I've been saving it for you all day, and now you're going to get it just as fast as I can give it to you!"

I would rip off my clothes, then fall to the floor before her, holding my mouth open to its widest extent. She would slowly straddle my head, then look down at me menacingly while saying in her most-threatening tone of voice, "If you waste even a single drop of what I'm going to give you, I'll whip your useless little things until they're torn off!" She would then reverse her position and lower herself to me, whispering, "You can have a nice, hot drink first, honey." As her floodgates opened, I would see her arm raise high above her head, then swing downward just as fast as possible. As my mouth filled with her wonderful golden nectar, the thongs of her whip would bite deep into the oh-so-tender flesh between my legs, and the agonizing pain would cause my throat to open, sending her gift to its rightful home in my stomach.

So much for fantasies, though. As was the usual case, Sharon was in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. I went to her, and almost melted as she hugged me close and kissed me with even more passion than before. I could feel her body trembling as it pressed against mine, and I knew mine was doing the same. At last she broke the kiss, then as she lay her head on my shoulder, she told me that she loved me more than she could ever say, and that she'd been thinking all day about what we'd talked about last night.

When I tried to interrupt to say I'd been the same way, she said sharply, "Let me finish, will you!" I wilted in place, and hung my head in shame, afraid that I'd destroyed her mood, and that the exciting things we'd talked about, and that I had fantasized about all day, would never happen.

She apparently forgave me quickly, for she then said, "Like I said, I've been thinking all day about that, and I need to know that we're thinking alike. I told you pretty much everything about what the woman in the story did to her husband, and what she made him do. I know you said you'd had fantasies like that for a long time, too, but that was in the heat of the moment. Tell me now, right here in the kitchen and in broad daylight, that you want me to make you give me I.B.S."

She then pulled away while keeping both hands on my shoulders, almost as if she were afraid I'd try to escape what she had planned for me. By then I was shaking like a leaf, and my voice trembled as I rasped, "I want that so much that I just can't think of anything else. I want you to make me serve you like that, and in any other way you can think of. I love you so much that I just can't tell you how much. Please use me like that."

She then turned back to the range, and as she stirred the contents of the pan sitting there, she said, "Good, I'm glad you want it just as much as I do. I was going to do it to you anyway, but this way is much better. Just to give you something else to think about, there was another part of that story where she wrote about something else she'd done to her husband, and it made him the best body slave she could ever imagine. Since you've already told me I can do anything I want to you, I don't need to ask you if you want that, too. I'm going to do that part no matter what, and probably before too much longer. Now, go get ready to eat."

Then, as she noticed my confused hesitation, she began to laugh uproariously, and it took quite awhile before she could gasp out, "I meant 'eat' what I'm cooking for supper, honey. Not those other things. That part will come when I feel like it."

She continued laughing as I walked out of the room and headed toward the bathroom to wash up. My mind was in a constant turmoil as I tried to imagine what else was in store for me, and just what it was that my wife could possibly do to me that would make me more eager to serve her as she required. I finally gave up, since I was sure nothing in the world could ever make me want that more than I already did. Little did I know that what she had in mind would raise my submission to her will to a level far greater than anything I'd ever dreamed of.

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Again contrary to my hopes and fantasies, the time we spent in bed that night would probably be thought of as "normal" by most standards. After we had both prepared for bed, with Sharon bathing as usual, much to my disappointment, she mounted my face and ordered me to give her "a nice big cum so I can sleep better." I did my best to do just exactly that, all the time buried deep in my fantasy of her sitting backwards there, and whipping my little things while she relieved herself in my mouth. What made it doubly arousing, and four times as frustrating, was the sure knowledge that she was probably having somewhat the same fantasies as she rode my tongue to orgasm.

That was the start of another night spent in sleepless exhaustion with my hands safely tucked beneath my back, knowing full well that if they had their way, they'd soon be stroking my penis. Over and over I reminded myself of my promise to my wife, and how much it meant to her that I keep it. I forced myself to say again and again that I could get through this, and it was just a case of mind over matter. However, my throbbing dick had a mind of its own, and the more I tried to forget about it, the more it reminded me of its need. I guess my mind won that battle, because when I awakened in the morning, my undershorts were still dry.

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I want to tell you about the following Wednesday night, because it introduced a new element to our time in bed together. After that, I'll skip forward a few months, because if I continued to talk about each night that I thought was more exciting than the one before, I'll be repeating the same things over and over.

Suffice it to say that Sharon once again left about 6:00 on Wednesday evening, to attend the meeting of her ladies' club. As I had done many times during the past three weeks, I tried to imagine what it was about those meetings that always aroused her so much.

In the end, I guessed that maybe women did the same sort of things in their get-togethers as men did in theirs. I had on many occasions gone to the home of a friend or colleague for what was usually termed "boys' night out," and if what Sharon's friends did was somewhat similar, it was not surprising that she would be thinking of sex when she returned. However, I had never become as turned on by a meeting of men as she obviously was by a meeting of women. I wished time after time that I could have been a "fly on the wall" so I could eavesdrop on what was going on.

I tried to imagine the women telling the sort of dirty jokes that men did, but probably with males as the butt of the story, rather than women. I thought of the sex magazines that were usually passed around at the parties with my friends, and how arousing some of them could be. Most of all, though, I thought of the movies that were a staple of those get-togethers, and how everyone in attendance would have a very-visible erection by the time they ended. I wondered if there were similar movies intended for a female audience, and if so, if they would have a similar effect on the fairer sex. Since I couldn't think of anything else that would create so much lust in my wife on her night out, I finally decided that it must be the movies that were responsible.

As before, Sharon came home shortly before midnight, and as I heard the garage door operator raising the door, then closing it behind her car, I turned to my side and focused my attention on the bedroom door. As before, she was hurrying when she entered the bedroom, but what was different was that she wasn't undressing as she walked toward the bed.

Instead, she reached for the lamp sitting on the bedside table, and turned on its switch. The sudden flood of light nearly blinded me, and I had to rub my eyes to make them focus on her standing there. As soon as she was sure she had my undivided attention, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, and then very sensuously removed it. As it fluttered to the floor, she cupped her breasts in her hands, and as I lay there entranced by the vision of loveliness she presented, she said in a husky voice, "This is how he held my breasts tonight. It felt so good to have a real man's hands on them, that I thought I was going to cum right then and there." Then, as she pinched and pulled her nipples, she continued, "This is what he did to my nipples. God, that made me a thousand times hotter than you've ever done when you play with them."

She must have removed her shoes and socks somewhere else, because she'd been barefoot when she'd turned on the light. Since her shoes weren't in the way, her hands then dropped to the waistband of her slacks, and she very carefully and slowly released the single button at her side. After the zipper had been pulled down as far as it would go, she hooked her fingers in the waistband, and so slowly that it almost made me scream out to her to hurry, she pushed them off her hips and then stepped out of them.

That left her completely nude, except for the small wad of cloth between her legs, and I was sure it was her panties. She confirmed that for me as she got on the bed on her knees, then wordlessly swung one leg over me. That gave me an clear view of her crotch, and there was no doubt whatsoever that it was, indeed, her panties that had been wadded up and stuffed partway inside her treasure.

She continued her story then, saying, "He fucked me so many times that I had to stuff my panties in my pussy to hold all his cum inside it. I wanted to save every bit of it for you, because I love you so much, and now I'm going to make you eat every single drop out of my pussy. Then you'll know for sure what it means to be just a useless cuckold, and not a real man at all, won't you? Eating a real man's cum out of your wife's pussy is all you're good for isn't it?

I tried to croak my assent, but she merely continued, "First you have to suck my panties clean." So saying, she pulled them slowly from her treasure, then held them out to my face. "Can you smell his cum? Doesn't it smell delicious, honey? Doesn't it make you hungry just to find out what a real man's cum smells like?"

Again she gave me no time to answer, even assuming that I had been able to do so in the first place. By then her panties, especially the balled-up part that had been inside her, were resting on my lips. Her throaty whisper told me, "Now suck them clean, little cucky. Hurry up before the rest of it runs out of my pussy."

I did as she ordered, and was in ecstasy as I swallowed the first bit of what I fervently hoped was another man's semen. Even as excited as I was at that point, I felt a sense of disappointment that her lover's sperm didn't taste a bit different than what she'd been feeding me for more than two weeks. My only hope was that when she actually allowed me to lick and suck her treasure, the taste would be more "foreign" than what I was used to.

At last satisfied with my efforts at cleaning her panties, she dropped them over the side of the bed. She then scooted her knees forward, until her crotch was centered above my face. "Can you see it," she asked? "Can you see my lover's cum dripping out of my pussy. He put three loads inside me tonight, and now you're going to suck it out, aren't you? You've always wanted to eat another man's cum out of your wife's pussy, and now that's exactly what you're going to do." As she lowered herself to me, she hissed, "Get busy, you worthless, useless, little cucky!"

And I did. Completely forgotten were all the lessons she'd given me on the correct way to perform cunnilingus; at no time did I give any thought to making it more pleasurable for her. My only thought, if indeed I had any "thoughts" at all, was that I was frantic to lick and suck her just as much as I possibly could.

She obviously didn't care about the quality of my performance, for as soon as my tongue had taken its first tentative swipe along her crack, she sighed deeply, then hissed, "Yes!" After that, the night got more exciting by the second as she began to tell me how her lover had been so good at fucking, and how big his cock was compared to my useless little dingus. She told me over and over how, when his cock was no more than halfway inside her, he'd already passed the deepest point I'd ever been. Then, as I finished licking and swallowing all the juices outside her treasure, she centered the opening directly over my lips, saying, "Now for the main course, little cucky. Suck it out of me. Hurry! Get it all out right now! Oh, God! Eaaatttt iitttt!"

As she said those final words, her thighs spasmed closed around my head, and I felt a gush of cum enter my mouth as her pussy received it just reward. Never before had she given me so much to swallow, and except for the nagging awareness deep inside me that what was in her tasted exactly like it always had, I was in paradise. Her words had added a new dimension to my arousal, and I hoped she would always talk to me like that.

When she at last came back to reality, she almost collapsed at my side, and then lay there panting. When her breathing slowed, she whispered in my ear, "Was eating another man's cum out of your wife's pussy as good as you thought it would be, honey?"

I was still struggling to swallow the last sticky mouthful, and it took me several seconds before I could say, "It was the best thing ever! I loved that so much! It was wonderful!"

She merely chuckled in that deep-throated way I love so much, then said softly, "I've been thinking about sucking his cock next time. I never even had such thoughts with you, probably because I never thought of your little dingus as a real 'cock.'" Then as she pulled my head to hers so she could kiss me, she said huskily, "I want to taste his cum, so I'll know what it's like." Then she did just that as we kissed, thrusting her tongue deep inside my sticky mouth, which was something else she'd never before done. It seemed that just when I thought our love life couldn't get any more exciting, she came up with a something new to raise my lust to a brand-new level.

I loved it when she did that, and I loved the new direction our lives had taken during the past three weeks; however, even more than that, I loved my wife with an intensity that was impossible to describe.

Continued in Chapter 5.