BOB'S STORY

Chapter 5

The following day was a Saturday, and I made every effort to "be a good boy," so that my wife would tell me her secret that night.  When we again lay in bed after I had bathed her, and with me still fully clothed, I asked timidly, "Will you tell me now what it was I refused to do for you in your fantasy?  You know: the misbehavior that forced you to hang me from the tree and have Mark whip me until my cock and balls fell off.  Please, sweetie."

She must have been ready for my question, for she began to answer it with no pause, saying, "I had been trying to get you to do something else, when I was sitting on your face, and you refused to do it.  That's what made me so angry with you."

As she had known, her answer only partially satisfied my intense curiosity, and I begged her for more information, saying, "Please, sweetheart.  Tell me what it was I wouldn't do.  Surely you know I'd never refuse to do anything you wanted.  Tell me what it was.  Please."

She refused to tell me any more than what she already had, saying, "It's just too disgusting to talk about.  Maybe someday I'll decide to tell you, or maybe I'll even tell you to do it.  I guess we'll see then if you really will do anything in the world for me."

I was sure I knew what she wanted me to do, because my masturbation fantasies had been more and more concerned with me performing a further service for her.  I simply couldn't make my mouth form the words that would tell her I knew what she wanted me to do, and that I longed to do it.  Finally, I again told her how much I loved and adored her, and I'd do anything at all if she'd just tell me what she wanted.

Again she refused to be specific, but finally said, "I'm afraid that someday I won't be able to hold back, because I seem to have an almost overpowering compulsion to do it to you."  I nodded my head in understanding, and that seemed to be all the confirmation she needed that I really did know what she meant.

She continued, "When I'm here alone during the day, I do lots of surfing on the Internet.  Several weeks ago, I found a chat room whose members are women who are cuckolding their husbands, like I'm doing to you.  There is a sub-group of women who all seem to be just as interested in that particular thing as I am.  One of them said the other day that she thinks it's an instinctive need women have, and that there's something about having a cuckold under her crotch that makes a woman want to humiliate him in that way.  I don't know about the others, but it's certainly true for me.  Sometimes it's almost more than I can control, and I want to so bad I can barely stand it.  I don't know how much longer I'll be able to resist that urge, and then you'll be so disgusted with me, you'll probably leave and never come back."

Of course, that brought a further round of protestations of love and adoration from me, which she finally cut off by saying, "That's enough about it.  Like I said, someday you may have to prove just how much you want to serve me.  Until then, let's drop the subject."

I had to accept her resolve to not speak further about something she considered to be so unspeakable, for I knew that if I continued to press her, she might order me from her bed.  That was more than I could face, and did everything I could to quell my curiosity.

She then asked, in a voice that was almost sad, "This has been difficult for you, hasn't it?  I'm sure when you were having all your fantasies about other men fucking me while you watched, you never dreamed you would have such a large amount of frustration to go along with your lust.  I wish I could think of something to do that would help you.  I really do love you, you know, and hate to see you suffering like I know you must be.  Maybe Mark and I can come up with a solution to your problem.  I'll talk to him about it when he gets back tomorrow."

I had been hoping she would once again let me watch while she masturbated, and would then reward me by letting me cum in my own mouth, as she had done the previous night.  She seemed to have no interest in anything like that, however, and simply turned off the lamp and rolled to her stomach.  She said, "God, I miss him.  Good night, sweetheart."

After a few minutes, I knew she had fallen asleep, and I struggled to do the same, because it was my only relief from the torment I was feeling.  She was lying between my eyes and the nightlight in the hallway, and I simply could not force myself to turn away from the sight of her body lying there, its wonderful, entrancing curves displayed for me to see.  I wanted to jack off, and finally could no longer resist that urge.  Gripping my erection through my trousers, I stroked it a few times, and that was all that was needed to cause it to fill my undershorts with its slimy load.  I was then able to fall asleep also, and spent the night dreaming of watching my wife masturbating and being fucked by an endless parade of men, each with a cock larger than the one before.
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When Mark returned the next day, our life returned to what had become "normal" for us.  He and my wife slept in the master bedroom, while I took to my lonely bed in another room.  Occasionally they would let me watch their lovemaking, but more and more my only participation would come when Carol would summon me after her lover had filled her, and I would then be allowed to remove his cum from her pussy so she wouldn't be bothered by its dripping from her. 

I would lay in my bed in unmoving silence, straining to stay alert for her call, silently praying that he would hurry, and I would soon hear my summons.  My nights were usually restless, since I knew her call could come at any time, and I wanted to stay awake so I could respond instantly.  I continued to awaken early, and to serve their breakfast to them while they were still in bed.  At those times, Carol seemed to take special delight in displaying her naked body to me, all the while caressing Mark's huge member, and telling me what a good lover he was.  Again and again, she would thank me for urging her to go to his room that fateful night, for otherwise she would still be constantly frustrated by my small penis and lack of lovemaking ability.

In the late afternoons, I would normally return home one or two hours before the other man.  Those short periods were the only times when she and I were alone in the house, and I came to love them almost as much as the times when she would summon me to their bedroom.  It was then that she would tell me how very much it hurt her to see my frustration and despair that came from my enforced celibacy.  She said on many occasions that she and Mark had talked about possible solutions that would help me, and before much longer maybe they could help me become more accepting of my situation.

Mark was not away from home during any of the nights for the next several months, and the opportunity to lie next to my wife was never presented.  I had come to think of those two special nights so long ago as very happy times, since they had allowed me the opportunity to once again pretend that we had a sexual relationship.  In my heart, though, I knew that what Mark gave my wife was so very much more than I ever could, and that she would never give him over just to have me back in her bed.

That state of affairs continued during the months that preceded my birthday.  About one month before that date, Carol began to drop hints that my 43rd birthday party would be an event I'd never forget.  She kept teasing me about making it extra special for me, but wouldn't ever give me any more information than that.  Given the nature of my fantasies, my thoughts seemed to be constantly fixated on equating my birthday present with some sort of sex with her.  That made the intervening days drag by very slowly, indeed.
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My birthday fell on a Tuesday, and after my last class was over, and I had dismissed the students, I rushed home as fast as I could, eager to learn more details about my extra-special birthday present.  I parked my car in front of our house, leaving the space in the garage for Marks' vehicle, as usual.  After hurrying inside, I went to the kitchen where I could hear the sounds of my wife's activities.

We greeted each other, and I longed to take her in my arms and hug and kiss her as we used to do when I returned.  Now, however, I was not allowed to touch her in any way when Mark was not present, and she always observed that rule.  She gave me instructions for helping her with preparing the evening meal, and then after I had done those chores, we sat at the table chatting. 

About half an hour before Mark's return, Carol said, "Honey, tonight is going to be very special for all of us.  We've been planning it for a long time, and I need you to tell me now that you won't spoil it for us by refusing to do what I want you to.  Can I have your promise?"

With no hesitation I made promise after promise that I would obey her, no matter what she ordered me to do.  There was no question whatsoever in my mind that her slightest wish was my command, and I knew that no matter what her requirements were, I would meet them.

She appeared to accept my promises, then said, "Now I want you to go take a nice hot bath.  Get squeaky clean for me.  Before you get out of the tub, I want you to shave off every bit of your pubic hair.  Don't put on any clothes.  We want you to be naked tonight."

She said nothing further, and looked directly at me, as if waiting for me to question her, or even to refuse her orders.  That was the farthest thing from my mind right then, and my only response was to say, "Okay," and then head for the bathroom to do as she had said.

It was impossible for me to interpret her orders in anything other than sexual terms.  It had been many months since I had been allowed to be naked in my wife's presence, and the fact that I would be unclothed that night caused a constant parade of erotic images to dance in my brain.  All the time I was bathing, and then shaving my crotch as smooth as possible, I couldn't stop myself from thinking that maybe, just maybe, at last I would be permitted to have sexual relations with her.

My cock obviously thought the same thing, for it seemed to be incapable of deflating.  That made it much easier to shave, of course, but as I walked toward the sound of their voices, with the swaying, blood-engorged thing leading the way, I was embarrassed to show myself in that condition.  I hesitated outside the kitchen door for several seconds, then steeled my resolve and entered.

They both turned to look at me, Carol's face breaking into a wide smile, but Mark's holding a dark scowl.  She said sweetly, "Honey, Mark doesn't like it when you have a hardon in my presence.  Please get rid of it right now."

Of course, there was no way for me to control the traitorous thing between my legs, and all I could do was hang my head and apologize.  She then said something that fueled my fantasies even further, still using her sweetest tone of voice.  "Maybe we'll have to think about finding a big tree after awhile.  Apparently there's no other way to make you behave yourself."

That brought an instant flash of memory of her very-exciting fantasy, in which I was hung from a tree limb and whipped, and I could feel my cock actually trying to grow even more.  I'm sure my face was blazing red with embarrassment, and I had no answer other than to apologize once again, and then stand there in humiliated silence.

Carol finally announced that the meal was ready, and that she and Mark would go to the dining room and wait for me to serve them.  They left the room arm-in-arm, and I hurried to dish up the food and carry it to the table.  As usual, Mark sat at the head of the table, with my wife seated around the corner close enough to allow them to hold hands when they felt the need for contact.  After I had served them, I hurried back to the kitchen for my own plate, then took my place at the other end of the table.  That was our usual procedure, and that meal was normal in all respects, except for the fact that I was naked, with my penis in a constant state of erection as we dined.

After the meal, I cleared the table as usual, then joined the lovers in the living room, where we watched the evening news on TV.  I have no idea what I saw that evening, for my every thought seemed to be on what was to come later, and my fantasies continued to run wild.  My penis was never less than 3/4 erect, and by the time Carol stood and announced it was time for my birthday party, the case of blue balls I had was the worst in my entire memory.

The three of us climbed the stairs, then entered the master bedroom.  I immediately saw a small package on the nightstand, wrapped in bright paper, and with a large bow affixed to it.  I assumed that was my present, and waited for Carol to give it to me.  However, she ignored the thing, and instead said to me, "Honey, would you like to undress me?  Since it's your birthday, I thought that would be a nice treat for you."

As a matter of fact, I could think of nothing else I wanted to do more than that, and nodded my head eagerly.  She stood silently beside the bed, and I finally summoned the courage to walk to her and hesitantly began unbuttoning her blouse.  Not a word was spoken by anybody as I removed that garment, exposing her beautiful, full breasts to our view.  I was surprised to see that her nipples were almost fully erect, and in my fevered brain, that was interpreted as a sign that she wanted me.

I quickly fell to my knees, and tried to untie her shoes while gazing in rapt fascination at her crotch, which was only a few inches away from my face.  The scent that was coming from there, even though that part of her was still fully clothed, was enough to drive me wild, and I know my breathing was ragged and my hands were shaking.

At last I was able to remove her shoes and socks, and then with shaking hands I fumbled with the fastening on her jeans.  At last they were open, and I pulled them carefully down, revealing her panty-covered crotch.  Her scent became literally overpowering then, and I could think of nothing other than my supreme need to bury my face in her, inhaling her essence.

She stepped out of her jeans, and then stood waiting for me to summon the self-control to remove her frilly lace panties.  I fought with my hands to make them behave, then very slowly and carefully pulled her last remaining garment to her feet, removing it when she raised her feet one by one.  At last she stood completely nude in front of me, and her overpowering beauty, combined with the essence of her womanhood so near to my nose, brought tears of longing to my eyes.

She took my head in her hands and raised my face to hers, saying softly, "Honey, I want you to get me ready for Mark to fuck.  I haven't had a bath since yesterday, and he doesn't like to fuck a dirty, smelly pussy.  Will you clean it for him, please?"

Without waiting for an answer, which my completely-locked throat wouldn't have been able to utter anyway, she lay back on the bed.  She drew both knees to her chest, then placed her hands on them to spread her crotch wide and hold her legs in place.  I needed no command or suggestion to understand what needed to be done, and I fell to my knees and buried my face in her.

I'm sure most men would find it disgusting to lick a woman's crotch when she hadn't bathed for more than a day, and in the meantime had been fucked by her lover once or twice.  It simply never occurred to me to think anything like that, and I licked and sucked her private place with all the enthusiasm of a starving puppy eating from his dish.  Over and over I ran my tongue up and down her slit, pausing frequently to flick it against her engorging clitoris.  Again and again I pushed my tongue as deep as possible into her hole, moving it rapidly to find any traces of her juices.

At some point in time, she said, "Sweetie, that part's clean enough for him now.  Move down a little bit and do the other part."

No explanation was needed for my fevered brain to understand her meaning, and my tongue immediately traced a path to her other opening.  I slowly licked up and down the length of her crack, as I'd seen her lover do so many times.  At last I concentrated on the puckered entrance to her body, and licked its tight folds with all the strength my tongue could muster.  Finally I began to force it inside her, and was rewarded by her soft sigh, and then her sweet moan that I loved to hear.

Just when I thought she was going to allow me to bring her to orgasm, she said, "That's enough.  Mark's the only one who's allowed to make me cum.  Get out of the way so he can fuck me."

Before I could react in any way, the other man pushed me roughly out of the way, saying only, "Move!"  I was surprised to see that he was also naked, and realized that he must have undressed when I was cleaning my wife's crotch for him.

I knelt there watching in frustration and lust as he grasped Carol's waist and lifted her crotch to his.  She reached down and guided his engorged member into her pussy, then hissed, "Hurry!  Oh, God!  Fuck me fast!  Make it hurt!"

He seemed to know exactly what she needed, and rammed his monster deep inside her in a single thrust.  She cried out in pain and arousal, then began to piston her hips in time with his own movements.  In only a few seconds, a sound began to issue from her throat that was more growl than speech, and it abruptly cut off as her crotch made one last thrust against him.  Her fingers pulled her nipples so violently I feared she would harm herself.

Her lover was obviously just as aroused as she, and his hips lunged forward to meet hers as he joined her in orgasm.  That moment seemed to last forever, as he pumped his semen into her, and I watched in mindless lust, knowing that my services would soon be required.

After what seemed an eternity, I saw her body relax, and as Mark gently lowered her to the bed, his organ pulled free of hers, covered in their combined juices.  Carol sighed one last time, then said emotionally, "God, you're good for me.  No one can make me feel like that.  I love you more than I can say."

She then tore her eyes away from her lover and looked at me kneeling there beside them.  Mark knew what she wanted him to do, and moved out of the way.  She once again pulled her knees to her chest, opening herself to me.  I stared and stared, frozen in lustful anticipation, as his cum began to slowly move toward her gaping opening.  Just as the first gobbet was about to drip from her, I resumed my place between her legs and once again provided that service I had grown to love. 

That was the first time I had been allowed to clean her so soon after they'd fucked, and also with all the lights still on.  Never before had I accepted how truly huge his member was, but now the evidence was lying there before me.  Her pussy hole was stretched so far that I was sure my whole hand could have easily fit in it, but it was my tongue that was being used then, and again and again it licked fervently, bringing morsel after morsel to my waiting mouth.

After what seemed a lifetime, I heard Carol say, "I think you got every drop of it, don't you, honey?  Let me sit up now, so we can talk."  As I moved away, she lowered her legs and came to a seated position on the edge of the bed, then without pause drew me to my feet so I was standing in front of her.  Instantly a renewed surge of lust raced through my body as I was assailed by images of her taking my penis in her mouth, and giving me the relief I had to have.

However, instead of doing that, she asked sweetly, "Honey, would you like to fuck me now?"

To be continued . . .