Mike Jones and I mapped out a bike course of about 32 miles that started and ended at the house that he and Celeste, who’s his wife, share in central Massachusetts. With Laurie, who is my wife, I visit once a month or so from our place just outside of Boston. When we visited in April this year, my Trek road bike was on our car’s roof bike-rack. The weather was finally good enough for a ride.
When Celeste and Laurie went to Springfield to shop, Mike and I headed out on our bikes. As we were about ten miles on the way back to his house, we got stuck at a railroad crossing. I looked over at him, both of us standing astride our bikes. For the first time I noticed his dick. I’ve seen plenty of dicks encased in bike shorts or swimsuits over the years. I mean, we all have them. But for reasons I’ll never understand I noticed his as he stood, bending side-to-side to keep loose. He was oblivious to me, and we finished the ride once the freight train was through.
We did our normal post-ride routine. I showered. He showered. We watched TV with beers and potato chips as we bullshitted waiting for our wives to return.
A few days later, at home, I was in my shower getting ready for work when suddenly I thought of him and his dick as I was rubbing my own. Whoa! I stopped for a second but the image was too pleasing to delay for long. I thought of it. What it would look like. How it would feel in my hand. How it would feel . . . in my mouth. I was jerking furiously and quickly shot a load against the shower tiles, maintaining my balance only with my left hand against the wall.
I was short of breath. That’d never happened. Some momentary insanity. I washed myself, and the tiles, and resumed my routine. What I did to myself hung in my head briefly but was soon out of my mind. Except when I took a shower. But I didn’t do anything about it.
So things were back to normal when we got back to their place in early May, three weeks after our prior visit. He did his typical sprint up a short hill we reach about a half-mile from the house and I let him go. I am a better rider than he is, but he likes that little king-of-the-mountain victory. I caught him on the downhill to his house and we high-fived after we passed the house. If we pushed it, it’d take a bit over an hour-and-a-half. If we took our time, maybe two hours. We’d pushed it and would have maybe an hour before our wives returned.
Mike is six-two and conventionally handsome, with longish blonde hair that swept across his head. Slim but not ripped. A natural athlete. I was a few inches shorter and also slim, with a body toned, but also not ripped, from triathlon training.
As usual, our wives were in Springfield. After Mike and I rolled to his house, I ran up for a shower, grabbing water, Gatorade, and a banana on the way. When I finished, he took my place. For some reason, he didn’t close the door, and I heard him call to me.
“I forgot the shampoo. Can you grab it for me?”
I went in and saw the bottle on the sink. I opened the shower door to hand it to him. He was under the water and turned to one side and I could see his dick to the left. It was not hard, but it was not soft. I found myself looking at it and felt him looking at me looking at it as I handed him the shampoo. He looked down at his dick and then back at me. It was the moment where things could go either way. We both knew it. I paused and did not back-out. He had my answer.
Mike turned to face me, but I could only face his dick. It grew and I heard “go ahead I want you to” from somewhere as the shower water stopped flowing. It was beautiful. My right hand reached under it and I caressed it and I heard a moan from somewhere. My hand lowered and I felt the balls, Mike’s balls. My eyes returned to his shaft, locking on it, my tongue licking my upper lip, my right hand joined by my left and I studied his erection.
My fingers ran along its length and I felt, or perhaps I only imagined I felt, pulsing veins on its underside. I removed my towel and let it fall behind me and I dropped to my knees. Too quickly and I felt pain stab each as they hit the tiled floor. I barely noticed. Mike’s tip was in my mouth and my tongue circled it. I reminded myself to breathe and put more of his dick in my mouth, starting to bob up and down. Again hearing moans. I felt Mike’s hands on my head, pulling me closer to his hips and pushing his dick further into me, to my throat, and I gagged and Mike relaxed his grip and let me find my own rhythm and my own depth.
Suddenly Mike’s hands pushed me back and he said, breathing heavily, that his legs were giving out and he helped me up and said: “Let’s get comfortable.” I followed him into his bedroom after we dried ourselves off. I watched as he ran his towel up and down his erection and he watched as I did the same to mine.
He led me to the bedroom. My god. Mike was gorgeous as he lay down on the bed, fully naked and his dick standing out. To his “are you sure?” I got on the bed from its foot, between his legs, and attempted to devour his dick. My ears were clear and now it was Mike panting and moaning as I bobbed my head up-and-down on it with my right hand caressing his balls.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. So fucking good.” And I heard all of that and ran my finger back along the skin that connected it to Mike’s asshole and then I rubbed Mike’s asshole and Mike’s hips began to lift it off the bed and after hearing “I’m coming” he exploded and I tried to swallow but could not and drops fell from the corners of my mouth until my hand reached up to stop them. And then I licked them clean.
Mike lay on the bed panting. “I’ve never done that before,” and I kissed his dick again and circled its tip with my tongue, inhaling Mike’s final drops.
I crawled up Mike’s chest and was above him. I told him I’d never done it before either. I leaned down and kissed him and he licked my lips to taste himself. “I can’t believe how great that was. Your turn” and with that I was on my back and my dick was in Mike’s mouth and out of Mike’s mouth and then back in for keeps as I watched him bob and my dick was harder, I think, than it had ever been and I was holding his head and I was moaning and saying “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” And my hips were levitating until they were off the bed and I held Mike’s head as I burst into him and sent streams of myself into him and he, like me, tried to swallow it all but, like me, failed and I saw his hand rush to his mouth to prevent the loss of too much and I asked him for his finger and he raised it to me, and I licked myself from it.
About ten minutes later, as we were lying next to one another and enjoying lying next to one another, silent as we stared at the ceiling in our own muddled thoughts, he suddenly said, “Fuck. They’ll be back soon.” We both jumped out of bed and found our clothes and after some towel cleaning of our dicks and opening the window to try to air the room out and changing the sheets, we and the bedroom were, we hoped, presentable when they came through the door.
* * * *
I couldn’t stop thinking of it. Every moment thinking of it. When my wife was out, I cruised the web, now searching for MMF videos and then rejecting those that were headed for double-penetration. No. I wanted the woman-wants-to-watch-the-guys-blow-each-other videos and then it was the straight gay stuff. And the ones with the blondes. Surfer types. Pecs and abs. And big dicks. Dicks in mouths. Dicks in asses. Even autofellatio.
For the next several trips to their house, Mike and I didn’t bother going out on our bikes, though I brought my Trek up each time. We preferred to spend our time in his bed. Pretty much doing what we had done on that first afternoon, but with the luxury of being able to take our time. We didn’t vary it much. It was pretty perfect as it was.
Our routine was that I gave him head and he returned the favor. We’d hold each other, each of us caressing the other’s dick gently while we kissed. When we were hard enough—it never took long—we’d position ourselves. I got on my back and he was above me, mouths-to-dicks, and we’d suck each other off and after we came we had lunch.
After eating, we returned to the bed and suck each other lightly, this time lying on or sides. When it was about half-an-hour before our wives were due, we upped the tempo and one and then the other of us would come in the sucker’s mouth. We’d both gotten skilled enough to swallow ever drop.
We would then briefly hold one another before getting ready for our wives’ return.
* * * *
I was awakened by the sheet being pulled from me. Fuck. Mike and I had fallen asleep, and our wives were back early. We were both naked, and he was spooning me.
“What the fuck is going on here,” his wife, Celeste, naturally wanted to know. Laurie, my wife, stood in the doorway, stunned.
Mike tried to cover us up, but his wife would not allow it. So we both tried to cover our dicks.
“How long have you two been fucking one another?” Celeste.
“We aren’t fucking.”
“You expect me to believe that. You’re in bed together—”
“We just suck each other’s dicks.”
Celeste looked at me, Laurie remaining silent. “Is this true? You’re both . . . cocksuckers?”
“Let me see.”
We stared at each other. I looked at my wife and she was staring at Mike’s. The two women exchanged glances, and mine nodded.
“Who’s the bottom?” Celeste again.
“Mostly him”—referring to me—”but we suck each other off.”
Celeste demanded: “Sixty-nine on the bed.”
I didn’t mean it to be, but my dick was hard.
Laurie, my sweet wife, said, matter-of-factly, “You heard her. Sixty-nine on the bed.”
I was stunned that she would say this, that she wanted me to do it.
Mike moved so his head faced the foot of the bed. He was hard too.
I felt his lips on my dick as his encircled mine. My dick may have been harder, with the two spectators, than it had ever been, harder even than when Mike first went down on me. Suddenly I was thrown into sucking him, not caring about anything else. He was the same, rabid.
“STOP.” We ignored it. “STOP!”
We pulled off each other’s dicks.
“Wait.” Celeste and Laurie left the room. Neither of us dared move. I still had my hands around Mike’s ass.
Our wives returned, Celeste carrying Vaseline.
“I don’t care who does it to whom, but you are going to fuck each other and we are going to watch.”
We remained deers-in-the-headlights.
She held out the jar. He stood and took it, and I turned and got on all fours. I was more the bottom than he was.
I felt his fingers, coated in the Vaseline, rub against my hole and then he put a finger in. I moaned and was oblivious to anything in the room but his finger moving inside me. He pulled it out and put it back with a second finger.
“More. More.” He added a third and it felt strange but erotic.
“Fuck him.” I looked over my shoulder, and I saw Celeste open a drawer and pull out a condom. Laurie was sitting in a chair, legs and arms crossed, waiting for her husband to be sodomized by another man. But it was only a glimpse as my eyes turned to face the headboard, waiting. Then I felt it. His dick pushing against me.
“Please.” It was me. Begging another man to take me.
His dick was in a condom. I at least had that, though I doubted whether it had been anywhere but in Celeste’s pussy just as mine had only been in Laurie’s.
“Pretend you’re taking a dump,” he whispered, and I did and I felt the pain of his dick entering me. I felt a little nauseous. Slowly, he pushed in, and it hurt like hell. There were hints of pleasure too though. Finally he was all the way in. I felt his hips on my ass. He waited. I felt gloriously filled.
“Fuck him.” Celeste again. Her voice calm and calculating.
Mike started moving in and out. “You are so tight,” he mumbled. My dick was even harder and I felt his hand encircle it as he picked up the tempo of his fucking. Then my friend, my gay lover, was pounding me. We were both out of control. Taking my anal cherry, his first time fucking a guy. His hand released my dick, and both were on my hips. He thrust one last time forward, and I heard him gasp as I felt his spurts into the condom. As he was in me, I moved down to the bed, and I felt his weight on me. My dick was hard, but I could not reach it. He pulled out slowly, and I heard a pop.
Laurie asked whether I’d come, and I said I hadn’t. So she told Mike, recovering from his orgasm, to suck me off. He paused, and my wife bellowed, “NOW.” And I turned on my back and he walked around, his full condom dangling with his softening dick, to get on the bed between my legs and gave me head. I didn’t last long, maybe twenty seconds, but he pulled off as I started.
“On his face.” This was his wife. He held my dick as I spurted onto his face.
When I was done, our wives walked from the room. Neither of us knew what to do, so we pulled out things together and got dressed. He used part of the sheet to wipe my cum from his face. We sheepishly went downstairs to the living room, where Celeste and Laurie sat with glasses of red wine.
“A few months. It started when he”—a reference to me—”wanted to touch my . . . penis in the—”
“. . . my dick in the shower. And it kind of snowballed from there.”
“So since then. Every time we’ve been out shopping you’ve been giving head to one another?”
“But you wanted us to find out.”
“No. That was because we fell—”
“Bullshit. If you didn’t want to be caught, you would have set the fucking alarm. So you wanted to be caught and you wanted . . . what?”
Laurie joined. “Yes, what did you want? What did you expect to happen? With your cheating? Divorces? So you could be together? What?”
He and I looked at one another.
“Honestly. We didn’t expect to get caught.”
I was quiet through this, so Laurie turned to me.
“You have one chance. Understand? Tell me why you did it and what you want me to do. Why you didn’t tell me. And are you gay?”
I thought, three sets of eyes boring into me.
“I’d fantasized about his dick. Only a few months ago. And I saw it and wanted to touch it and taste it and know what it’s like to have a dick in my mouth.”
“And how was it to have his dick in your mouth?”
“It was nice.”
“Nicer than my pussy?”
I paused, measuring my words. Needing to be honest. “Not nicer. But different.”
With my wife, I was slightly submissive. But with Mike’s dick, I wanted to service him. I wanted to feel what it was like to service a man, a real man. A man who would call me his “bitch.” A man who would let me adore his dick, a dick so superior to my own.
“What about fucking?” This was Celeste. “Did you think of fucking each other?”
Mike spoke first.
“Sometimes when he was giving me head I wondered what it would be like to fit it in his tight ass. And I started watching some gay porn. The more I watched, the more I thought of fucking him.”
“What about him fucking you?”
Mike paused. “If he let me do him, . . . I’d have let him do me.”
Celeste turned to me.
“Do you want to fuck my husband? Or are you just a cocksucking faggot?”
Again the eyes looked at me. I, too, had watched some gay porn, as I said. Usually the strapped guy with long hair fucking someone like me. But sometimes in the shower, I imagined taking Mike. Just taking him. So I nodded.
Laurie stood and started to go upstairs. She ordered us to follow her. When we reached the bedroom again, smelling of sex, she took the jar of Vaseline from the dresser.
“You know what to do,” as she handed it to me.
I looked at Mike. His face was a mixture of fear and excitement. As Celeste joined us, he began to strip, and I took his cue and did the same. He got onto the bed, as I had, doggie style. Seeing him like that got me hard, and I could see his erection dangling between his legs.
I did to him what he did to me with the Vaseline and he shoved his ass at me in encouragement.
Shit. It was Laurie.
Mike turned his head to face me. “Please, I want you to do it. Please fuck me.”
I put a condom on and moved my dick to his hole. Using my right hand, I guided it to his entrance and pushed. He pushed back and suddenly I was in him. His sphincter tightened around my dick. It was glorious. I slowly pushed in until I was completely inside my friend. For a moment I thought that if I were attached to him like this for all eternity I would be happy.
When I came—it did not take long—I was ordered to suck Mike off, and he lasted no longer than I had when he had done that to me.
“We are leaving in thirty minutes.” This was my wife, Laurie. She and Celeste left Mike and us in the bedroom. Neither of us could get our heads around what just happened. And what, frankly, we felt about each other after what just happened. We were both in shock, knowing that our lives were irretrievably altered. I hoped my marriage could be salvaged, and I think Mike thought the same.
I took another shower and we left when Laurie said we were going to leave. Our goodbyes were awkward.
She was, driving, remaining quiet for the first fifteen minutes. I didn’t dare say anything. Finally, “Do you love him?”
“Of course not.”
“So it’s just sex.”
I paused. “I think so. I just started fantasizing about sucking him.”
“What about me? Do you fantasize about me?”
“Usually. And there’s no place better than being between your legs.”
“Do you want more blowjobs from me?”
Again I paused. “I don’t want you to give me a blowjob unless you want to.”
“If I gave them to you more often, would you forget about Mike?”
“Like I said. It’s different.”
“And what about him fucking you in the ass. What was that like?”
“As I said. Different.”
“What if I fuck you in the ass?”
Before I could respond, she went in a different direction.
“How about you fucking him? Did you enjoy it?”
I couldn’t lie and so I told her that I did.
“More than with me? More than when you fuck me? Do you want to fuck me in the ass?”
“It’s different, OK? It’s—”
“What makes you think that it’s fucking OK? What is OK about it?”
“Enough. You’re just going to make it worse. Do you want a divorce?”
“Of course not. I love you. As much as ever.”
“You sure as hell aren’t acting like you do. So think about it. Do. You. Want. A. Divorce?”
I thought about it. “No.”
She thought, seeming to focus on her driving but visibly seething.
“I’ll make it simple for you. You are now my slave. Do you understand?”
“I’m not sure that—”
“Sexually. You are now my slave. You come when I allow, how I allow. That includes jerking off. I may let Mike fuck you again. I may not. I may let you fuck him again. I may not. I may let him suck his dick. I may not. I may let you suck his dick again. I may not. And everything else with him. You don’t have to decide now. You have until we get home. But then I want an answer. If you will not be my sex slave, you will be my ex-husband. Is that understood?”
I told her it was and the rest of the drive was silent, except for the radio.
After we walked into house, I was told to wait in the bedroom. Laurie had some things to attend to.
After fifteen minutes, she opened the door. She hadn’t changed, as I thought she might have.
“I spoke to Celeste. We agree. She made the same proposal to Mike. I don’t know how he took it and she, of course, doesn’t know how you have. So, tell me. Are you my slave? From this moment on, are you my slave.”
“Lie on the bed naked. I will be right back.”
I quickly stripped and was on my back, having pulled the covers aside. She walked in wearing a dress and no shoes. She came to the side of the bed, near its head, and climbed on, swinging her legs across my head, facing the head of the bed. She lifted the hem of the dress. Her panties were gone.
She lowered herself to me and I ate. She ground her pussy into my mouth and I ate. She then moved slightly so her anus was above my mouth. She lowered it to me, barely giving me room to breathe. It was pungent, but I had no choice. I was her slave. I used my tongue as well as I could against her hole. She was rocking.
“Put that disgusting tongue into my ass Slave.”
And I did as well as I could. She lowered her hands to her clit and began to furiously rub it. Soon her thighs moved closer to my ears, and she came as they squeezed me.
When she was finished, she unstraddled me and left the room, leaving my raging dick unattended. As she went through the door, she said I could get dressed and to meet her in the kitchen.
And so my servitude began.
* * * *
Laurie spent several hours on Sunday in the den with the door closed. At about two, she asked me to join her. She was doing research and told me there were four things she needed. A cockring. A cockcage. A strap-on. A collar. She measured my neck, and I was sent to a local pet store to get the collar. It was to be black, at least one-inch side, and have studs. The type you’d put on a Doberman.
She ordered the other items online. We’d have them Wednesday.
When I returned from the pet store, she told me Mike agreed to Celeste’s terms. She then said I had to beg to wear her collar. I would only wear it in our house or in Celeste’s house. (She made it clear that it was Celeste’s house and Celeste’s house alone. I knew the same would be the case for our place.)
I held the collar out to her in my hands. She told me to follow her upstairs. In the hall at the top of the stairs, she turned.
“When you are above the stairs, you will be naked. Except for such items that reinforce your servitude to me. There will be a robe at the top of the steps, which you will wear downstairs. You will be naked beneath it. If I close the blinds downstairs, you will be naked there too. The only exception is when you are preparing to go out or when you come in.”
She’d done her research.
“Yes, Mistress.” I removed my clothes and was naked. She handed the collar to me. Without a word, I placed it in my palms and looked at her.
She put her hand up.
“We need to be clear. I will not leave you if you promise never to cheat on me again. With anyone. We will return to where I thought we were twenty-four hours ago, and where you thought we were until a few months ago. You can fantasize all you want, go to all the gay-porn sites you want, and jerk off when you want. You had your one fling. Had it been with a woman I would not be giving you this chance. But it wasn’t. And I understand your desire to see what it’s like to suck a dick.
“So from this moment on, the choice is yours. Three options. Cheat on me and I’m gone. Stay faithful to me—except for fantasies—and we’re just another married couple. Or be my slave. If you are my slave, and Mike is Celeste’s, I promise you that you will suck his dick again and he will suck yours. You’ll fill each other’s asses with your cum.
“Those are your choices. You must decide right now.”
She looked and saw my dick was fully erect. Then she looked back up at me, into my eyes.
“Mistress, please allow me to wear your collar.” I turned, and she attached it. It was an inch wide and black with small studs, as instructed. I took the liberty of getting a matching leash, and she complimented me on my thoughtfulness. She draped it on the banister, for later use.
“Jerk off for me.”
I didn’t understand, though the words were precise. She repeated them. I stood, naked, in the small hallway at the top of the stairs and began to pump my dick. She stood there, fully clothed. Far from feeling humiliated, I found myself thrilled to be doing my wife’s bidding in such a basic and base way. To make it clear that she controlled my dick and I could only touch it with her permission.
“Come in your other hand,” and I aimed and sent four spurts into my hand.
“Swallow it. Every drop.”
As I tasted myself, which I’d done a few times when I masturbated, I liked its taste and how it felt in my mouth and on my tongue. I licked it all except for the small amount that fell to the floor. Without being told, I knelt and licked that up.
She went into the bedroom and I followed. She pulled up her dress. She was not wearing panties. She pointed to the bed, and I knew to lie on my back. She straddled me again, this time my pelvis. The mere thought of what she was going to do got me hard only minutes after I came. And now the vision of her lowering herself on my dick made it even harder. And she fucked me. In the pre-Slave days, she did this, but rarely. We were more conventional, I guess. Usually missionary. Sometimes doggie. Always good. She was on the pill, so there was no issue of me exploding inside her.
I’m proud that I almost always got her to come before I did. She’d learned how to edge me. To get me excited with her hand or her mouth and back off. By the time I was in her, I was rabid, but in control. Even then she could tell if I was close and would order me to slow down. I loved being in her, and I think she loved me being in her.
But, as I say, the dynamic was completely different that night. I was doing to her what she wanted me to do to her. Although I think she knew that that was what I wanted to do, i.e., what she wanted me to do. The last months, and especially the moment Mike entered me while my wife and his wife watched, the moment he took me to be his bitch. All was different.
I think she knew that her “terms” were not a punishment. They were the realization of something I’d too long suppressed. To be my perfect wife’s servant, at least as far as sex was concerned. Outside of that, I was a fairly aggressive litigator with my practice in Boston. I was often in court and had a well-earned reputation for doing what it took for my clients to succeed. As she rode me, though, I just wanted to be the vessel for her pleasure. It was my purpose. To please her.
She came in one of her loudest displays and then ordered me to come inside her. I didn’t think I was close, but when she ordered me to come I couldn’t help myself even if I wanted to. Which I didn’t. I didn’t have as much cum as I had come not long before, but enough. She then walked up on her knees until her pussy was above my mouth. I’d never done this, never tasted myself from her, but it became the most important thing in the world. My only regret was that I did not have more to fill her with so I did not have more to drink from her.
When she was satisfied with my performance, she raised herself and left the room without a word. I heard the shower running and the shower door close. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, so I just lay there, my dick covered by some of my cum and my mouth covered by some more.
She came back about fifteen minutes later.
She stood by the side of the bed and undid the collar.
“You’re my sex slave. Not my slave. Other than the rule as to what you may or may not wear, we are equals in my house in matters unrelated to sex.”
* * * *
I was nervous on the train home the following Wednesday. I’d gotten a tracking notice on my phone that there’d been a delivery. Laurie generally got home before I did, and she was waiting when I came through the door. My collar was on the table at the top of the steps. I was allowed to get dressed upstairs in the morning—getting dressed to go out was an exception to the naked-upstairs/in-a-robe-downstairs rule—and get undressed in the bedroom when I got home. But I was to do so straight-away unless my wife said otherwise. I agreed that if I got home before her, I would follow the clothing protocol but could otherwise walk around freely. If she could, she would text about five minutes before she arrived. In that case, I was to be kneeling in the foyer, although out of sight of passersby when the door opened, and, in a robe, hold the collar up to my wife and beg her to put it around my neck.
Tonight, though, she was home. I went up to the bedroom and stripped. The collar was on a table by the bed, and I lifted it and knelt in the bedroom awaiting her arrival. I saw an array of items on the bed. The cockring. The cockcage. The strap-on. A dildo that had a strap, which I realized went around my head. The thought of using it on my wife gave my dick a jolt. By the time I was on my knees, I was hard.
She walked in, fully clothed.
“Please, Mistress. Allow me to wear your collar.”
She took it and walked behind me. I felt it close in around my neck as she buckled it.
“I see”—she looked at my erection—”that you noticed my new, non-living toys.” She turned to the dresser. There was a glass on it that I hadn’t noticed. She removed a cube of ice and ran it down my dick. It had the desired effect. My erection was lost. She went to the bed and removed the cockcage and put it on me. It had a small padlock, which clicked. A moment of panic shot through me. She reached over and her tongue invaded my mouth. The effect of the cockcage was immediate. Painful. I willed it to stop trying to grow, but her tongue was overriding my brain and her cockcage—for all of these things were “hers”—was mocking me.
She turned to the bed and lifted the strap-on.
“It has three dildoes. This is the smallest. It shouldn’t be a problem. Mike is quite a bit larger than this. And we both know you can take him.”
She left, and I knew to resume the position on my knees. With her gone, the ache of my restricted dick eased. That did not last. Laurie returned. She was naked except for the strap-on. She carried a tube of lube in her left hand and told me to lie on my back on the bed.
“I wanted to look at you when I take you.”
My dick was again prevented from becoming a rod only by its cage.
I lifted my legs to give her access to my anus, holding my hands on my lower thighs. I felt the cold of the lube and she squirted some in my crack and then proceeded to put one and then two and then three fingers inside of me. She wore a latex glove, which increased the chill.
She said nothing. She pulled her fingers out and squirted a bit more lube at my anus and then in her gloved hand so she could apply it to the dildo.
“Look at me while I fuck your pussy.” I was in equal parts petrified and aroused, and the damn cockcage was making my dick hurt.
She didn’t waste time. My cherry had been taken by another. This wasn’t a ceremony. This was an ass fucking. Soon she was grunting, stimulated by the part of the strap-on that was inside her.
She was right that it was not too large. It went in easily, and while I had some nausea at first, it became pleasurable. She started treating me like a cheap whore. “Is this good? Is this how you like it? This is how you’re going to be taking it, and the bigger and bigger ones for years and years. Remember. You had the chance to say no and you said yes.”
Then she shut up, her growing excitement on display in the sweat streaming from her forehead. She was rocking in me as I’d often rocked in her. Although we never did anal. I knew that we would be doing it often, but not the way I fantasized about it. Better,
Suddenly she shook and came and pulled out. Then she was gone again, me lying on my back awaiting her return. At least she didn’t make me clean it, although I knew that too would happen sooner or later.
It was about a month later that she went ass-to-mouth. It was horrible, tasting my shit on her dildo. But it didn’t last long. She saw how it physically revolted me, so it was brief and never done again.
The same could not be said of various other things. She, of course, increased the size of the dildo in the strap-on. It was well larger than Mike’s. She made me deep throat it until my throat ached. Then I had to beg her to fuck me with it. Again she used plenty of lube. I ached for when she fucked me, but again it was painful as my dick was in her cage.
About that. I only wore it inside and only when she put it on me. Which she usually did when we were home. In some respects I appreciated it. I was always horny, and her cage prevented me from violating the terms of my slavehood. I could not masturbate without her permission. But when I did, when she gave that permission, it was wonderful. She often had me do it in the hallway at the top of the stairs. The way I had that first day.
But her cage was usually kept off so she could fuck me. She was never on her back. Usually, she straddled me, again as she did that first night, and then had me clean her up. Wearing her cage at other times of arousal made the release far greater than I could have imagined.
About two months after I became her slave, Laurie handed me her phone. On it was a video of Mike. We hadn’t been back at Celeste’s house since our wives discovered us in bed together. Celeste was far crueler than my wife. The video showed Mike wearing the mouth dildo and burying it in Celeste’s anus. The camera showed that his dick was in a cage and when he turned I saw a large buttplug in his anus. While he was somewhat dominant with me, it was clear that he had completely surrendered to Celeste.
She called him “baby.” “That’s it, baby, fuck your mommy’s asshole. Maybe I’ll let your little weenie out of my cage.” She was calm as she said it, winking at the camera. I don’t know whether Mike knew he was being filmed, but I don’t think, given his obvious enthusiasm for being on his knees with his face up to his wife’s ass, that he would care.
Laurie told me, after the video ended, that Mike had to wear his wife’s cage all the time except when she wanted to use his dick. She said Mike only got to come while inside her and that if he came before she did she would whip his “little weenie, that’s what Celeste calls it” until it was red and make him eat her until she came while she straddled his face, while she continued to whip his “little weenie” until she came.
When she finished showing me the video, she said she’d not recorded us, and I believed her. She then went to get her mouth dildo and strapped it around me. It had a small dick that went into my mouth, to replicate the feel of there being a dick in my mouth. But my wife’s not into anal—at least regarding her ass—so she used it instead to have me fuck her pussy. It didn’t take long for me to get her off, and as a present she allowed me out of her cage so I could jerk off while standing in front of her.
Having seen the video, things were awkward when I next saw Mike. I was under strict instructions not to tell him what I’d seen. As we drove up to Celeste’s house, I was told to strip as soon as I entered the house. It was on a large piece of property, and prying eyes were not a concern.
When I was through the front door, I stripped. Laurie handed me her collar, and I begged her to let me wear it. Once collared, I was led into the living room. I was not wearing her cock cage. There in the middle of the rug—the coffee table and armchairs having been moved aside—was Mike. Naked and with a full erection.
“Sixty-nine. And you may both come.”
It was Celeste. I hadn’t thought of Mike’s dick in a while, too occupied with what was happening to my own. But I knew I needed it in my mouth, and I got atop him, with my dick above his face. We were like rabid animals. I couldn’t get enough of his dick and from what he was doing he couldn’t get enough of mine. It wasn’t long before I burst, and that set him off.
“You can make out in the bed. You have two hours alone. We are going shopping.” That was my wife, and Mike and I were quickly on the bed. And we made out, rubbing our hands against each other’s dicks. We went into the shower, and I let him push me against the wall. My anus was loose from all the pegging my wife had done to me, and he was inside me. He had no condom. I knew he was clean. And soon he was fucking me, my shoulders against the shower wall and the water off as he reached around to make me come, which I did as soon as he started to fill me.
We washed ourselves off and returned to the bed. Mike had gotten lube and I knew my position. He told me to turn onto my back and leered at me with his beautiful, condom-covered dick.
“You’re going to watch me fuck you.”
I pulled my legs up to offer myself to him. His fingers were cold but I thrilled as his middle one entered me. I’d been sure to clean my ass as well as I could after he’d taken me against the shower wall.
I was already loose so he easily buried two more fingers in me. He stared into me as he asked, “You like?”
“Fuck. Fuck me you bastard. Fuck me.”
“Oh, you are horny. And so soon after I took you in the shower.” He laughed.
“Please, Master, use me.”
“‘Master’? I like that.”
He kept his fingers, his three fingers rolling my ass.
“Please, Sir. Please fuck my boy pussy. Make me your bitch. Please—”
That’s all I could say. He wiped his fingers off with a towel he’d brought and then pushed my right ankle up with his left hand, using his right to go to my opening.
“Tell me who you are.”
“I am your gay, faggot lover. Your . . . gay, faggot slave. Only yours.”
It satisfied him since he pushed his dick into me and then without a word or ceremony plunged all the way in. I almost came. Both his hands were on my ankles as he pummeled me. His manic eyes glaring into mine. He must have been in a cage all week. Celeste was far crueler to him than Laurie was to me. The hierarchy was clear. I knew Mike would be Laurie’s slave when she wanted him to be—and I thought Celeste would take Laurie—but I was everyone’s bottom.
Now I understood why. Because I was enjoying being used by another man. To give him my boy pussy. He allowed me to jerk my pitiful dick off as he fucked me. I was beyond words, gurgling whatever emotions coursed through me.
Suddenly he stiffened. Then he plowed back in and exploded. I came as he did, my cum shooting onto my chest, some reaching my chin. He bent down to give me a light kiss and then got up to clean off. He tossed the hand towel he’d used to clean his fingers to me, and I took the clean side to clean off some of my sadly wasted cum. And I drifted off before he even got back to the bed.
I awoke when someone shook me. Mike.
“Wake up, man. They’re back. Let’s help them with their stuff.”
As he headed to the door he turned. “That was a hell of a dream you were having. You were shaking.”
Fuck. I felt pre-cum in my pants.
He turned to the door and stopped.
“I assume your references to Mistress were to Laurie. You’ll have to tell me what that’s about someday.” He paused. “But who’s your ‘Master’?” With that, he laughed knowingly and went out to help the girls in the early May air as I watched him go.