AFTER THE WEDDING RECEPTION
by Stephen
I don't know which of us is the more nervous, you or I. All day long we have been tripping over each other. You polishing and cleaning, making everything shine and sparkle for your . . . guest. And I'm running about from shop to shop doing your errands, first the wine and then the special delicacies you told me you want for this, as you put it, "special occasion." So I spend the day dashing to and fro buying shrimp and cakes and this and that, all the while a whisper in my mind, is this for her wedding feast, I wonder?
I don't know which of us is the more nervous, you or I. I will admit it, I'm scared. Your ardor and enthusiasm frighten me. It's way beyond jealousy. My penis has shriveled up and all but disappeared. You've become quite the chatterbox, chirping away like a nervous little bird. I in contrast reveal my disquiet in my brooding silence, hoping you don't notice, I lay hidden behind your fluttering hands and runaway mouth. I'm uncertain as to why you seem a wreck, but have no doubts at all of the source of my own discomfort. This will not be the first time you've taken another man into your bed, but this time is very different and my excitement is leavened -no, overwhelmed- by my apprehension. Eight men have come before, only one you wanted more than once and all eight I brought to you, my Queen, reclining in your silk robe, prepared to be worshipped. But this time you chose yourself. Or he chose you. But what is clear is that in this tryst I am unneeded, unwanted, humiliated.
It's not until late afternoon that I finally get you into the bathtub. I'm hoping that a hot bath will relax you, slow you down. I'm soaping you clean as a virgin, preparing you, sanctifying you. I put my fear aside. God I love you, you are so very beautiful. I'm so proud of you. This is an act of love. You are my goddess and I worship you. I feel holy doing this. I'm preparing you for Ian. But this time you chose yourself. Or he chose you. But what is clear is that in this tryst I am unneeded, unwanted, humiliated.
I am bathing your cunt now, gliding the wash cloth along your slit with all my love and reverence. You smile and read my thoughts. "Make it clean for him." I blush.
"At the wedding reception," you say, "his hands were under my dress for hours. You were sitting two seats away. I smiled at you the whole time. You knew nothing. That's when I knew I would let him have me. He being so bold and you such a fool. My cunt was dripping. You had no idea, did you?"
Your tone is so triumphant. It drains and defeats me. How can anyone resist when you speak from such power? "No, I had no idea." I am utterly defeated and have never loved you more than I do now. "I saw you at the table smiling and wondered why you kept smiling for such a long time and it was a strange smile, almost strained."
"Ian's thumb was on my clitoris. I was afraid that I would come. In front of everybody, not just you, especially not you, God knows. I would have liked to come if it had been only you there. I'd opened my legs right away, as soon as I felt his fingers slide beneath my dress. If Ian were so bold to do that, I thought, with you there and everyone else, well, he deserved me. And he's quite the ladies man. I'd heard them say he had quite a cock and knew how to use it. I've always wanted him. But there was never any reason to tell you." You smile. "Until now."
My ears burned as you told me this. It's one thing for you to humiliate me -it's agreed between us that is how it will be- but it's quite another for a stranger to have his way with you without my leave and in my very (unknowing) presence.
"And then." you continue, "Ian shifted his chair and you saw everything."
"Your legs were splayed, your dress above your knees. I couldn't see his hands, but I knew where they were. The meaning of your smile suddenly became clear. I wanted to thrash him then and there, but that was a useless thought, he a head taller, broad shouldered and muscled."
"He's bigger in every way," you agree.
"And then he took your hand and led you to the dance floor. I felt powerless. All I could do was watch you in his embrace. He kept you a long time."
"Pressing his cock into my belly, dear husband, "asking how it compared to yours, did I want it, was that night the night?"
"When you finally came back to the table, I was angry and jealous. "Where's your boyfriend gone?" I asked. "Have you invited him home?"
"You sounded like such a sod bleating like that. So I felt quite justified when I replied, 'My boyfriend's just gone to the loo. And no, I haven't invited him, but now that you mention it, I think I will.' And then he came up and stood behind me, his arms encircled my waist, bold as can be, right in front of you. I had an orgasm then, just looking at you standing there so helpless and impotent and his cock pressed into my ass. I looked over my shoulder and told him, 'Not tonight, Ian, but next weekend. I'll take the children to their grandparents. You'll come then.' "
I stand and hold out my hands as you step out of the tub. I throw a heavy towel around you and begin to dry you.
"Will he like me," you ask. You cup your breasts. "My breasts are too small. He likes big ones. Did you see the way he was all over Mary Elyn at the wedding?"
"She's a cow," I answer furiously toweling your legs. "Her tits hang down to her belly button. Your tits are just perfect! They've suckled children and they're round and beautiful and I love them." I squeeze one breast and as its nipple rises between my fingers I bring it to my mouth and suckle, remembering how delicious you taste when nursing. " And Ian will love them too. But if you're so worried that he won't notice them I'll rouge your nipples." I reach for the vial where you keep it on the shelf next to the basket of dried flowers.
"Oh, yes, do. Rouge my nipples! Make them stand out for him! "Paint me!" Perfume me!" You shake your shoulders and your breasts shimmy before my eyes. My penis throbs with the sight.
I dip my fingers into the rouge and circle your nipples and feel you shiver. I take the opportunity to lean forward and nip one and then the other, but you push me away. "Perfume me down there. But not too much. You want me to smell sweet for him, don't you? Say it!"
"Hmm, " I murmur, reaching for the perfume you point to. A drop here within your bush.. A drop there. Along your slit.
"Not too much," again you caution.
A final drop anoints your clitoris. I lean forward, inhale your fragrance, the perfume mingled with the heat rising from your cunt.
"Say it," you demand.
I look up, grasp your shoulders hard. "Yes, I want you to smell sweet for him." I blush as I say this and you smile. I'm so happy that my subjugation pleases you! I lean forward to taste you, again you push me away. But I touch my lips to your clit and nuzzle gently.
"Oh, yes, I do want him to find me sweet. But not for you! Later! When he's gone away and I'm all sweaty and stink from perspiration. . . I'm going to make you go down on me and drink up all his cum. You'll do that for me, won't you?"
"Yes, I'll lick every drop from you!" The idea delights you and you squeeze your thighs vise-like over my face. The smell of you intoxicates me. I am dizzy with love and desire for you! On my knees I sway, my eyes closed. I feel you move away and when I look up you are seated before your mirror and reaching for your makeup. The lipstick you're applying is so red! I am surprised, almost shocked. So. . . blatant a color, you've chosen. I watch, enraptured, my woman painting her lips bright red, your second cunt, soon to receive his cock. I move to the bedroom and retrieve your negligee where it is laid out upon the bed. I carry it over to you and stand beside you with it draped across my arm.
Earlier in the week, you had me take you downtown to buy you something new to wear for Ian. "You pick it out," you said shyly. "I want you to choose what I will wear for him." Strange what we feel in such circumstances, I felt somehow honored that you wanted this and I looked long and carefully at all the frilly, sexy things on display, finally choosing a light green negligee with matching panties and carried it to you where you waited chatting, giggly with one of the shopgirls. From the sly look the she gave me as I came up I was sure you'd told her our secret. I was embarrassed, but said nothing as I held the negligee up for your inspection and said, "This will go nicely with your coloring, darling. What do you think?" You just smiled and nodded. As I paid for it the she turned to you and said, "Enjoy!" You both laughed and I felt my face redden. But to be humiliated by you, dearest Moira, is so very pleasurable. And when we were home you modeled it for me. And after I told you how very beautiful and sexy you looked, you turned eyes blazing with pride and arrogance, "But I shall never wear it for you, dear husband. Little need to entice you, my dearest cunt licker. You're mine forever, even if I wear a potato sack to bed!" So very true! And I fell to my knees before you, ravenous, to lick your cunt and suck your clitoris.
Comments to sdg@interport.net
by Stephen
I don't know which of us is the more nervous, you or I. All day long we have been tripping over each other. You polishing and cleaning, making everything shine and sparkle for your . . . guest. And I'm running about from shop to shop doing your errands, first the wine and then the special delicacies you told me you want for this, as you put it, "special occasion." So I spend the day dashing to and fro buying shrimp and cakes and this and that, all the while a whisper in my mind, is this for her wedding feast, I wonder?
I don't know which of us is the more nervous, you or I. I will admit it, I'm scared. Your ardor and enthusiasm frighten me. It's way beyond jealousy. My penis has shriveled up and all but disappeared. You've become quite the chatterbox, chirping away like a nervous little bird. I in contrast reveal my disquiet in my brooding silence, hoping you don't notice, I lay hidden behind your fluttering hands and runaway mouth. I'm uncertain as to why you seem a wreck, but have no doubts at all of the source of my own discomfort. This will not be the first time you've taken another man into your bed, but this time is very different and my excitement is leavened -no, overwhelmed- by my apprehension. Eight men have come before, only one you wanted more than once and all eight I brought to you, my Queen, reclining in your silk robe, prepared to be worshipped. But this time you chose yourself. Or he chose you. But what is clear is that in this tryst I am unneeded, unwanted, humiliated.
It's not until late afternoon that I finally get you into the bathtub. I'm hoping that a hot bath will relax you, slow you down. I'm soaping you clean as a virgin, preparing you, sanctifying you. I put my fear aside. God I love you, you are so very beautiful. I'm so proud of you. This is an act of love. You are my goddess and I worship you. I feel holy doing this. I'm preparing you for Ian. But this time you chose yourself. Or he chose you. But what is clear is that in this tryst I am unneeded, unwanted, humiliated.
I am bathing your cunt now, gliding the wash cloth along your slit with all my love and reverence. You smile and read my thoughts. "Make it clean for him." I blush.
"At the wedding reception," you say, "his hands were under my dress for hours. You were sitting two seats away. I smiled at you the whole time. You knew nothing. That's when I knew I would let him have me. He being so bold and you such a fool. My cunt was dripping. You had no idea, did you?"
Your tone is so triumphant. It drains and defeats me. How can anyone resist when you speak from such power? "No, I had no idea." I am utterly defeated and have never loved you more than I do now. "I saw you at the table smiling and wondered why you kept smiling for such a long time and it was a strange smile, almost strained."
"Ian's thumb was on my clitoris. I was afraid that I would come. In front of everybody, not just you, especially not you, God knows. I would have liked to come if it had been only you there. I'd opened my legs right away, as soon as I felt his fingers slide beneath my dress. If Ian were so bold to do that, I thought, with you there and everyone else, well, he deserved me. And he's quite the ladies man. I'd heard them say he had quite a cock and knew how to use it. I've always wanted him. But there was never any reason to tell you." You smile. "Until now."
My ears burned as you told me this. It's one thing for you to humiliate me -it's agreed between us that is how it will be- but it's quite another for a stranger to have his way with you without my leave and in my very (unknowing) presence.
"And then." you continue, "Ian shifted his chair and you saw everything."
"Your legs were splayed, your dress above your knees. I couldn't see his hands, but I knew where they were. The meaning of your smile suddenly became clear. I wanted to thrash him then and there, but that was a useless thought, he a head taller, broad shouldered and muscled."
"He's bigger in every way," you agree.
"And then he took your hand and led you to the dance floor. I felt powerless. All I could do was watch you in his embrace. He kept you a long time."
"Pressing his cock into my belly, dear husband, "asking how it compared to yours, did I want it, was that night the night?"
"When you finally came back to the table, I was angry and jealous. "Where's your boyfriend gone?" I asked. "Have you invited him home?"
"You sounded like such a sod bleating like that. So I felt quite justified when I replied, 'My boyfriend's just gone to the loo. And no, I haven't invited him, but now that you mention it, I think I will.' And then he came up and stood behind me, his arms encircled my waist, bold as can be, right in front of you. I had an orgasm then, just looking at you standing there so helpless and impotent and his cock pressed into my ass. I looked over my shoulder and told him, 'Not tonight, Ian, but next weekend. I'll take the children to their grandparents. You'll come then.' "
I stand and hold out my hands as you step out of the tub. I throw a heavy towel around you and begin to dry you.
"Will he like me," you ask. You cup your breasts. "My breasts are too small. He likes big ones. Did you see the way he was all over Mary Elyn at the wedding?"
"She's a cow," I answer furiously toweling your legs. "Her tits hang down to her belly button. Your tits are just perfect! They've suckled children and they're round and beautiful and I love them." I squeeze one breast and as its nipple rises between my fingers I bring it to my mouth and suckle, remembering how delicious you taste when nursing. " And Ian will love them too. But if you're so worried that he won't notice them I'll rouge your nipples." I reach for the vial where you keep it on the shelf next to the basket of dried flowers.
"Oh, yes, do. Rouge my nipples! Make them stand out for him! "Paint me!" Perfume me!" You shake your shoulders and your breasts shimmy before my eyes. My penis throbs with the sight.
I dip my fingers into the rouge and circle your nipples and feel you shiver. I take the opportunity to lean forward and nip one and then the other, but you push me away. "Perfume me down there. But not too much. You want me to smell sweet for him, don't you? Say it!"
"Hmm, " I murmur, reaching for the perfume you point to. A drop here within your bush.. A drop there. Along your slit.
"Not too much," again you caution.
A final drop anoints your clitoris. I lean forward, inhale your fragrance, the perfume mingled with the heat rising from your cunt.
"Say it," you demand.
I look up, grasp your shoulders hard. "Yes, I want you to smell sweet for him." I blush as I say this and you smile. I'm so happy that my subjugation pleases you! I lean forward to taste you, again you push me away. But I touch my lips to your clit and nuzzle gently.
"Oh, yes, I do want him to find me sweet. But not for you! Later! When he's gone away and I'm all sweaty and stink from perspiration. . . I'm going to make you go down on me and drink up all his cum. You'll do that for me, won't you?"
"Yes, I'll lick every drop from you!" The idea delights you and you squeeze your thighs vise-like over my face. The smell of you intoxicates me. I am dizzy with love and desire for you! On my knees I sway, my eyes closed. I feel you move away and when I look up you are seated before your mirror and reaching for your makeup. The lipstick you're applying is so red! I am surprised, almost shocked. So. . . blatant a color, you've chosen. I watch, enraptured, my woman painting her lips bright red, your second cunt, soon to receive his cock. I move to the bedroom and retrieve your negligee where it is laid out upon the bed. I carry it over to you and stand beside you with it draped across my arm.
Earlier in the week, you had me take you downtown to buy you something new to wear for Ian. "You pick it out," you said shyly. "I want you to choose what I will wear for him." Strange what we feel in such circumstances, I felt somehow honored that you wanted this and I looked long and carefully at all the frilly, sexy things on display, finally choosing a light green negligee with matching panties and carried it to you where you waited chatting, giggly with one of the shopgirls. From the sly look the she gave me as I came up I was sure you'd told her our secret. I was embarrassed, but said nothing as I held the negligee up for your inspection and said, "This will go nicely with your coloring, darling. What do you think?" You just smiled and nodded. As I paid for it the she turned to you and said, "Enjoy!" You both laughed and I felt my face redden. But to be humiliated by you, dearest Moira, is so very pleasurable. And when we were home you modeled it for me. And after I told you how very beautiful and sexy you looked, you turned eyes blazing with pride and arrogance, "But I shall never wear it for you, dear husband. Little need to entice you, my dearest cunt licker. You're mine forever, even if I wear a potato sack to bed!" So very true! And I fell to my knees before you, ravenous, to lick your cunt and suck your clitoris.
Comments to sdg@interport.net
