MY GENEROUS WIFE
by Throne
"Stop your whining," Abby scolded. "I'm letting you watch me get dressed, aren't I?"
"B... but you're getting ready for another date with Mack."
"Boo hoo. If you'd stood up to your old school bully when we met him at that class reunion, maybe I wouldn't be getting laid by him. And your sex life wouldn't have been reduced to playing with your little stem."
I stood there, naked, the way she often kept me. Well, naked except for sweat socks. My wife likes to point out how kind she's being, making sure I don't have cold feet. And how thoughtful it is of her to relieve me of the responsibility of satisfying her in bed, which she never tires of reminding me I'm no good at.
Abby is taller than me, 5' 10" to my 5' 4". She has a full figure, with curves that draw male attention wherever we go. I'm slender and, still in my early 20s, already have the beginnings of a pot belly. Sometimes she calls me her 'potbellied pig'.
"Honey," I tried to reason with her. "I thought this was just a fling. Something you had to get out of your system. But you keep on dating that... that... monster."
"Monster?" She grinned at me. "Monster cock is more like it. And this is no fling. I will never ever get tired of having him on top of me, pounding away, making me cum over and over again."
I pictured her lover. A towering Black man with an enviably muscular physique. His masculine confidence triggered overheated desire in my wife.
"It... it's just so..." I couldn't keep myself from sniffling. "... so unfair."
"What was unfair was me having to settle for your miserable excuse of a prick. That white worm of yours will never feel the inside of my pussy again. You are staying on the program I've had you in for the last six months. Nothing but hand sex for you. And I don't mean my hand. You don't even get that. Get used to it, loser, because it will never change. Nothing but pulling that puny pud for you." She gave my undersized penis a disapproving look. It appears even more immature now that she insists I keep my pubic hair shaved off. "And speaking of playing with yourself, have you done enough edging today? You know you're supposed to bring yourself to the brink over and over on Saturday afternoons, in between your chores. I like you to have a nasty set of blue balls when I'm ready to go out with the real man in my life."
"I..." Even after humiliating myself so often, it was still devastating to discuss those things. "I handled my dick in the bathroom, after I scrubbed the tub and cleaned the toilet. And... um... when I hand laundered your panties, and a bunch of other times."
"Did you think about me being with Mack while you did it?"
"Y... yes, dear. But it's not right for me to have to..."
"HEY!" she snapped. "What I tell you to do is what's right. In fact, I want to see you mess with yourself right now. And it should be fun for you because you get to see me while you do it."
All she had on was a bra with half cups, that left her big boobs partly uncovered, and a thong that exposed her wide round bottom. She took her nipples between thumbs and forefingers to tease them into stiffness. Then she turned around and wagged her ass at me. As if in a trance, I lowered my hand to the juncture of my thighs and fingered my inadequate member. When soft it's just a nubbin. After it gets hard it's still under four inches, and shamefully slender, with an undersized head. I have small balls too. Abby stood there smirking as I stroked like a naughty boy, which she often compared me to. After a few moments I was stiff. She came close and bent forward, squinting as if she couldn't see what I had.
"Dicky," she told me, "don't use your whole hand. You certainly don't need it. Just your thumb and middle finger will be enough. And don't tug too hard. I might not want you to finish until later. I know how much you like to bring yourself off after one of my nights out, while I rave about Mack and what a terrific lover he is. I might suck on that pole of his for a while before I beg him to put it in me. You should see me, on my back in the middle of his bed, with my legs spread wide like a total slut. He loves it when I act that way. It makes him slam me even harder."
"Please, darling," I said without stopping what I was doing. "Don't talk about that."
"Sorry," she responded without sincerity. "I won't say anything else about how he humps me like we're a couple of rutting animals. You don't want to hear about that. What you want me to tell you is how it's also great when he takes his time. Feeling that killer cock slide in and out in slow motion, having it reach depths you could never hope to touch, and having it go on so long that I have to beg him to speed up again." She chuckled. "Not like you, who could never last more than... what was your record?... three minutes."
I sobbed. "Three and a half."
"Right. That extra thirty seconds was such a treat for me. Whoa! A woman loves a man who can almost but not quite make it to the four minute mark."
My knees were quivering and my breathing got ragged. Still, I didn't stop my two-digit self abuse. She told me to toy with my nipples. I used my free hand and soon had myself gasping from the need to ejaculate. She brought her face to within inches of mine and made several wet-sounding air kisses.
"Does my loser husband want to shoot his useless spermies? If I let you, where should you do it? Give me some choices."
She delighted in making me spurt in shameful places. I knew I would have to recite some of them to keep her happy.
"W... would you like me to do it in the bathroom trash can? There are plenty of used tissues in there."
"Perhaps." She grew thoughtful. "Where else?"
"It could be into the toilet."
"I don't know. You just cleaned it. We wouldn't want any of your mess on the rim or anywhere."
"Yes, Abby. I understand. Would you like me to go into the hamper and find something of yours to use? Maybe a pair of panties?"
"That might not be a good idea. I don't want you to start thinking I'm going easy on you. If I let you sniff my dirty panties and then rub them all over your sad little dicky, Dicky, you'll expect special favors like that all the time."
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
She shook her head. "We can't take that chance. It's difficult enough for me already to put up with your constant need to wank."
"Really, I overstepped my boundaries. I should have remembered that panty sex is only for special occasions like my birthday or our anniversary." I was fighting back tears. She might make me wait an extra day or two, with my balls aching, before she let me milk myself, if I displeased her.
"Welllll," she considered. "I suppose you could demonstrate that you really didn't mean to misbehave like that, Mister Pickle Puller. If you were to suggest something less arousing for you. Something a LOT less to your tastes, that just might show me you didn't mean to act like an asshole to your own loving wife, who keeps trying to be so considerate of your creepy fantasies."
I swallowed with difficulty, at the same time swallowing the remnants of my pride. Whatever I said next had to be horrid for me, which would be amusing for her. I knew the only possible idea I could present.
"I could..." The words stuck in my throat. "...take one of those small bowls, the really shallow ones..."
"Yes?" she said with interest.
"And put some corn flakes into it."
"Tell me more."
"And then I could hand-hump my dick and squirt my goo all over the cereal."
"So far, so good."
"Put the bowl on the floor." My voice was shaking.
"Go on."
"Get down on my hands and knees."
"With your bare ass sticking out."
"Put my face into the bowl."
"Where your mess is waiting."
"And eat up everything that's there." She didn't say anything so I detailed, "Eat the cornflakes and the semen I got all over them. Gulp down every last bit of it." Still no response. "And then lick the bowl."
"Hmmm. That's almost enough. Can you think of something that would definitely convince me you mean it? And be quick. Mack will be here very soon."
"I could..." Oh no. I realized where she was leading me. "... do it while he watches. While both of you see what I'm doing."
"Wonderful. You know he likes you to do things to assure him that you're not getting uppity, or giving me any trouble, or trying to earn yourself another of his face-slappings. You don't want him to smack you around again, do you? Like he used to do back in school?"
"N... no, Ma'am," I told her honestly.
"Good boy. So go to the front door, kneel down, and let him in when he gets here."
"Yes, Abby."
I went and assumed that demeaning position. Minutes later I heard his flashy car pull up in front of our house. The neighbors could see my bride whenever she left with that tall powerful Black man, and I doubted that any of them misunderstood what was going on. Timing myself carefully, I opened the door just as I thought he was reaching it. Sure enough, he strode into our home like he owned the place. I gently closed the door and then looked back over my bare shoulder to see the two of them embracing, with him kissing my wife hard. She was still mostly undressed and his hand slid down her bare lower back so he could fondle her uncovered buttocks.
She purred, "You really like my big ass, don't you?"
"Damn right." As he stepped away from her I could see the impressive bulge in the front of his pants. Mack was around nine inches flaccid and eleven hard. Thick with a bulging knob.
Abby reached down to lightly stroke his superior endowment. She said, "If you want a quick laugh before we go, my idiot husband has something he wants to do for us."
"She-it. More of his kinky crap?"
I knew he liked to see me disgrace myself. Mack enjoyed every aspect of taking my wife away from me, and especially my self-humiliations she staged for him.
"Well," she explained, "he was getting unruly. Trying to take advantage of my generous nature. So now he wants to make it up to me by demonstrating what a worthless pervert he is." She licked her lips. "Want to see the show?"
"Knowing how it gets you all wet when he has to be a total chump in front of us, sure I do. Can't wait to see what he thought up to get himself all turned on."
She told me, "You heard the man, Dicky no-dick. Get your snack ready. And keep that pitiful pecker hard. We don't have all night to wait for your performance. I want to get to the club and do some dancing before we go back to Mack's for our main act. Or should I say, multiple acts. Unlike some guys," she peered at me pointedly, "Mack can do it more than once a night."
I hurried away without a word and returned with the bowl of cereal. My erection was failing so I had to mortify myself further by fingering it some more. When it was fully up I aimed it at the bowl and increased my pace. Mack saw where it was leading and let out a hearty laugh. I wanted to close my eyes but knew that was forbidden. Instead I snuck a peek at my wife's magnificent curves and immediately felt my finish approaching. After all the times I'd brought myself to the brink during that afternoon, there was no chance of maintaining control. Suddenly I was spreading my cream all over the breakfast food. Then I milked out a last few drops. Mack crossed his muscular arms and Abby clung onto one of his bulging biceps with both hands. She leaned her head against his shoulder.
Carefully, I set the bowl in front of their feet like a humble offering. Getting onto my knees, I took a steadying breath. Then I bent down to put my hands on the floor and bring my face close to the unappetizing offering. I pressed my nose and mouth into the sticky cum and crisp flakes to begin eating, like a dog. Even though it sickened me, I kept on, chewing and gagging down my own cum.
"Get it all," Mack ordered firmly.
"Yeah," seconded Abby. "At least your worthless spermies will get put to some use, though I doubt they have much nutritional value. I hope they don't contribute to that gut you're growing. After you're done don't eat anything else."
"And don't brush your teeth," the Black stud added. "Or even rinse your mouth, Dicky boy."
I got it all down and, true to what I had said, lapped out the bowl. By the end I was felt utterly emasculated. Episodes like that wore away at what was left of my former self image.
Mack wanted to know, "What do you say to this hot woman?"
"I... what?"
"For letting you play your sick games in front of us. What do you say to her?"
I knew the answer. "Th... thank you, Abby." She enjoyed making it sound like I preferred this role. "Thank you for letting me act out my filthy fantasies."
"No problem," she said magnanimously. "Now while we're gone I want you to buff all my leather shoes and boots. And with your twisted desire for what I wear on my feet, that should have you all worked up again. So if you can manage to get that Vienna sausage of yours stiff, I want you to play with it the entire time we're gone. In fact, if I happen to stay overnight at Mack's place, don't you dare go to sleep. Spend the entire night on your shoe and boot fetish, and your obsession with jerking off that twig. Right?"
"Yes, dearest."
Mack amplified, "Don't let us come in and catch you sleeping, or without your baby dick sticking out."
"Yes, Sir."
They both laughed. Abby finished dressing, donning a tight skimpy dress and oversized hoop earrings, and put on excess make-up to finish achieving the cheap look that Mack preferred. As they got to the front door she glanced back at me.
"And Dicky-bird," she said with a smirk. "I want you to think up something else like what you did before. To show me how much you appreciate the good care I take of you. Understood?"
"Yes, sweetheart. I'll think of some even... better. So I can keep reminding you of how much I live for the generous and thoughtful way you treat me, and how you cater to my weird tastes." She seemed to want something extra so I added, "And how much I want you to keep doing all that."
"That's what I like to hear," she congratulated. "And don't worry, Dicky-do. I will never ever stop giving you the special treatment you crave. And dating Mack so you don't have to embarrass yourself by being a flop in bed. You know me -- generous to a fault."
*********
by Throne
"Stop your whining," Abby scolded. "I'm letting you watch me get dressed, aren't I?"
"B... but you're getting ready for another date with Mack."
"Boo hoo. If you'd stood up to your old school bully when we met him at that class reunion, maybe I wouldn't be getting laid by him. And your sex life wouldn't have been reduced to playing with your little stem."
I stood there, naked, the way she often kept me. Well, naked except for sweat socks. My wife likes to point out how kind she's being, making sure I don't have cold feet. And how thoughtful it is of her to relieve me of the responsibility of satisfying her in bed, which she never tires of reminding me I'm no good at.
Abby is taller than me, 5' 10" to my 5' 4". She has a full figure, with curves that draw male attention wherever we go. I'm slender and, still in my early 20s, already have the beginnings of a pot belly. Sometimes she calls me her 'potbellied pig'.
"Honey," I tried to reason with her. "I thought this was just a fling. Something you had to get out of your system. But you keep on dating that... that... monster."
"Monster?" She grinned at me. "Monster cock is more like it. And this is no fling. I will never ever get tired of having him on top of me, pounding away, making me cum over and over again."
I pictured her lover. A towering Black man with an enviably muscular physique. His masculine confidence triggered overheated desire in my wife.
"It... it's just so..." I couldn't keep myself from sniffling. "... so unfair."
"What was unfair was me having to settle for your miserable excuse of a prick. That white worm of yours will never feel the inside of my pussy again. You are staying on the program I've had you in for the last six months. Nothing but hand sex for you. And I don't mean my hand. You don't even get that. Get used to it, loser, because it will never change. Nothing but pulling that puny pud for you." She gave my undersized penis a disapproving look. It appears even more immature now that she insists I keep my pubic hair shaved off. "And speaking of playing with yourself, have you done enough edging today? You know you're supposed to bring yourself to the brink over and over on Saturday afternoons, in between your chores. I like you to have a nasty set of blue balls when I'm ready to go out with the real man in my life."
"I..." Even after humiliating myself so often, it was still devastating to discuss those things. "I handled my dick in the bathroom, after I scrubbed the tub and cleaned the toilet. And... um... when I hand laundered your panties, and a bunch of other times."
"Did you think about me being with Mack while you did it?"
"Y... yes, dear. But it's not right for me to have to..."
"HEY!" she snapped. "What I tell you to do is what's right. In fact, I want to see you mess with yourself right now. And it should be fun for you because you get to see me while you do it."
All she had on was a bra with half cups, that left her big boobs partly uncovered, and a thong that exposed her wide round bottom. She took her nipples between thumbs and forefingers to tease them into stiffness. Then she turned around and wagged her ass at me. As if in a trance, I lowered my hand to the juncture of my thighs and fingered my inadequate member. When soft it's just a nubbin. After it gets hard it's still under four inches, and shamefully slender, with an undersized head. I have small balls too. Abby stood there smirking as I stroked like a naughty boy, which she often compared me to. After a few moments I was stiff. She came close and bent forward, squinting as if she couldn't see what I had.
"Dicky," she told me, "don't use your whole hand. You certainly don't need it. Just your thumb and middle finger will be enough. And don't tug too hard. I might not want you to finish until later. I know how much you like to bring yourself off after one of my nights out, while I rave about Mack and what a terrific lover he is. I might suck on that pole of his for a while before I beg him to put it in me. You should see me, on my back in the middle of his bed, with my legs spread wide like a total slut. He loves it when I act that way. It makes him slam me even harder."
"Please, darling," I said without stopping what I was doing. "Don't talk about that."
"Sorry," she responded without sincerity. "I won't say anything else about how he humps me like we're a couple of rutting animals. You don't want to hear about that. What you want me to tell you is how it's also great when he takes his time. Feeling that killer cock slide in and out in slow motion, having it reach depths you could never hope to touch, and having it go on so long that I have to beg him to speed up again." She chuckled. "Not like you, who could never last more than... what was your record?... three minutes."
I sobbed. "Three and a half."
"Right. That extra thirty seconds was such a treat for me. Whoa! A woman loves a man who can almost but not quite make it to the four minute mark."
My knees were quivering and my breathing got ragged. Still, I didn't stop my two-digit self abuse. She told me to toy with my nipples. I used my free hand and soon had myself gasping from the need to ejaculate. She brought her face to within inches of mine and made several wet-sounding air kisses.
"Does my loser husband want to shoot his useless spermies? If I let you, where should you do it? Give me some choices."
She delighted in making me spurt in shameful places. I knew I would have to recite some of them to keep her happy.
"W... would you like me to do it in the bathroom trash can? There are plenty of used tissues in there."
"Perhaps." She grew thoughtful. "Where else?"
"It could be into the toilet."
"I don't know. You just cleaned it. We wouldn't want any of your mess on the rim or anywhere."
"Yes, Abby. I understand. Would you like me to go into the hamper and find something of yours to use? Maybe a pair of panties?"
"That might not be a good idea. I don't want you to start thinking I'm going easy on you. If I let you sniff my dirty panties and then rub them all over your sad little dicky, Dicky, you'll expect special favors like that all the time."
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
She shook her head. "We can't take that chance. It's difficult enough for me already to put up with your constant need to wank."
"Really, I overstepped my boundaries. I should have remembered that panty sex is only for special occasions like my birthday or our anniversary." I was fighting back tears. She might make me wait an extra day or two, with my balls aching, before she let me milk myself, if I displeased her.
"Welllll," she considered. "I suppose you could demonstrate that you really didn't mean to misbehave like that, Mister Pickle Puller. If you were to suggest something less arousing for you. Something a LOT less to your tastes, that just might show me you didn't mean to act like an asshole to your own loving wife, who keeps trying to be so considerate of your creepy fantasies."
I swallowed with difficulty, at the same time swallowing the remnants of my pride. Whatever I said next had to be horrid for me, which would be amusing for her. I knew the only possible idea I could present.
"I could..." The words stuck in my throat. "...take one of those small bowls, the really shallow ones..."
"Yes?" she said with interest.
"And put some corn flakes into it."
"Tell me more."
"And then I could hand-hump my dick and squirt my goo all over the cereal."
"So far, so good."
"Put the bowl on the floor." My voice was shaking.
"Go on."
"Get down on my hands and knees."
"With your bare ass sticking out."
"Put my face into the bowl."
"Where your mess is waiting."
"And eat up everything that's there." She didn't say anything so I detailed, "Eat the cornflakes and the semen I got all over them. Gulp down every last bit of it." Still no response. "And then lick the bowl."
"Hmmm. That's almost enough. Can you think of something that would definitely convince me you mean it? And be quick. Mack will be here very soon."
"I could..." Oh no. I realized where she was leading me. "... do it while he watches. While both of you see what I'm doing."
"Wonderful. You know he likes you to do things to assure him that you're not getting uppity, or giving me any trouble, or trying to earn yourself another of his face-slappings. You don't want him to smack you around again, do you? Like he used to do back in school?"
"N... no, Ma'am," I told her honestly.
"Good boy. So go to the front door, kneel down, and let him in when he gets here."
"Yes, Abby."
I went and assumed that demeaning position. Minutes later I heard his flashy car pull up in front of our house. The neighbors could see my bride whenever she left with that tall powerful Black man, and I doubted that any of them misunderstood what was going on. Timing myself carefully, I opened the door just as I thought he was reaching it. Sure enough, he strode into our home like he owned the place. I gently closed the door and then looked back over my bare shoulder to see the two of them embracing, with him kissing my wife hard. She was still mostly undressed and his hand slid down her bare lower back so he could fondle her uncovered buttocks.
She purred, "You really like my big ass, don't you?"
"Damn right." As he stepped away from her I could see the impressive bulge in the front of his pants. Mack was around nine inches flaccid and eleven hard. Thick with a bulging knob.
Abby reached down to lightly stroke his superior endowment. She said, "If you want a quick laugh before we go, my idiot husband has something he wants to do for us."
"She-it. More of his kinky crap?"
I knew he liked to see me disgrace myself. Mack enjoyed every aspect of taking my wife away from me, and especially my self-humiliations she staged for him.
"Well," she explained, "he was getting unruly. Trying to take advantage of my generous nature. So now he wants to make it up to me by demonstrating what a worthless pervert he is." She licked her lips. "Want to see the show?"
"Knowing how it gets you all wet when he has to be a total chump in front of us, sure I do. Can't wait to see what he thought up to get himself all turned on."
She told me, "You heard the man, Dicky no-dick. Get your snack ready. And keep that pitiful pecker hard. We don't have all night to wait for your performance. I want to get to the club and do some dancing before we go back to Mack's for our main act. Or should I say, multiple acts. Unlike some guys," she peered at me pointedly, "Mack can do it more than once a night."
I hurried away without a word and returned with the bowl of cereal. My erection was failing so I had to mortify myself further by fingering it some more. When it was fully up I aimed it at the bowl and increased my pace. Mack saw where it was leading and let out a hearty laugh. I wanted to close my eyes but knew that was forbidden. Instead I snuck a peek at my wife's magnificent curves and immediately felt my finish approaching. After all the times I'd brought myself to the brink during that afternoon, there was no chance of maintaining control. Suddenly I was spreading my cream all over the breakfast food. Then I milked out a last few drops. Mack crossed his muscular arms and Abby clung onto one of his bulging biceps with both hands. She leaned her head against his shoulder.
Carefully, I set the bowl in front of their feet like a humble offering. Getting onto my knees, I took a steadying breath. Then I bent down to put my hands on the floor and bring my face close to the unappetizing offering. I pressed my nose and mouth into the sticky cum and crisp flakes to begin eating, like a dog. Even though it sickened me, I kept on, chewing and gagging down my own cum.
"Get it all," Mack ordered firmly.
"Yeah," seconded Abby. "At least your worthless spermies will get put to some use, though I doubt they have much nutritional value. I hope they don't contribute to that gut you're growing. After you're done don't eat anything else."
"And don't brush your teeth," the Black stud added. "Or even rinse your mouth, Dicky boy."
I got it all down and, true to what I had said, lapped out the bowl. By the end I was felt utterly emasculated. Episodes like that wore away at what was left of my former self image.
Mack wanted to know, "What do you say to this hot woman?"
"I... what?"
"For letting you play your sick games in front of us. What do you say to her?"
I knew the answer. "Th... thank you, Abby." She enjoyed making it sound like I preferred this role. "Thank you for letting me act out my filthy fantasies."
"No problem," she said magnanimously. "Now while we're gone I want you to buff all my leather shoes and boots. And with your twisted desire for what I wear on my feet, that should have you all worked up again. So if you can manage to get that Vienna sausage of yours stiff, I want you to play with it the entire time we're gone. In fact, if I happen to stay overnight at Mack's place, don't you dare go to sleep. Spend the entire night on your shoe and boot fetish, and your obsession with jerking off that twig. Right?"
"Yes, dearest."
Mack amplified, "Don't let us come in and catch you sleeping, or without your baby dick sticking out."
"Yes, Sir."
They both laughed. Abby finished dressing, donning a tight skimpy dress and oversized hoop earrings, and put on excess make-up to finish achieving the cheap look that Mack preferred. As they got to the front door she glanced back at me.
"And Dicky-bird," she said with a smirk. "I want you to think up something else like what you did before. To show me how much you appreciate the good care I take of you. Understood?"
"Yes, sweetheart. I'll think of some even... better. So I can keep reminding you of how much I live for the generous and thoughtful way you treat me, and how you cater to my weird tastes." She seemed to want something extra so I added, "And how much I want you to keep doing all that."
"That's what I like to hear," she congratulated. "And don't worry, Dicky-do. I will never ever stop giving you the special treatment you crave. And dating Mack so you don't have to embarrass yourself by being a flop in bed. You know me -- generous to a fault."
*********
