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. After I've been with Brewster

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Lutheran Maid, May 7, 2017.

. After I've been with Brewster 5 5 1votes
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  1. Lutheran Maid

    Lutheran Maid Well-Known Member Author!

    After I've been with Brewster, after John has licked me clean, something changes. John doesn't know what to do with himself. Alright, if I'm going out with my lover then John will lay out the clothes that i have directed. But if the three of us remain in the house, if we are alone, you can see it in John's face. He doesn't know what to do with himself. John isn't allowed in the master bedroom most times, Brewster likes to fuck me privately there. But there is casual sex around the house and then always the tickling touch of John's tongue on my dripping sex. But irrespective of where Brewster has enjoyed me, John is lost, spent, rudderless.

    I've thought about it. When John is directed to my sex, when i pull up the hem of my skirt and John licks, he has a distinct purpose. Licking me out is our perfect act. It reminds John of the hierarchy in the house and that he must worship my sex. What I have between my legs and what Brewster does to it defines our relationships. Because of my terrible needs down their, my slavery to Brewster's cock, I need to fuck a lot. Because of John's abject submission to me, his psyche that puts me up on a pedestal, he needs to lick my sex. That it is owned by Brewster, that it drips his semen, defines the relationship at that moment in time between the men. There is absolutely no doubt about who I lie with, who I worship. So Brewster's spunk says it all and John licks and sniffs and he teases it around my sex with the tip of his tongue. I know that he both loves and abhors the taste and the smell of it. I have seen him grimace when he swallows. But there is never a doubt, he WILL lick me out in front of Brewster. The affirmation of lord and lady will be repeated.

    I like to feel John's tongue on my sex, I have stopped worrying about climaxing when he does that. It's never an ambiguous orgasm. Brewster knows that i am thinking about him when i ride john's face. I will rub my clitty across John's mouth, spasm down the copious spunk for John to mouth and swallow, and moan to Brewster how much I crave him instead. When i fuck John's face I dismiss him as a man. When I sit on his face I use him like a sex toy. If I stand with legs agape then i pull John's face to my sex, there in front of Brewster. My husband has his face slapped until he licks me in the required way, so that i can wriggle and squirm in front of my man and show him what a cruel vixen i can be. The orgasms when they happen this way, they are like spitting in John's face. They are an insult to him and an accolade to Brewster who makes me scream beneath him when we couple.

    Then, it is done and I am done with John. After cleaning myself on him that way, for a time, i have no use for him. It's as if I don't want him around, i don't want his touch, or his softly spoken humble words, I don't want his presence. Of course I have humiliated him, of course it re conforms that Brewster is his boss and it pleases him, but I just wish that John would slink off someplace and pretend that he didn't exist. I realise some things about this. John is no longer a man. Yet i have let him lick my cunt, that which deserves more than him. If John was a flannel, if his face was but a wipe, then you could just set him aside. You could drop him on the ground and walk away until the next time. But you see his face and he moves about, quietly, sheepishly. You know that he feels ashamed but exhilarated. I have just made him do what he needs. But there is no guarantee that I will ever let him do it again. There is no guarantee that Brewster will still enjoy seeing me dominate him. So for a time, may be for several hours, John has no use, no purpose and possibly no future. I frequently think about discarding him then. Brewster has told me that i can tell john to fuck off. So far I haven't. My man loves dominating him. He loves seeing me bitch John.

    After being licked out my sex is very wet. I never dry myself then. Instead, I will pull on tight jeans and let the moisture seep into the fabric so that a darker wet patch shows on my crotch. I then snuggle into Brewster's lap whilst John descends into a series of pathetic, ritual acts. It's like he has to tidy up, to busy himself in some way. But there are furtive glances at my crotch, at the wetness there that signals his submission. I think sometimes that he would spend hours licking my sex. That thought disgusts me. He disgusts me. It annoys me that his cheap, worthless brain is wired that way. So i get tetchy with him and that terrifies him. It is as though he dreads a sea change, that i might finish with him completely. I become irritable with him. i'm tetchy about the place, this looks a mess, that looks dusty, its like i have to turn him into something else. You'd laugh, but he's like a robot lane mower. That's what I want, to make him do things, but without the conceit of feelings or thoughts about me. I don't want that. i don't want him to feel human.

    When Brewster senses that, he kisses me. It is a gentle, teasing, lip brushing kiss that says, 'hey, relax…he's your slave.' The kissing always works. I soon want a deeper and a more sustained kiss. I beg for his kisses and the fact that John is still somewhere around seems to matter less. Brewster will flick on the TV and we will watch a film whilst he kisses and pets me. We're not about to fuck immediately, because that arouses John. To fuck again will make him ache and frankly i want to pretend that he doesn't exist. So we kiss teasingly, gently, and Brewster nuzzles my neck. The conversation starts, indolent conversation. We're helping another girl live our way and its working. But we want it to be life long so you go very slow indeed. John dusts silently, he slides off to the kitchen. Then he brings out mugs of coffee, setting them down beside us, with out comment, an apology for living. Once upon a time I would thank him then, for such a gesture, but you soon realise that to do so is to resurrect him in your mind as something worthy. He is of course not that. He is nothing and had you been served such refreshment in a cafe or restaurant you would barely acknowledge the waiter, so that is how it is at home too.

    Tanya, the girlfriend that I was referring to calls on the phone and I answer, gesturing for the TV sound to be turned down. John does it. He spots the need immediately and does as required. Brewster nibbles my ear. He runs his fingers slowly up and down the inside of my thighs. Its news of progress. Tanya now dates Lionel and her husband Keith has stopped asking about it all. Her instinct was to reprimand Keith for his bad manners, but we suggested something else. Refuse to answer any questions and wean him off pussy licks. Let his febrile brain do the calculating. The more I pester the less I get. The more I accept that this is life from now on, Tanya seeing Lionel when she choses, the more I am brought to pussy on right terms. Tanya is becoming a very content lady. John pretends not to listen. He pretends. But i know he is contemplating Keith's impending slavery.

    Tanya suggests that the three of us go out to lunch together, Lionel being away. Yes, of course, that would be lovely. I break the conversation for a moment,

    'My Calvin Kein high rise jeans, the Jimmy Choo boots' I instruct John.

    He nods and there is such a look of relief on his face. A use, a purpose. Brewster goes to change whilst i chat on with Tanya. Across the room, John is touching up the polish on my boots. I walk over to him, still on the phone and he unbuttons my jeans and peels them down. He's aching to lick me again but its off limits. I step out of the old jeans and into the new ones that John holds ready. He pulls them up and secures them, placing the wide leather big buckle, slouch belt around my waist that i use with these jeans. I seat myself and point my toes so that John can pull on my boots.

    'I'm just getting dressed, ' I promise Tanya, who insists that we should stop talking and start getting ready to meet.

    Now, this moment, the next moment on, John does not disgust me. I like his quick anticipation of what i prefer. I like his obedience and wish that slavery was still widespread, our sort of slavery. Today, I'm going to remember to tell Tanya, about the fucking, the licking and the moments beyond. I'm going to say learn to relax with it. The life is exquisite.
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