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Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Throne, Nov 10, 2016.

. FILL HER UP 3 5 2votes
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  1. Throne

    Throne Well-Known Member Author!

    FILL HER UP by Throne

    George looked around the bar he owned. It was just a neighborhood place but it had afforded him a good living. Of course, the money he earned never went far enough, not with his wife Flo spending like it could never run out. She was a tall woman with a full figure, especially in the bust and bottom. Despite her dimensions she was well proportioned and caught the eye of every guy who saw her. And she loved to dress to show off her exceptional curves. Her husband never tired of ogling her but, sadly for him, that was all the short unimpressive man could do.

    The problem was that Flo had a boyfriend. He was a six-footer, powerfully built and -- worst of all for George -- a mob boss. His name was Tony and he was known for his short temper. Flo was less interested in that characteristic than in how good he was in bed. She liked to tell her girlfriends that Tony was six feet and eight inches, the latter measurement referring to his thick cock. She didn't mind bragging about her lover in front of her husband, because Flo took special pleasure in cheating openly, reminding George frequently that he was a loser and a cuckold.

    One day, when she was sitting at a table with one of Tony's stooges, and George was manning the bar by himself, Tony walked in and went straight to her. He leaned down to give her a hard kiss on the mouth. One of his hands went down to cup her big round breast, which was only half covered by the thin cotton dress she had on. George cringed but otherwise acted like he didn't see anything. Tony talked to her for a minute and then said something to his hireling. The guy hollered over to George, telling him to bring three beers. Everyone heard the disrespect in his voice and most of them knew why he was talking that way to the owner.

    George poured three mugs and set them on a tray. He wiped his hands on his apron and took the tray out onto the floor, delivering it without speaking. His eyes strayed from his wife's waves of shoulder-length auburn hair to her deep cleavage and he suffered pangs of frustration from being denied access to her. Tony took a sip of his beer. Flo enjoyed a long swallow. She loved that stuff, which was one of the reasons her figure stayed so well upholstered. The stooge waited until the others were done before he allowed himself a short drink.

    Tony looked at George, sneered, and said, "There's going to be some changes around here. Those Prohibition laws are going into effect real soon. With a place like this, if we took down the signs outside and made it sort of private club, if you get what I mean, I could make a pile of money. So I'm going into a partnership as co-owner. Understood?"

    Despite his fear, George managed to whisper hoarsely, "But I'm the owner and I, um, don't need a partner."

    "Who would want to go into business with a chump like you? I'm going halves with Flo here." He gave her plump forearm a squeeze. "And that's that."

    "But she doesn't own the place. She can't legally..."

    "Shut up, idiot," Tony snapped, one of his notorious bad moods asserting itself. "My lawyer is drawing up some papers and after you sign them, this watering hole will be in her name."

    "Yeah," said Flo with a taunting grin. "My name alone. So I can decide to go into business with Tony. I mean, besides the business I'm already doing with him." Her hand went under the table, directly to the big man's lap.

    Tony chuckled and told her, "Feels good, baby, but not right now. Let me finish my beer. We'll have all night." He turned to the man sitting alongside him. "Rico, you can take care of the bar and Georgie boy will start his new job."

    Flo's husband stood there with his mouth open, looking as foolish as he felt. Tony took obvious pleasure in telling him that he would be mopping up, clearing tables, and emptying the ashtrays and spittoons. Before George could fully absorb that, his bride smirked at him and added that he would be in charge of keeping the lavatories spotless. He looked queasy as the happy couple raised their mugs and clinked them together, after which Flo drained hers. She barked at her husband to get her a refill. Rico got up and went behind the bar. He doffed his jacket, slipped on an apron, and began to chat with the customers. They were friendlier with him than they had been with George, who was always mumbling and lowering his eyes. Besides, no one who knew he was a cuckold had any respect for him, and pretty much everyone knew.

    Shocked into a trance, George returned the tray to the bar. Rico pointed at a broom in the corner and told him to sweep up around the toilet. "And then run to the hardware store to buy yourself some of that real strong cleaning stuff they use for scrubbing down the crapper. The guy who works there'll tell you what to get. Whatever crap you've been using doesn't work. Heh. I made a joke. You've been using crap to clean the crapper. Now snap to it."

    As George dutifully took the broom an overweight hooker who was between johns came in and perched on a stool, her overweight bottom sticking out to either side of the seat. Rico made a crude remark and she responded with an amused smile. She ordered something but didn't put any money on the bar. The two of them were conversing in low voices as George vanished into the rest room. He hung his head and swept listlessly, starting in the left hand stall and then moving to one on the right. Finally he gathered up all the sweepings in a pile and realized he had no way to pick them up. Not wanting to have a confrontation with Rico, and definitely not with Tony, he took a paper towel from the pile by the sink, swept everything onto that, and carefully lifted it up. He had it almost to the trash can when one side of the paper folded downward, dumping half the contents onto his apron. The cloth was damp so that, when he wiped it, the result was a dark smear.

    George managed to get what reached the floor back up and then to deposit it all into the bin. With the broom in one hand and the used paper towel in the other he noticed that someone hadn't been careful while at one of the urinals, and there was a splash of piss on the tile floor. Hating that he had to do it, but more concerned about what might happen if he didn't, he got down on one knee and began to wipe. Just then one of the customers came in, unzipped, and began to take a leak at the next pisser. The stream of liquid flew by George where he knelt, so close that he could smell it. He winced but completed his wipe-up of the floor. When the guy was done he intentionally took a step back and shook the last drops off his long cock. Under his critical glare, George reached out to wipe up the fresh wetness.

    The guy looked down at him with undisguised contempt and said, "Jeez, not only does that hot wife of yours screw Tony right upstairs, whenever he wants her, but now she's got you on piss clean-up duty. What a gimp."

    As he turned to leave, George could only stay where he was, feeling utterly defeated already, and admit to himself the truth of what the man had just said. Leaving the lavatory, George returned the broom to its previous spot. He had to ask Rico for money from the till for supplies. Rico wasn't happy to be taken away from his chat with the streetwalker. He scowled at George and told him to use his own money, and then ask for it back from his wife.

    The unfriendly bartender added, "But you might have to wait until she's done getting screwed by Tony."

    The hooker laughed at George's pained expression and finished her drink. She said to Rico, "Nice talking to you. I'll see you in a couple hours."

    Feeling endlessly unlucky, George left his bar -- which soon would be owned by his wife and that mobster -- and hurried to the hardware shop. Too bad for him, Rico had phoned ahead and let the guy know that he didn't have to respect his customer. Or even be polite to him. Plus, the clerk was a regular at the bar and well aware of George's marital status. He made several snotty remarks while George was gathering his purchases. Then, after accepting most of the money that had been in George's wallet, he had the nerve to give him a heavy package to be delivered to an address several blocks out of his way. Struggling under his twin burdens, the hapless husband made the drop-off. The recipient was the maintenance man at an apartment building, a slob in a dirty undershirt and baggy pants. Despite his lowly job he treated George like dirt.

    As the miserable cuckold was turning to leave, the guy called out, "Hey, errand boy, here's something for your trouble."

    Instead of a tip he gave George a page torn out of a men's detective magazine, of a busty woman in a tight dress with a cigarette hanging from her mouth and a gun in her hand. The picture was soiled with something dried and crusty. George had a sickening idea what it was. He meekly thanked the unsavory character who had gifted him with it and went on his way. When he got back to the bar everything was as he had left it, except that Flo now seemed a bit tipsy and was leaning slightly on Tony, pressing one oversized bosom against him. When she saw her spouse carrying his heavy load she called out, "Hey, mop-up boy, got a match?"

    She laughed. Tony laughed. Rico laughed. Several customers joined in. George asked permission from his replacement at the bar to finish cleaning the rest room. Rico chuckled and told him to have fun. An hour later George was finally done. When he reemerged and put his supplies away in the cleaning closet, Rico told him to go upstairs. Oh no. Tony and Flo were gone, probably up there already, maybe in the bedroom already. George trudged up the stairs and found them at the little table in the kitchen . They had a bottle of good whiskey that George had been saving for a special occasion. It was opened and they were drinking out of squat glasses, taking it straight, Tony appearing unaffected but Flo getting somewhat glassy eyed. She rocked slightly and put her hands under her heavy boobs, lifting them as if displaying them to her husband.

    Flo said drunkenly. "Not for you, George. Never for you. Only for Tony."

    As if to demonstrate the truth of that, the mobster reached around behind her with his long arm and got a hand on the outer side of the farther breast, giving it a firm squeeze. George couldn't suppress a whimper. He hated seeing his wife fondled like that, and watching her take pleasure from it. She turned her face toward Tony, lips parted. He pulled her closer and gave her a deep kiss, at the same time using his free hand to paw her other breast. George felt faint. The amorous pair stood up and headed to the bedroom.

    Flo called back, "You can wait outside the door, imbecile, in case we need anything."

    "Yeah," added Tony. "Like a towel to clean up the mess I'm going to leave in your Missus' snatch."

    "Hey, babe," Flo said, rubbing herself lewdly against him. "Don't forget that other thing we were talking about having the wimp do."

    "Sure. After I'm done with you."

    They entered the bedroom and Flo closed the door, but not all the way. She called out to her spouse, "Get down on your knees, dummy. You need to be comfortable because this isn't going to be over very soon. Tony's not like you used to be. He's a One Hour Man. And he can get it up more than once a night. A twerp like you, with your tiny dick, could never compete." She laughed once more and then turned her full attention to the man who was about to satisfy her.

    "Let's go, Tony," she said and chortled. "Fill her up."

    By the time they were done George was a nervous wreck, like he always was on those occasions. But his wife had mentioned wanting to have the cuckold do something else. He knelt there, anticipating apprehensively, while they snuggled and rested up. At last the summons he had been dreading came.

    "Get in here, jerk," Flo barked.

    He went in hesitantly, hands together in front of him. His eyes were downcast but he couldn't resist stealing a glance at his gorgeous wife. She was sitting up against the headboard, a sheet pulled up partway but not far enough to cover her queen-sized jugs. She told him to get undressed.

    When he didn't move she said, "What don't you understand, shit-for-brains?"

    "I... uh..." He reached for the top button of is shirt. "I'm sorry."

    "Damn right you're sorry," she told him. "A sorry excuse for a man, for one thing."

    The lovers watched with mocking eyes as he got himself naked. He stood there, his soft body and undersized genitals exposed. Flo ordered him to pull the sheet off her. Tony held onto his side so that he remained covered, although George could easily visualize his monster cock, large even when it wasn't hard. Flo lay there in all her zaftig glory. Her thighs were parted enough that her pussy was shown off, lightly furred above, pink lips parted to reveal the generous amount of white cream leaking from between them. When she had told Tony to 'fill her up' he hadn't skimped. George thought about the limited amount of spunk that his own system could produce.

    "Okay, worm," Flo told her spouse. "You already know how to eat my pussy. Now you're going to learn to do it while it's filled with Tony's cum. His thick, salty, oozing cum." She laughed nastily. "Get your tongue busy."

    He stood there until Tony growled, "You heard the lady, peanut-dick. Lick up all that mess. Now."

    With every word Tony sounded angrier. George quivered but got onto the foot of the bed, between his wife's feet. He moved forward, lowering his head, bringing his face closer and closer to the juncture of her shapely legs. She grabbed his hair and dragged him forward, so that his nose and lower lips were smeared with ejaculate. She rubbed her mound against his trapped features. When she relaxed her arms slightly he took the hint and began to lick, revolted by what they were making him do, feeling worse than ever about himself, but too intimidated to stop or even slow down. He kept up the steady rhythm that he knew she preferred until, after about five minutes, even though she had finished twice while Tony was pumping her, Flo began to approach another climax.

    George braced himself. His wife was not subtle when she reached her peak. Flo clutched his ears, hurting them, and ground her pubic bone against his upper lip while his tongue worked desperately against her clitoris. All at once she was launched into a quaking squealing orgasm, tugging his lower face so snugly against her that he was afraid he would suffocate. But he kept his tongue moving until she reached her upper limit and began to subside. Gradually he regained control of his breathing as she eased off pulling on his ears. When she was done with him she thumped George several times with her heels, until he tumbled off the end of the bed and landed hard on the floor.


    Three weeks later Prohibition was the law and the bar was a thriving speakeasy. It was nearly an open secret, with Tony paying off the right people regularly to leave them alone. One overzealous cop tried to go against his superiors and organize a raid. He was soon off the force and working as a security guard in a department store. The new clientele brought in plenty of money. They were told about George's humiliating situation and all thought it was a great joke. He had to circulate with a small bucket, emptying ashtrays and, to his disgust, spittoons. One of Tony's pals made him chew up and swallow a cigar butt, right in front of Flo, who said it made her wet between the legs. Not to be outdone, another of Tony's cohorts had George take a spittoon, put it to his lips, tilt it back, and take a big swallow. For the rest of the evening George was sick to his stomach and wished he could vomit up what he had drunk.

    Cleaning the bathrooms became even more of an ignominy. There was an informal competition to disgrace him the most while he was performing that unwanted task. One guy made him sponge out a urinal while he was peeing into it. Another had him buff his shoes while he sat on the john taking a dump. But the winner was that hooker who had gotten friendly with Rico. She made George accompany her into the ladies room, with Flo behind them and a few other women coming along to join the fun. When they got there the women stood over the toilet with her skirt pulled up and her legs spread. She released just enough urine to soak through the crotch of the panties and dribble down into the toilet while George watched, full of anxiety.

    Then, being careful not to get anything on herself, she slid down the panties, stepped gingerly out of them, and held them out to George, saying, "Here you go, lover boy. I heard Flo saying how you always get yourself into trouble by saying the wrong thing. So just stuff these into your mouth and you won't have that problem for the rest of the night. Okay?"

    George's eyes darted to Flo but she showed no signs of sympathy. Instead she fixed him with a threatening gaze. He accepted the wet panties, brought them up to his open mouth and, making involuntary gagging sounds, put them onto his tongue. The taste was terrible. He closed his mouth. His eyes watered. The woman patted him on top of the head and told him he was 'a good little halfwit'. It was early in the evening and he had to spend hours with the unclean garment inside his mouth. Word got around about what had happened and he was tormented by everyone he got close to as he scurried about performing his menial duties. Someone even sent him out for a newspaper and, because he couldn't speak, they pinned a note to the lapel of his jacket, which was mustard green and yellow, with a plaid print, and looked like it belonged on a ventriloquist's dummy. The note said, 'I am too stupid to talk. Please give me a copy of The Times'. They even made him pay for it himself, out of the tiny allowance his wife granted him.

    At the end of that very long night he had to follow his bride and her capable lover up to the bedroom, as he had so many times before. The sniveling cuckold wimp, his nose running, was told to undress. Then he had to remove his wife's clothes while Tony stood behind her running his hands over her smooth flesh as it was uncovered. She was so gorgeous that George couldn't keep himself from getting an erection. She pointed out how immature his penis was and how inferior it was to what Tony boasted. She even diddled her husband's nipples, which got him so excited that he half swallowed the panties and nearly choked on them before he was allowed to pulled them out of his mouth and go throw them into the bathroom trash basket. Then, still hard from being touched, he had to get down on the floor on his back and let his wife rub her feet, which had been encased in tight shoes for hours and were sweaty and smelly, all over his face. Of course, he wasn't allowed to open his mouth because of what had been in there all night.

    At last it was time for Tony and Flo to get into bed for one of their marathon sex sessions. The mobster had gotten into a bad mood the previous day and come up with an especially cruel treatment for George. Someone had gotten Tony a canvas mail sack. Now the cuckold had to crawl inside, after which George gathered up the open end, lined up the eyelets, and passed a padlock through them. He called Flo over and gave her the privilege of clicking it shut and locking her husband inside. Then Tony roughly stood it up so that George was head-down. He picked up the bag and thumped the top of George's skull against the floor several times, and then propped the bag up in the corner so that their victim was stuck in that upside down position.

    Tony was smart. He understood that the worse George suffered, the better his bride would be in bed. So Tony told him, "All right, dopey. Start playing with that little thing between your legs. Get it all hard. Think about grabbing your wife's big tits, which is what I'll be doing real soon. Got it all stiff? Yes? Good, now make it squirt, so you get your scum all over yourself. Do it. Now."

    They heard George mewling, then grunting, and finally gasping as he spurted his meager mess. Immediately afterward he was sobbing, trapped with that rough material irritating his skin, sweating, breathing shallowly, slimed with his own sperm, aware of the strong probability that he would be left there all night. He would be able to breath reasonably well if he remained calm. Controlling his mood became more difficult, however, as he heard his wife and the mobster begin foreplay. It was sheer torture as they went on and on, Flo praising Tony's technique and insulting George repeatedly. Nearly sixty minutes later it was over. George was sweltering, the smell of his sweat and spunk choking him in that confined space. He blubbered softly between deep breathes. As he had feared, they went to sleep and ignored him.

    Several hours after dawn the padlock was unlocked. It was Rico and his girlfriend who opened the bag. The thug dumped George out onto the floor. Tony and Flo were gone. The former bar owner lay there weeping. Rico told him to shut up and, when George wasn't able to, kicked him hard in the side with his pointed shoe. The cuckold at last got quiet. Rico's girlfriend made George tell them in detail everything that had happened. Then voluptuous whore wanted to go even further than Tony and Flo had.

    "I know," she said, struck with inspiration. "Rico, you're always saying you want to do me in the ass. How about if I let you, but then you make the freak clean me out back there, like Flo said they made him do to her pussy last night, after Tony rammed her? How about it, Rico?"

    "Sure, baby, if it'll get me into your tight ass."

    "Let's do it. Fill her up."

    George wanted to crawl away and hide but that wasn't an option. He knew what was coming and had to wait on tenterhooks until it was time to shame himself, to bury his face between the massive halves of her ass and perform that disgusting job, to be teased and laughed at, and to slip even deeper into his role as a debased weakling cuckold.

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