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. My Listening Post

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Throne, May 8, 2018.

. My Listening Post 3.8 5 4votes
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  1. Throne

    Throne Well-Known Member Author!

    I was really glad to be heading down to the basement and my hobby space. We had just gotten a new widescreen TV on the ground floor and my wife Jeanine had wanted the furniture moved so she could get a better viewing angle. I struggled to shift her big recliner to where she preferred it. The job might have been easy for a big guy, but I'm short, with a small frame and, frankly, no muscular development. Still, I wanted to make her happy. I'm always like that. After all, I'm super lucky to be with such a gorgeous gal. She's short like me, with flowing blond hair and a sweet face. Her stunning figure includes a large bust, slim waist, and flaring hips. She has a jutting round bottom that is a thing of beauty.

    Once I had the big chair in the perfect position, I was free to work on my models. That's what my hobby is. I take super hero action figures and modify them to create one-of-a-kinds. Right then I was taking a Captain Atomic and modifying it into Super Flash. It was so exciting. While I was at my worktable, thinking about the background I would create to display the work with when it was done, I realized I had to relieve my bladder. Obviously, I shouldn't have had that second glass of chocolate milk. But sometimes my drinking gets out of control.

    So I started up the steps and, when I was halfway to the top, heard my wife's voice. She must be sitting in the chair directly over me. That put her in an acoustic 'sweet spot' where I she was perfectly audible to me. Jeanne was probably talking to one of her girlfriends. Though I don't have any close buddies, she has a circle of gal pals. They like to go to the mall, stop somewhere for a meal, and on weekends go out for a drink or two. I especially liked it when she went to the mall. There's a store called Victoria's Closet, the famous place that specializes in lingerie. Jeanine would treat herself to filmy nighties that it drove me wild to see her wear. Maybe she was planning one of those shopping trips as I listened. We could have a good laugh when I told her about my involuntary eavesdropping. Just as I was ready to continue up the steps, I heard something she was saying.

    "No, Timmy's downstairs playing with his toys again. He's a sweetheart. And he's some kind of genius at his job with computers. Brings home a fat paycheck. It's just that he can be so boring." There was a pause as she listened to whoever she was talking with. Then she went on with, "Well, yes. He is unexciting in the bedroom, like I've said before." She was telling one of her friends about our love life? "Not like you, Marlon. My poor husband is cursed with a miniature dick. That's why I need that monster cock of yours. Not just because it's so big but because you know how to use it. And best of all, you last so long. With Timmy it's wham bam, disappoint you, Ma'am." She chuckled. "It's not that I don't love him. I do. But he's less like a husband and more like -- I don't know -- a house pet."

    I was in shock. Jeanine was talking to some guy named Marlon. My head spun. I had to put one hand on the wall to support myself. Then I felt an unexpected stirring in my loins. When I moved my other hand there, I was startled to discover that I had a raging erection. Well, maybe 'raging' isn't the correct word. Can a four inch penis be described that way? I'd always assumed that my wife was satisfied during sex with me. Now I knew the truth. And that she had found a solution to my shortcomings. Which was, for reasons I didn't understand, making me wildly aroused.

    Jeanine went on, "Anyway, I'm so glad my girlfriends took pity on me and introduced us to each other. Ever since you've been stretching my pussy with that anaconda of yours, it hasn't been so bad having to deal with Tiny Timmy. So I'll see you Friday night at the Checkerboard Club, we can have some drinks and dance a couple numbers, but then I want to hit our favorite motel and get busy." After another pause she enthused, "You know you can. Anything you want. Use me like your slut. Just so long as you jam that pussy-splitter into me, all the way up to your big balls. This is making me hot. I'm going to make myself a drink. See you then, lover." She made a kissing sound and the phone clicked, signaling the end of the call.

    For long moments I couldn't even move. But I still had to get to the bathroom. I got to the top of the steps and slipped through the house as quietly as I could. From the kitchen I heard my wife humming and the clinking of glass against glass as she fixed her drink. In the bathroom my penis was still stiff. I stood in front of the toilet holding it. I had an almost irresistible urge to masturbate. Except that would be utterly humiliating. A married man with a gorgeous wife committing self abuse and ejaculating into the commode. I tried to think of something else. Visualized a model I had recently completed, of Flame Kid. My erection gradually subsided. At last I was able to urinate. That was a relief but it didn't help with my other problem.

    Later on my mind was still buzzing with what I had overheard. I desperately hoped that Jeanine would suggest sex. Unfortunately for me, she didn't. Instead she gave me a passionate goodnight kiss. After we were under the covers she asked me to snuggle up behind her. I did it, which put my crotch against her soft warm backside. It was awful to have to lie there, not able to do anything about it. But I was always too shy to initiate lovemaking when she was awake, so I certainly wouldn't disturb her sleep to do it.. As excited as our close contact got me, I couldn't stop thinking about the last thing I wanted in my mind. Mental pictures of my bride with some faceless man kept appearing. I heard them grunting and groaning. Saw his hands on her smooth pale skin. It was sheer torture. Not until at least an hour of that did I drift into restless sleep.

    The next two evenings I went to the basement and tried to focus on my projects. But when I heard Jeanine's voice I quickly moved to my acoustic 'sweet spot' and stood there, listening to her every word. Hearing her talk with Marlon and rave about him should have been devastating, but it just kept getting me aroused. I needed relief. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to stroke my penis. It was just too disgraceful. But then she told him what she wanted to do when they got together on Friday.

    "While we're at the club, I want to sit at a table in the back of the room. I'll take that magnificent cock of yours out of your pants and, with no one able to see what I'm doing, give you a hot wife hand job. But I won't finish you. We'll save that for at the motel. When we get there I'm going to strip naked. But you can stay completely clothed. It'll be like I'm your slave and you're my Master." She made a purring sound. "How do you like that idea?"

    I waited while he said something back to her. In spite of my efforts to resist, I was rubbing my erection through the front of my loose trousers.

    Then Jeanine said, "Sounds delicious. Which one of us brings the dog collar and leash?"

    No, no, no. I didn't want to picture her naked, on all fours, being leg around by a fully clothed Marlon. And being led to a chair or the bed. Where she might have to serve him with her mouth. Or assume whatever position he demanded for sex. It was all too much. The two of them joked about that scene some more and then she professed her devotion to him once again before they ended the call. There was no way I could wait any longer. I pressed my stiff penis downward, hoping that it wouldn't be detectable, and hurried up the steps. My wife was still sitting in her chair, now using the remote to check program listings on TV. I went noiselessly to the bathroom, closed the door slowly, and pressed the button on the knob to lock myself in.

    Under my breath I muttered, "Just this one time."

    Seconds later I had my dick out and was holding it with a thumb and one finger. That was all the grip I needed on such a small endowment. It seemed logical to shoot my load into the toilet so I put myself in front of it. I tried to pace my efforts but, similar to what happened during intercourse, I quickly reached the point of no turning back. As demeaning as I found it to being jerking off, with my stunning wife so nearby and visions of her infidelity filling my head, I wanted to close my eyes. But I couldn't even give myself that minor distraction because I needed to be careful where I was directing my ejaculate. Trying not to moan too loudly, I spurted into the white porcelain bowl. The final drops fell onto the rim. I wiped them away with a wad of bathroom tissue. Then I had to stand at the sink to wash off the end of my dick, listening all the while in case my wife needed to use the room. At last my shameful experience was over. I tucked my undersized penis back into my trousers and zipped up, deeply aware of my lack of self control.

    Several hours later, after a light dinner and some relaxation, my wife called to me from the bedroom. When I got there she was wearing nothing but a diaphanous baby doll nightie, with no panties. It showed off her high round breasts, with their small hard nipples. I could see the blond triangle of her pubic hair. She spun around slowly to give me an eyeful of her full shapely bottom. She was stunningly sexy. Under other circumstances I would have been delighted to jump into bed with her. But I had emptied my balls only hours before. It takes me at least a day before I'm able to perform again. What could I tell her?

    "Honey?" she asked with a pretty pout. "Is anything the matter?"

    "It's just that... um..." I had a flash of inspiration. "It's just that we started with a new account at work and it's been stressing me out. I really don't feel like I could... er... get into the mood."

    "Ohhh. That's a shame. I was really looking forward to some fun."

    The last thing I wanted was for her to become suspicious. If she found out what I had done, I'd never be able to live it down. That was when I decided to make a sacrifice.

    "Well," I started reluctantly, "remember that thing you asked about me doing for you? With my mouth?"

    "Yes. But you said you wouldn't enjoy it. That it would make you feel less like a man."

    "I know. But... well... I've thought about it since then. And the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that I wouldn't mind doing it. It even sounds... exciting to me now," I lied. "Honestly."

    "Okay. But only if you're positive."

    "Oh, I am," I assured her, trying to sound eager.

    "Then why don't you get naked and we'll see how it goes."

    "You know, if I'm not going to be doing anything myself... below the waist..."

    "Nonsense. I want my man naked. And I'll even help him get started."

    She stepped up to me and undid the top buttons of my short-sleeved shirt. Jeanine was so close. It was endlessly frustrating to not be able to take advantage of her nearness, her eagerness. I tried to will my penis into reviving but it wouldn't cooperate. She finished unbuttoning my shirt and took it off me. I removed my pants and stood there in just jockey shorts, aware of how their tightness accentuated the lack of a bulge between my slender legs. I got out of my shorts. My wife struck a few erotic poses that failed to reverse my impotent state. Then she lay back on the bed and parted her thighs. Raising one hand she crooked her index figure to summon me to join her. Not wanting to fulfill my offer, dick soft, but trapped by my own words, I got onto the foot of the bed.

    "Don't be shy," she said reassuringly. "I'll give you some pointers as you go."

    Moving forward on hands and knees, then lying on my tummy, I got my face directly in front of her womanhood. As near as I was, I couldn't avoid inhaling her feminine musk. I inched forward until my lower face was almost touching her mound. Slowly, I extended my tongue and gave experimental licks, up and down, along her external labia. She sighed and I forced myself to get the end of my tongue between those pink surfaces. Her taste was even stronger than her scent. A shudder ran through me.

    "That's right, baby. Up and down. Now try some in and out. Yes. So good. And flick your tongue over my love button." She gasped. "If you want to make it even better for me, let's have a special kiss right there. You know how to kiss my clit, don't you? Just pucker up and suck."

    I did what she wanted and Jeanine squirmed her hips in response. Her breathing quickened. She put her hands lightly on the back of my head. I took that as a signal to not stop.

    She murmured, "That's my good little husband. Good boy, Timmy."

    With her occasionally offering more tips, I kept her in a heightened state for over twenty minutes. At last she erupted in a loud orgasm. That produced excessive secretions, which I had to swallow. But at least it was over. I gave a few more licks to be sure and then slowly drew away.

    "Whoa there, stallion," she chided. "You're not done yet. That was just too good. You're a natural. Or have you done this before?"

    "N... no. I've never done that."

    "As good as you are at it, I would never have known. Now just chill out and start over again. Super slow. And naturally it will take me longer to get to the best part this time, after I just came so hard. But don't worry. I'm willing to wait. After all, getting there is half the fun." She chuckled.

    I took a breath and resumed my unwanted activity. Jeanine mewled and patted my head. One hour and three more climaxes later, it was done.

    She told me, "Well, it's so nice that you found a way to keep me happy while you're having your stress issues. And I can tell you definitely like doing that for me. True?"

    Rather than risk disrupting my fiction, I said, "Yes. Now that I've tried it, I think it's terrific. And I'm glad you like it so much." Trying too hard, I added, "We can do that anytime you want." As soon as I made that statement, I regretted it.

    My worst concerns were proved true when she said, "That will be all the time." She stroked my hair. "And maybe I can find some way to thank you."

    What? Was she saying she might do the same for me? I mean, if I performed cunnilingus on demand, would she reciprocate with fellatio? That would salve my bruised ego considerably.

    Over the next few days a pattern emerged. The phone calls from Marlon kept coming. I continued to listen in. To my mortification, that always got me wildly aroused. It didn't help my efforts at self control when she went on and on about their encounters.

    "Oh, Marlon, I want to lick your balls. And kiss your six pack abs. I'll work my way down to your incredible cock and suck it so hard you'll think I'm mad at it. And then you can fill me up with it and pump me until I'm sweaty and squealing. You are a sex god."

    She listened to whatever he said next. Then she snickered.

    "I guess that would make him a mere human. Or subhuman. The sad little guy. I'm just glad he's on a pussy eating kick. It keeps me calm when I'm not with you. But don't worry. While he's down there slurping and making me cum, I'm thinking about you to help me get off."

    Somehow that idea, of her using me while fantasizing about Marlon, drove me to take my dick out right there, on the steps. I tried to handle it carefully, barely touching myself, but I got too turned on. All of a sudden I knew I was going to spurt. I pressed on the root of my organ, preventing myself from shooting all over. It also ruined my orgasm. And left me more confused than before about what was happening.

    Worse, when I got upstairs a while later, Jeanine was eager for satisfaction. Worn out though I was, I again used my excuse of stress to avoid intercourse. If only I'd managed my urges better it might have been different. But as it was, I found myself with my head between her thighs again. This time she just sat on the edge of the bed. My wife didn't even bother to undress herself all the way. She simply disrobed from the waist down. When I said something about keeping my pants on she made a disapproving face. I surrendered to the pressure and got fully undressed, which I knew by then was how she preferred me. Kneeling at her feet, I took my time and spent about an hour coaxing her through three unhurried finishes. Afterwards she stretched out on the bed on her side.

    "Lie behind me, sweetheart," she invited. "Snuggle up against me."

    That left me with my bare crotch pressed to her warm desirable backside. My dick tingled but didn't get stiff. It was still much too soon for me. I thought about how she praised Marlon on the phone for his ability to perform twice in one night. And that was between the time they left the club and when she departed from the motel. A matter of hours.

    It was like my life was spinning out of control. Yet I was participating in shaping my fate. In a short time I had become addicted to the bizarre routine of listening to her on the phone, jerking off, and then serving her with my mouth. But then something changed. I didn't intercept any calls for two nights. She had been in other parts of the house during those ones. I roamed around our full basement, listening for her voice, but when I heard it everything was muffled and indecipherable. My frustration mounted until the third night. She summoned me to the bedroom and had me get completely naked at once. Jeanine was wearing a casual blouse and below-the-knee skirt. She didn't bother to take of anything herself but I had to kneel and lower her panties so she could step out of them.

    "You like having your mouth on my pussy so much, lover, I'm sure you'd like sniffing my panties too. Go ahead. Don't be shy. Hold them over your nose and mouth. Have a few good huffs. That's the way. And see? Your little pecker is standing right up. It got the message. Now get your head up under my skirt and smell the real thing. Get in there. Smell it. And taste it. I know that's what you like."

    Like some kind of sex slave, naked while she was dressed, my head under her skirt, face against her wet pussy, I had to use everything I'd learned to give her a hip-bucking finale. Because of my awkward position, by the end the back of my neck was sore. Then she laid back in the center of the bed.

    In a sing-song voice she called, "Timmy. Come and get it. Your second course is ready and waiting. I know you're still hungry. Wifey wants another big finish."

    She didn't bother to pull up her skirt and I was too intimidated to do it without permission. Instead I burrowed under it and, in that close space, her scent and body heat overcoming me, worked to deliver another fulfilling climax. My wife got especially wet and afterwards even my nose and chin were slicked with her juices. Through it all I couldn't stop picturing her with Marlon. As much as I hated it, those mental images made me ache to ejaculate. She was done after two orgasms and shifted her body to one side of the bed. Next she told me to lie down alongside her. Was I at last going to get some oral attention?

    "Let me run my hands all over you, baby boy," she suggested seductively. "I'll make you feel wonderful."

    True to her words, Jeanine got up on one elbow and tickled my ears, caressed my neck, and stroked my belly. She came close to my straining penis but didn't touch it. Getting more comfortable, lying on her side, she blew in my ear and tousled my hair. I began to wriggle under her touch. She giggled and playfully bit my shoulder, which made me moan. Then she fingered my nipples one at a time, which sent me into paroxysms of pelvic thrusting. But I was humping the air. My wife inched closer until her clothed form was touching my naked one. With maddening slowness her hand moved toward my erection. She unexpectedly seized it and gave several short hard pumps. Before I knew what was happening, she pulled her hand away as I spurted all over my belly. Because she let go at that crucial instant, my pleasure was diminished. Even so, I was grateful at least to have been allowed to cum. I lay there panting.

    She said, "Oops. Once I touched you it was all over right away. Timmy Junior has a hair trigger. Still, I'm sure I can think of some way to correct that." She gave my thigh a friendly slap. "I have to make a phone call. You stay here and catch your breath. Then go and get yourself cleaned up. There's a mess all over your tummy, Timmy."

    A phone call? Would it be to Marlon? So soon after we had been intimate. Or at least intimate in the ways that were our new normal. I lay there with my spunk cooling against my skin, somewhat embarrassed by my premature ending. Why had she used her hand so roughly? I could have lasted longer. At least a little bit. I sighed. There was a box of tissues on the night table by the bed. But they were on the far side. If I got up on one hip to reach them, the cream on my belly would run down and get on the sheets. I had to shift myself toward my goal in stages. Finally I was able to reach what I needed and mop off my abdomen. Some had puddle in my navel. I got everything under control and, holding the bunched up tissues against my midsection, shuffled naked to the bathroom to wash up properly.

    Of course Jeanine had one of her nights out on Friday. I spent the evening seeing her in my mind with Marlon. At the Checkerboard Club and then at some motel. She arrived home after midnight. I had managed to hold off from touching myself. There was a chance that she would give me another hand job and that this time I wouldn't be so rushed at the end. When she came in I could smell a hint of alcohol on her breath. And she must have always showered after sex with Marlon in the past but not this time. I could smell her perspiration, along with what I was sure was his sweat. There was something else that I understood had to be his semen.

    She said, "Poor little Timmy. Alone all evening. I owe you some special TLC. Don't you think so?"

    "Well -- yes. If you want to."

    "I do. I do. Now you get bare assed and we can have some fun." She pantomimed masturbating me with her thumb and one finger. "I know your Tiny Tim wants to feel me tugging him. Jerky, jerky."

    She sounded slightly condescending but I ignored that. My focus was completely on getting what I needed so badly. She eyed me as I undressed, making no effort to remove her own clothes. Jeanine had on a mini-dress that hugged her tempting curves. It showed plenty of cleavage up top and lots of thigh below. I laid on the bed on my back, waiting for her to start. She got alongside me, sitting on her haunches. The bottom of her skirt rode up and I caught a glimpse of pubic hair. She didn't have any panties on. She must have left them off after sex with Marlon. My heart raced at the thought of her stuffing them into her bag to bring home that way, so besotted that she couldn't be bothered to put them back on. I lay there while she closed her eyes and tilted back her head, in some private reverie. Was she remembering the incredible sex she'd had? I couldn't keep from comparing myself to her lover. Marlon had so much more to offer than me. He was so superior. He gave her such complete pleasure.

    "Well look at that," my wife said. "I haven't even touched you and that handful of yours is standing up like a big boy. Well, maybe not handful. Or big boy. But he's definitely standing at attention. Were you thinking of me while I was out with the girls, Timmy?"

    "Yes," I admitted in a strained whisper.

    "Good. I like that. And now it's time for your reward, for spending your night dreaming of me. Let's start right... here."

    She went straight for my receptive nipples. I gasped in surprise. Almost at once her hands went elsewhere. She teased her way up and down my body, always returning to the super sensitive spots on my chest, tantalizing me but not making contact with my neglected dick. At last she began to let her fingers linger there, but not to stroke me. Instead he used the lightest of feathery touches. It was sweet torment. There was more nipple play. It had me writhing and muttering wordlessly.

    Jeanine said, "Your as sensitive as a girl right there. Isn't that interesting?"

    I was in no condition to discuss that or anything else. She toyed with my penis some more, again not giving it as much attention as I craved. Then she took my wrist and moved my hand to it.

    "Go on, Timmy. Touch yourself. Give your cute dick some hand loving. That way I'll have both my hands free to play with the rest of you. And you'll be more in control, so you won't shoot off right away, like you did before. No more Mister Quick Draw." She chortled. "That's the way. Just your thumb and one finger. It's all you need for the little feller. And be careful not to make him squirt. Not for a while."

    She was upsetting me with her repeated references to my penis dimensions. But what could I do? I was in the throes of arousal, desperate for her to not stop. Except that it was me who was manipulating my dick. I was jerking off in front of my wife. All the shame I'd felt during my bouts of solitary activity was doubled with her witnessing it. She diddled my nipples but not quite enough to trigger me. I didn't want to jerk myself harder and look like a masturbating monkey in the zoo. But waiting was agony.

    My wife at last did something to help me. She said, "Open your mouth, honey bunny." Her fingers went between my lips. "Now get these all wet." And then she used them on both sides of my chest at once. "It's okay to make yourself pop now. Go on, naughty boy."

    Her words stung but I had too much momentum to slow down, and was too overexcited to speak. I gave myself three more strokes and squirted all over my midsection, shooting further than before. She laughed and gave me an air kiss.

    "There's my Timmy. Loved watching that show you put on. Wish you could have seen your face when you popped. Maybe next time I'll take a picture of that expression." She pulled a tissue out of the box and used it to wipe up a gob of my spunk. Before I knew what she was doing, she touched the wet paper to my forehead, the tip of my nose, each cheek, and my chin, saying, "Dot, dot, dot, dot, dot. You made it, so you have to wear it. Now stay right there until I get back."

    I lay where I was. Why did she want me to stay there? All I wanted was to clean myself up. The air reeked with the distinctive smell of semen. And it was on my face. That disgusted me. Still, I didn't want to disobey her. She had become such a controlling force in my life. About an hour later she returned and peered in the door.

    "Hey, Timmy Big Stuff. Why are you still there? Didn't you wash your face or anything?"

    "You... told me to stay just like this."

    She laughed. "I was kidding, silly. That would be the last thing you'd want to do. Thought you'd get the joke. Oops!" With another laugh she vanished.

    It was disgraceful to have that happen. I jumped out of bed, hurried to the bathroom, and belatedly scrubbed my face and crotch.

    After all that, I vowed that I would talk to her and try to get everything back to where it had been before. There was still the problem of my unregulated solo masturbation, but I told myself that, with her using her hand on me, or having me use my own, I could manage that. By the time I had a plan in my mind, it was already Friday and she would be going out to the club for her regular hook up with her girlfriends. And then with Marlon. Jeanine wore another of those tiny dresses. This one had medium width vertical stripes, black and white. The lines followed the contours of her curvaceous figure. It was a marvelous effect. And she had on flashy shoes with three inch stilettoes. They were candy apple red and would have been perfect on a hooker. I felt weak and helpless as I watched her go out the front door to pick up one of her friends and then proceed to the club. By my plan was still in place. When she returned we would have that conversation.

    Jeanine had only been gone ten minutes when I heard a phone ring. I followed the sound and found her portable in the bedroom. She had forgotten it. I didn't want to answer but it was most likely her, checking to make sure the device was at home, rather than lost somewhere. She must be using her friend's phone. So I answered the call.

    A male voice said, "Yo, Jeannie baby. Are you on your way yet?"

    For a second I choked up and then I said in a small voice, "This isn't Jeanine. I'm... her husband. Is this Marlon?"

    "Yeah. How'd you know my name?" I could tell that he was a Black man.

    "I sort of... hear you talking on the phone with... my wife."

    "You been snooping?" he asked accusingly.

    "No Sir. I'm sorry. It's just that I can hear her from one particular spot."

    I went on to tell him everything. In a torrent of words, interjected with sniffles and sobs, I confessed about our altered sex life and my secret shame. I suppose I thought that would earn me his sympathy. Instead he just laughed.

    "Damn. You are one sad case, boy. But that gave me some ideas. So here's what's going to happen. You paying attention, boy?"

    "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." Why was I being so deferential? And apologetic?

    "Tonight I'm going to bang your wife until she can't talk. After she rests up from that, before I let her leave the motel, she's going to have to give me head. I'll be watching her suck my big Black cock while you're sitting home with your puny white dick. And then I'm going to give her some instructions. First, when she sees you, she's going to give you a big sloppy kiss. It'll be real tasty because I'm telling her not to rinse her mouth or drink anything. You'll get a good taste of my cream. Understood?"

    "I... understand. Sir."

    "That's good. Second, I'll let her know that, if you want to eat her pussy, she can just let you."

    "But... shouldn't she clean up first? Use a feminine hygiene product? A... douche?"

    "No way. There's going to be more spunk in her snatch than in her mouth, and you're going to get to lick it all up. See?"

    "I (gag) think so. But that's only if she wants me to."

    "Nope. This is where it gets interesting. You're job is going to be to convince her that you just got to have it. That you won't be happy unless you can get your face between her legs right away. I figure maybe she'll be kind of reluctant to make you go down there and clean house. She still likes you and maybe doesn't want to push it that far. So she'll probably be trying to let you avoid that messy job, and you'll be pushing to be allowed to do it. Isn't that funny?"

    "If you say so."

    What would my wife think after I'd consumed another man's sperm from her body? How could she ever respect me again? Marlon was destroying my image in her eyes. After that I would sink drastically in her estimation. But I was too intimidated by the confident Black man to refuse.

    "So," he concluded. "You let her kiss you good and deep, nice and long. Then you start to pester her to let you get your tongue into her slit. Like you're starving for a taste of the pink. And she's already stuck with letting you do it, if you won't give up. You know why? Because I told her to do that. And she does whatever I say. I made your wife my bitch. And she can't get enough of it. Hah!"

    "Yes," I told him. "I'll remember everything you said. (choke) And do it all."

    "I know you will. Hey, how about that? Now I got both of you following orders. And when I talk to her again, I'm going to ask, so make sure I get a good report."

    "I will."

    "And give yourself a treat. Get in your secret spot so you can hear what she says. I think it's going to be good for you to hear. And Timmy boy?"


    "You make sure you don't rinse and spit or nothing after you do the deed. And have a good night, loser."

    I heard him break the connection. This couldn't be happening. It was too much. If only I hadn't answered the phone. But it was too late. I spent the following hours trying to think my way out of his trap. It was like being lost in an endless maze. No path I considered would lead to freedom. Nervously, I watched the clock. Jeanine usually returned soon after midnight. One last hope occurred to me. Maybe Marlon had just been playing games with my mind. Sure, that was it. He wanted to upset me, make me suffer until she returned. That was the kind of guy he was. By the time midnight passed I had convinced myself that was the answer.

    The sound of Jeanine's car pulling into the driveway snapped me out of my thoughts. I would greet her but she wouldn't kiss me. That would prove that Marlon had simply been trying to upset me. I had on my pajamas with the short sleeves and legs. As my wife came in the door I was there to welcome her.

    "Hi, honey," I greeted her. "Can I get you anything?"

    She came toward me and her arms opened wide as she said, "Just a big loving kiss."

    Jeanine embraced me and pressed her open lips to mine. Her tongue darted into my mouth and stayed there. I tasted Marlon's salty spunk. My throat constricted but I didn't break contact. Not after what her lover had told me. Long moments later, as my bride stepped back I noticed that one shoulder strap of her dress was askew, her hair was mussed, and her lipstick was overdue for freshening. I knew what had caused that last condition. And I knew that Marlon had been serious. That meant I had to follow his other instruction. For reasons I didn't understand, my dick began tingling insistently.

    Swallowing with difficulty, I said to my wife, "You're really in high spirits, darling. Did you want to go to... um... the bedroom?"

    She hesitated. It appeared that Marlon had been right about her taking pity on me. But I couldn't let that happen. His words were still fresh in my thoughts.

    "No, really," I said insistently. "I can see that you want to. You sure love when I do that for you." She still appeared uncertain, so I followed with, "And you know how much I love doing it. Honestly. I've been looking forward to it all evening." I opened my arms to her. "Please. It will make me so happy."

    I could see it in her face when she surrendered. "All right. If that's what you want."

    She enclosed me in her arms and delivered another unappetizing kiss. I fought not to gag. Her hands moved between us and unbuttoned my top, so that she could reach my nipples. As her fingers began their familiar tantalizing, I shudder with a mixture of need and distress. Knowing where this would lead certainly took away the enjoyment.

    "This is really working out well," she announced as she got my top off me. "I mean you not being able to keep your mouth off my muff. A lot of guys enjoy going 'downtown'. But with you it's more like you want to move there and never leave. And I'll be happy to help you with that. Now get rid of those PJ bottoms, let me get a good look at you all bare and cute, and then we'll head to the bedroom and turn out the lights."

    Jeanine usually like the lights left on. I'd gotten the impression it was to keep us both aware that I was always naked while she stayed covered. But now she probably didn't want me to see that there was cream on her pubic hair and in her pussy. I could visualize her labia being slicked with it and stuck together. My stomach felt like it was turning over. Despite all that, my penis was enlarging. As my male ego deflated, my pecker swelled. I touched it disbelievingly. It was unsettling enough that I'd gotten aroused from listening to my bride's lascivious phone calls. But now I was having the same reaction at the prospect of lapping Marlon's spunk out of her and swallowing it. What was happening to me?

    Moments later she was supine on the bed, her legs slightly parted, the hem of her short dress halfway up her thighs. I still couldn't see if she had her panties on. Running my eyes over her curves, I kept picturing her stripped, with Marlon on top, his massive cock pumping her. She pointed at the overhead light.

    "Turn it off, pretty boy. I'm sure you can find your way in the dark. We both know you've been getting enough practice. With plenty more to come."

    I extinguished the light. There was only the slightest illumination filtering through the blinds on the windows. Getting onto the foot of the bed I worked my way upward, feeling her legs as I went. Then I reached gingerly under her dress to check for panties. She had them on. I realized that she'd most likely done that to prevent Marlon's copious cum from running down her legs. Intentionally or not, she had saved it all for me. As I inched her skirt up I inhaled his male musk and the deposit he had left. With my hands on her inner thighs, I dipped my head down and brought my face to within inches of her well used female center. My lips quivered as I pressed them against the vestibule of her sex and tasted the telltale flavor of ejaculate. With a sigh she laid her hands on the back of my head. There was no turning back.

    As I licked an upward stroke, Marlon's output collected on my tongue and I was forced to gulp it down. I sucked Jeanine's clitoris and then plunged in -- so to speak -- probing as deeply as I could. She liked me to touch as much of her passage as I could. In the current circumstance that meant reaching even more sex slime. My wife wiggled her hips happily. Over the next fifteen minutes I nudged her steadily closer to a climax. I made sure to clean her up on the outside as I worked. When she was close to the edge I fastened my lips on her love button and sucked hard. Very soon she erupted with passion. Her body produced excess fluids which, true or not, I was convinced were freeing even more of Marlon's product. As I lapped her from that peak and into a long afterglow, her body relaxed.

    "That was amazing, Timmy," she praised. "I'm so glad that you've come up with this solution to your sex problems. Both of us get what we want. Let's just go on and on with you doing that for me, and me supervising you while you tug on your puny dick."

    No. That was the opposite of what I wanted. But I had gotten myself into this predicament, with no way out. I didn't even have the confidence remaining to object to that reference to my penis as being 'puny'. I was completely and permanently stuck.

    That night was three months ago. Since then my life has only gotten more awkward. Jeanine declares that I like certain things without talking to me about it.

    "I'm sure that the way you love to pamper me in bed, you'll also be into giving me foot rubs."

    "Guys like you who can't stop eating pussy always feel the same about worshipping ass."

    "You're so into jerking your tiny dick that I got you some love lube to use on it."

    And that reference to me having a tiny member wasn't an isolated one. My wife repeatedly described my size as below average. But she always did it in a joking way, as if it was something we both thought was funny. After that she began to include mentions of how, when we were still having sex, I had invariably finished too soon. And that my smallness and lack of staying power caused her to never have an orgasm from intercourse with me. Despite her sugarcoating those comments with humor, they stung and reduced my self esteem to almost nothing.

    Worst of all, she decided that I was somehow spoiling my own fun by making myself ejaculate too often. So Jeanine determined that I should cut down to once a week. And that it would always be immediately after she returned home on Friday night and I used my mouth on her. So I never got to finish myself without the taste of Marlon thick on my tongue, his spunk on my lips. To add to my humiliation, she teased me about my self release.

    "You're sure in love with that hand of yours, Timmy. Why don't you spit on it a few times before you pump your shrimp-dick? Give your palm a few kisses to get it in the mood. Try giving it some love talk."

    My only consolation was when she started talking about maybe letting me finish myself a few times a week. But then I figured out, from other things she said, that Jeanine was planning to see Marlon more often. So she went out and screwed him on other nights. I had to slurp his mess out of her when she got home several times a week. Then my wife watched me lay on my back, beating off. She even had me fingering my own nipples. But despite what she'd said, I was still only permitted to finish on Friday nights.

    She tells me things like, "Just remember, Tiny Timmy, that everything I do is to make you happy. Because you're my special guy. My cuddly puppy. My lick-lick boy. And I'm so glad you agreed to never wash away my flavor before the next morning. That tells me how much you really love it."

    And I just smile and agree, trying to ignore how much I want intercourse all the time. And attempting not to think about the taste of Marlon that's so frequently in my mouth.


    (If any readers want to see stories I've written with primarily gay content, there are some on gayspiralstories.com. It's a free site that specializes in the theme of mind control.)
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