by Throne
"But darling," Darren whined. "I thought you weren't going to go out at night anymore."
"Obviously, you thought wrong," Carla, his full-figured wife, said with disdain. "I'm going out with some of the girls like before. And who knows. Maybe Chance will be there again. Or maybe he's coming here to pick me up."
"You can't... I mean, I'd rather you didn't... it's just that..." Darren had heard her mention Chance to her girlfriends on the phone, but never actually met him.
Carla's mother, Abby, stormed into the room and snapped at him, "Shut up, loser. What do you expect my ******** to do? Stay home with a boring jerk like you?"
His shoulders sagged and he lowered his eyes. Experience had taught him not to anger his mother-in-law. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. It's just that I thought..."
"Listen, stupid," Abby told him with cold contempt, "if you say you're sorry, then you should stop doing whatever you're sorry for. Like talking when you shouldn't. And now you're trying to tell me what you thought. Well, thinking is something else you shouldn't bother with. It just gets your sorry ass into trouble. Right?"
Properly chastened, he clasped his hands in front of him at waist level and said, "Yes, Ma'am. I was wrong."
"Damn right," the middle-aged woman said. "Now sit down. Not on the recliner. Use that wooden chair."
He sat down like a scolded schoolboy. At least he could look at the two women. His wife was in her early twenties and her mother was in her late thirties. He had always been attracted to females with generous curves and those two certainly possessed them. Abby had on a tight, sleeveless top with no bra underneath, and a pair of contour-hugging slacks. Her ******** was wearing a snug dress with a scoop neckline and elevated hem. It was if they had calculated everything to make him stare and to get him aroused. They always seemed to do that, and because his wife denied him sex he was constantly horny.
But what effected him the most was that they were both wearing boots. Back when he had first dated Carla she had noticed how attracted he was to her footwear. He liked her sexy shoes, but was mesmerized when she wore boots. That, along with her zaftig figure, was what she used to lead him into marriage. Those were also what gave her the power to keep him under her pudgy thumb. She knew he was eyeing her right then, so she casually sat on the sofa and stretched her shapely legs out in front of her. He tried not to be obvious about it but couldn't stop ogling the knee-high, black leather boots with their three inch stilettoes and pointed toes. He admired the lacing that went all the way up the front and mentally felt his fingers running over it. His penis throbbed as she crossed her ankles one way, paused, and then changed her mind and crossed them the other way.
A moment later, Abby sat alongside her. She too wore boots, but they weren't attention-getting like Carla's. Instead, they only rose to mid-calf and were slip-ons. They were light brown suede, had rounded toes, and the heels were wood and blocky. There were zippers in the back. Their worst sin was that they didn't conform to the shape of her legs. The fit was too lose on her full calves and they didn't curve inward at her ankles. On top of all that, they were scuffed and dirty. As Darren was focusing on his wife's superior footwear, his mother-in-law took in his reaction. She knew his tastes as well as his wife did and perhaps even better.
Abby barked at him, "Are you having fun, Darren? Gawking at Carla's boots? Hmmm? Enjoying one of your perverted fantasies? Come on, wimp. Get down on your knees and crawl over to her. I know you want to touch those shiny sleek boots. To rub your hands all over them. Maybe even kiss them. And lick them."
Darren couldn't help himself. He knelt in front of his chair, put his hands on the carpet, and moved toward Carla. His bride sat there and sneered at him. The dress had ridden up and her well upholstered thighs were on display. From his submissive position he could even see between them to the narrow crotch-band of her bikini-cut panties. But it was those boots that drew him forward. He was practically drooling as he got right in front of her.
When he reached out, however, Abby told him, "Stop right there, freak. You don't deserve to touch those fuck-me boots. How about if you just crawl over here and I'll let you get your jollies with what I have on my feet. Move it, shit-for-brains."
He gazed longingly at his wife's boots and sniffled. This was so cruel. Still, he obediently moved to where Abby sat and looked at her unappetizing boots. He sat up on his heels and reached toward them tentatively. His fingertips brushed the distinctive texture of suede, so unappealing compared to sleek leather. His eyes turned sideways and he stole another glimpse of what was on his wife's feet. Darren moaned softly.
"Go on, dipshit," Abby told him. "Get you hands on them. Feel them. And try not to think about how much you'd rather being handling Carla's boots."
As he gripped the looser, unclean pair, he was humiliated. Not only were the women taking advantage of his powerful fetish, they were simultaneously spoiling the experience for him. He fondled Abby's boots, caressed the bulky heels, but wished her was allowed to move over to his bride. There was a loud knock on the front door and Carla got to her feet, standing proudly on her three inch, pointy heels and taking a few confident steps. Darren dared to look over his shoulder at her. She strutted over to the front door, wide ass rolling. Who had come to their house? Had she been serious about Chance showing up to take her out? As she opened the door, Darren saw a tall muscular man standing there. His short-sleeve shirt and fitted slacks showed off his physique. And he was Black.
Abby said, "Chance, honey. You look incredible."
He told her, "You're looking pretty amazing yourself, girl." His long arms went around her and they kissed passionately.
She asked the big man, "Do you want to sit down for a few minutes? You know my Mom but now you can meet my husband."
"Yeah," he agreed as he steered her toward the sofa. "I finally get to meet the sad case who's wife I'm banging." He nodded at Carla's mother. "Yo, Abbey. How's my other girl?"
"I'm good, Chance. Wish I really was your number two. My ******** can't shut up about your killer cock."
The three of them laughed. Chance and Carla sat. Abby snapped her fingers and, when Darren looked at her, she pointed toward her boots. He was mortified to have to resume worshipping them with someone else watching. Another man. And he now realized, his wife's lover. Darren's feelings were a confused mess. His heart sank as he heard the happy couple murmuring to each other. At the same time, he was being allowed to indulge his love of boots. But Abby, with her intuitive knack for spoiling his fun, was limiting him to her worn and uninspiring ones that looked like a thrift store find. He unhappily went back to feeling them. As inferior as they were to Carla's, he somehow still began to respond. His cock twitched and he breathed a little harder.
Darren heard Carla and Chance noisily kissing. Abby leaned forward and slapped the side of his head.
She told him harshly, "Pay attention to what you're doing, numb nuts. Don't be all upset that my ******** had to find someone else to satisfy her. With that pitiful excuse for a cock that you've got, it's a wonder she ever let you have sex with her at all."
Carla reminded her mother, "That was just until I hooked and landed him. Since then, he's lucky if I let him tug his worthless meat once in a while. It's so much better with Chance." She put her fingers on the Black man's crotch. "In fact, I wouldn't mind getting my hands on it right now."
Her mother encouraged, "It might help if your dopey boot boy got to see it. Then he'd really understand why his baby dick will never feel the inside of your pussy again. And why he's only good for licking you."
Abby laughed. To Chance she said, "That sound good to you, handsome? Want me to free the beast? Give you a helping hand? Maybe show my useless husband how good I am at deep throating your ten incher?"
He chuckled. "Sure, you sweet bitch. And then pop my nuts. But after, you got to brush your teeth and hit the mouthwash. We ain't going out if you got cum on your breath."
Darren felt sick. His mother-in-law told him, "If Abby's going to use her mouth, so should you. Get started licking my boots. Now."
Cringing inwardly, he lowered his head and began to lap the uppers. He could peripherally see his wife freeing Chance's member and lowering his slacks. She used both hands to coax his prick to hardness. Carla hadn't been exaggerating about its length. And, Darren saw, it had the girth to match. Abby turned up her foot and told him to lick the sole. He did it unwillingly, his tongue picking up grit that he had to swallow. Carla was leaning far over, showing off her cleavage in his direction, he mouth opened and poised above that enviable shaft. She engulfed the thick head and sealed her lips behind it. Then she began to descend, swallowing inch after impressive inch, until she had it all in her mouth and throat.
Abby said, "Let's see you do that, Darren. Get the heel of my boot into your mouth. Do it."
Hating how he was being made to perform, yet stimulated and growing stiff, he did as he was told. Chance laughed at the demeaning act, then sighed as Carla bobbed her head up and down on his tool. She lovingly massaged his heavy balls and even, after she slid his wet cock free, licked them. Abby ground the bottom of her shoe against Darren's face as he sucked her heel. She laughed at him and called him names, including several that insulted his undersized penis. He felt utterly demeaned as his wife went back to giving a BJ that would have made a whore envious. At last she backed off until only the thick knob was in her mouth. With two hands she stroked Chance's rod, varying her speed and technique. The contrast of her light skin against his darker flesh was dramatic. The Black man's back arched. He groaned loudly and Darren knew he was spurting his spunk into Carla's willing mouth. Her cheeks bulged out as she retained it, not swallowing any. Her talented fingers milked out the final drops.
She got up, stepped over to Darren, and grabbed his hair. Carla yanked back, so that he had to tilt his face upward. She used her free hand to squeeze the sides of his jaw, making him part his lips wide. Then she leaned down and positioned her mouth directly over his. A moment before it happened, he understood what she was about to do. Time was suspended for a single second and then she opened wide and let a slimy mess of male cream, along with her own spit, spill onto Darren's waiting tongue. He gagged and his throat tightened, but some of it slid down his gullet. She sneered at him as she gathered more, and spit it in slow motion.
Chance said, "Holy crap, woman. You really have that chump whipped."
Abby added, "And she's going to keep him that way. With plenty of help from me."
Carla ran her finger around inside her mouth and gathered what she could, then transferred it onto and even into Darren's nostrils. She told him, "Now you can smell it all night long."
She laughed in his face and spat right between his eyes. He was too intimidated to even wipe away the gob that slowly ran down, alongside his nose. Carla got up and said she was going to clean out her mouth. Chance told her to stop in the kitchen after and take a drink of whiskey for an added rinse. Darren couldn't prevent himself from looking at his wife's gorgeous boots and how they were molded to her large firm calves. He sobbed miserably.
"You're not done, imbecile," Abby reminded him. "Get back to making love to my boots with your mouth. There's still one sole and heel that you haven't even started on yet." She bumped her toes against his crotch. "And don't tell me you aren't liking this. I can feel your tiny dick and how hard it is."
He lapped the upper of her second boot. She offered the sole and he dutifully slurped at it. He heard Carla moving around. There was the sound of her gargling with bourbon and swallowing it. Then she reappeared, just as he was mouthing the heel of Abby's other boot. The nasty mother-in-law made him stop long enough to free his pecker and show it to Chance.
"Day-am," he exclaimed. "I newborn puppy going to have more than that. Ain't nothing there."
Carla laughed. "It's pathetic. Now let's get out to the club. I know you'll be ready to plow me before long. Unlike some people I could name, who used to cum once and then couldn't get it up again in the same night."
Darren blushed with shame at the truth of her words. Abby instructed him to take hold of his laughable erection and stroke it. She warned him in no-nonsense terms to not dare to finish.
"Now get back to your hobby," she said mockingly.
He dipped down and stretched his lips around the toe of one boot. His mouth was stretched wide. He had to breath through his nose, which assured that with every inhalation he smelled Chance's semen, that Darla had put on and in his nose. He fellated the suede as his wife said goodbye to her mother and walked across the room. Darren had become an absolute slave to the two voluptuous women and their boots.
As Chance opened the door for her, Carla called back, "Hey, Darren. Don't spoil your appetite with too much boot eating. I'll be bringing you home a pussy full of warm salty cream, fresh from my man's big balls. That'll be your dessert. And from now on you'll be getting the same messy treat on a regular basis." She chortled evilly.
"Slow down some," Abby said as she picked up the remote. "We've got all evening." She used the controller to turn on the TV. "Those boots need a lot more attention." The devilish woman assured him, "And if you think you were hooked on boots before, just wait until I'm done with you tonight. You are going to be hopelessly addicted. Even to these ugly ones I have on. Now get your tongue into that spot where the heel meets the sole. You can practice in there for when you'll be cleaning your wife's cheating pussy, later on. Give us some time, sucker, and we're going to teach you to love that, too."
He knew everything she said was true. For Darren, what loomed ahead was years and years of boot servitude and being a helpless cuckold. And craving it all.
"But darling," Darren whined. "I thought you weren't going to go out at night anymore."
"Obviously, you thought wrong," Carla, his full-figured wife, said with disdain. "I'm going out with some of the girls like before. And who knows. Maybe Chance will be there again. Or maybe he's coming here to pick me up."
"You can't... I mean, I'd rather you didn't... it's just that..." Darren had heard her mention Chance to her girlfriends on the phone, but never actually met him.
Carla's mother, Abby, stormed into the room and snapped at him, "Shut up, loser. What do you expect my ******** to do? Stay home with a boring jerk like you?"
His shoulders sagged and he lowered his eyes. Experience had taught him not to anger his mother-in-law. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. It's just that I thought..."
"Listen, stupid," Abby told him with cold contempt, "if you say you're sorry, then you should stop doing whatever you're sorry for. Like talking when you shouldn't. And now you're trying to tell me what you thought. Well, thinking is something else you shouldn't bother with. It just gets your sorry ass into trouble. Right?"
Properly chastened, he clasped his hands in front of him at waist level and said, "Yes, Ma'am. I was wrong."
"Damn right," the middle-aged woman said. "Now sit down. Not on the recliner. Use that wooden chair."
He sat down like a scolded schoolboy. At least he could look at the two women. His wife was in her early twenties and her mother was in her late thirties. He had always been attracted to females with generous curves and those two certainly possessed them. Abby had on a tight, sleeveless top with no bra underneath, and a pair of contour-hugging slacks. Her ******** was wearing a snug dress with a scoop neckline and elevated hem. It was if they had calculated everything to make him stare and to get him aroused. They always seemed to do that, and because his wife denied him sex he was constantly horny.
But what effected him the most was that they were both wearing boots. Back when he had first dated Carla she had noticed how attracted he was to her footwear. He liked her sexy shoes, but was mesmerized when she wore boots. That, along with her zaftig figure, was what she used to lead him into marriage. Those were also what gave her the power to keep him under her pudgy thumb. She knew he was eyeing her right then, so she casually sat on the sofa and stretched her shapely legs out in front of her. He tried not to be obvious about it but couldn't stop ogling the knee-high, black leather boots with their three inch stilettoes and pointed toes. He admired the lacing that went all the way up the front and mentally felt his fingers running over it. His penis throbbed as she crossed her ankles one way, paused, and then changed her mind and crossed them the other way.
A moment later, Abby sat alongside her. She too wore boots, but they weren't attention-getting like Carla's. Instead, they only rose to mid-calf and were slip-ons. They were light brown suede, had rounded toes, and the heels were wood and blocky. There were zippers in the back. Their worst sin was that they didn't conform to the shape of her legs. The fit was too lose on her full calves and they didn't curve inward at her ankles. On top of all that, they were scuffed and dirty. As Darren was focusing on his wife's superior footwear, his mother-in-law took in his reaction. She knew his tastes as well as his wife did and perhaps even better.
Abby barked at him, "Are you having fun, Darren? Gawking at Carla's boots? Hmmm? Enjoying one of your perverted fantasies? Come on, wimp. Get down on your knees and crawl over to her. I know you want to touch those shiny sleek boots. To rub your hands all over them. Maybe even kiss them. And lick them."
Darren couldn't help himself. He knelt in front of his chair, put his hands on the carpet, and moved toward Carla. His bride sat there and sneered at him. The dress had ridden up and her well upholstered thighs were on display. From his submissive position he could even see between them to the narrow crotch-band of her bikini-cut panties. But it was those boots that drew him forward. He was practically drooling as he got right in front of her.
When he reached out, however, Abby told him, "Stop right there, freak. You don't deserve to touch those fuck-me boots. How about if you just crawl over here and I'll let you get your jollies with what I have on my feet. Move it, shit-for-brains."
He gazed longingly at his wife's boots and sniffled. This was so cruel. Still, he obediently moved to where Abby sat and looked at her unappetizing boots. He sat up on his heels and reached toward them tentatively. His fingertips brushed the distinctive texture of suede, so unappealing compared to sleek leather. His eyes turned sideways and he stole another glimpse of what was on his wife's feet. Darren moaned softly.
"Go on, dipshit," Abby told him. "Get you hands on them. Feel them. And try not to think about how much you'd rather being handling Carla's boots."
As he gripped the looser, unclean pair, he was humiliated. Not only were the women taking advantage of his powerful fetish, they were simultaneously spoiling the experience for him. He fondled Abby's boots, caressed the bulky heels, but wished her was allowed to move over to his bride. There was a loud knock on the front door and Carla got to her feet, standing proudly on her three inch, pointy heels and taking a few confident steps. Darren dared to look over his shoulder at her. She strutted over to the front door, wide ass rolling. Who had come to their house? Had she been serious about Chance showing up to take her out? As she opened the door, Darren saw a tall muscular man standing there. His short-sleeve shirt and fitted slacks showed off his physique. And he was Black.
Abby said, "Chance, honey. You look incredible."
He told her, "You're looking pretty amazing yourself, girl." His long arms went around her and they kissed passionately.
She asked the big man, "Do you want to sit down for a few minutes? You know my Mom but now you can meet my husband."
"Yeah," he agreed as he steered her toward the sofa. "I finally get to meet the sad case who's wife I'm banging." He nodded at Carla's mother. "Yo, Abbey. How's my other girl?"
"I'm good, Chance. Wish I really was your number two. My ******** can't shut up about your killer cock."
The three of them laughed. Chance and Carla sat. Abby snapped her fingers and, when Darren looked at her, she pointed toward her boots. He was mortified to have to resume worshipping them with someone else watching. Another man. And he now realized, his wife's lover. Darren's feelings were a confused mess. His heart sank as he heard the happy couple murmuring to each other. At the same time, he was being allowed to indulge his love of boots. But Abby, with her intuitive knack for spoiling his fun, was limiting him to her worn and uninspiring ones that looked like a thrift store find. He unhappily went back to feeling them. As inferior as they were to Carla's, he somehow still began to respond. His cock twitched and he breathed a little harder.
Darren heard Carla and Chance noisily kissing. Abby leaned forward and slapped the side of his head.
She told him harshly, "Pay attention to what you're doing, numb nuts. Don't be all upset that my ******** had to find someone else to satisfy her. With that pitiful excuse for a cock that you've got, it's a wonder she ever let you have sex with her at all."
Carla reminded her mother, "That was just until I hooked and landed him. Since then, he's lucky if I let him tug his worthless meat once in a while. It's so much better with Chance." She put her fingers on the Black man's crotch. "In fact, I wouldn't mind getting my hands on it right now."
Her mother encouraged, "It might help if your dopey boot boy got to see it. Then he'd really understand why his baby dick will never feel the inside of your pussy again. And why he's only good for licking you."
Abby laughed. To Chance she said, "That sound good to you, handsome? Want me to free the beast? Give you a helping hand? Maybe show my useless husband how good I am at deep throating your ten incher?"
He chuckled. "Sure, you sweet bitch. And then pop my nuts. But after, you got to brush your teeth and hit the mouthwash. We ain't going out if you got cum on your breath."
Darren felt sick. His mother-in-law told him, "If Abby's going to use her mouth, so should you. Get started licking my boots. Now."
Cringing inwardly, he lowered his head and began to lap the uppers. He could peripherally see his wife freeing Chance's member and lowering his slacks. She used both hands to coax his prick to hardness. Carla hadn't been exaggerating about its length. And, Darren saw, it had the girth to match. Abby turned up her foot and told him to lick the sole. He did it unwillingly, his tongue picking up grit that he had to swallow. Carla was leaning far over, showing off her cleavage in his direction, he mouth opened and poised above that enviable shaft. She engulfed the thick head and sealed her lips behind it. Then she began to descend, swallowing inch after impressive inch, until she had it all in her mouth and throat.
Abby said, "Let's see you do that, Darren. Get the heel of my boot into your mouth. Do it."
Hating how he was being made to perform, yet stimulated and growing stiff, he did as he was told. Chance laughed at the demeaning act, then sighed as Carla bobbed her head up and down on his tool. She lovingly massaged his heavy balls and even, after she slid his wet cock free, licked them. Abby ground the bottom of her shoe against Darren's face as he sucked her heel. She laughed at him and called him names, including several that insulted his undersized penis. He felt utterly demeaned as his wife went back to giving a BJ that would have made a whore envious. At last she backed off until only the thick knob was in her mouth. With two hands she stroked Chance's rod, varying her speed and technique. The contrast of her light skin against his darker flesh was dramatic. The Black man's back arched. He groaned loudly and Darren knew he was spurting his spunk into Carla's willing mouth. Her cheeks bulged out as she retained it, not swallowing any. Her talented fingers milked out the final drops.
She got up, stepped over to Darren, and grabbed his hair. Carla yanked back, so that he had to tilt his face upward. She used her free hand to squeeze the sides of his jaw, making him part his lips wide. Then she leaned down and positioned her mouth directly over his. A moment before it happened, he understood what she was about to do. Time was suspended for a single second and then she opened wide and let a slimy mess of male cream, along with her own spit, spill onto Darren's waiting tongue. He gagged and his throat tightened, but some of it slid down his gullet. She sneered at him as she gathered more, and spit it in slow motion.
Chance said, "Holy crap, woman. You really have that chump whipped."
Abby added, "And she's going to keep him that way. With plenty of help from me."
Carla ran her finger around inside her mouth and gathered what she could, then transferred it onto and even into Darren's nostrils. She told him, "Now you can smell it all night long."
She laughed in his face and spat right between his eyes. He was too intimidated to even wipe away the gob that slowly ran down, alongside his nose. Carla got up and said she was going to clean out her mouth. Chance told her to stop in the kitchen after and take a drink of whiskey for an added rinse. Darren couldn't prevent himself from looking at his wife's gorgeous boots and how they were molded to her large firm calves. He sobbed miserably.
"You're not done, imbecile," Abby reminded him. "Get back to making love to my boots with your mouth. There's still one sole and heel that you haven't even started on yet." She bumped her toes against his crotch. "And don't tell me you aren't liking this. I can feel your tiny dick and how hard it is."
He lapped the upper of her second boot. She offered the sole and he dutifully slurped at it. He heard Carla moving around. There was the sound of her gargling with bourbon and swallowing it. Then she reappeared, just as he was mouthing the heel of Abby's other boot. The nasty mother-in-law made him stop long enough to free his pecker and show it to Chance.
"Day-am," he exclaimed. "I newborn puppy going to have more than that. Ain't nothing there."
Carla laughed. "It's pathetic. Now let's get out to the club. I know you'll be ready to plow me before long. Unlike some people I could name, who used to cum once and then couldn't get it up again in the same night."
Darren blushed with shame at the truth of her words. Abby instructed him to take hold of his laughable erection and stroke it. She warned him in no-nonsense terms to not dare to finish.
"Now get back to your hobby," she said mockingly.
He dipped down and stretched his lips around the toe of one boot. His mouth was stretched wide. He had to breath through his nose, which assured that with every inhalation he smelled Chance's semen, that Darla had put on and in his nose. He fellated the suede as his wife said goodbye to her mother and walked across the room. Darren had become an absolute slave to the two voluptuous women and their boots.
As Chance opened the door for her, Carla called back, "Hey, Darren. Don't spoil your appetite with too much boot eating. I'll be bringing you home a pussy full of warm salty cream, fresh from my man's big balls. That'll be your dessert. And from now on you'll be getting the same messy treat on a regular basis." She chortled evilly.
"Slow down some," Abby said as she picked up the remote. "We've got all evening." She used the controller to turn on the TV. "Those boots need a lot more attention." The devilish woman assured him, "And if you think you were hooked on boots before, just wait until I'm done with you tonight. You are going to be hopelessly addicted. Even to these ugly ones I have on. Now get your tongue into that spot where the heel meets the sole. You can practice in there for when you'll be cleaning your wife's cheating pussy, later on. Give us some time, sucker, and we're going to teach you to love that, too."
He knew everything she said was true. For Darren, what loomed ahead was years and years of boot servitude and being a helpless cuckold. And craving it all.
