7 comments/  60691 views/  15 favorites

Emily, Richard, And Tom Ch. 01

By: nobullguy



It was not difficult for Tom to identify the couple he had come to meet, and likewise, the man of the pair had pegged Tom almost immediately. He made a half-waving gesture in Tom's direction. The woman---the man's wife---did not turn around. Tom gestured back with an upraised finger indicating "one minute". 

Tom walked to the bar and ordered a drink, keeping his back to the pair that waited for him to join them. He hadn't been in this bar in years, but it still felt stylish---cool, blue neon lighting---not dark. It must have been quite hip back then, but now the few patrons that occupied the hotel lounge were 40- to 50-somethings---upscale, but decidedly not hip. Tom could see the man talking to his wife in the mirror above the bar. He paid the bartender, sipped the drink she left behind, and pulled off his jacket. A t-shirt and jeans were too casual for this bar, but not too casual for the meeting that brought him and the couple to this place. He left his jacket on the back of a bar stool, and walked with his drink to the booth where the waiting couple sat. Tom could see the husband communicating to his wife that he was approaching. 

He stood up from the booth and extended his hand. "Tom? Good to meet you," he said in a slightly too upbeat voice.

"Hello Richard," Tom responded, shaking his hand. "Good to meet you finally."

"Tom, this is Emily," he said gesturing toward his still seated wife. She smiled a forced half-smile.

"Hi Emily---pleasure to meet you." He extended his hand to her and she reluctantly reciprocated, the smile still frozen on her mouth. He shook her limp hand gently, and then held it for a moment longer than was comfortable. Tom stared intently at her before he released it.

"Well...uh...let's sit down and talk a little bit Tom," Richard said. He slid into his wife's side of the booth and extended his arm along the back of the seat behind her. Tom sat down where Richard had been and faced his new acquaintances. They made small talk for several moments---Tom and Richard that is. Emily sat silent---not withdrawn, but assiduously avoiding Tom's eyes by alternately looking at her drink and her husband. He recognized this period of inane but necessary banter with the eager---and anxious---husband; he understood the mute and doubly anxious wife. It was more than ice breaking. Richard---unconvincingly assertive in the exchange---was maneuvering for control ahead of the real conversation they were about to have. Emily deployed passive-resistance to an encounter she did not need or want. Tom had participated in this script several times before and had his role well rehearsed by now---relaxed but attentive; empathically responsive; interested but not prying. There was no need for him to rush the process. Richard, like all of the husbands, would become impatient with his own chit-chat and find an awkward segue to the business at hand. Emily might let her guard down if he maintained an unhurried, no-pressure manner. She had, he was sure, received plenty of pressure from Richard already.

To say that Richard and Emily was a handsome couple would be too generous---above average appearance perhaps, but not striking as a couple or individually. They were a middle-aged couple. Richard, perhaps athletic years ago, carried the excess pounds typical for a man his age; that, and gray thinning hair, put him close to 50. Emily had maintained a more fit physique than her husband. She wore stylishly short hair, too auburn to not be dyed, and sleek glasses. He had seen her before, in a vacation-photo attached to a clandestine email from Richard sent to entice his attendance at this meeting. The poolside picture of a modestly breasted woman with full thighs and ass, in a bathing suit too risqué for a middle aged wife, had indeed piqued his interest. Tom liked that fact that she looked so comfortable in the revealing suit---the kind of comfort afforded only by a distant Caribbean resort and a few marguerites. She was not a natural beauty, but he found her shapely form and confident smile attractive. He had revisited the photo several times prior to tonight's meeting, closing in on the uniquely pretty face sporting sunglasses and large earrings. Richard had asked him to keep his possession of the image a secret.

"You know, Tom...uh...in your email you said you've done this a couple times." Richard was ready to move to the main course now.

"Yes, a few times," Tom responded, offering a low estimate. He probed lightly, "Have you had any experience with this before?" 

"Well, no," Richard said. "We did get as far as meeting once with another guy---recently---and it just didn't feel right. Hard to say why, but we both agreed---me and Emily that is---we both agreed that it just wasn't a match. Right baby?" For the first time he sought to include Emily in the conversation, resting his hand on her shoulder as if to demonstrate their alliance.

"Yes", she said. "I guess so---kind of creepy." She looked at Tom for the first time. Tom smiled understanding. This was a good sign---she had divulged some critical information about another prospect---she had determined that he (Tom) was not creepy. 

Richard chuckled, "Yeah, kind of creepy." He cleared his throat as if to indicate an important admission was coming. "We did a little swinging several years ago, but we haven't really done anything in a long time. We didn't really swap that much---two or three times with a couple we met. It was fun, but we just didn't pursuit it very long. Just a thing."

"Yeah, I know," Tom said. "This kind of stuff is very idiosyncratic---very difficult to find people that you trust and that you click with. There are so many variables that have to work. It's hard."

"Exactly!" Richard responded with animated appreciation. "It is so difficult to meet the right people."

Tom had scored a direct hit and took the opportunity to advance the agenda.

"I know we discussed a bit about this in our emails, but maybe you can tell me a little more about what you and Emily are looking for." Tom deployed a therapist's look of earnest concern as he dropped the confessional ball totally in Richard's court. Tom knew he would run with it.

"Well, I...we..." he looked at Emily and then back to Tom. "I guess really it's my fantasy...um...to see Emily with another man." Upon this admission Emily reflexively lifted her glass to her mouth and gulped a drink. Richard looked at Emily again. Tom could see them both flush simultaneously. It was quiet for several seconds. He intervened while Richard was back on his heels.

"So you'd like Emily have sex with another man while you watched?" Tom asked as if to clarify the obvious.

Richard nodded, "Yeah I guess that's really it. Emily knows that I've been turned on to the whole---ah, you know---cuckold thing. And I think with the right guy I could really get into that. I think Emily would like it..."

"I don't know," Emily interjected before he could complete his sentence. "I don't know."

Richard moved to squelch her reluctance. "Honey, don't get so anxious---we had fun with Chris and Gene---it's not that different." 

Tom took this as his cue to ally himself with Emily and, at the same time, offer some titillating details to fuel Richard's fantasy. "Well Richard, actually, other than the presumption that everyone consents, it really isn't much like swinging at all---I think that's the term you used. This is quite different and I think it may be helpful to Emily if I tell you what I would be looking for if we decide to move ahead."

Richard and Emily stared at Tom in rapt anticipation now. He let them hang for a moment.

"You know, Richard, I'm not really sure what the whole cuckold business actually means. I understand generally what you're expressing but, I'm not a 'Bull'". Tom chuckled slightly, gaining their confidence and relaxing the air. He smiled at Emily and she did not try to escape his gaze. Tom continued, "I've had some really great experiences with couples that enjoy serious role playing. And, in the scenario that I am interested in, the game is pretty simple---I would direct the action, I'm the boss. I enjoy being domineering and very much in control of the scene---that would include dominating you Richard---not just coming over for a fuck-show for you to watch. I enjoy fucking, being pleasured in the way I want to be pleasured, and I like be domineering to the husband expressly with the intent of demeaning him in from of his wife." 

Richard nodded earnestly---the teaser was working for him. He squirmed in his seat, and then he sat back in the booth to collect himself. He reached for Emily's hand and squeezed it. Tom thought she squeezed back. It was time to retreat a bit, turn down the intensity, and play restrained, concerned counselor.

"It's just something you both have to be sure about---really agreed about---before getting into it too deeply. It can really be intense if we're all on the same page." Tom paused as if he had concluded his case. He turned the tables on them once again. "Is there anything you want to ask me, or any concerns you want to let me know about?"

Richard sat forward again. "No, not really. I think we are largely thinking about the same thing."

"What if it doesn't work for everybody?" Emily asked more assertively now. "Or what if something in particular doesn't work for me?" 

Richard looked to Tom for a response to Emily's concerns. Tom responded directly to her. "Emily, when I say 'domineering' or 'demanding', it means within the parameters or limits of the scene we're agreeing too. They're negotiable, and no one is going to force you to do something that you just can't do." Richard looked back at Emily---she was still focused on Tom. "That said, I'm not a hired hand. I'm not the fuck-bull. And I think this type of scenario---the scenario that I think Richard is interested in---works best when my needs take precedent. I'm going to make it work for me first. And, to be honest, if there are too many points to negotiate, you and Richard should look for another partner to help you out."

Richard hurried to reinforce Tom's point, "It's all part of the fantasy honey. If you don't like it we'll stop."

Emily sat back and rested her head on the back of the booth. She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head back and forth. "Oh fuck, Richard," she said with an exasperated sigh. She held her hands to her face and mumbled into her palms "The shit I let you drag me into." Her hands slid down her cheeks and she let out a resigned laugh and sipped the last of her drink, shaking a chunk of ice into her mouth.

"Honey, it'll be hot." Richard rubbed her neck sensing her tentative surrender.

"Emily," Tom said. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, not lifting or tilting her head from the back of her seat. "I think you'll find me very sensible and--- sensitive---to both of your concerns." Richard continued to massage her neck with one hand.

"Richard" he said. "Are you satisfied with what we've talked about so far? Does it match what we discussed in our emails?" Richard pulled his hand down from Emily's neck and leaned on the table. "Yes, pretty close," he said. "The idea makes me nervous and turned on all at the same time."

"Perfect!" Tom said with a joking smile and raised eye brows. "That's the idea isn't it?"

"Yeah, I think so," Richard smiled, looking over at Emily.

Tom looked at his watch. "Listen, I'm going to have to get going pretty soon. I know you two will have a lot to discuss after this little 'meeting'." He could see the disappointment on Richard's face. He knew Richard wanted to cement a firmer commitment from him and Emily. Tom continued, "You know, whether or not we all decide to pursue this soon, it has been very nice to meet you both. But, since we're this deep into the discussion, maybe we should just do a little test-run right now, right here. Give you a sense of what I have in mind."

Richard and Emily looked at each other and then back at Tom. "I don't know," said Emily. "Here!? What do you mean?"

"Richard? What do you think?" asked Tom, ignoring Emily's road block.

"Well, I suppose we could just get a sample of what Tom means---before we finally decide," Richard answered to Emily, trying not to betray his fantasy that this discussion might end upstairs in a hotel room, with a full night's rendezvous. "What can it hurt honey? It'll help you get a better picture of what we're talking about."

Tom broke in with a less compassionate tone now. "Actually, Richard, it will give you a better picture of what I'm fucking talking about." Tom looked intently at Richard across the next silent moments. Richard licked his lips and then wiped them with a napkin---nervous activity---and nodded agreement to Tom.

"Richard, I want you to go get my coat on that bar stool back there. And get your wife another drink while you're there. You can get me one too." Tom pushed his empty glass across the table and brought it to rest in the middle of Richard's chest. Richard took the glass from Tom's hand and reached for Emily's glass.

"Okay, I'll get your coat and some drinks," Richard said agreeably, with a little waver in his voice. Embarrassed, he looked over at Emily and laughed quietly.

"Richard, when I tell you to do something, I only need two words from you."

Richard looked dumbfounded for a second, but he felt a surge of adrenaline as the meaning of the words registered. He felt Emily's gaze without looking at her. "Yes Sir," he surrendered. Emily let out a small giggle. Richard got up without another word and walked to the bar on rubbery legs. He was relieved to be excused from Tom and Emily's observation---a chance to catch his breath and absorb the implication of this first morsel of fantasy come to fruition. His long-fantasized relinquishing of his wife's pussy to another man was, as of now, far away. But this minor forfeiture of control to the stranger tugged at the same psychological threads and stimulated the same dopamine release that made him return time and time again to the websites of demeaned husbands and wives fucked to ecstasy. He ordered the drinks and looked at the jacket on the stool. He picked it up and brought it close to his face as he folded it over his arm. He caught a slight scent of the man he was inviting into his life.

Tom stood up and stretched his arms, conspicuously, as if loosening up before exercise. He tucked his shirt back into his jeans and stood at the foot of the table for a moment. Now Emily saw him for the first time---taller than she had registered in her anxious first view of him. He was not a young man, but fit---not overly lean--- with an upper body that suggested regular exercise and a trim waist. Tom rolled into the seat beside her. 

"Hello Emily," he said resting his right hand on the seat very close to her leg. "This is better." Emily did not resist his encroachment or refute his comment. She was not frightened, nor intimidated; neither was she ready to acquiesce to a future rendezvous with him. 

"I think we've said hello already," she responded impatiently. 

"Oh...oh yeah...I think you're right. I was so nervous when we met the first time it must have went right by me." 

Emily rolled her eyes, but got his point. "Okay, okay---got it. Yeah I was a little tense." She let go a tight smile of embarrassment.

"Listen Emily...before Richard comes back..." Tom spoke in a more serious and urgent tone. "Play along with me. You could see that Richard was getting into this. Just follow my lead for a few minutes."

"What are you going to do?" Emily asked.

"Mostly talk. I'm going to talk to him about you---with me. I want him to see us close. I want him to see me touch you."

"Jesus!" she sputtered. "I don't know."

Tom took her hand and pressed her again. "Emily! Just fucking relax for a minute and give this a chance. I think I can offer you and Richard a very intense experience. You can give Richard his fantasy, and I can give you a great deal of pleasure in the process."

"Oh yeah," she said. "Richard's fantasy is going to give me all kinds of pleasure. I've heard that one. Richard has always promised some unimaginable pleasure at the depths of his fantasy life. That's not typically how it goes. I don't expect this to be any different. In fact it feels like a new low---turning me over to some stranger so he can watch me get fucked." She shook her head. "Lovely." 

Tom pushed back, "It's not an unusual fantasy Emily. Lots of men have it. Jesus! At least he's not off cheating with someone, or hiring some fucking craigslist-whore. He's building this fantasy with you at the middle of it. And he's taking a big risk too---not every fantasy turns out to be so fun in reality. Some guys think they want it, but then, once they're actually faced with the sight of their wife getting a good fucking in their bed, they come crashing down to earth---hard." 

Emily did not answer. She did not wrest her hand from Tom's grip. She stared down on the large hand that engulfed hers, transfixed on the unfamiliar veins that ran across the back of his hand and then disappeared above the wrist into his large muscular forearm. She could not reconcile the stranger's salient masculinity with his forbearance; the tight T-shirt and his articulate empathy. Maybe, she thought. Maybe. 

"Emily, just follow my lead for a few moments. You don't have to go any farther than this. You can decide later about doing anything more---at home with Richard."

Richard returned with the drinks and he spotted their joined hands. He set a drink in front of Richard and slid the other to Emily.

"Man! What took so long?" Tom snapped at Richard. 

"I don't know Sir---the bartender was busy." He looked around the lounge and back at the bar, feeling conspicuous and vulnerable despite the nearly empty room.

"Sit down," Tom ordered. He took a gulp of his drink before addressing Richard again. "I've been enjoying talking with your wife. You're very lucky." He held up their joined hands. Emily did not look at Richard; she stirred her drink as Tom continued. "I like Emily a lot. She's not a pushover, Richard. And I don't know if you're going to get your big fucking fantasy party. It sounds like you've dragged her through a lot of shit already."

Richard's heart fell and the chemical rush came to a stop. "Well, Sir, I hope that is not the case, but it will be up to Emily." He looked to Emily who was staring at him coldly. She was emboldened by Tom's leveling of the discussion. "Honey, I know you've tried lots of stuff for me, and I know it's very hard for you, leading up to new stuff, but you've enjoyed lots of it too. We've had a blast just anticipating something together. We've never continued something that we didn't both like. I hope this would be the same. Try it---see where it takes us---and let it go if it doesn't work for both of us."

"Well, I hope it works out," Tom said looking at Emily. He squeezed her hand. "I find you very attractive and I hope I'm going to get a chance to demonstrate that to you. We'll get to see if Richard likes being our bitch while you and I party together." Tom looked at Richard, "What do you think, Bitchard?"

Emily dropped her head to her chest and clamped her lips shut trying to muffle her laugh, but she couldn't contain the giggle, and then she laughed out loud. Tom chuckled aloud also, enjoying Emily's first expression of levity and enjoyment of the evening. 

"I'm sorry Richard," she said, still unable to contain her laugh. "I'm so..."

"Don't be sorry. It's okay---isn't it Bitchard?" Tom taunted.

"Yes Sir," said Richard.

Richard looked sheepish, but not stung with hurt. His private musings and cuckold surfing had prepared him for such a blow. Indeed it titillated, and he found new hope for his cause in Emily's amusement.


Emily, Richard, And Tom Ch. 01



"Don't tell me. Tell your darling, lovely wife that it's okay if we call you Bitchard."

"It's okay honey," Richard said.

"It's okay to what?" Tom snapped.

"It's okay to call me Bitchard."

Emily smiled at Richard and gulped her drink. She was feeling the alcohol's effect and giving in to this strange evening. She leaned against Tom's arm, forgetting for now her reservations and anxieties. Tom looked down at Emily's legs, released her hand and put his hand on her thigh. Emily sucked a quick breath between her teeth, surprised at his touch, high on her leg.

"I like a woman who wears skirts," Tom announced in Richard's direction. His hand slid up her thigh, hiking slightly the hem of her skirt. Richard watched intently. He could not see the location of Tom's hand, but guessed its position by Emily's body language. Richard felt the rush again.

"Richard," Tom said.

"Yes Sir?" he turned his attention to Tom.

"How do you feel about this?" Tom looked down where his hand massaged Emily's leg.

Richard did not answer. He looked to Emily who sipped her drink, looking back at him now over the rim of her glass. Richard shook his head, "I don't know Sir."

"You don't know?" Tom asked incredulously. "I'm sitting here with my hand half way up your wife's skirt and you don't know how you feel?" Tom took another drink before continuing his prosecution. "I think you know how you feel---I know how you feel. You probably have a fucking hard on---that's how you feel." Tom kneaded the inside of Emily's thigh now, making the movements of his hand apparent to Richard. Emily relaxed her legs inviting Tom's hand higher. She rested her head back and breathed more deeply now, looking directly at Richard as her chest rose and fell in contented pleasure. Tom's fingers were nearly at the crotch of her panties.

"Be honest Richard. Tell Emily how this makes you feel."

"Emily," Richard hesitated, and then said "It makes me feel very turned on."

"I thought so," said Tom. "I'm glad you're being honest now. Are you getting a hard on?"

"Yes, a little bit," he replied, and then corrected himself, "Yes Sir."

"Did you hear that Emily?"

Emily nodded yes, but did not say anything. 

"I'm glad you like it Richard---'cause I like very much."

Tom looked at his watch again. "I'm sorry; I really have to get going now." In fact, there was no urgent reason to bring this first meeting to a close other than strategic restraint. He would gladly retreat to a hotel room and yank Emily's panties to her ankles, bend her over a chair and fuck her. But he knew withdrawing now was a better choice. He didn't want to justify Emily's fear of being rushed into something she doesn't want---doesn't think she wants. And as for Richard, the longer his submissive obsession festers and haunts his dirty private world, the better. Tom took Emily's hand once more. "I guess the rest is up to you Emily. We know what Richard wants to do, but you'll have to think it over and decide if it is something you're willing to try." Tom leaned over and whispered into her ear so that Richard could not hear, "Think about trying me one time. I'd really like to fuck you Emily and I think you'll be surprised." He kissed her ear then straightened up in his seat.

"Okay then Richard---send me an email if you or Emily has any more questions, or, if you decide not to pursue this any farther. Give Emily my email address---she can contact me directly if she has questions. Emily, if you both decide to proceed with a real scene I want you to call me to tell me when and where we're going to meet." He looked over at Richard, "I don't really need to talk to you. I know your answer, Bichard."

Richard and Emily both watched as Tom left the lounge. Richard slid back into the booth beside Emily and felt the warm seat where the stranger had sat rubbing his wife's thigh. He took Emily's hand and kissed it. "Thank you baby--- thank you for doing this for me tonight. I---I don't know how to describe this right now---but I was so turned on and so jealous at the same time just watching you, and I felt so far away from you across the table. It's just such a powerful thing." Richard kissed her and she kissed him back eagerly. "Honey, I want to get home right now and I want to fuck you so bad." 

Emily kissed him passionately. "Let's get out of here," she said.

They said no more about the events of the night, or the impending decisions that lay ahead. They took a cab home the short distance they had walked earlier that evening and Richard and Emily fucked like they rarely do these days---passionately and to exhaustion. 

As the entwined couple drifted off to sleep, Tom was turning off the last of the lights in his north side condo, compact and contemporary. He sat down at his bedroom desk to check emails one last time before bed, and then he scrolled down the list of old mail until he found the subject "Picture of wife". He opened the message and then its attachment. Emily---in her skimpy bathing suit---filled his screen.



Emily, Richard, And Tom Ch. 02



Emily dumped her coat and brief case into a dining room chair and placed on the kitchen counter the package she had found at the front door. She punctured the seal of the clear cellophane tape with a ball point pen and ripped back the flaps of the cardboard box revealing a second box inside---metallic pink and silver stripes on a pearlescent white ground. She removed the gift box and lifted its lid. Below pink tissue she found an oval bottle of perfume and a folded note card, a single crimson brush stroke across its ivory face. She opened the card. "Emily---I'm so glad that you and Richard had me over. I haven't stopped thinking about the other night. I hope it was not our last. I like Calvin and Victoria. Wear them for our next 'date'---won't you?" 

She peeled back another layer of the tissue to find a lacy bra and matching hip-hugger panties—black, delicate, tasteful. Emily held the bra up, her fingers visible through the sheer cups and the dainty floral embroidery that radiated out from their centers. She tucked it back into the tissue. She picked up the glass and chrome oval, removed the cylinder top, and misted her wrist. She waved it to dry and then brought her wrist closer to her nose---she closed her eyes as she breathed in the fragrance. 

Emily, too, could not stop thinking about the events of last Saturday---Tom's first visit to their home. She had not yet managed to organize her thoughts and feelings about that evening of contrived fantasy, alcohol, and anxiety---of ambivalent participation that melted into uncontainable release and pleasure.

She welcomed the parcel-communiqué from Tom. She had been checking her email---too often---for messages from him. Yet she could not bring her self to send a signal first. She wasn't sure what she wanted to relay to him; nor for that matter, to Richard who had submitted to slights, taunts, and embarrassing commands from Tom, and, as the evening wore on, from her. Emily had found Richard's compliance with Tom's orders somehow endearing, and when she saw Richard's obvious titillation in response to the indignities expected of him, she let go her inhibition and allied herself with the handsome man that so easily assumed a comfortable and commanding presence in their home. Richard shuffled back and forth to the kitchen, retrieving fresh drinks and appetizers, his pants and underwear pulled to his ankles per Tom's instructions. They giggled together as Richard returned each time, his belt buckle clanking on the wood floor, and his stiff dick poking out between his shirt tails. 

"Jesus! His dick hasn't gone soft since he pulled his pants down. Do you think he's enjoying this," Tom asked with mocking disgust in his voice.

Emily laughed, "I think so! Richard, honey---why do you have a stiffy?"

Tom laughed out loud. "A stiffy?! Is that what you call it?" He laughed and hugged Emily, and then kissed her neck and nuzzled her ear for a moment before returning his attention back to Richard. "Well Bitchard---answer her. Why do you have a stiffy?"

Richard looked down at his erection, feigning shame, and answered "It turns me on."

"That's not a fucking answer!" Tom barked. "What turns you on? Why is your dick stiff?" Richard couldn't answer.

"How about this---does this turn you on?" Tom asked as he peeled open Emily's partially unbuttoned blouse, slid his hand into her shirt and cupped her breast and kneaded it through her bra. "Does that turn you on? Me feeling up Emily's tits?"

"Yes Sir," he answered without hesitation. His eyes were frozen on Tom's hand massaging Emily's tits and fumbling for a moment with the clasp in the middle of her chest. The cups of her bra fell away. 

"Take your blouse off," Tom instructed Emily. They were the first words that Emily heard as an order directed at her---curter, a little gruff. His impatient assertiveness found her ready to comply and she tugged her blouse out from the waist of her skirt, and undid the last buttons. She shook the blouse down her shoulders and Tom helped remove the sleeves and the bra from her arms. He pressed Emily against the back of the couch, leaned his head over, and began kissing her breasts, massaging and sucking each one with his mouth. His other hand slid across the roll of her belly and then to her thighs. He yanked the hem of her skirt back forcefully so that Richard could see her panties from where he stood. Emily responded readily and she lifted her round ass off the cushion so that Tom could hike her skirt up and bunch it around her waist. Over Tom's shoulder Richard caught Emily's eyes for a moment, and he saw then that she was drifting away in the current of the bigger man's control like an animal relenting in shock to its predator. Her eyes closed and she bit her lip.

Tom raised his head from Emily's breasts exposing wet, stiff nipples and her chest reddened by flushing and the friction of his face. He looked at Richard, snapped his fingers, and pointed at the crotch of Emily's panties. "Get down there Bitchard."

"Yes Sir," he said. Richard did not hesitate and he knelt down in front of them and leaned his face into Emily's pussy and began licking and kissing through her already moistened panties.

"Do it good clit licker!" Tom smacked the back of Richard's head, and Richard began with greater intensity. Emily spread wider, but did not look down at her husband. She reached up and pulled Tom's face to hers and kissed him with ecstatic urgency---Tom answered her passionate embrace. She felt Richard's work between her legs but her brain attributed all the pleasure to the tongue probing her mouth, not the tongue massaging her clit.

Emily decided she would not reveal the gift to Richard---not yet anyway---and she took it upstairs to the bedroom and hid it in her dresser drawer under a stack of neatly folded sweaters. But she could not tuck away so readily the rush of thoughts and sensations that the gift box had unleashed. She sat on the edge of the bed and caressed her breasts and thought how generously approving Tom had been of her small breasts. He had quickly alleviated any of her self consciousness and she wished she could feed them to him right now. She pushed her shoes off, unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She looked at the red numerals of the alarm clock---Richard would not be home for at least an hour. 

Emily lay back on the bed where Tom had fucked her and she rubbed her thighs in long slow ovals with the palms of her hands. She tried to picture the form that had pushed and pulled her across the mattress, but the afternoon daylight would not let her conjure him. She closed her eyes and her hands worked their way between her thighs. She could imagine more readily the sensation of his cock in her pussy and she pushed her panties down and pressed small circles around her clit with one hand and pushed a finger of the other hand into her hole. The total rigidity of his penis had filled her so thoroughly and pushed into her so many times that she thought she would have to ask him to stop; and just as extreme pleasure had threatened to become unbearable, she felt his cock pulse waves of heat into her and her pussy convulsed in a final orgasm that she did not recognize---or did not remember. 

She rolled onto her stomach and rode her hands in jerking pumps of her hips. She imagined him climbing onto her from behind. She moaned between clenched teeth and her legs shook as she rubbed her clit faster and faster. She was close now. "Fuck me. Fuck me," she thought. She reached her peak and came in waves of diminishing intensity until her legs lay still, exhausted. She rolled onto her back and breathed deeply. Emily closed her eyes and drifted. In the late afternoon sun she fell asleep, her blouse pulled up to her chest and her panties still bunched at the middle of her thighs.

Emily woke when she heard Richard close the front door. She bolted up and straightened herself. She yanked jeans from a closet hanger and pulled them on hurriedly. She combed her fingers through her hair as she walked down the steps to the hallway and into the kitchen where Richard stood in the refrigerator looking for a snack.

"Hey babe," he said. "Hello honey," she answered. "Whew! Guess I conked out for a minute. What do you want for dinner?"

"Something easy---fast," he said, closing the refrigerator empty handed. "I've got a lot of work to review tonight. Want to go out? Someplace close."

"Sounds good to me," Emily said.

In the little Thai joint where they were regulars Richard and Emily were the only diners. They sat at the window looking out on Clark Street and the commuters making their way home as they ate.

"We haven't talked much about the other night with Tom," said Richard.

What about it?" Emily feigned casual disinterest.

"What about it?" he asked incredulously and laughed. He leaned forward over his plate and whispered to Emily, "You got one wild fucking the other night and you say 'What about it'". He chuckled again. "Come on hon', don't tell me you haven't thought about the evening at least a little. I don't believe that."

Emily finished chewing and nodded as she wiped her lips with a napkin. "Okay. Yes. It was pretty wild." He had called her pitiful bluff. "It looked like you enjoyed yourself plenty also." 

"I did! It was very intense. You looked so beautiful. And, yes, I did get into the whole...submissive...thing." He muffled an embarrassed laugh.

"I-I-I guess," Emily said with a mocking intonation. 

After a few moments Richard began again, "I got an email from Tom today. He said he had a great time and wondered how we felt about the whole thing. I didn't write back to him. I wanted to talk about it with you first. He didn't say it explicitly, but I think he wants to get together again---soon."

"Soon? What do you mean, soon? We just saw him four days ago. I don't know Richard---it seems too crazy, too much." Emily wasn't being disingenuous. Yes, she was enticed by the sheer pleasures Tom had heaped upon her, and she could easily replay the thrills in her mind; but the intensity of the experience and the anxiety leading up to it was too much for her. "Maybe it's too risky. Maybe we need some time."

"Emily, not this weekend---maybe in a couple weeks," Richard responded. He hated to see her resistance re-emerge---he didn't want to lose her. But, he couldn't contain his need to express to Emily his desire for their next meeting with Tom. He was ready to have the man over again---soon.Richard soft-pedaled his appeal, "Hon', he's not being pushy at all. Like I said, he wants to know how the---uh---the whole thing was for us." He realized he didn't know what to call the sex event, and it threatened to undermine his pitch. "He seems very sensible and considerate." 

Emily didn't respond. Sensible and considerate, she thought; clever and patient, also. She pictured the perfume and lingerie that sat in the bottom of her drawer, a sensuous message from Tom that she had transformed into a secret from her husband. Fuck! 

She realized Richard was right about the man's demeanor. He was intelligent, articulate, and pleasant enough in reality; unassuming actually---until the reigns were voluntarily surrendered to him. Tom's restraint and empathy seemed too integrally salient to be an act or devious façade. That did give her some assurance, some confidence that this sexual escapade might actually be on this side of fucking-crazy, or dangerous. And, for all the years that Richard had pestered her with his sexual "experiments" and obsessions, she had to admit that this time he had managed to deliver the possibility of genuine pleasure for her---a handsome and skillful partner. While she did not yet fully trust this new person in their life, she could acknowledge---though not to Richard---that it was not Tom that she feared, but the pleasure with which he had bathed her. It may have been too potent, like a drug tried once and then better left alone. Her recollection of that night---a tangle of guilt and thrills---was hauntingly tenacious. Similarly, she worried about her husband's obsession with his new found submissive fetish, and wondered warily about its origin and destination. They had played their own games of domination and submission, and she had, in varying degrees, enjoyed both roles. But that was between her and Richard, in the safety of their own bedroom, their house, their world. 

"What do you plan to tell him?" Emily finally asked.

"Well, what do we want to tell him?" Richard inserted her complicity into the question. He didn't expect her to answer. He continued, "Can I tell him we had a good time, and that we'd be willing to meet again in a couple weeks?" Richard asked gingerly. "Emily, you did have a good time. I don't think I imagined that." 

Richard knew he hadn't imagined her pleasure that evening. He had watched them flirt, tease, and giggle together, like new teenage lovers. He stood in front of them like a total fuck-head, with his pants down and his dick on display for them to discuss clinically and cruelly. On the front room couch, in dim dreamy light, they had petted and kissed while he worked feverishly in the silent world between Emily's thighs. Periodically he could crane his neck enough to see her and Tom kissing with total abandon. From the corner of his eye he could just see Emily's hand sliding across Tom's thigh and into the crotch of his jeans. He felt his own cock pulsing as her hand circled around Tom's zippered bulge.

Emily finally answered, "Richard, I admit I had a very intense evening. I'm just not sure it is best to pursuit it farther." She paused for a moment and then peppered him with questions, "I don't understand what you get in this arrangement. What is it that you want? Which part of seeing me get fucked by another man is the turn on for you? And where does it go from here? What is the next part of the fantasy?"

"Emily, I don't know how to explain it to you. I can't explain it, Honey. Where does any of it come from?" 

This conversation was not what he had expected. He had watched Tom fuck her relentlessly as he sat quietly in the corner of the bedroom, out of reach of the bedside lamp that illuminated the familiar nakedness of his wife and the foreign masculinity of Tom's lean body. He stroked himself in contented exhilaration as Tom feasted on his wife, pleasuring her and using her in equal measure---fucking her to orgasm, and then feeding his cock into her mouth. She sucked it eagerly---desperately even. Richard barely recognized the abandon in Emily's aggressive sucking. He couldn't take his eyes off Tom's cock---an impressively thick tool with a large head---significantly larger than his own dick, and he wondered how apparent that discrepancy was to Emily as she held it in her mouth or spread herself for him. He couldn't fault Emily for enjoying it. He fantasized holding it for Emily to suck. He wanted to feel its heft.

"I hadn't even thought of it before I saw it on line and starting reading about it---cuckolding." Richard did not want to go into detail about his illicit research, browsing endless pictures and stories of humiliated husbands and their middle-aged wives who had fallen under the spell of physically superior lovers. "I just find the idea enticing for some reason---the thought of you being desired by another guy and watching you having sex. The submissive thing...I don't know." He paused for a moment. "You know, Emily, what turned me on the most was you being mean to me---verbally---and you and Tom laughing together at me. It's just...a weird thing. Don't make me try to defend it. Please Emily." 

In particular, he could not confess his recent internet obsession with coarse depictions of a husband's sexual submission to his wife and her lover---the husband licking his wife's clit as her lover's cock slid in and out of her, or, a bitchy, demanding wife insisting that her husband suck the bigger man's cock as she watches and belittles him. These images tapped urges of which he had only vaguely been aware, and, until recently never even thought of acting upon. 

That first night, after Tom had finished with Emily, Richard couldn't wait to climb into bed with his wife. She lay naked and exhausted on the disheveled bed as Tom got dressed and chatted with her casually, intimately. Tom kissed her good night. Richard, still naked and unrelieved, accompanied him to the front door. Richard thanked his superior profusely, and in return, Tom delivered last taunts to reinforce their roles. "I enjoyed Emily---she's a good fuck---get her ready for another party soon." Richard agreed to work on it, and he stood behind the door as he let Tom out. Richard hurried back upstairs and found Emily in the same position in their bed. He climbed next to her and kissed her breasts and worked his way up her neck and kissed her mouth. She embraced him and found his cock with her other hand and fondled his swollen dick to full stiffness. He slid between her legs and pushed his cock into her wet pussy. He felt the fluid warmth of his predecessor's work and he slid in and out easily. Emily lifted her knees higher, inviting him deeper. Richard pumped into her and Emily moaned. She felt Richard come and she wrapped her legs around him and they rocked in unison. Richard's strokes slowed and they came to rest, kissing and holding each other's head in their hands. Their breaths relaxed. "Thank you baby," Richard whispered. They fell asleep. 

Emily finished her dish and sipped her water. She did not press him for more information. She had never been able to contain a certain enabling pity for Richard's obsessions; particularly when these discussions arrived at his pleading for her understanding and patience in the face of yet another fantasy beyond understanding. Nor did she really want any more information. 

"Okay---go ahead," Emily said. "Let him know we'll see him in a couple weeks." She was glad to resolve the issue for the time being; relieved that the decision was now made for her. Should the next encounter go badly, she could blame the fiasco on Richard; or, conversely, should she enjoy the next encounter with Tom's handsome cock, she could do so guilt-free. It was out of her hands. 

Tom was not surprised to read the affirmative response in an email from Richard. He knew he had a dedicated advocate in Richard. In fact, Richard was so fucking predictable that Tom knew he would have no problem concocting a litany of humiliations for him. Richard had already sent Tom a gushing review of the first night's events and intimated desires for even more demeaning proceedings. Tom knew what Richard wanted, but he also knew that Emily would have to be introduced to her husband's darkest secrets slowly. 

Not domineering by nature, Tom's experiences with self-centered and manipulative husbands had cultivated a useful reservoir of disgust and disrespect for them. He had learned how to let out the rope of their fantasies methodically, always one length short of where they thought they wanted it to go---and then hang them with it if he so desired. They were so transparent. He knew the husbands' fantasies only envisioned a "bull" in their bedroom and in their wife---an animal easily dismissed, or a machine readily dismantled. But, while the husband was focused solely on his cockmanship, Tom was strategically insinuating himself into the mechanism of their relationship, altering the levers that regulated its delicate balance. The husbands---usually assertive and confident to a fault in their careers and daily encounters---rarely perceived the threat until it was too late. Tom had come to relish that moment when they realized that their wives were reluctant---sometimes unwilling---to bring the fantasy to a close. Originally mousy and compliant wives had little to fear from the men they had watched submit to the humiliations of the stranger that they had brought into their marriage. And the prospect of forfeiting the pleasures of Tom's tireless cock was not easily negotiated. Their husbands held no cards.




Emily, Richard, And Tom Ch. 02



The wives were a bigger challenge for Tom---more complex. Like Emily they were often wary and protective of their relationship, and protective of their husbands, even though the husbands were the persistent and impatient instigators of the whole "cuckold" game. The wives he had met previously expressed a wide range of reluctance and interest in their husbands' fantasies. But, he had never met the wife who initiated the pursuit of this fantasy. 

Emily was a perfect find. Her initial resistance was appealing to Tom---it made her ultimate surrender and expressive pleasure even more satisfying to him. It was evident that she had enough control in her marriage with Richard that she could have refused to participate, with repercussions little more serious than a chagrined husband who would simply march on to his next sexual fantasy. In fact, he also found Richard a pleasant enough fellow---not nearly as narcissistic as the most despicable of the husbands he had encountered. Tom would require less malicious energy to subjugate him---another welcomed characteristic of this new couple.

Tom had genuinely enjoyed fucking Emily and looked forward to enticing her into deeper waters. He could not pinpoint what he found so physically attractive about her---perhaps some body type imprinted on his chromosomes; or the intelligent face that disguised her capacity for uninhibited, passionate fucking. And her middle-age imperfections---fleshy thighs and tummy, stretch marks and dimples---would be perfect targets for alternately assuaging and inflaming her insecurities. Their next encounter would be critical to cementing the course of their relationship. Tom was sure of that. He would have to press her, challenge her receptivity to his domination, and then, should she capitulate, reward her with pleasure the likes of which she has not felt in years---frighteningly intense pleasure.



Emily, Richard, And Tom Ch. 03



Emily leaned over the sink and held a breath as she combed mascara into her eye lashes. The bathroom was still steamy from her shower. She looked at her watch on the counter---he would be here in less than half an hour. She took another sip from the glass of wine, her second. She was struggling to quiet her nerves and the wine was not yet helping. She took a bigger gulp of red and breathed in deeply through her nose filling her lungs. She let out a slow hissing breath through pursed lips. Again.

"Richard" she called out as she spread concealer under her eyes. She rotated her face in the mirror lights to inspect her work.

"Yeah?" Richard poked his head in the bathroom door. He was dressed and eager to usher along Emily's preparation---he wanted her to be ready.

"Go in my sweater drawer and bring me the striped box." Emily continued to apply her makeup. Richard returned with the gift box and handed it to her. She lifted the lid and pulled out the bottle of perfume and set in on the marble counter. She replaced the lid and returned the box to him. "Lay these out on the bed for me. Tom sent them," she said, looking straight into Richard's eyes. She had removed Tom's note from the box, not wanting to reveal how long she had kept the box a secret. She was relieved when she realized she could use the gift as a last minute taunt---psychological foreplay for her impatient husband. The wine was starting to work now and she felt a curious pleasure from the confounded look on Richard's face. She closed the door on him and took another drink.

Richard set the box on the foot of the bed and opened the lid. He peeled back the tissue layers and looked at the lacy items. He laid the brassiere neatly on the bed spread, and then placed the panties below them. His legs felt weak. This gift from Tom answered his curiosity about any communications between him and Emily. The realization stung him---not in a completely unpleasant way---but it sent his mind racing about the extent of their collusion ahead of tonight's meeting. His anticipation of this night had preoccupied him for the last two weeks and now his wife had confirmed its arrival with her abrupt revelation and her distant tone. 

The bathroom door opened again and Emily stood in the doorway, her robe hanging open. Richard saw her neatly cropped snatch and he looked up at her freshly penciled eyebrows and bright red lips. She looked vivacious and unfamiliar in this instant. Her eyes were glassy.

"Richard---what are you doing?" Emily quizzed him harshly. "Will you get the fuck out of here? Go down stairs and do something while I get dressed. Put some music on. Have a drink." Emily was testing her wings ahead of Tom's arrival and it felt good. She stared Richard out the door and she smiled to herself, pleased by Richard's obedience.

Emily's bitchy sternness stiffened Richard's cock almost instantly; the front of his trousers bulged outward. He couldn't greet Tom at the door with a fucking hard on. "Fuck!" he thought. Richard busied himself with music and selected a menu of jazzy blues and he set it to playing, filling the room softly and distantly. He walked through the front room and dining room dimming lights for mood---not too dark. And then he poured a drink, guzzled it, and then poured another with which to pace the rooms while he waited. 

Emily looked at herself in the mirror on the back of the closet door. It was not the first time she had tried on Tom's gift, but tonight, she thought it looked even better. How did he find such a perfect fit? She twisted and turned in her heels attempting to see her back in the mirror. She liked how the panties cut across her ass in just the right place, and the dainty bra managed to hike her up, make her look fuller. She felt good. She pulled a skimpy black cocktail dress---her favorite "party" dress---from a hanger and stepped into it. It was too risqué for public wear, but she wore it many times for special nights with Richard. It was one of his favorites too. But as she struggled to pull the zipper up her back it was not Richard she was thinking about. The wine had compressed her inhibitions into a distant corner of her mind and she was feeling ready for the evening. As she smoothed the dress down her hips and ass she heard commotion and voices downstairs and she hurried into the bathroom to check her lipstick one last time. 

"Hello Sir," Richard said as he pushed open the storm door to let Tom in. Richard stood aside as he entered and then closed the front door against the late fall air. Tom seemed taller, more statuesque than he remembered. The cold air still hung around him.

"Hello Richard," Tom said. He set down a duffle bag at his feet and shook off his coat and handed it to Richard. Richard fumbled with a hanger and the coat---he was anxious and self conscious. He hung the coat in the entry closet and then turned back to Tom. 

"Thanks for coming tonight, Sir."

Tom ignored his welcome, "Why are you dressed?"

Richard looked confused and a little rattled. He wasn't sure of the right answer to offer, so he offered none and shrugged.

"I'm sure I told you in one of my last emails that you should be naked when I get here. Why the fuck are you all dressed up like you're going to dinner. Are you going to dinner?" his voice was getting louder.

"No Sir," Richard answered. "I guess I misunderstood. I thought I would have to..."

"Oh man---shut the fuck up Bitchard. Where's Emily?

"She's getting ready. She'll be right down, Sir." Richard offered apologetically. Tom pushed the duffle bag toward him with his foot. "Take this over to the dining table. I brought some things for you to wear. You can put them on---right over there!" Tom gestured toward the end of the dining room table. "I hope you're not going to be a fuck-up all night. I don't want to be pissed off already. I was feeling good when I got here."

Richard took the bag into the dining room and started to undress. He heard Emily coming down the steps, but could not see their exchange.

"Hello Tom," Emily said cheerily as she spotted him.

"Wow," Tom exclaimed and offered his hand to her as she made the last few steps. 

"Emily---you look beautiful. So sexy!" She stepped right next to him and raised her face and they kissed. "M-m-m-m, you smell great too." He kissed her again and cupped her ass familiarly. "Did you enjoy my gift?"

"I did," Emily answered. "It's beautiful. You have great taste."

"I'm glad. I can't wait to see it."

Emily looked around. "Where's Richard?" Tom nudged her to the dining room doorway by her elbow and pointed at Richard who was down to his socks and underwear. He was already stiff and he didn't try to hide his erection from them. Emily giggled. "What are you doing Richard?" she asked loudly, in exaggerated bewilderment. She laughed louder as Richard continued undressing.

"I brought Richard an outfit to wear," Tom said. He whispered in Emily's ear, "I thought it was only fair since I had gotten a gift for you. I didn't want him to be jealous. Hey, let's get a drink while he get's dressed---I need one."

"Me too," said Emily, enthused. She didn't want to lose her buzz.

Tom turned to Richard, "When you get dressed, come and show us your outfit in the kitchen. We're going to have a drink." 

Richard didn't answer. 

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes Sir," Richard said. 

"Well then fucking say something!" Tom snapped, his jaw tightened and his neck and face reddened. He moved toward Richard menacingly.

"Yes Sir. I'm sorry Sir." Richard answered quickly---earnestly.

"You fucking idiot," Tom said between clenched teeth and left the room

Richard could hear their voices trail off down the hall. He unzipped the gym bag, ready to see what items were inside. He pulled out a pair of woman's shoes---pumps with a moderate heel; light teal-blue patent leather. They looked enormous for a woman's shoe. He held them and stared at them for a couple minutes before setting them on the floor. He pushed one foot and then the other into the shiny pair. They fit. He took a couple small steps---awkward and clomping. He returned to the bag and pulled out the remaining items---a pair of blue, lacy woman's briefs, and a black t-shirt. He held up the shirt, obviously too small for him, and read the glittered cursive lettering on the front---"Bitchard". He could hear them laughing in the kitchen---the easy chit-chat and joking of intimate companions. Was Tom telling her what he had brought for him to wear? Richard sat down and fed his feet and large shoes through the leg holes of the panties. He stood to pull them up and he tugged them up as high as he could on his waist. His stiff dick would not fit fully inside the lacy briefs; he let the head of his dick stick up over the waist band and his balls barely stayed within the crotch of the panties. Finally, he pulled the t-shirt over his head and he stretched the material to its limit to clear his arms. He yanked down on the shirt, but it left his navel and paunchy midriff exposed. He could just make out his form in the glass of the dining room cabinet. Richard folded his own clothes neatly and laid them across the back of a chair.

Tom and Emily were kissing between sips of their drinks. Tom had her pinned against the island counter, grinding his pelvis against her. Emily responded eagerly, groping his ass and pulling him into her.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard tonight," he whispered as he tongued her ear and kissed her neck. Emily did not speak but moaned softly and hugged him harder to acknowledge his promise. They heard footsteps coming down the hallway---loud, clunky steps on maple planks. Richard appeared in the doorway and stood there.

"Oh---my---god," Emily stuttered and broke into a full throated laugh. She rested her elbows on the counter and cupped her face in her hands, still laughing.

"Come in here Bitchard," Tom said chuckling. "Let's see your new outfit. Turn around." Richard stepped toward the island and did an awkward 360. Emily lifted her face and shook her head as she eyed Richard up and down more slowly. She turned into Tom and laid her head on his chest and said, "Oh my god," again. Tom hugged her and lifted her face to kiss her again. Richard could see them tonguing each other's mouth. 

Tom looked back at Richard. "How's your outfit? I bought all that especially for you Bitchard---had the t-shirt custom made," Tom said, and he burst out laughing with "Obviously!" Tom gulped the rest of his drink down and took an ice cube into his mouth and chased it around with his tongue. Emily was still giggling

"I like it Sir," Richard said flatly.

"That's not very convincing," Tom came back. "I said I bought it especially for you."

Richard understood the challenge. "I like it a lot Sir. Thank you for picking it out for me."

"Does it make you feel stupid?"

"Yes Sir. It's embarrassing," Richard responded.

"What are you drinking Bitchard?" Tom suddenly changed the topic.

"Scotch Sir."

Tom grabbed the scotch from a collection of bottles under the cabinet light and set it on the island counter. "Have another one," Tom instructed. Richard dropped a few cubes of ice into a cocktail glass and poured the amber liquid over them. He took a sip.

"Drink up Bitchard," Tom said in a tone not amenable to bargaining. Emily watched the exchange quietly, rubbing her hand in slow circles across Tom's chest. Richard lifted the glass and gulped the drink down. He winced slightly, but the scotch tasted good and the cold liquid turning to heat in his throat made his face feel warm.

"Have another one," Tom said. He turned his attention to Emily knowing Richard would follow his directive. He kissed her and ran his hand across her tits. Richard complied and covered the ice again. He took a drink from the glass, and watched Emily respond to Tom's petting with slow rocking motions of her hips.

Tom broke his embrace with Emily and refilled her glass with wine, and he filled the bottom of his own glass with the scotch. He turned his attention back to Richard. 

"Richard, let's be serious for a minute," he said.

"Yes Sir?" Tom responded a little warily.

"How does your new outfit feel to you?" Tom asked.

"It feels good Sir." Richard took another sip of his drink.

"Is this the kind of thing you pictured when you invited me to play with Emily?"

"Uh...yes Sir...I didn't know exactly how it would go, but I guess this is what I was looking for. It's humiliating, but in a good way." Richard felt the scotch now and he was struck by the dreamy-harsh light of the kitchen. Tom's inquiries excited and concerned him at the same time.

"Well. I think that is important to establish." He looked at Emily and asked her, "Did you hear what he said---this is the kind of shit he likes. How do you think Richard looks?"

Emily did not break into laughter. She felt Tom's lead and followed. "I think he looks a like a stupid slut. I think he could use a little lip stick though." Tom laughed and he caught Richard smiling at the comment. A bead of clear fluid grew on the tip of Richard's stiff dick, the head still poking out from the panties.

"What are you laughing at Bitchard?" Tom snapped.

"I'm embarrassed Sir. That's all." Richard did not smile as he answered.

"But that's what you want isn't it?"

"Yes Sir, it is," Richard answered soberly now. The liquor let him speak directly, "Sir, to be honest, I really enjoyed your last visit, and I've been thinking about this visit for weeks. And I'm enjoying this evening. Thank you for coming here tonight." The admission felt good---the voiced subordination, exhilarating

"You don't have to thank me, fucker. I thoroughly enjoy making a stupid fuck out of a sex pervert like you; and you haven't seen anything yet, Bitchard." Tom's voice echoed in the room and sent a chill through Richard. "You don't have to thank me, bitch. You need to thank your wife; you're beautiful wife who is willing to put up with a pervert like you." His voice got louder. "You don't need to thank me---I'm going to fuck your wife like crazy in a few minutes and love every fucking bit of her. This is what you wanted, right?"

"Right, Sir. Yes." Richard said. He looked at Emily directly. Her one hand hung on Tom's arm and the other hand held her glass of wine. She stared back at Richard, unflinchingly. "Emily? Thank you honey, for...for putting up with me...and...making me a stupid fuck." Richard's voice quivered. "Thank you baby. Thank you so much." Emily did not answer and pulled Tom's arm down her abdomen to her waist, then guided it down to her crotch. Richard stared, mesmerized. His dick pulsed and ached with excitement. Emily's bold display brought him to an edge. 

"Drink up Bitchard," Tom broke the intense moment. Richard threw his head back and finished his drink. Tom poured the glass half full again. "Take your drink and go turn that music up. We'll be out in a minute." 

He headed out the doorway and down the hall toward the music. His legs were rubbery and unsteady. He was loaded now and felt near ecstasy. He took in a deep breath to fuel the moment and to steady his steps.

Emily threw her arms around Tom's neck and kissed him passionately. She wanted to climb his tall form. Tom's hands ran up and down her back and he kneaded her ass firmly, roughly. They kissed for some time and then relaxed their embrace. Emily filled her glass one more time anticipating their move to the front room.

"Take you dress off," Tom said matter-of-factly. Emily sipped from her glass and smiled at him as she set her glass down.

"Let's wait a minute---'til we turn the lights down a little more---in the front room maybe." She laid her hand on his chest and looked up at him coyly. She was desperate to be naked with him, but not exposed to the harsh honesty of the kitchen lights and vulnerable to his visual assessments.

Tom lifted her hand off his chest by the wrist. "I said take your dress off---now---or I'll rip that fucking dress right off your ass." Tom looked down at her. Emily's smile melted instantly. She looked stunned, hurt. The music got louder in the front room. She rolled her wrist out of Tom's grip and turned her back to him, offering to him her zipper. Tom pulled the tab down slowly, tracing a finger down the recess of her spine to the top of her ass. Emily shivered and turned back to him. She pulled the top of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms. Tom stared intently at her breasts, her nipples discernable beneath the floral lace. He traced the cups of her bra with his fingers. She took another drink from her glass and set in down. Emily slid her hands into the sides of her dress and shimmied it down to her ankles and stepped out of the black pile on the floor. Tom let her stand there nearly naked. He inspected her up and down. He poured another drink and threw his head back to down it. 

"Don't you tell me 'no'," Tom said. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes Tom, I'm sorry," she said. Emily looked close to tears. Everything was so good a minute ago and now she feared losing his adoration and the promise of his fuck.

"Turn around and put your hands on the counter," Tom instructed her. Emily did not hesitate this time and she laid her hands flat on the cool marble. Tom stepped up behind her and she craned her neck to look at him. He reached around her head and took her jaw in his hand and straightened her face to the wall. "You don't need to look at me. Look straight ahead. Spread your legs a little." Emily moved her feet farther apart and away from the cabinets---like a police suspect ready for frisking. She heard Tom dropping more ice into a glass and the long gurgle of liquor pouring over it. He stepped close to her, from the side, and managed a firm grasp of her short hair with one hand and tipped her head back slightly. He put the icy cocktail glass to her lips and tipped it forward. "Big sip," he said. Emily took a drink and winced as she swallowed. "Again," he said and tilted another mouthful at her. Emily managed to down the scotch and again she crunched her eyes closed and clenched her jaw until the burn dissipated. "Good girl," he said. "Good girl."

Tom stood behind her now, his planted feet inside hers and ground his crotch against her ass. He pulled her to him by her hips and he worked the fleshy handles of her hips in his hands. He leaned up over her back so he could rest his head in the crook of her neck and shoulder. "Are you going to be my dirty fuck tonight?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes baby. I'm going to be your dirty fuck," she answered.

"How do you want me to fuck you?"

"I want you to fuck me hard and dirty," she said. She was so high now. "Please fuck me like a slut. I want to get fucked hard."

Tom's hands tugged her panties down just below her ass and he explored her wet pussy with his fingers, rolling her clit in his fingers, massaging and tugging the lips of her cunt, and then pushing his middle finger up into her. He worked it in firmly and deeply, hiking up on her crotch so that she was lifted to her toes for a moment. Emily moaned and arched her back, offering more of her pussy to his hand. She pumped her ass up and down.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Tom quizzed her sarcastically.

"I'm going to be your good girl. I want to be your dirty fuck," Emily responded with slutty desperation.

Tom pulled his hand from her pussy and smelled her wetness in deep inhalations. "Mmm---that's good," he said, and he rubbed his wet hand all over Emily's face and pushed his fingers into her mouth and she licked and sucked them eagerly. He ran his moist hand down her neck and shoulders.

"Okay, let's go see what Bitchard is doing," Tom announced. "Take your wine baby." Emily pulled her panties back to her hips. She felt good. She felt hot and ready for cock.




Emily, Richard, And Tom Ch. 03



"Don't make me wait too long Tom," she looked at him longingly with intoxicated eyes. She couldn't contain her desire. "I need your cock. I need to be fucked like a whore."

Tom smiled at her, pleased by her loss of inhibition and any need to maintain a façade of control. "You look so sexy Emily. It won't be too long." He kissed her and tongued her mouth wildly. He pulled away and looked deep into her stoned eyes and told her, "Emily, I'm going to fuck you like the slut you want to be. I'm going to fuck you 'til you beg me to stop. It's going to be very hot---very dirty."

Emily closed her eyes and smiled. She reached out for his crotch. They kissed again, and then Tom steered her toward the door. He followed her unsteady steps down the hall watching the jiggle of her ass---Tom knew that he owned Emily and her fat ass tonight. She was his.

Richard was sitting on the edge of the sofa when they came in. "Get up!" Tom yelled at him. "What are you doing? I didn't tell you to sit down. What the fuck's wrong with you?" Richard bolted up and moved away from the couch. His dick had retreated beneath the band of his panties, but the new assault from Tom renewed his titillation.

"Yeah! What the fuck's wrong with you Richard?" Emily chimed in with startling meanness in her voice. 

Tom prodded her on, "That's it baby. Show him who's boss. Tell him what we're going to do."

"Tom's gonna fuck me HARD---like a man---with a real cock. Not like this thing!" Emily pulled the front of Richard's panties down and let the waist band snap back below his sack. She made a backhand slap at his balls and he reflexively jerked back. Emily laughed.

"Finish your drink Bitchard." Tom took the glass from the side table where Richard had left it untouched and handed it to him. "This music is good Bitchard. Let's see you move your ass around a little bit. Come on---let's go, bitch."

Richard took another sip and started to sway timidly. Tom reached out for Emily's hand and he lead her to the couch where, just a few weeks ago, they had kissed and felt each others' bodies for the first time. The lips of Emily's pussy swelled with the memory. They sat down and kissed violently. Richard watched them. He wrapped his hand around his cock and squeezed and stroked. He swallowed the last of his drink and set the empty glass on a nearby plant stand. He stroked himself and watched---and watched. He hoped to be called closer to their impassioned foreplay, but they were oblivious to his stiff dick and high heels. 

Tom looked up at Richard, still fondling Emily's tits. "Do you need more to drink?" Tom asked loudly over the music.

"No Sir," Richard answered.

"Then why aren't you dancing, getting into it and shaking your bitch ass around?" Addressing Emily, cuddled tightly against his chest, he prompted her, "That's not dancing is it?"

"No!" she said. "I know he can do a lot better than that. Come on baby, shake your dick. Move it."

Richard welcomed the attention and he rotated his ass more provocatively and shuffled his feet more. His stiff dick bounced and wagged and it felt good. The couple laughed loudly and egged him on. Tom stood up and moved close to Richard and yanked the panties down to the middle of Richard's thighs.

"Jesus! You're a stupid fuck. Look at him. Move it! Come on get into it or I'm going to shove your stupid ass out the front door." Emily laughed again enjoying the confrontation. She felt no sympathy for Richard---she knew he didn't want any. Richard moved energetically now, grinding and pumping, as Tom hovered close by, shaking his head in disgust. "Keep it going bitch!" 

Tom surveyed the tastefully decorated room and contemplated for a moment the strange scene that he, with satisfying ease, had concocted. He looked at Emily in her bra and panties, waiting on the couch in libidinous, intoxicated comfort. She was his now, and he was getting ready to finish her upstairs. And Richard was in all his fucked-up glory, parading his dick and his desperation for all to see, eager again to see his wife's legs spread open and receive the cock of a man he scarcely knew anything about. Tom breathed in deeply, expanding his chest and tensing the muscles in his arms and abdomen. He owned them both for the moment, and the exhilaration coursed through him.

"Turn that music off Bitchard," Tom said. Richard hustled to the audio cabinet, reduced the volume and then stopped the music. Tom found his glass and handed it to Richard. "Go pour a little more in here."

"Yes Sir," Richard said and he clomped out of the room. 

The silence felt good. Tom walked over to the couch and extended his hand to Emily and pulled her up, out of the leather cushions.

"I don't think you actually thanked me for the gift," Richard said to her.

"No---I didn't," Emily said with a pouty look on her lips. "I'm sorry. Thank you so much Tom. They are lovely." She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"I had something else in mind," he said flatly, and put a heavy hand on her shoulder. Emily understood immediately and did not resist his push downward. She went to her knees and hurriedly undid the buckle of his belt. Tom unbuttoned the waist of his jeans and Emily pulled down the zipper and spread open the flaps of his pants. She lifted his shirt and yanked the band of his underwear out and down, revealing his thick flaccid penis. Emily felt the heat of his crotch on her face and she welcomed the chance to see Tom's cock again. It was a perfect thing she thought and she wanted it in her mouth. She yanked down harder on his pants and Tom helped her to expose her goal. She cupped his balls and kissed around his sack and nuzzled her face into him. Tom put a hand on her head, his thumb resting on her forehead. With the other hand he held the cock and rubbed it across her face. He let its weight fall on the bridge of her nose and he waved it back and forth, lightly slapping her face with his growing member. He tightened the hand on her head and fed his dick into her mouth and pushed it into her face. Emily took him and sucked, eager to pleasure the cock and its owner. She fondled Tom's balls and massaged his warm sack. She felt him swell in her mouth---taking his entire penis became harder. 

Richard came back into the room and paused for a moment when he spotted Emily on her knees---he wasn't sure if he was supposed to intrude. He moved closer and extended the drink glass to Tom, but he did not take it from him. He stared at Richard as his dick stiffened and he twisted his torso and pelvis in Richard's direction to insure a good view of his cock and Emily's face. He started to pump in and out of her mouth, cupping the back of her head in his hand. Richard watched as Tom's cock slid in and out of Emily's willing mouth, and he heard her moans. "How's that look Bitchard?" Tom asked.

"It looks good Sir," Richard replied. Tom took the drink from him. "It feels good. I need a lot of cock sucking. Emily knows how to suck a cock" Tom goaded him. He pumped into Emily's lips with greater intensity and deeper strokes. "I'm getting ready to fuck. Are you ready to get fucked Emily?" 

Emily pulled back from his cock and gasped, "Oh yes, baby---I'm ready to fuck." She continued to stroke Tom's wet cock. "I'm ready," she repeated looking up at Richard, holding the hard dick like a trophy for him to see.

"Bitchard, go upstairs and turn the bed down. We'll be up in a few minutes," ordered Tom.

"Yes Sir," he said, and took one last look at Emily as he turned to leave the room.

"Oh---and put some lipstick on. Emily said you need some---right?" 

"Yes, put on some lipstick Richard," Emily giggled. "It's still on my counter."

"Yes Sir, Yes Emily," he said and made his way to the hallway stairs and climbed carefully in his unfamiliar shoes. Richard stepped into the bedroom and turned on the bedside lamps. He pulled back the bedspread and could smell the fragrance of fresh sheets that Emily had put on that afternoon. The pillow cases were smooth and crisp looking. She had prepared a tidy nest for her and Tom. Richard went to the bathroom and looked at himself in the large mirror above the vanity counter. He blinked and squinted in the harsh light. Richard spotted the lipstick among the makeup and toiletries. He took the cylinder and lifted off the cap and turned the bullet of red upward. He held it to his mouth and traced his kiss-pinched lips. He curled them in as he had seen Emily do a thousand times and then relaxed them. He bent closer to the mirror to inspect is work. Richard could see his panties and he turned around to inspect more of them. He looked terrible, but he felt wonderful, and he stroked his dick several times, pinching his nipples through his ridiculous t-shirt. His balls ached with the prolonged pleasures of the night. He heard them coming up the steps and he shut the light off in the bathroom and stepped out to meet them.

Emily entered the room first, naked except for her bra and black high heels. She held her panties in her hand. She looked voluptuous and sexy with her neatly trimmed snatch nested beautifully between her full thighs. He wanted to kneel and kiss the rolling bulge of her tummy. Emily looked at him and shook her head. Without saying anything she walked up to him and shoved her panties in his face. Richard could feel their dampness on his face and he smelled her perfumed pussy in them.

"Open up!" she snapped. Richard opened his red lips and she shoved the lacey ball into his mouth. Tom was pulling off his shirt and prying off each shoe with his feet. His belt still hung open. Emily turned her attention back to Tom and she kissed his chest and rubbed her hands up and down his naked torso.

"Take my pants off", Tom said, and Emily pulled down on the waist of his jeans and guided them down his legs. She got on her knees and took his cock into her mouth and sucked a few hungry stokes before pulling the pant legs down and around the heel of each foot as he lifted them. Tom stood there in the dim light exhibiting his firm body and stiff cock to Emily and Richard. He moved closer to Richard---he wanted Emily to see the stark contrast between her two men. Tom wrapped his muscular arm around Richard's neck in a gesture of camaraderie that quickly became an intimidating choke hold. Richard did not resist and he contorted his posture to accommodate the hold. Tom pulled the panties from his mouth.

"Having fun Bitchard," he asked.

"Yes Sir."

"What's going to happen now?"

"You're going to fuck Emily."

"That's right." Tom squeezed and jerked Richard's head as if to reinforce his answer. "Emily, baby---lie on the bed and show me your pussy." Emily climbed onto the sheets and lay back with her feet close to the foot of the bed. She pulled her knees up and spread her legs. Her fingers massaged her clit and lips as she looked back at Tom and her husband. Tom bent his head toward Richard's ear and talked quietly from the corner of his mouth, "I'm gonna stick my cock in there and fuck your wife, man. And I want you to be ready when I call your number. Understand?"

Richard didn't understand but he answered, "Yes Sir."

Tom stuffed the panties back into Richard's mouth and pointed to the floor at the foot of the bed. He pushed him down there. Richard kneeled; and Tom climbed into the space between Emily's legs and he could hear Emily let out a squeal of pleasure as Tom's cock entered her. Tom's large feet were inches from Richard's face, but he could not see much but the rise and fall of Tom's ass as he pumped into Emily. Her feet traveled everywhere, spasmodically, and her toes wriggled erratically. 

Emily moaned and puffed breaths of increasing pleasure in the rhythm of Tom's penetrations. Tom delivered the full weight and force of his body into Emily. She lay trapped underneath his large frame and felt like she would sink deeper and deeper into the mattress with each thrust of his cock. She couldn't escape if she wanted to---a distant realization that impelled her to embrace the futility of resistance and surrender to his aggressive fuck. She wanted it. Her brain scarcely registered his kisses, bites, and stream of obscene exhortations. Emily's answers came from somewhere below consciousness: "Yes baby---fuck me---yes I'm your dirty fuck---yes, that's right---it's yours Tom---yes baby." His cock brought her close to orgasm and she was desperate to come---she writhed in frustration and felt his thrusts slow and then stop. She felt him withdraw the thing slowly and he rolled beside her. Emily took her first deep breath and accepted the retreat. Tom kissed her nipples and lingered on them for some moments. He propped Emily's head and shoulders higher with the pillows. Tom looked back at Richard still kneeling at the foot of the mattress.

"Okay Bitchard---time to do something useful for your wife," Tom said. Emily giggled. She felt beautiful and deserving of whatever Tom had in mind. Tom's hand slid down between her legs and his fingers parted her engorged lips exposing her clit and the warm, moist entrance where his dick had been. "Come on. Get in here and eat some pussy. And you better do it good fucker."

"You better do it good Richard!" Emily practically yelled. She was drunk and desperate to demonstrate her allegiance to Tom. He laughed at her nasty taunt and kissed her. Emily wrapped her arms around Tom's neck and returned his kiss with greater intensity. Richard moved toward Emily's wet crotch, situating himself half on the bed, his legs still dangling off the mattress. Tom's big dick rested in the seam between Emily's ass and the sheets of the bed, just inches away from her pussy. Richard had never been so close to a man's cock. His sack looked enormous and he could see that the wet of Emily's pussy still coated his penis. He put his face into her pussy taking care not to touch the man. His tongue worked up and down Emily's pussy; he flicked and circled her clit as he had done a thousand times. He knew what her clit needed and he was intent on prodding it to orgasm. Emily rarely came during their fucking, but he could bring her to climax multiple times by chasing her clit in alternating strings of rhythmic and erratic licks.

"How's that taste?" asked Tom. "Do you taste my cock in there?"

Richard lifted his wet face, a cloud of smeared lipstick around his mouth and nose. "Yes Sir. It tastes good Sir."

Tom reached down and pulled Richard's face back into Emily's cunt. Emily and Tom kissed and whispered and fondled. She felt Richard's familiar action between her legs and the muscles in her thighs and ass told her she was getting close to coming. Tom could see it in her face. 

"Tell him to do it good for you," Richard whispered, looking directly into her eyes. "Make him your bitch Emily. You can make him do anything you want. Make your pussy feel perfect and then I'm going to fuck you some more."

"Lick it bitch!" she yelled at Richard. Richard could see her angry face looking down at him as he worked in her wetter and wetter pussy. Her drunken meanness thrilled him; she looked beautiful and frightening in the same instant. He buried his face into her, licking, nibbling, and swallowing frantically. She raised her hips and rode her pussy up and down Richard's face. "Do it good Richard, you stupid fuck." And with that Emily's legs tensed and her whole body jerked. She clenched her jaw and let out a low guttural moan. She wrapped her arms around Tom's neck as if clinging for life against a torrent. She was silent for a moment---no breaths---her legs shook, and then she let out a climbing moan that could have signaled excruciating pain. Tom kissed her ear and urged her on, "Let it out baby---let it go." Emil gasped for air and finally found a long, deep breath that she exhaled in a long diminuendo. She rode down from the peak slowly, little aftershocks interrupting her descent. She rejoined the men in the room.

She kissed Tom violently and they moaned in unison. "Thank you baby, thank you baby," she said. "Oh my god---Oh fuck---oh Tom." She ran her hands around his head and neck. Tom kissed her, and without breaking her hold, he reached down to flatten her leg against the bed, and he climbed back between her legs. His knee bumped Richard's head firmly across the bridge of his nose and his eyes watered from the blow. Tom's feet pushed him back, away from his position at the end of the mattress. Richard could see Tom reach between Emily's thighs to locate her pussy with the head of his cock and again he could hear her signal the first pass of Tom's dick between her lips. Richard crawled to the corner chair, took a seat, and sat silently in his panties and high heels watching Tom fuck her. Twice more Emily's lover would call on him to service the warm place where his cock had been, and twice more Tom would shove him out of the way when his tongue-work was done. And finally, Tom turned Emily over, hiking her ass up so she rested on all fours, and he fucked her from behind until she came and screamed again---a cry Richard had never heard from her. She begged out loud for him to stop. Tom pumped harder, ignoring her pleas. Emily clenched the sheets yanking one corner from the mattress and she buried her head into the pillows muffling her cries. Tom groaned loudly as he came inside her and his orgasm seemed to ameliorate Emily's unbearable pleasure. 

Tom caught his breath and filled his lungs in one long inhalation and breathed out slowly through his nose. He looked over at Richard and stared at him while he slowly slid his spent cock in and out of Emily's pussy. Richard watched as he rubbed and massaged her ass, bringing her in for a landing. Tom pulled his dick out and let Emily collapse onto her stomach. He remained upright on his knees, hovering over his exhausted conquest. His cock stood out in a softening arc. It looked huge and he exhibited it in Richard's direction.

"Oh...fuck," Emily sighed. "Oh my god Tom---thank you Tom---thank you baby, thank you."

Tom lay beside her and rolled her over onto her side and they kissed and hugged and intertwined their legs. Richard could see Emily's hand fondling Tom's cock and his balls. They whispered and kissed and lingered in their mutual pleasure as if Richard was not in the room. 

Tom whispered into Emily's ear, "Don't let him fuck you tonight. He'll want to---I know he's going to want to fuck you. He's been turned on for a long time."

"I won't," she whispered, giggled, and kissed him.

"You can let him eat you though. He'll like that---I can almost guarantee it."

Emily looked at him quizzically---her eyebrows rose. "You think so? I think you left a pretty good deposit down there," and she laughed.

"Shh---Shhhhh," Tom hushed her and hugged her, laughing. He whispered again, "See what happens. I think you'll be surprised."

Richard could hear the hushed exchanges, but could not make out the content of their conversation and chuckles. He had thoroughly enjoyed the night, but now he was ready for the man to leave. He wanted to talk to his wife unmonitored and unsupervised. He slipped into the bathroom. His dick had softened enough to let him aim it at the toilet and he pissed a long hard piss, a relief that he had delayed for too long. When he returned to the bedroom Tom was pulling up his pants and searching for his socks. Emily lay on her back, slightly propped up onto pillows.

"Richard, go get me a glass of water," she said. Richard left the room and went to the kitchen. He surveyed the disorder of wine and liquor bottles across the counter top. He hurriedly filled a glass and made his way back to the bedroom. By the time he returned Tom was nearly dressed and sitting on the side of the bed kissing Emily good night. Richard stood there with the glass in his wet hand. Tom got up, buttoned his shirt, and stuffed the tails into his pants. Richard stepped around to the other side of the bed and handed the glass to Emily.




Emily, Richard, And Tom Ch. 03



"Thank you, Bitchard," she said. Tom chuckled as he buckled his belt. She gulped the water and set the glass on the night stand. "Will you show Tom out? I don't think I can walk."

"Yes," he said. Finally---he thought. And when Tom returned to Emily for one more kiss he could scarcely contain his impatience.

Richard escorted Tom to the front door and with very few words between them, he was gone. Richard pushed off the blue shoes and panties, and he pulled the strangling t-shirt over his head. Naked, and ready for release, he climbed the stairs to his wife. Emily had pulled the covers part way up her naked body and was curled on her side, her face half sunken into a pillow. Richard climbed into bed and nestled up behind her, kissing her neck and running his hand across her tits and tummy. Emily returned his snuggling and reached behind her to caress his face. He kissed her fingers and the palm of her hand.

"Did you have fun Honey?" she asked without turning around.

"Oh yes baby!" he whispered. "You are so hot to watch. You are so beautiful." 

"I think you enjoyed those panties," she teased, and then yawned. Richard did not answer her---he did not have to. He ground his pelvis and stiffening cock against her ass through the blanket. His hand traveled down to her snatch and he stroked her thigh under the cover. "I want to fuck you so bad Emily---I need to fuck you Honey." Emily turned around to face him. She felt his cock poking against her legs. She took his face in her hands and kissed him passionately. Richard embraced her firmly and returned the kisses and he tongued her mouth. He slid his leg over hers and then started to push it in between her legs. Emily pulled her face away from his and looked him in the eyes. She looked beautiful and earnest to him---her make up was worn away and her hair was wildly mussed. 

"Richard," she said. "I don't think I can take anymore fucking tonight." She saw the disappointment on his face and almost rescinded her denial. "I'm sorry honey. I just don't think I can." She hugged him and kissed him sympathetically. Richard didn't say anything. She took his hard penis in one hand as they lay there silently for a moment. She spoke into his ear, "Richard, I need you to lick me one more time---I need you to eat me." 

Richard did not respond immediately, but Emily felt his dick pulse and grow to complete stiffness. She rubbed the tip of his cock with her thumb and stroked him several times. Emily knew her request had struck a chord and she was emboldened to strengthen the proposition. She pulled her face away so she could see him. "Richard," she said firmly and coldly, "Get down there and do me." She pressed her hands down on his head and shoulder. He did not resist; he was ready to obey. Richard slid down her abdomen and positioned himself between her legs and before he sunk his face into her pussy she called to him one more time, "Richard----if you want me to ever do this shit again you better eat me good. Do you understand me?" She could see the amalgam of panic and ecstasy in his face. He looked adorable and pitiful, handsome and pathetic. "Richard! Do you understand me?!" 

"Yes Emily---I know what you want." Richard's mouth disappeared below the mound of her snatch and his eyes looked up at her as he began to work his tongue around her clit. Emily stared back at him and savored the locking of their eyes. She did not flinch and she watched him intently for a silent moment. She felt bold and fully entitled to this selfish indulgence. 

"You're so bad Richard." Then she planted her small feet on Richard's shoulder blades and leveraged her ass higher to expose her entire pussy to him. Emily rotated her crotch around his face in several passes and held it there for him. She felt her husband's mouth and tongue making uninhibited love to her pussy, just as her departed lover had predicted. Emily laid her head back into the pillow and let her ass settle back to the mattress. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. And as Richard pushed her up the slow rise to one last peak, Emily recounted the events of the evening and imagined how Tom's naked body would feel next to hers, under warm bed clothes, deep into the early morning hours.