0 comments/ 85287 views/ 28 favorites The Seduction of Brad's Wife By: bridget I've always been rather shy about showing off my body in any way, especially in the way I dress, but for the better part of two years now, my husband, Brad, has been after me to dress up sexy and go out to a club and "flirt" a little, as he calls it. He likes to talk about it a lot. We'd fantasize about it during sex, and in these "harmless" fantasies would always end up with me having sex with the guy I "flirted" with while my husband watched and encouraged me. I don't know why he found the fantasy so appealing. Maybe it was because neither Brad nor I had ever been with anyone else. We were "high school sweethearts" who married right after graduation. But whatever the source, the fantasy turned Brad on so much and had become so pervasive that I was beginning to worry that that would be the only way we'd be able to have sex. Still, it was a terribly erotic little web we'd weave, and I didn't seriously believe that it was something he truly wanted to happen or that I could do. Lately, however, I began to wonder. He kept after me and kept after me, even going so far as to suggest that there was something a bit wrong with me sexually for not wanting to "show off a little," as he put it. He'd say that it was unnatural for a woman with as great a body as I have always to be covering it up, that I should "lighten up." These remarks hurt me, but also made me wonder about myself. Maybe Brad was right. Maybe my prudishness was the reason for his decreased sexual appetite. So early last month, under the ruse of celebrating his recent promotion at work, I decided to see what would happen if I went along with his fantasy, at least as far as I was able. I left work early on Friday, and got a room in a motel, and then I called home, leaving a message instructing my husband to meet me later that evening at a hotel cocktail lounge that we both knew to be just the tiniest bit naughty. I told him to get a room there because I was going to be his fantasy "slut" for one night. He knew how to act out the rest of the fantasy, I was sure, from hours and hours of bedtime telling. I expected he'd really be surprised, but other than that I didn't know exactly what he'd do or how he'd take all this. I knew I'd be able to attract some attention, which was the initial stage of the fantasy and all I really intended to do, because, even though I never actually flirt with guys or wear anything very revealing, too many men have come on to me not to know that a lot of them find me attractive. That's been the case since junior high school. I'm twenty-six years old now, and still have a good figure, though I work out now to keep it that way. I'm 5' 2", weigh about 112 lbs., and what men notice most, I've got large, nicely shaped, natural breasts that, though actually quite firm, bounce around like crazy if not bound up tightly, which I usually do. But even tightly encased, my breasts get considerable attention. I've noticed that most men's eyes rarely actually make it to my face, which is too bad, as I'm rather pretty. I have shoulder-length blonde hair (bottle-aided maybe just a tiny bit), a sex, pouty mouth with a pretty smile, and what everybody tells me are very striking blue-green eyes that change color depending on what I'm wearing. Wearing black tonight, they'll probably be mostly green. The week before, I had bought an outfit from a mail order catalogue that resembled as nearly as possible the clothes I wear in my husband's fantasy: a sheer, backless black satin lycra dress, cut very low in front, with a very tight and very, very short skirt; thigh high stockings; and five-inch stiletto heels, which I have to admit were a bit tricky to walk in. This evening would be the first time I'd ever put the dress on. First, though, I took pains to put on the kind of makeup I thought Brad would like, paying particular attention to my eyes, which he always wants heavily made up. I even bought false eyelashes, though I really don't need him. But it's his fantasy. I put my hair up the way he likes it, and made sure it was very, very blonde. And then I did the most important part of his fantasy: I carefully shaved myself perfectly smooth. In other words, I made sure that not only my dress and but also my body were both provocative and "accessible," to use my husband's favorite word, and since my being "accessible" is central to his appreciation of the fantasy, I had tried to make certain the dress I'd picked from the catalogue would allow every move I would make or step I would take to reveal not only a lot of my body, but also to promise even more. As it turned out, I was certainly right about that! The second I put the dress on, however, I knew I wasn't going to be able to go out in it, even though I looked so outrageously sexy that it left me breathless for a moment. Just walking in the five inch heels nearly bounced my breasts completely out of the skimpy top and for the first time I knew that my legs and derrière would compete for men's attention, if only I could wear it. I wanted desperately to be seen in this incredibly seductive dress, though I knew I lacked the nerve. But I had prepared for that, too. I'd brought along a little "Absolute" courage, and after two drinks, I was able to put the dress back on. Looking in the mirror, I was amazed at how much I resembled the fantasy woman, and for the first time, I think, I realized that the fantasy might be as much mine as my husband's. Or maybe even more. I felt incredibly alluring, sexy, and seductive…and more than a little sluttish. Though this certainly wasn't part of my original plan, I impulsively decided to wear nothing between me and that fabulous dress that could possibly be a barrier to a probing hand. The whole idea of the fantasy being on the verge of a reality of some sort was having a strange effect on me. I was fascinated with the way I looked. The dress seemed magic. It appeared to be built for my body. Now I loved it that every step I took bounced both of my breasts nearly out of the dress. I was confident that the rest of the package seemed up to the task of competing with my boobs! I felt a tingling through my whole being every time I looked at myself in the mirror. My nipples were painfully erect and beckoning. I could feel my whole body transforming, as if I'd been injected with sex hormones. And I liked it. I was shaking with excitement as I left the motel room and walked giddily to my car. I got to the hotel bar around 10:00, and luckily finding a seat at the crowded bar, instantly ordered a vodka tonic. The first guy to hit on me arrived before the drink. He was a reasonably good-looking guy, and very big. Well over six feet and I'd guess over two hundred pounds. I wasn't sure my husband was going to like that, as he is small and on the short side, and to tell the truth a little intimidated by big guys. The guys in our fantasy who picked me up are always youngish, not too big, and easily dominated. But here was reality! I rather doubted that anyone ever dominated this guy He asked me if I was with anyone, and I told him, as we do in the fantasy, that I was waiting for a guy that I was supposed to meet as a favor to my boss, but if he'd like to stick around, that was fine with me. I was very, very nervous, but when I moved my seat to make room for him, I made sure that my dress hiked up just enough to show the top of my thigh highs and let one shoulder strap fall provocatively down on to my arm, just like Brad wants me to in the fantasy. I'd actually practiced this in the motel room, believe it or not! The guy said his name was Tony, that he was a bouncer at Genevas, an upscale "gentlemen's" club down the street, and that if I didn't mind, he'd keep me company until my date arrived. He was polite, and actually quite charming. We talked for a while, and he ordered me another vodka tonic, which had a funny, bitter taste to it. When I remarked on it, Tony said that it was probably just a different brand of tonic, and I drank it down quickly and forgot about it. The next drink tasted normal. Through the course of the drinks, we talked, and he seemed real sweet. I was starting to get rather tipsy, but felt strangely confident and comfortable. He was very polite, even though he didn't really come on to me verbally, I did noticed that he kept steadily inching his bar stool a little closer to mine. Each time he did, I'd either bend down a bit to give him a glimpse of cleavage or lean in a little closer to encourage him. I wanted Brad's fantasy to be a good one. I wanted to turn the guy on a little. The truth was, though. I was turning myself on. I felt strangely carnal and extremely erotic. I know for certain I've never quite felt like I did at that moment. The next time he moved his bar stool towards me, with a little shrug of my shoulder, I let the strap on my dress on the side closest to him fall completely down, and my dress slip just enough to reveal the edge of my nipple. What was left of the rational part of my brain was completely shocked, even appalled, at my behavior, wondering what on earth I could possibly be doing with this stranger, and yet quite another part of me was turned on more than I'd ever been in my life. I had to confess that at that moment all I wanted was for Tony to touch me. As I looked about the bar, trying inch the skirt of my dress up even higher while trying to act calm and casual, I noticed my husband coming in and taking a seat across the bar from us. And just as he was sitting down, I felt Tony's hand on my knee. Brad looked at me and then at Tony, and I guess he must have been a little intimidated, because in our fantasy he always walks right over, introduces himself, and invites the guy to stay around for a while. But he just sat there. In our fantasy, the guy is doing something erotic to me when Brad walks over, and then I remembered that I was supposed to give a signal when something "good" was happening, and thought perhaps that was what he was waiting for. Tony's hand was steadily creeping up my thigh and if he kept it up, would soon be encountering my freshly shaved and increasingly wet pussy. Still convinced I was doing this for Brad, I moved a little closer still and opened my legs a bit to encourage him. He didn't need more than that. The very second my legs parted I felt his hand slid quickly into my parted pussy and take my clitoris between his thumb and finger and begin to squeeze and pull very gently. I could hardly talk. I knew I needed to give that signal, but frankly, my husband was suddenly the last thing on my mind. I let my hand fall on to Tony's lap and was startled at the size and length of the bulge I felt running down his pant leg. I wanted him to take me somewhere right then and there and have his way with me, and was actually on the verge of asking him to do exactly that when I finally came to my senses. I drew back a bit and took my compact out of my purse to freshen my makeup, which was the "signal" Brad and I had agreed on. But Brad still didn't move. And neither did Tony's hand. I decided to ask Tony to dance, hoping that my husband, my "date," would be waiting for us when we returned from the dance floor. I also decided to make sure that, if Tony wasn't already aroused, he definitely would be when we returned to the bar, as that figured in our fantasy as well. Strangely, I still thought this was all for Brad. I love to dance, and am quite good at it, but I was nervous about dancing to the music the band was playing. I straightened myself up enough to be able to walk to the dance floor without falling completely out of my dress, but I wasn't at all sure I'd be able to keep it all together for a fast dance. What I found most disconcerting, though, was that stranger inside of me obviously hoped I wouldn't keep it all together. Half to the dance floor, I heard the band begin a very fast, disco sort of tune and I knew then without question I wouldn't be able to keep myself in that dress, but inside of me I also knew I really wanted to be out of it, to be looked at and appreciated tonight. In the strange mood that was enveloping me, I was dying to see what Tony would do if my boobs did what I expected. He'd soon have an eyeful, I was fairly sure, and, I hoped, shortly after, a handful. That's how "bad" I was. If Brad wanted me to turn the guy on, I was going to do the best job I could. After all, I was doing this all for him, wasn't? Once out on the dance floor, the three drinks I had at the bar and the two in the motel room seemed suddenly to kick in. The rational, sane part of me vanished completely. I felt wonderfully uninhibited. And the way Tony was looking at me and tactile memory of that growing shaft just beneath his pants leg made me wild with desire and brought out what I've come to realize now must have been a latent exhibitionism lying just below the surface of my otherwise demure self. I desperately wanted to be dancing nude with my body pressed to Tony's leg and my breasts bouncing in his hands. But I also wanted other guys to be looking and grabbing at me. I love to fast dance and as I mentioned am good at it, but this time all I really wanted to do was let Tony see what was under this thin frill of a dress. I danced more seductively (and revealingly) than I ever have. I was truly unleashed. About half way through the dance, Tony took control, and the feeling I experienced when he pulled my breast completely out of my dress and cupped my bare breast in his large hand was to that point in my life the most erotic experience I'd ever had. It was probably lucky that the dance floor was quite dim (though it didn't really matter to me at the time) as I got a lot of dirty looks from the women out there and a lot of appreciative stares from their men. I suppose one goes with the other. The next dance was a slow one…exactly what I wanted! I pressed up hard against Tony and was delighted to feel his member begin to stiffen. When both of his hands snaked under my dress and squeezed my bare bottom, I knew that I was completely lost in him, that he could do anything he wanted to me. I was well beyond the ability to resist. I was willing to be his completely slave that night. I was utterly under his control. Still, I was a little surprised when, at the end of that number, he slowly turned me around and pulled my very short skirt up to my waist, letting every one on the floor see my neatly shaved vagina, as if he were offering it to anyone who wanted it, but I didn't want to resist, not in the least. And I didn't! In my dizzy head, I felt that he was indicating how proud he was to be with me. He wanted to show me off, to show the prize he'd won. And he really had won it! I sincerely wanted him to use me in any way that suited his fancy. I nearly swooned when a young guy walked over to Tony and said, "Fine looking bitch." As I said, at that moment, I belonged to him alone. My rational self had long since vanished. After a few more intensely erotic dances, while we walked back to the bar, where I hoped my husband would be waiting, he whispered in my ear for me not to cross my legs or sit on my dress the rest of the evening, that he wanted direct "access" to my body the entire night. The word—my husband's word!—thrilled me beyond reason. My husband was indeed there when we strolled rather seductively back to our seats. I introduced Brad as "my date," and sat down, making sure to pull my skirt up, just as Tony had ordered. You would think that I would have been uneasy sitting with my freshly shaved pussy on display for anyone to see or touch, but I wasn't. Not in the least. When Tony and Brad shook hands, Tony seemed to tower over my husband. I knew things were not going to go well when Brad didn't ask Tony to stay, as he does in our fantasy, but I had apparently given Tony a taste of something he thought would be very appetizing, and I was exhilarated and excited when he simply refused to leave. In fact, while he was talking to Brad about something (I certainly wasn't paying attention to what), he began to caress me right in front of my husband, going so far as to motion with his other hand for me to open my legs wider to accommodate him, which I instantly did. In the fantasy, this would have been exactly what Brad wanted, but in reality, I could see that it wasn't going so well. Brad suggested that we dance the next dance, and as I walked out to the floor, struggling to tug my skirt back down, I could tell that he was both nervous and turned on, but I could also tell that he was too intimidated by Tony's size and demeanor ever to agree to share me. This was a dilemma. I really wanted Tony in a way that I've never wanted anyone before, but I didn't want to lose my husband, either. I tried to convince him that this is just what he wanted. I asked him whether it turned him on to see Tony's hand opening me up at the bar there, and he agreed that it did. I told him what Tony had done to me while we were dancing and could feel him getting hard as I told it. I put his hand inside my dress and asked him to expose me like Tony did. Even though he wouldn't do it, I could tell it really excited him. I thought maybe this would work out after all. But as we walked back to our seat, all he finally would agreed to was a couple more hours at the bar. I decided to make the best of them, hoping to enjoy as much of Tony as possible and trying to get Brad hot enough to join in. But I suspected it wasn't going to work. As I sat down (obediently pulling my skirt above my hips), Tony asked me to dance, and during the slow number I decided to tell him everything, the entire truth of the fantasy, who Brad was, the motel room, the hotel room, everything. I told him that my husband had obviously lost his courage and that he'd want me to go home soon. And then suddenly I found myself begging Tony to find a way to "fuck me" tonight, language I never use. I don't know why I said that, though the explicitness of the phrase may have been because, all through this conversation, Tony had decided to expose me totally, exhibiting my breasts and derriere to the delight of the band members and a good part of the dance floor. I found myself getting so stimulated and aroused that if he were to take me right then and there I wouldn't have objected. (And I don't think the guys in the band would have minded, either.) Almost on the verge of tears, I repeatedly begged him to find some way to fuck me. Walking back to the bar and my timid husband, Tony whispered in my ear, "Give me your motel key and then meet me there as soon as you can." As soon as we sat down, while Tony was finishing his drink, I slipped the key to the motel room into his hand. Then, he kissed me full on the lips, pushing his tongue deep into my mouth, told my husband good night, and left. Both Brad and I were ill at ease after Tony had gone. I could tell that he wanted to somehow carry on the fantasy as a fantasy, but I said that it was probably better to call it a night. Though I could tell he was disappointed, he reluctantly agreed. I knew he was embarrassed that he hadn't been able to pull off his end of the fantasy while at the same time terribly aroused that I had. I mentioned to him that I had left some things at the motel, and thought I'd drive by and pick them up before going home. This really disappointed him, as I'm sure he thought we'd either go to the motel room together or I'd go up to the hotel room with him, but I both wanted to show him how much he'd disappointed me and also to see Tony just one more time. Not to let him have sex with me, I told myself, but just to apologize for the whole sordid evening. Brad had a sort of defeated look on his face when I left, but I felt he did a lot to deserve it. We both could have had such a good time. Driving to the motel, all I could think of was the strange erotic titillation I'd felt that night, especially when Tony displayed me on the dance floor. It's what my husband always wanted and what I could never give him. But I gave it willingly and excitedly to Tony. I wanted guys to look at me and be envious of what Tony had, to see them drool as he exposed my breast and vagina to them. There on the dim dance floor, I wanted to be his property to do with as he felt. By the time I pulled into the parking lot at the motel, I was shaking with the anticipation of seeing him again. I was still convinced, though, that all I would do was kiss him and apologize. The Seduction of Brad's Wife Tony answered my shy knock on the door. Only the light from the bathroom illuminated the room as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me in a way that nearly made me climax on the spot. He'd poured another drink for me, and insisted I drink it right down. He wanted to "keep me in the mood," he said. It had that same bitter taste that the one drink in the bar had, but I swallowed the whole thing down as quickly as possible, because that's what he wanted. As soon as the glass left my lips, Tony's mouth covered mine again in a kiss so sensual and exhilarating that I was close to fainting. I was completely taken by surprise when I heard another voice in the room say, "You're right, Tony, that is a fine looking bitch you've picked up." Tony could see that I was startled, though interestingly, I wasn't really all that upset. My lucid self had been long ago drowned in vodka. Tony told me that he had enjoyed displaying me so much at the club that night, that he wanted to do it just a little more, and with that, he deftly removed my dress, letting it puddle on the floor. Standing there before him and this stranger, completely naked save for my stockings and shoes, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I honestly don't think I've ever looked so beautiful. My hair shown with a brilliance I don't ever recall before and it accentuated my neck perfectly. My eyes, still exquisitely made up, sparkled. My breasts never looked so large or firm or inviting. My tiny waist seemed to accentuate the fullness of my breast and the delicate curve of my hips. The fabulously sexy shoes and sheer black stockings accented my long, lithe legs and wonderfully marked the entrance to my carefully shaven vagina, which almost seemed to cry out to be touched. There was absolutely nothing to distract from the creamy texture of my body except for the passionate flush now engulfing me. I smiled at Tony when he told me how stunning I looked. I was so intoxicated with Tony and all he promised that any thought of not letting him fuck me, or for that matter of stopping him from doing anything he wanted to do to me, completely left my fevered mind. The other man, whom Tony addressed as Dwayne, was a much older man, perhaps in his mid fifties, who owned the club that Tony worked at. Dwayne looked at me for a few minutes, asked Tony to turn me slowly around, and then said that he agreed with Tony. I had incredible tits, he said. "How'd you get her?" Dwayne asked. "Tell you the truth, she was the easiest pick up I've ever had. She and her husband got something going, but I couldn't quite figure out what. All I know is she's got a great rack on her and she seems to like to show it off." "She's got reason to," Dwayne added. Tony nodded and said, "The first time I popped those melons out of her dress tonight, I thought of you, Boss. She reminds me of that bitch you liked so much, Belinda, except maybe hotter. I know you're a tit connoisseur, so I thought I'd bring her around. I know how you like those big jugs, and these are fuckin' big!" Dwayne just smiled, and added, "It's not just that they're big, Tony. It's the shape. These are natural. You really stumbled on to something special here. Shake her shoulders a minute and I'll show you what I mean." Tony grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me back and forth. Dwayne said, "You see how they bounce when you do that? And you see how they return to that perfect shape almost instantly? That's a fuckin' turn on big time. Those suckers will do that every time she walks a step and every time you slam cock in her. She does remind me a lot of Belinda. Got the same great tits and the same pretty face, except maybe she's a little bit prettier. If she can fuck like Belinda, you got me a great piece, Tony." "We'll see about the fucking, but you gotta admit her jugs are dynamite, and they're bigger and firmer than Belinda's," Tony chuckled. "And she takes to that goddamn drug better than any bitch we've ever slipped it to, if you ask me." "You're right about that. And those are fucking fine tits, no fucking doubt about that, either!" Then he reached out and lifted my left breast by its nipple, let it fall, and watched it bounce back into place. "Goddamn!" was all he said. I don't know why, but the conversation about my breasts was intensely titillating, even though I knew these two guys were discussing me like I was a piece of meat. The thing about drugs was puzzling, though. I really didn't know what they were talking about. I hadn't taken any drugs, but something strange was going on inside of me, I knew. But truthfully, at that moment, nothing really mattered other than that they not stop what they were doing. More than anything in the world, I wanted Tony and Dwayne to keep talking about me, keep on admiring me. I had come to the point where I would beg them to take me any way they wanted. I would plead with either or both of them to fuck me. And I think my body language told them that. Tony said, "You check out the rest of this whore's body? Take a look at that cunt. I let everybody in the bar take a good look at that thing. The little slut loved it." "No shit, eh? She just let you show it off in public. I like that. I guess she knows it's a great looking cunt, too, Tony," Dwayne laughed. "I like the way it mounds there just below her belly. She keep it shaved like that all the time?" "I don't think so," Tony said. "I think she told me she did it just this night for her wuss of a husband. "Well, I'll keep her shaved from now on," Dwayne noted. Then, nodding at me, he said to Tony, "Why don't you get started on that. I'd like to see her perform." I really did want Tony "to get started on me," but I also had just enough sense left in my sex distraught brain to realize that I had to call my husband. I told Tony that if I didn't get home in an hour or so, Brad would get worried and probably send someone to look for me. "Call him," Tony said. "Tell him you're not coming home tonight. Tell him I'll be fucking you for the next five or six hours at least. Tell the little punk that I said it would be all right for him to come over and watch. That's what he wanted, wasn't it?" I didn't know what to do or say. I didn't like the way he spoke about my husband, but at the same time I found it intoxicatingly erotic. He was a very dominant male. I knew I should simply leave, go home. But something inside of me wouldn't let me. The idea of walking away from Tony was incomprehensible. I wanted him beyond all reason. I was shaking like a leaf, as I moved to pick up the phone. Brad answered on the first ring. "Brad," I said, my voice trembling. "I don't know how to tell you this. Tony's here with me. I'm going to stay here with him. Tony said it would be okay if you come and watch. I want you to. Remember the fantasy? We could do it here," I begged. For a full minute there was dead silence at the other end. "You're going to let him fuck you, Bridget?" he finally answered. "Yes," I murmured. "I can't help it. But if you'll promise to come here, I won't let him start until you get here. Please come, Brad. Please." Again there was a long pause. "I don't know. This is screwing me all up. I don't know what to do." "Please, Brad." The pause before he answered was excruciating. "All right. But wait until I get there to start." "I will," I replied. "Promise?" "Yes, I promise. Just come quickly." All the while I was talking to Brad, Tony and Dwayne continued to examine me, turning me one way and then another, commenting on this curve or that, pinching or probing some part of my body or another. I told Tony what had transpired in my conversation with my husband. He merely laughed and said, "I doubt he'll be able to stand the competition." He motioned to me to kneel down in front of him, and indicated with a nod of his head for me to unzip his pants. When I told him I'd promised Brad to wait, he simply laughed and nodded again at his belt. I knelt down in front of him and unbuckled his pants. Reaching in, I began to pull his cock from his pants. It seemed never to end. When I had finally pulled it clear, its size and weight stunned me. It was enormous, even larger than I had visualized earlier this evening at the bar. It was easily twice the size of my husband's and it had yet to completely stiffen. Its weight, lying there in my hands, dazed me. I think you have to be a woman to understand how I was feeling as Tony's cock engorged and hardened in my hand. I was delirious with desire for it, yet at the same time I was paralyzed with fear at the thought of that mammoth shaft penetrating my body. Tony's cock was still hardening when he indicated that I should open my mouth. I had very rarely given Brad oral sex. It wasn't his favorite. Or mine. So I was somewhat fearful about how well I would perform. More than anything at that moment, I did not want to disappoint him. I knew from the few porn movies that Brad and I had watched, that men apparently like to have as much of their cock in the girl's mouth as possible and that it's important for the girl to look at them while they do it. I decided that, no matter how difficult, I would do exactly that for Tony tonight. More than anything in the world, I wanted to please him. Opening my mouth, I felt the head of Tony's colossal shaft slip past my lips. I looked steadily up at him, inviting him with my eyes to penetrate deeper. As he pushed deeper into me and neared the back of my throat, I felt myself start to gag, and my eyes began to tear, but I didn't resist. I somehow brought the gagging under control, and as the head of his penis began to slip down my throat, I felt his entire cock begin to swell to full hardness and heard a great deep moan come from his mouth. Amazingly, just the sound alone of Tony's pleasure brought me to a kind of climax. Tony called to Dwayne to take a look. "I've got half my cock in the bitch's mouth. She'll make you a great whore, boss." Looking over at Dwayne, I could see that he was intrigued. He watched intently as Tony took four more strokes down my throat. "Hold on a minute," he said, walking over behind me and placing one hand on the back of my head and the other around my throat. "Take a longer and harder stroke this time, and I'll hold her head. See if you get it all in. I don't know if she can take it, but it ought to be a hell of a lot of fun finding out." I was scared to death at the brutal way Dwayne talked about me, but I remained determined to please Tony...and I guess Dwayne as well. Tony pulled out to the edge of my lips and slowly repenetrated to the back of my throat, and then, with Dwayne holding my head steady, he suddenly drove his cock hard down my throat, and in an instant my face was buried in Tony's pubic hair. I felt him pull back an inch or two and then drive deeply in again, each time harder than the last. To use his words, he was "fucking my mouth like a cunt." I dimly heard Dwayne exclaim that yes, I'll make an excellent whore. Again, the remarked scared me and pleased me. Those were the emotions washing over me. I was both terrified that Tony would hurt me or that I'd pass out from lack of breath, and incredibly proud of what I'd done and the great pleasure I'd given him. The smile he gave me when he finally pulled out of my mouth and carried me to the bed was better than any climax I could have had at that moment. "You were great," he said simply. "I'll be using that again." Laying me on the bed, he again kissed me in ways I've never been kissed. Where his huge penis had been only moments before, his tongue now hungrily explored my mouth, as if I was the first girl he'd ever kissed. I felt extremely wanted just then. Standing up, he called Dwayne to look at my vagina, which I hoped and assumed Tony was finally going to use. I remembered my promise to Brad not to start until he got there. I was truly and deeply sorry, but I was far too deep in the throes of passion and desire for that promise to matter now. Tony spread my legs open, and as he was gently fingering my clitoris, he answered Dwayne's question about the tightness of my vagina by saying that he guessed from looking at my husband that he was probably a "pencil dick," and that I should be "tight as a virgin." I was shaking with anticipation and desire as Tony mounted me and I felt his awesome cock slowly probing my trembling labia. Pushing inside of me, he completely filled me. I could feel the walls of my vagina stretching to accommodate him. It was true what Tony had said. My husband was small. I felt entirely like a virgin, and the resistance Tony encountered as he drove his cock deeper and deeper into my wet pussy gratified him and confirmed his immense size. "From the way this cunt feels, I'd guess your husband is real small," Tony grinned. "Is he?" "Oh, God, Tony. You're so big, so massive," I moaned. I'd never felt anything like this. It was like this is the first time for me. "Don't ever stop, Tony. I've never ever had it, like this," I blurted out, blushing between flushed breaths. "When I've finished splitting your cunt open, Bridget, honey, that pencil dick will never satisfy you again." All I could reply was "Oh, fuck me, Tony, fuck me, fuck me." Dwayne, intently watching Tony work me over, suddenly interjected "Don't cum in her cunt, Tony. I don't want it all sloppy when I use it." It suddenly occurred to me for the first time that Dwayne definitely was going to use me, too. How stupid of me, I thought. I thought about protesting that I only wanted Tony, that I wasn't a common whore, but before the words could come out, Tony had moved to my mouth, filling it as before with his enormous penis, now wet and glistening with my own love juices. "Be good, now. I brought you here for Dwayne," Tony said, slipping easily now down my throat. "You're my present to him, and I only give the best." Within moments, I felt my pussy being probed again as Dwayne mounted me. Incredibly, he seemed even bigger than Tony, and I could tell from his first stroke that he was going to use me in an entirely different way. This man knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was his own pleasure. Not mine. By the second stroke he was pushing up hard against my cervix. When Tony pulled out of my mouth for a brief moment, I got my first glimpse of the man who was pushing inside of me. He was a big man, not fat really, but not sculpted like Tony. He had an intensity about him that scared me, but like everything that night, it thrilled me, too. I expected Tony to return to my mouth, but instead he walked off. I didn't wonder about it long, however, as the power and vigor of Dwayne's use of me focused my concentration solely on him. Amazingly, I was starting to cum, and he had only taken a few strokes in me. But God, what strokes they were, deeply penetrating, almost vicious in their intensity, but oh my god so intensely thrilling! I was startled, then, when Tony returned, my husband trailing behind him. On the verge of an intense climax, I smiled meekly at Brad. He seemed shocked. "I thought you said you'd wait," he whispered. As I opened my mouth to answer, Tony motioned me to take his cock, which I instantly and greedily did, stilling any answer. I heard Dwayne laugh and tell my husband that I'd been all over Tony's cock before the phone was hung up. "You got a serious whore for a wife, Brad," Tony exclaimed. "And that's the way we're going to treat her." "Tony's about to drop a load in her mouth, kid," Dwayne said. "You'll at least get to see that. And then I'll work her cunt over real good for you. You ought to enjoy that." I couldn't see what Brad's reaction to all this was because Tony was now seriously working my mouth. Each stroke drove my face into his belly and I could feel his large sack slapping under my chin. Suddenly, I felt his cock contract and his first load of cum splatter down my throat. He pulled his cock back a bit then, and began to fill my mouth. It was my first taste of semen. I was intrigued by its taste and texture and by how much hotter it was than I'd expected. I swallowed as quickly as I could, but some of it ran out the corners of my mouth and down my chin. When Tony finished, and I could see Brad again, I couldn't quite read his expression. While Tony had me cleaning his cock and licking up the cum that had dripped from my chin to the floor, I heard him compliment my husband on my oral "technique." Brad just sort of nodded enigmatically. My attention was soon diverted, however, as Dwayne resumed his invasion of me. His strokes were now harder and deeper and infinitely more stimulating. But as his fourth or fifth stroke drove hard into the back of my vagina, he coldly said to me, "Your cunts not big enough to take my cock, slut. What would you like me to do about that?" To my utter amazement and consternation, I heard some strange voice inside me say, "I want you to make it fit." Both Dwayne and Tony laughed. "That's the right answer, baby," Tony said. I wondered if Brad had heard me say that. "I'm going to have to penetrate your cervix, bitch. You're going to bleed and you're going to hurt, you know that." "Yes," I answered distractedly. All I wanted was his cock back in me probing the depths of my cunt. "Ask me again to split you open, cunt. Beg me!" "Please, spilt me open," I instantly and obediently answered. I saw brad's face go pale. "Turn her over," Dwayne said coolly. Tony pulled me around by my breasts, and positioned me so that my arms were pulled out, my breasts pressed down on the bed, and my rear raised and poised for Dwayne's next assault. Dwayne's next three strokes were quite painful as he tried to drive into my womb, but also perfectly masked by the incredible climax I could feel lurking just at the edge of consciousness. But I could see from the reflection in the mirror that he still wasn't entirely inside me. "Have her husband come over and hold her shoulders steady," Dwayne said. "I can't seem to break her down." I wasn't surprised that Brad wouldn't do it, and in truth I was thrilled when Tony moved to hold me down, instead. With Tony holding me and encouraging him to split me open, Dwayne drove repeatedly into me with increasing power and intensity. I could feel my cervix begin to retreat against this vicious assault. Finally, I felt his gigantic cock at last burst into my womb. I'm not, however, altogether sure I felt his cum erupting inside of me because wave after wave of my own stupendous climax was engulfing me, masking what I knew should be incredible pain. I vaguely remember a brief rest before Tony and Dwayne took me again, this time much more viciously and oh so much more powerfully. I thought Dwayne might literally split me apart one time he was so deep inside of me. All I recall for sure was again ignoring the searing pain when Dwayne took me this time anally. the only screams coming from my mouth where cries for them not to stop. I'll never forget the intensity of the feeling of Dwayne's hand completely inside my vagina as he ripped into my ass, coupled with the enormous gratitude I felt as they both simultaneously filled my ass and mouth with load after fabulous load of delicious cum. Nothing could compare to that. When they had finished with me and I humbly and thankfully knelt to lick their cocks clean, I felt for the first time like a real woman satisfying real men. Brad was gone by the time Dwayne and Tony finished their third rounds with me. When I arrived home shortly after dawn, he was waiting for me. He said he'd left when Tony told him that they had given me a drug called "ecstasy," aptly named, I must say. He was afraid the police might come and he'd lose his job if he were caught there. I felt real pity for Brad then. I guess the good thing is that because Tony drugged me, it gave us both an excuse. Brad forgave me. "That wasn't really you," he said. And I could rationalize my behavior. Brad said he was partly to blame and that he'd never suggest such things again. The Seduction of Brad's Wife As for me, I don't know. It's been a week now. Yesterday at work, I got a large package. In it was an incredibly sexy dress. It's a pink "hologram" dress with virtually no front at all. It scoops well below my belly button and at the top has a little string that draws just enough of the material across my breasts to barely cover my nipples. It's obscenely tight, dramatically short, and utterly revealing. With it came a stunning and very expensive fur coat…and an invitation from Dwayne and his brother Dominic to join them at their club as their special guest this Saturday. The whole ensemble is exquisite, and when I remove the coat and see myself in that astonishingly provocative dress, I'm literally left breathless. Dwayne obviously picked this out himself and has certainly given some thought to it. It does what I know he likes. It displays my breasts in the most inviting and titillating way imaginable, especially when I walk. Brad is going away for a long-planned reunion with some college buddies this weekend. It's as if fate is unfairly tempting me. I just don't know.