18 comments/ 38896 views/ 3 favorites Perception! By: TexHubby A big THANKS to Ben Frayser for helping me edit this story... Darla loved her first husband. He was her high school sweetheart. She was the young, naïve girl and he, the tough kid on the block. She recalls avoiding T, as he liked being called, but he was persistent, and it paid off. She fell for him, hard. The fact that she had a rather dysfunctional family helped T win her over, and soon he convinced her that they should elope. For her it was love; for him it was sex, as she wouldn't "put out" before marriage. By her own account, he never took her nor their marriage seriously, and only time would prove to her that he was taking her nowhere damn fast. Two kids and seven years later, the majority of which were miserable for her, she decided enough was enough. It was then that I came into the picture. Their marriage was over. She had thrown him out and filed for divorce. Her divorce pending, she and I started our relationship. In a very short time, I fell for her... hard. We decided to start anew in a new town, but I knew that Darla still harbored feelings for T. I also understood that only time would heal her wounds. I was patient! I've dedicated my life to making her happy. I try to be the ideal husband, BUT Darla has not been the ideal wife - in the bedroom. She was extremely conservative when it came to sex, and I was getting very bored. My love for her is strong, though, so I decided to make some changes to our sex life by introducing new, different and exciting things, and by renewing Darla's perception of sex. To her sex was but a chore. I started slowly, and decided that in order for her to like sex, she needed to understand that sex is not a "dirty little deed" but a passionate bond between two people. I began to get vocal in our lovemaking. I moaned, I complimented her body and most importantly, expressed how good "it" felt. I sensed that she enjoyed this. Days later, when we are fucking again, I encourage her to enjoy the act, but I am not graphic. Again, I sense that she relaxes her body, and I also notice she enjoys the act a bit more. Soon enough, my words of encouragement come in the form of, "fuck me with your pussy" and "work your cunt," "move your ass, Baby!" etc. etc. It's then I notice she really responds and much to her surprise she experiences an orgasm. Shortly after we finish, she confesses to me that this is her first orgasm... ever! She's very surprised, to say the least. BINGO! My dirty talk has her fucking hot. I refrain from name-calling; rather I am graphic when referring to body parts and the act. She is enjoying sex more and more!! Soon thereafter, I introduce porn to our fuck sessions, and encourage her to fuck back much like the "whore" on the film. Her pussy is literally dripping by the time we both climax. Darla begins to let loose in bed. I ask her to talk dirty to me, something she's not comfortable doing, but soon she's ordering me to fuck her and to stick my dick in her pussy. Hearing her talk like this sends me over the edge each and every time. I notice she's getting more aggressive in bed and also initiates many a fuck session – something she never did before. It excites me to know that this conservative woman, whom everyone regards as prim and proper, is a firecracker in bed. She got a big kick when I revealed this to her. There are two more things I've done that have turned my prim and proper wife into a slut in bed. First, I buy her expensive lingerie and second, I tell her about my fantasies, and encourage her to tell me hers. When she first tried on a sexy teddy, she acted shy, but then asked me when I was getting her more. I love my wife!! My wildest fantasy is watching her get fucked. Ideally, get double-dicked by two strong, dominant, well-endowed men. I've shared this fantasy with her. One night in particular, when we had the house to ourselves, we were being raunchy and I confessed to her that it would excite me to see her act like a wanton slut and a big whore. She was riding me when I confessed this to her. She looked down at me, smiled and asked me to tell her a fantasy: We go to a bar for a drink. I go to the bathroom, and when I come back, there are two guys sitting with you at the booth, one at either side. You are a bit tipsy and your guard is down. One of the guys is whispering something in your ear. He's dangerously close. You laugh, look at him and nod your head 'no'. You look at me and smile. I sit down and go unnoticed by the two guys. They start to fondle you openly, and you don't stop them. You throw your head back, thrust your tits forward and lift your ass enough to have them strip you of your thong. You then fling the thong at my face. You signal me to look under the booth. The guys have opened your legs wide, exposing your juicy cunt to all and are fingering it hard. One of the guys turns your head and starts kissing you, while the other guy pulls your blouse up and frees your sweet tits. You're moaning and encouraging them to finger your pussy and soon enough the whole bar is watching your show. One of the guys pushes the table back, makes you stand, bends you over and without any reservation, starts pounding your pussy good and hard. Everyone is cheering as you hold on to the table for dear life. The other guy stands up and sticks his dick in your face. You are grunting and moaning, and soon take the other guy's cock and give him some serious head... My wife, who's riding me, at this point starts telling me to fuck her hard, because she is cummmminng!! "Fuck me, fuck me with your big dick, oh yes, fuck my pussy." This sends me over the edge and we come together. We're both spent, and she confesses that my fantasy made her fucking hot as she imagined herself being used by two complete strangers. She asked me if I really wouldn't mind her acting like a total slut. I told her it was a turn on for me, and what turns me on is her having no regard for me and belittling me in the presence of her lover or lovers. It's at this point that Darla confessed that she sometimes has dreams in which her ex, T, fucks her in front of me. I'd never imagined. At first, her confession hits me like a ton of bricks, but the more I think about it, what the fuck, it's not like he hasn't fucked her before. I smile and tell her that it sounds like an interesting dream. We leave it at that. Today is Saturday and I just got home from school. I'm taking weekend classes at a local community college. There's a car in the driveway, so I assume we have company. I enter my house, and am welcomed by sounds of laughter and giggles. I distinguish my wife's laugh and giggles, but the other voice is that of a man. The sounds are coming from our bedroom. My wife has a man in MY bedroom?! I hear my wife telling him to behave, because I should be home soon. He tells her that she'll have some explaining to do being that her "ex" is in her bedroom while her husband is not home. WHAT?!? It hit me like a blow to the balls. I round the corner and he is laying on her, but they are both fully clothed. He dry-humps her and kisses her neck. She hasn't given him a full invitation as her legs are still closed, but as I very quietly approach the door, she opens her legs... great timing!! She holds him to her and brings his face to her bosom. He starts the fucking motion and she tells him, rather unconvincingly, that they've got to stop, that this has gone far enough. She tells him that she's a married woman and should not be behaving like a cheap whore. He ignores her pleas, and mauls her tits through her clothes. I can see she's excited because her nipples are standing at attention. And then... she opens her eyes, looks directly at me, gives me a wicked smile and orders me to come in and enjoy the show from up close. A startled T looks up at me, then at Darla and then tries to get up. Darla wraps her legs and arms around him and tells him to continue what he's doing. He's confused. "So, you've caught me," she tells me, "I've wanted T to fuck me for some time now. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but I'm so fucking horny for him, I really don't give a shit. You don't satisfy me, you've got a small dick and you don't know how to fuck. T, on the other hand, has a long, thick cock and knows how to fuck me." T, encouraged by her words, looks up at me and tells me to get the fuck out, and then tells me he's going to fuck Darla in my bed. Darla looks at him and says, "You're going to fuck me in his bed, but he's going to watch." She looks up at me and says, "Watch how a real man pleases a woman!" And then it's like I don't exist. They literally tear each other's clothes off and as T is about to enter her, Darla tells him to wait. She tells him that she wants to be in control and orders him to lie down. He does. I find it exciting to see a naked man, her ex, laying down with his cock hard and ready to fuck her. She orders him to close his eyes and enjoy her touch. She rakes her nails over his nipples, around his tight stomach and then does what I enjoy most, rakes her nails over his balls, all the while telling him how hard and fat his dick is and how she's going to enjoy riding it. Darla sounds like a total slut, and I know, by her own account, that this is a side to her that he never experienced. He starts to say something, but she hushes him, and orders him to open his legs so that she can have better access to his cock and balls. She looks at me, winks, and offers me a smile. I'm dumbfounded. I feel jealous, yet full of lust. This is my naked wife caressing her naked ex-husband. His hand finds her ass and soon makes its way to her pussy. I know this, of course, because Darla asks him how he enjoys fingering her wet cunt. He replies in a lustful moan. "That's it, " she whispers sexily, "finger my hungry pussy. It's hungry for your cock, but your fingers feel good, ooooh, you're soooo fucking good." She grabs hold of his cock and jacks him off, much like she does me. She's ready! She straddles him, leans forward, reaches back and points his cock at her pussy. She rubs his cock all over her pussy, all the while getting it wet with her pussy juice and then she does the unexpected... in one motion, she impales herself on his hard dick. He moans his approval, and she rides him hard. I'm a few feet away from the action... front-row-and-center. I see how his monster cock slips in and out of her and how her pussy opens up to accommodate it. I've never seen two people fucking in person. The sight mesmerizes me. Darla moans and groans and encourages T to fuck her, to stick his cock up her slutty cunt, all the while working her ass up and down. As an afterthought, she asks me if I like the action, "Do you like watching your wife get fucked?" "Yes," I say. "Then tell me," she orders. "Order me to fuck him. Shit! Order him to fuck me." T chimes in, "Yeah! Tell me to fuck her." I can't resist, "Fuck him! Show him what a whore you really are. That's it, Baby, ride his dick good and hard. Work that ass, make him shoot his cum up your cunt." I've also pulled down my pants and am giving my dick a good workout. "Oh yeah, Honey, does it feel good to have his big dick up your pussy," I ask rather rhetorically. "Yessss!" she says. "It's so fucking big, and it's making me cummmmmmm!!" An orgasm tears through her body, and she's limp for a few minutes, but she still rides him, and he doesn't let up. "Don't stop, I haven't cum yet, " he says. He keeps pumping in and out, and I can see her juices literally running down his shaft and onto his balls. She came hard! "Now you take charge," she told him as she got off him and got on all fours. "This is my favorite position, like a dog in heat, yeah, like a bitch. Fuck me!!" He gets behind her and is soon pounding her pussy from behind. She sticks her ass high in the air as he fucks her good. Darla moans and grunts as he drives it in. T smirks at me. He has defeated me. I continue to jerk off and I'm close to cumming. Darla encourages him, "That's it, yummmm, fuck me, that's it, fuck me hard!! I can feel you so deep in me, huhm, oh yes, fuck my pussy, fuck meeeee, oh yes, fuck meeeeee. Show my husband what a slut I am. Oh yesss." T is grunting and then he tenses and shoots his load deep inside her sweet mommy cunt. She encourages him to do so, "Oh yess, that's it lover, shoot it deep in me." I can't help myself as I shoot load after load into the air. I sit down as Darla and T collapse on the bed. After a few minutes, T looks at me and says, "You're not a man! A man wouldn't let another fuck his wife. From now on, I will come and fuck Darla when I..." Darla interrupts, "Wait just one minute. Let me clarify a thing or two. He is a man. He's man enough to teach me how to enjoy sex, something you never did. He's man enough to let me fulfill my fantasy, and to allow me to fulfill his. Again, something you never did. He's a man who is very sure of himself, and extremely sure of my love for him. And lastly, you won't ever fuck me again. All this was for his enjoyment. He wanted to see me fuck someone else, and act like a total slut. He's a much better lover than you will ever be. Now get dressed and get the fuck out. I don't ever want to see you again." Darla gets up, covers herself, comes to me, kisses me and tells me she loves me. I hug her tight, thank her for the show and tell her I love her too. We then look at T and like we'd rehearsed it, say in unison, "Get out!" As soon as he leaves, I order her to ride me long and hard. I enjoy my sloppy seconds. As she rides me, I tell her how I enjoyed seeing T's dick fuck her deep and hard, but more than that, I enjoyed her acting like a whore. She made me promise that during our fuck sessions, I'd make her act like a wanton slut. She also gave me permission to call her a slut, a bitch, and a whore when in the heat of passion. I think I can oblige. I made her promise me that this was only the beginning. She did... gladly! We let the hidden camera record our after-glow. And now we enjoy her session with her ex repeatedly and we still smile when we hear ourselves say, "Get out!" in unison. It's all about perception! Perceptions I know you better than you know yourself. I know what you want and what you need. I know what you'll give me, what you'll offer me and do for my pleasures. Most importantly I know how much more besides that I can take from you. You stand there, hands clasped behind your back, head bowed, dressed in your best, wondering what's next, what's to follow and just what have you let yourself into. The room is largely bare, with its polished wooden floor, a wide, padded chair sat next to a thickly made plain wooden one. In one corner of the room, covered in dustcloths, are other items of furniture. The room looks as if it has been cleared to make space for... what? I have you stand still in the centre and I pull the soft chair rumbling over the floor and settle into it. So easily deceived. Seeing everything yet seeing nothing. I motion for you to lift your head and you don't know why. I do, you don't. Briefly you look at me and I see the confusion and the hint of fear in them. Those eyes tell me that you're regretting this decision to come to me a little, that you're remembering those old sayings like 'be careful what you wish for because you might just get it' and starting to wonder... starting to feel that initial nervous excitement you felt on the plane, that build-up of tension, delicious and excited, turn into something more like worry, more like fear. You're not scared yet but it's in the post, you feel it coming to you, feel that panic begin to rise. I see it as I see so many other things. I look at the outfit you have chosen for your first time standing before me. I look at the heels and wonder how long they've been on. You have a suitcase that you trundled up the path, leaving it behind when you followed me into the room. I saw the way you looked at it as you left, your eyes sad like a child who's leaving a puppy behind at the vets, wondering if she will ever be reunited with it. You left almost all of your life behind to come here, I know this. I've talked you through it, nurtured it, ensured you'd tidied up as much as you could before you took this step and shared the pain of your sacrifices as the time drew nearer. What remains of your life, what was essential and irreplaceable and intimate is in that suitcase isn't it? Perhaps some photos... perhaps some personal documents which I will take for safekeeping. The clothes I will also go through, though most of them will be useless. You're in my house now and you will wear what is laid out for you. It will be some time before you're trusted to choose for yourself again because your judgement, whilst well-intentioned, is still lacking. I have laid in a small amount to be getting on with now, but your wardrobe will increase, though fashion will take a backseat to design. I look at you now, this outfit you wear. I look at the heels you perch on, your ankles already aching as you stand. I wonder when you put them on again. They would have come off on the plane and been uncomfortable even to walk on or off in. Strappy and high, they are the choice of a woman who wishes to tempt and tease and entice without looking like a slut. They have no substance, no purpose. They are trivial, decorative. Worst of all, they would appeal to the lowest common denominator of a man as a rule. From the shoes we have legs clad in black nylon. I can see by the tiny bulges under the tight fabric of your skirt that they are stockings held up by a suspender belt. I smile inwardly at this. I think that when you put them on, when you rolled them up your leg, you almost smiled at the thought of my eyes seeing them, that you would have to be exposed and vulnerable for me to do so but, most importantly, your journey would have ended and you would be here. Did that thought excite you, I wonder? Did it arouse you? I would think so. Does it now? Do you feel the heat between your legs now, stood here, waiting, perched on those uncomfortable heels? Where's the romance, where's the swept-off-your feet soft-focus feeling you were banking on? Only been here a short while and already it feels unlike anything you thought it would, doesn't it. Already you're regretting the decision, wondering how to get out of it, how to extricate yourself from it before it goes too far. I see that rising panic in your eyes. The reason you raised your head is so I can see what you're thinking by following your eyes. Looking at the windows? Locked. The door is locked because I made a point of doing so after I closed it behind you, making sure you had stopped walking on the bare wooden floor before allowing the snap of the lock to echo through the room. There's a door behind me though, and you don't know what lies beyond it. I can see you focus on it; see your eyes calculating the distance to it and past me. You're very close to deciding now, aren't you? Very close to opening your mouth and starting to explain how you've made a mistake, that you're very sorry and blah, blah, blah. Perhaps you'll start to talk, trying to get my eyes to focus on your words instead of the fact you're edging towards what you hope is a way out. But you don't know what's behind that door, do you now? Nervous now, too, aren't you? Breathing rate going up, chest rising and falling under your likely expensive white silk blouse to go with your tight skirt. There's a flush to your skin now and you've licked your lips three times already. Oh yes... I can almost smell it on you... almost see it rising off of you like heat in a cold room, waves of it. Can you feel my eyes on you? Do they make you uncomfortable? No sound... no words... no movement. You stand there, waiting and tense and afraid. I sit here looking you over, eyes slowly running up and down you, taking you in, and breathing you in. You see the smile playing on my mouth because I let you. I want you to wonder what I see in my head, what I picture and create in my mind. I stand quite suddenly and I'm pleased to see your focus snaps to me instantly, that you almost step back. You're concentrating now aren't you girl? No distractions now, are there? Eyes front and centre, pay attention, watch and learn. I walk around you, slowly, deliberately. Your fingers are twitching as you clasp your hands. There's a very slight shake to your legs from standing still in those heels whilst most of your common sense is telling you to get away. But you've stayed so far. Ah but the door... what's behind it, you wonder. Could you get out, could you get free, could you run in those heels? Could you kick them off in time? Let's up the ante a little shall we, shake the tree and see what falls out? I walk to the door, the mystery door, the door that you have built up in your mind to be your possible salvation. I feel your eyes on me as I walk to it. I open it wide so you can see the cupboard behind the door. I turn and smile at you, beckon you with a finger and you visibly have to make yourself move forward. You'd try for the door behind you if you thought there was even a chance it was unlocked. Your choices are limited and constantly narrowing down to one choice only. One choice... the primordial choice... the strongest, clearest impulse any human being possesses. You stand in front of the open door, with me stood to one side. Inside the cupboard are all the things I have spoken to you about, all the accumulations of my time in this lifestyle. Some are for pleasure, some for pain and some for both. They are there on the walls, in their own little place on their own little hooks. See them... really, truly see them. Understand the purpose of those which you recognise... understand and then visualise that purpose made real. Made real. No talk, no fantasy. Reality. Do you see the steel? The rope? The wood? The plastic? Do you feel an inkling of what will follow your acceptance of this life you believe you seek? Do you understand the invasion of your mind and body, the stripping away of layers to leave just the truth of you, bright and shiny? Do you understand how you will have to stand up to your fears and doubts and limits? You've spoken of being changed, being remade into someone else, someone perhaps perfect in at least one set of eyes but do you realise how that will happen? What must be endured? What price must be paid? And now the final touch. Do you remember when you came in? You saw a room, saw the space and wondered what it was for. You looked at nothing and wondered its purpose. You don't think to consider what was moved to make the space, what was there. You didn't even look down on the spot where you standing. If you did, you might have seen the folding O-rings screwed and recessed into the floor. Look up and you might have seen lighting tracks. Look closer and you might have seen that there were no lights in them, only four more rings, pushed back against the wall you have your back to. Open your eyes girl. I pull back the dustcovers from the furniture. You inhale sharply as you see what was under them. I'd hoped you would. Heart hammering now? Panic really starting to make itself at home? Starting to rise up like an air bubble under water... rising and rising closer to the surface. How many people know you're here? How many know of what we discussed, what we agreed, what we promised each other, and the commitment we made? Locked door... sealed window... no way out... trapped... look at the furniture... the tools and the toys. Feeling it? Coming here, eyes wide shut as the saying goes. Seeing everything, understanding nothing. Alone and vulnerable aren't you? Trust and belief cracking like ice in the heat. What have you done? What have you done? I see the bunny-in-headlamps look, frozen with something like terror as your fate bears down on you. Mind churning, trying to process what has happened, where you have ended up and what waits. I give it a few seconds; let it set in properly... And then... Our most basic animalistic choice... Fight or flight? 'This is your choice... 'Your case is where you left it. The front door is unlocked and just inside the front door is a telephone. On it is a pad with the name and address of this house and the number of a reliable cab company written on the top page. They can be here in 5 minutes. There is also some money which will pay for your ride and also go towards your air-fare. You can leave and be gone in minutes and never look back. 'Or... '... You stay. You understand what you have entered into and you see it for what it is, what must be done and what will be done. You understand that I can do all of the things we discussed, that you can become my perfection and my inspiration, that you can have a place and purpose and find your peace there, with me. All I ask is that you see the cost that comes with it, that you see the price tag and agree to pay it. 'And the price is high, child.' I leave her there, walking to the door we entered the room through, flicking it unlocked and leaving it open behind me. 'I'll be gone for 15 minutes, give or take. More than enough time for you to decide...' I walk out the door; get in my car, back out of the drive and leave. I was low on cigarettes anyway and that wouldn't do. I wonder curiously if she'll be there when I return.