That evening, everything was decided in a minute. I was arranging papers on the table when Oksana, my wife, came into the living room and stood in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes were cold and appraising.
—Anton, I have to tell you something,” she began without preamble. — Valery Semyonovich, my director, is coming to dinner tomorrow.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. We never called her superiors home.
“Of course, dear,” I replied carefully, “we need to get ready, clean up, and buy groceries.”..
“You don’t understand,— she snapped. — Valery Semyonovich won’t just come to dinner. He will come to me. Or rather, follow me. He will be my first man in the last ten years who will be able to give me what you did not give. Real, full-fledged sex.
My breath caught in my throat. Oksana was never shy, but such brutal directness was a punch in the gut for me. She was a beautiful, well-groomed brunette of thirty-four years old, with a thin waist and high elastic breasts, which were favorably emphasized by strict office outfits. Next to her, I, a perpetually slouching programmer with a potbelly and a growing bald spot, looked pale. My cock rarely reached the hardness she needed, and if it did, there was no need to talk about a full—fledged act – it all ended too quickly, leaving her alone with frustration.
“So it’s you.”.. Are you sleeping with him already? I mumbled.
— Not yet. But I will. Tomorrow. And you will take part in it. You will open the door, take his coat, set the table, and be courteous and helpful. And when we go to the bedroom, you’ll be there too. No, not for sex,” she smiled unkindly, —for service. I want you to finally understand what a real man looks like in bed. If you want to look, look. If you want to help, you’ll help. I’m not going to hide anymore. I need this man.
I was silent, stunned. There was nothing to object. She knew my weakness, she knew my guilt towards her. I loved Oksana more than my life. And he agreed.
The next day, at seven o’clock sharp, the doorbell rang. I opened it. Valery Semyonovich stood on the threshold, a tall, broad—shouldered man with light gray hair, dressed in an expensive suit. He was about fifty, but he looked powerful, confident, and exuded the same predatory masculine energy that I was completely deprived of. He was holding a bouquet of red roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
—Good evening, Anton,” he said in a deep baritone voice, walking into the apartment without a trace of embarrassment, as the master of the situation, which, however, he was. — Is Oksana at home?
—Yes… yes, come in,” I fussed, taking his things.
Oksana floated out into the living room, dressed in a black sheath dress that hugged her figure so tightly that it seemed like it would burst with a single movement. When she saw Valery Semyonovich, she blossomed, went up and kissed him on the lips — not on the cheek, but on the lips, with a long, promising kiss. I stood next to his coat in my hands, feeling a wave of burning, paralyzing humiliation spread inside.
I set the table and poured the wine. Dinner was going strangely. The three of us were sitting in our cozy kitchen, but there were only two people at the table. They talked about work, vacations, and some mutual acquaintances, and every now and then he put his big hand on her slender arm, and she laughed, throwing back her head, showing her slender neck. They didn’t notice me. I was an empty place.
At some point, Valery Semenovich stopped being shy. He put his hand on Oksana’s back, slowly led her down to her buttocks, and squeezed them through the thin fabric of her dress. Oksana gasped softly and reached out to him herself. Their lips met in a greedy, wet kiss. He put his hand into the neckline of her dress, pulling out her tight breasts with a dark pea of a nipple, and began to massage her, roughly, hard, squeezing until the knuckles turned white.
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she breathed, pulling away from his lips.
As if in a dream, I followed them.
They didn’t lock themselves in. On the contrary, they opened the door wider. As if inviting me to a performance.
Valery Semenovich undressed my wife expertly, like unpacking an expensive gift. First, the dress fell to the floor, revealing a black lace set. Then there were the panties, which he simply pulled off in one motion, forcing her to step over them. Left in only her bra, she knelt down in front of him. Her slender fingers hastily unbuttoned his trousers. A penis burst out that I could never have imagined — a thick, fleshy trunk with bluish veins and a large purple head. He was huge, and the sight of him made my stomach turn nasty.
Oksana looked at this instrument with awe, almost with hunger. She took it in her palm, stroked it like a rare animal, and, sticking out her tongue, began to lick it from the scrotum to the head. Valery Semenovich stood with his legs wide apart and stroked her hair, from time to time pressing on the back of her head, forcing her to take it deeper. She choked and coughed, but continued with a tenacity that I had never noticed in her. She’s never taken off my dick like that.
After a few minutes, he picked her up, turned her around, and simply threw her onto the bed, face down in the covers, kneeling on her knees and spreading her thighs wide. Her cunt opened up in front of me, glistening with lube, wet and thirsty. I stood in the doorway, unable to look away.
—Come here,— Oksana commanded, turning to me. “Sit in the chair.” Look.
I obediently sank into a chair in the corner of the bedroom. Meanwhile, Valery Semenovich got behind her and, without any preparation, abruptly, like an animal, entered her. My wife screamed loudly in her throat and moaned. Her moans were not theatrical, as with me, but deep, coming from somewhere in her stomach.
He started to move. His powerful hips slapped against her buttocks with a wet slap, increasing the pace. I saw everything in great detail — how her swollen little lips greedily encircle his shaft, how the entrance stretches, how every thrust reverberates through her body. He was hitting her hard, hard, without a trace of tenderness, and judging by her screams, that was exactly what she needed. Oksana screamed into the pillow, moaned, her hands crumpled the sheet, and he grabbed her by the hips, as if by the steering wheel, hammered his machine into her.
—That’s it, Oksana, that’s it, good girl,” he growled. — Tell your dollmaker how good you feel!
—Ah, Antosha,— she moaned, turning her flushed face wet with tears and sweat to me, “do you see?.. Do you see how they fuck me?.. That’s for me… nobody… never…
I was barely breathing. My own cock was trembling slightly in my pants, but I was afraid to even touch it, as if it might scare off their bestial action. Meanwhile, Valery Semenovich changed his position. He turned her over on her back, threw her long legs over his shoulders and entered again, this time from above, looming over her with all his weight. The bed creaked pitifully in time with his powerful frictions. I could see her breasts quivering, her body writhing, taking in the ruthless club.
After what seemed like an eternity, she screamed. Loud, long-drawn, on one note. Her body arched, her muscles clenched in a spasm, she trembled slightly, clutching his powerful shoulders with her nails. Her orgasm hit her in a crushing wave. Valery Semyonovich, a long-time low sexpornotales.me A deep growl came out of her and, grabbing the back of her head, pulled her up to his groin. Oksana, still floating in ecstasy, obediently opened her mouth. He released a stream of thick, white cum on her lips, on her tongue, on her chin. She swallowed, choked, but looked up at him with an adoring gaze.
Finally, he pulled away, sat on the edge of the bed, and, breathing heavily, stroked her damp hair. Oksana slid off the bed and settled down at his feet, resting her head on his knee.
—Anton,— she called hoarsely, —bring a towel and champagne.” Valery Semyonovich needs to regain his strength. And… bring that fruit dish that we bought.
I rushed to do it. Fussily, I brought everything on a tray and put it on the bedside table. My wife, completely naked, was lying next to him, relaxed and happy as a cat.
“Tired of standing?” Valery Semyonovich asked, looking at me like a strange animal, and sipped from his glass. “Sit down.” Did you see everything?
—Y-yes,— I nodded.
— Well done. A good husband. Now listen. Your wife has a great body, but she needs constant, high-quality care. What you can give is not enough. That’s why I’m going to fuck her regularly. You don’t mind, do you, Anton? Do you want your wife to be satisfied?
I looked at Oksana. She was smiling at me, but it wasn’t a kind smile, but the commanding smile of a hostess who had finally found a way to tame her property.
—Yes,— I replied quietly. “I want to.”
“That’s great. And now, since you’re here anyway,” he nodded at Oksana’s crumpled, wet crotch, from which the remnants of his semen were still dripping onto the bedspread, —put it in order. Lick it.
Oksana laughed approvingly and, languidly spreading her legs, beckoned me with her finger. I knelt in front of the bed, bent down to her groin, inhaling the sharp, musky smell of their sex, and began to lick the warm, salty-tart remnants of someone else’s semen from my wife’s swollen, still throbbing lips. She sighed blissfully and ran her fingers through my hair, controlling my head like a joystick.
“It’s all right now,” she whispered. — Now everything will be new for us. By the way, next time Valery Semenovich may not be alone. He needs a business partner, and, as he says, an entertainment partner. You don’t mind, do you, Antosh? You’re going to be an obedient boy, aren’t you?..