After making your cock explode in my mouth with a mind-numbing blow job, I get up from my knees and leave you in your seat to revel in my having drained your balls once again. I go to your liquor cabinet to mix myself a martini. “That’s my wife’s favorite vodka and that is our last bottle of it!” “So, you think I give a fuck?” You stutter a bit with your sullen reply, “I..I..I just don’t want to hear crap from her.” I roll my eyes and pop an olive in my mouth before I shake my drink. “I just gave you the best head of your life. Don’t be petty. What’s hers is mine; I’ve told you that before.”
You digest this for a moment, remembering that I promised to make you cum twice tonight (see last week’s blog). Had I asked you if I could have a cocktail before making you cum, you wouldn’t have hesitated, wife be damned. If I pulled your cock out of my mouth when I had you in the throes of ecstasy, you would have volunteered to pull the wedding ring off of her finger and given it to me if you thought I wanted it. Now that you’ve cum, your mind’s knee jerk reaction is to protect HER. This won’t do, not one bit.
Seeing the consternation on your face, and realizing that you’ve relented, I let it go for now. “Come on babe, have a drink with me.” I bring you a glass and situate myself next to you on the sofa. We cuddle for a bit, and engage in mindless small talk for a while. You turn on the television and we begin enjoying a movie together.
About an hour into the movie, the scene turns hot, with a girl showing off her goods to a man that she’s trying to seduce. He doesn’t fall for it, rebuffing her advances. “You’d never be able to do that to me, babe,” I assert. You nod in agreement. “As a matter of fact, this is a good time to put the movie on pause and segue towards what I’ve been planning for some time.”
I order you to take your pants off and suddenly they’re on the floor in record time. From my bag, I pull a small bottle of lube, pour a generous amount in my hand, and moisten up your raging hard cock. Just my sitting next to you on the couch, stroking my nails over the tip through your pants was driving you crazy. You rebooted quickly and were ready for round two. I stroke you gently with both hands, frequently leaning in to kiss the tip. My magical hands and lips have you dripping pre-cum within seconds. You throw your head back and let out a moan.
Just when I think you are close to exploding, I hit you with my plan. I stand up, kiss your neck several times, gently sucking on your ear lobe, and whisper, “honey, I want something from you, something that’s extremely important to me and would show me how devoted you are to me.”
“What?” You open your eyes and stare into mine as you breathe aloud. “I want you to hand over your wife.” You are startled, your cock quivers a little. I can tell you’re nervous despite how worked up I’ve made you. “What do you mean? Do you want to go shopping in her jewelry box?” I lock eyes with you. “I actually hadn’t considered that, but the thought is a pleasant one. However, your offer isn’t really where I was going with this.” I can see the fear and uncertainly on your face, but you reply, “Well, if that’s what you’d like to do, I’m powerless to say no.”
“I know babe, I know. Thank you for that. Perhaps just before I leave I’ll help myself to something I can wear a few times before selling it.” Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Your cock, still hard and throbbing with the rapid pace of your heart is happily nestled within my warm, massaging hand. I apply more lube and play with it a bit more, leaving you on the edge of your seat, anxious to know what I want. “That’s enough for now.” I relinquish control of your cock, grab your pants from the floor, and wipe my hands so I can reach into my bag. I search around inside a bit and finally find my phone. You’re almost completely appalled to watch me ignore you and send a text message to someone.
“What’s going on? What are you doing? Ashlee!”
There’s a knock at the door and I send another text. You hear the sound of the door opening, and then shut. The footsteps get louder, until the muscular brute who was staring at your wife outside the restaurant earlier is looking at you face to face. “Meet Zach. I want your blessing for him to ingratiate himself onto and into your wife.”
To be continued…