Kurt is back in town and coming to visit and fuck his wife
My wife Gerta had baked chocolate cookies, my favorite, and they were now on a plate on the kitchen table, still nice and hot, their fragrance filling the room. She was sitting there in just a low-cut top that barely contained her huge bust, and shorts that looked ready to burst from the size of her double-wide butt. I had just finished washing all the dishes, which is one of my regular chores, and thought I deserved a reward, so I reached for a cookie.
“Hey!” she barked as she slapped my hand so hard that it felt like I’d been burned. “Those aren’t for you.” She picked up a cookie and bit it in half, happily chewing and swallowing. “Those are for ME. And for Kurt.”
“K… Kurt? He’s back in town?”
“Yeah. And he’s coming over for a visit in about an hour.” She popped the remainder of the cookie between her thick lips, at the same time glaring at me, challenging me to defy her wishes.
In a wimpy voice I said, “But dear, I love you. All I want to do is please you. Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s enough to keep the house clean. And the bills paid. But you’re a complete loser in bed. That’s why all I let you do is use your mouth on me. And why I don’t usually do anything about your needs.” She smiled devilishly. “Keeping you horny makes you a better pussy eater. Doesn’t it?”
Just the thought of having my head between her heavy thighs and my mouth on her pussy turned me on. When that’s all your allowed to do with your wife, it gets to be the center of your sex life and you start to crave it. In the beginning it bothered me, especially since Gerta isn’t fastidious about her personal hygiene down there, if you know what I mean. And I still don’t like the sour fishy taste it gives her. But she’s gotten me addicted to having my tongue inside her so I just have to ignore that awful smell and flavor.
She went on, “But I need a real cock to keep me happy. And that’s what Kurt has. Not like that little pee-wee you’re sporting.” She laughed cruelly at my lack of a desirable penis. “So it’s good that he’s stopping by. Don’t you think so?”
I wanted to tell her again that I loved her but was afraid of setting off her short temper. So I just mumbled something about her happiness being what was most important. She smirked at me, at my weakness, and then her expression grew into a wicked grin, which was what she got when she was hurting me. My heart was breaking but, just gazing at her overly full curves, my tiny dick was twitching. All I had on was a pair of jockey shorts, bright yellow ones that she insisted on buying me because she liked how unmanly they were and because they showed off my lack of an adult cock. I just wished she would treat me better and let me hug her and maybe even kiss her on the mouth. But my wife is very stingy with her affections, at least when it comes to me. So I just sighed and asked her what other chores she would like me to do before Kurt arrived.
“You’d better make sure the bathroom is spotless.”
“Yes, dear. I’ll do that right away.”
As I went through the house I picked up candy wrappers, paper plates, and soda cans that she had left in her wake. Gerta always does that, confident that I’ll tidy up after her. If I don’t, I risk getting punched in the upper arm or even slapped across the face. She’s bigger than me and definatly heavier, so she can hit hard enough to leave me sore. I got busy in the bathroom and heard her moving to the bedroom, no doubt to prepare for Kurt’s arrival.
She had known him before she met me. While we were dating she would often compare us, letting me know how superior he was in so many ways, especially when it came to sex. But she said that she liked me because I was so nice to her, because I spoiled her, and because I put her desires first in bed. I was in love with her, obsessed with her overblown contours, those fleshy lips, and her long red-blond hair. Just being around her was a constant turn-on. And I kept telling myself that once we were married I would be allowed real sex with her, instead of only being permitted to put the tip of my undersized member against her moist pussy and insert the head a few times, which always triggered my orgasm much too soon. She would joke about my ‘premature problem’ and say that there was no point offering to allow me all the way in because I would finish before I could get there.
Gerta also got me to admit that I was a virgin and declared that, because I had never gotten fully inside her, I still had that status. She found it funny and would mention it when we went to bed, which made me feel bad and even less likely to assert myself. After she had my sex life totally under her control, she delighted in getting me to squirt all over her pussy lips and then make me lap up my mess as I worked toward giving her a climax. And then another. And another. But what else could I do? I was beyond infatuated with my queen-sized girlfriend, and when she announced that it was time for us to wed, I gratefully went along with it.
To my disappointment, the way we had sex remained the same, although she didn’t bother to finish me as often. And she also introduced a new form of foreplay, which was her lying on her plump tummy while I buried my face between her massive buttocks and used my mouth on her rear opening. It was disgusting but she only had to mention the possibility of having our marriage anulled once to make me not complain. My new bride manipulated me expertly, giving my immature dick a few strokes with her chubby fingers, letting me suck her thick nipples occasionally, and lying around the house half-naked, all of which kept me primed for the releases she allowed me ever more rarely. I had blue balls most of the time and, when I was finally allowed to empty them, had to slurp up my own cream from her unwashed pussy.
And then Kurt had come to town because the company he worked for had gotten a client nearby. He contacted Gerta and they went out for a drink. “Just for old times sake.” When she got back it was after midnight, she was dishevelled and her hair was mussed. I was too heartbroken to ask her to confirm what was already obvious. She had gone to bed with Kurt and he had shoved his enviable cock into her, given her a long ride on it, and they had both enjoyed it immensely. I was devastated. How could she do that if — at some level — she really loved me?
It went on for several months, with him calling her every other weekend, when he came around to service the account. And to service my wife. My heart got broken again every time. To add more indignity, she would come home and insist that I use my mouth on her. Gerta’s pussy would be slimed with her lover’s cream. It made me sick to my stomach but I wasn’t confident enough to confront her about her infidelity. I had been turned into a cuckold by my voluptuous wife but was too addicted to her voluminous curves to do anything about it.
Then that account had been transferred to someone else so Kurt could open up a new territory elsewhere. I was so relieved. It seemed like a perfect chance for me to reverse all the damage her affair had done and maybe — just maybe — at last convince her to have real sex with me and eliminate my virginity. But now he was returning. When I went to the bedroom door to let her know that the bathroom was sparkling clean, she told me that he had done such a great job establishing new accounts that the company had given him a huge bonus and generous raise and that, at his request, returned the local account to him. In other words, she would be seeing Kurt on a regular basis once more.
She told me to go to the guest bedroom and see what she had laid out for me on the bed. It was another pair of jockey shorts, but these ones were pale red, bordering on pink. There was a matching sleeveless undershirt in the same color, and it was designed so that it would come down only to the middle of my narrow chest and leave my soft belly exposed. Feeling humiliated already, even though no one was there to see how unmanly the underwear made me appear, I put them on and checked myself in the full length mirror. Then I went to give my wife a look. She laughed openly at me and said that Kurt would find it funny too.
What she had put on was a brief top with no bra under it and a short skirt that left her fat but shapely legs uncovered. She sat on the edge of the bed and had me slip stockings up her legs, which got me aroused but upset me at the same time, because I knew that soon Kurt would be admiring them and stroking his hands over their silky, somewhat shiny surfaces. Gerta had me get the pair of shoes that was under the bed, new ones that were bright crimson and had two inch block heels. I put them on her feet and buckled them. She flipped up the hem of her skirt and I saw that she had on no panties.
“You know why?” she asked. “Because I think Kurt will want me to leave on the shoes and stockings when we screw. So this way I can just pull up my top to get my tits out, and lay back and yank the skirt out of the way. Instant access for his huge tool.” She laughed. “But if I’m going to act like such a slut, I should put on some whorish make-up. You can watch and tell me if it’s trashy enough.”
She sat on her vanity chair, which was small, and her butt spread out over the sides of the seat. Gerta used too much eye shadow and liner, lots of rouge, and enough lipstick to make her big mouth a scarlet invitation to raw sex. She put her hands behind her head and shoved her bust at me. In her armpits there was a shadow of hair because she hadn’t shaved them recently enough. Not that Kurt would care. He was just interested in a good time with plenty of loud and animated humping.
Gerta had me put out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the kitchen counter, and make sure there were cans of soda in the refridgerator and plenty of ice in the freezer compartment. Then came Kurt’s loud knock on the front door. She went to answer it, with me trailing along behind, unable to take my eyes off her rolling rump. She opened the door and he stepped right into her waiting arms. They embraced and locked lips, sharing a long deep kiss. It was so hurtful to me but I knew, as they seperated and my wife’s eyes went directly to my face to see how distressed my expression was, that Gerta liked it that way and would do everything she could to demonstrate how little she cared about my happiness.
He made them drinks and they sat on the sofa. Kurt had me turn on the TV so he could catch up on the sports scores. While they sipped from their glasses he ran one hand up and down her thigh, telling her that maybe he should give her twenty bucks before he slammed her, because she looked like a tawdry hooker. My wife laughed and rubbed his crotch through his trousers, telling him that she WAS like a cheap hooker, except that she adored his long thick cock so much that she would never charge him to shove it into her. He said that maybe she should start charging ME for the privilige of doing anything to her, even if it was just lapping her pussy. She thought that was terrific idea but pointed out that she already took all of my money and gave me only a miniscule allowance.
Kurt took a better look at the ridiculous underwear I had on and snorted derivisvly. He said that, since I couldn’t pay for being allowed to touch her, maybe I could do something else, like shine his shoes or wash his car. She thought that would be perfect and had me unlace and remove his shoes right then, and go and get a buffing brush that was in the hall closet. While they kissed and ran their hands over each other, I had to kneel in front of them, using the padded brush on his large shoes, doing them over and over while my bride prepared to cheat on me… again.
All too soon they were ready to move to the bedroom. I had to follow them and then watch as she undressed him, revealing his impressive cock. As Gerta had predicted, he wanted her on the bed, still dressed, so he could mount her at once. She was only too happy to comply, speading her full legs extra wide to add to the image of her as a prostitute. Kurt had a sadistic idea. He wanted me to give my wife’s pussy a few licks to get it nice and wet for him. She thought that was hilariously funny and laughed at me while I did it. Then Kurt made me get off the bed and stand nearby, where I could see everything that took place. My wife ordered me to lower my shorts to mid-thigh, so we could all see my ‘mini-dick’ and be reminded of why she needed a real man like Kurt.
So there I stayed, feeling ridiculous, having to witenss my wife’s willing ravishment. They went at it for a full hour, with her being thrilled by two noisy orgasms and then, at the end, the two of them finishing together as she moaned and kept telling him how fantastic he was and what a loser I was. It was the most mortifiying thing I had ever undergone and, at the same time, made me yearn more than ever to somehow make her understand how much I loved her and wanted her for myself alone.
But as they lay there in each other’s arms, murmuring soft words of affection, my wishes seemed more hopeless than before. But what could I do? I was incapable of NOT loving her and she was determined to keep toying with me, tormenting me, and using me as her personal sex toy when Kurt wasn’t around. And I was too deeply under the spell of romance — even if it was only a dream doomed to be endlessly thwarted — to ever escape.
That message was driven home even more disturbingly as she called to me in a soft sl**py voice, “Get your mouth on my pussy, loser-boy, and lick up that gigantic mess that Kurt left there. Make it all nice and clean. And if you get me to cum again, that’d be okay too.”
They shared another laugh at my expense and, as I began the sickening task, tasting and swallowing his plentiful salty ejaculate, the lovers kissed once more. I turned my eyes upward as I worked my tongue and saw one of his broad hands on her bare breast, gently squeezing, his fingers nipple-rolling. She purred appreciatively and put her smaller hand over his. Had he not only stolen my bride but made love him as well?