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Handing her off, pt I--
They had learned fairly early on in their marriage that Ronnie sometimes needed something Tim couldn’t provide. Though she liked him for being sweet and caring about her, she sometimes fantasized about someone stronger, a man who would take her powerfully, even maybe dominate her a bit-a little spanking, a little tying up, that kind of thing. Tim tried, a few times, but they soon realized this just wasn’t really in his nature; his efforts were always a little forced, too false to really satisfy the itch she was developing.
She had no desire to leave him. She loved him very much, and sometimes his more gentle, solicitous way of making
was just what she needed. They had first fallen in
, after all, when she was on the rebound from a guy who had been a bit abusive-Jimmy, a football player at their college, trite as that was. That kind of guy had always excited her and revolted her in almost equal measure, but when she’d found out he’d screwed her roommate, she got angry and dumped him. Timmy, a more intellectual guy who’d asked her out a few times, was funny and interesting to talk to, and they dated, and had sex-good sex; he’d always been so solicitous and he worshipped her body in a way that made her feel so sexy and desirable. Loved coming down on her, which she’d never really had done so well before. They’d fallen in
, married soon after graduation.
But while it was good for her for the first year or so, she started having those feelings again. “Can’t you be, I don’t know, a little more rough with me sometimes?” He tried, but he just couldn’t carry it off.
And meanwhile, some of the guys in their circle seemed like the kind she used to go with. What’s worse, they seemed interested in her, and to sense some kind of willingness or availability in her despite her wedding ring. Though she didn’t want to hurt Timmy and she really did want to honor her vows, she couldn’t seem to help sending signals.
The first time she cheated on Tim was during one of their summer pool parties. It had gotten to be a bit of a regular thing, these Friday night get-togethers, and for whatever reason a lot of people had shown up this time, maybe fifty, co-workers as well as neighbors, enough that you could get lost in the crowd.
Derek, a guy from Timmy’s office, had just kind of taken control of her in that old way she found so alluring. There had been a few looks, a few words, earlier on in the night. He had looked at her in a way that made her know he wanted her, and she had found it impossible not to respond, that little sidelong glance that had always worked to signal her interest back when she was single. But now, the fact of being married made it even more of a thrill. The two of them playing an illicit little game, right out in public. The fact that she belonged to someone else added a whole new layer of naughtiness and thrill to the fun of flirtation. She’d felt those feelings before, but whether it was the drink or Derek or the phase of the moon she felt herself being carried along-her sensible self-admonitions to break it off, stop playing with fire just couldn’t seem to get any purchase.
Exciting to let her eyes return his stare: not cheating yet! Exciting to let him see her gazing at the bulge in his swim suit, then raise her eyes to his, lift one eyebrow. Both of them smiling at the silent little joke, shared across the unknowing circle of people around them. So exciting, but not actually cheating, no, not yet.
But then, later, in the pool, while she watched Timmy-quite drunk-doing one of his little routines before an appreciative group in the room off the patio, Derek had joined her in the water. Had come up behind her. His hands on her tits under the water, barely hidden if anyone cared to look, though at the moment no one did. His thing, hard against her bottom. Exciting, the feel of the sleek spandex-sheathed bulge of him sliding against her spandex-tight little rear. almost more exciting than being naked.
“But Derek,” she whispered, her own words exciting her, “I’m married, we mustn’t.” For it would be a terrible, slutty and naughty thing to let herself be taken, let herself be fucked by this aggressive, smoothly confident guy-let him illicitly fuck her, use her for his pleasure in some out of the way place while her husband was otherwise occupied.
His low, knowing chuckle, the two of them watching her husband carrying on as Derek took her hand and pulled it down onto him. And it was big, really just sexy and nice and big, the way she liked and hadn’t felt for so long. Timmy’s nice, appropriate, non-intimidating college-boy cock, a good cock for a husband-but this thing was bigger, an engine, a heavy, sexy fuck engine in the slippery bathing suit. Big for her and wanting her. He wants to put that thing in me, she thought, a pleasurable shiver running down her spine.
“Where can we go?” Derek said, kissing that spot behind her ear. Making her shiver again, her tits weightless in his hands, nipples fiercely erect as she felt his cock, squeezed it.
“Guest room. Over the garage.” His hands squeezing her tits as she spoke, taking possession of them, of her. “Use the side door, so no one sees you. I’ll go first, then you follow.”
They fucked like animals, charged by the thrill of adultery, the added dimension that gave to every move-she’d never been so sensitive, the intensity of every least little caress and gesture amplified by the knowledge that she was cheating on Tim and the man she was with knew it. And for Derek, obviously, the thrill of taking another man’s possession, fucking another man’s wife. It thrilled her that he liked that, that it excited him to steal what belonged to another, to assume his entitlement to her despite her wedding ring. It went through her like a bolt of lightning every time he touched her. She let him know she wanted it hard from him, rough. Her hands over her head, wrists crossed. “Tie me.” He used her damp bikini panties, improvised a knot. Kneeling by her to do it, his cock jutting out near her face. She stretched her neck to kiss it. He held her hands, tied above her head as she strained to kiss his cock, lick it, suck it. Sounds of her excitement revving them both; sounds of the party rising and falling-music, laughter, Timmy’s slightly slurred voice telling another joke. “Fuck me,” she gasped. “Fuck me hard. Now.” He gave her a look: she wasn’t giving the orders here. “Please,” she gasped, shifting her tone. Begging. “Please take me. Please be my lover. Please fuck me.”
The verbal thing-she’d never realized how exciting that could be-things she’d only said in her head before. Take me, Fuck me. And worse things, exciting things. Fuck this cunt. Big cock. Bigger than my husband. Fuck me, big cock.
Perhaps because they had tried this, early on, and it hadn’t worked-she and Tim-perhaps that explained what happened. The little talk she had with him, a week or so after she’d started having an affair with Derek. Somehow she just found herself edging up to the topic, and then passing the edge: talking about how he knew she sometimes needed something a little different, something he couldn’t really provide; reminding him how he’d caught her on the rebound, back when they’d first met-they’d discussed that before: that he was different from her other lovers. This same talk they’d had before, but a little more explicit this time: that nice as he was, she increasingly felt the need for what she used to have. That it would be nice if she could have that, not instead of the kind of stability and caring
he provided but in addition to it. As she spoke, she saw the realization dawning in his eyes. But he seemed to be handling it okay.
As she saw it, she explained, there was no reason this need of hers had to be a big problem, a growing tension in their marriage. Instead, what if she found someone, saw someone who provided that other kind of intensity she needed. It would be nicer if she didn’t have to worry about it when she was with Tim-wanting something different from what he did for her. Better if he knew that just, sometimes, well, she was taken care of that way. If he just understood about her needs. If she could just trust him in this, trust his
for her, that he would not object when she told him that she’d found this guy who was perfect for her in this other way, and would like to see him, occasionally. She was sure Timmy would understand that it was something she was doing to rescue their marriage, not threaten it-this was something that would make her happy and free her up to be loving and accepting of Tim, instead of being impatient about it sometimes, the way she’d been feeling.
He’d been a little reserved, after that, but on the whole, she thought he took it rather well.
And so it had been fine, at first-wonderful, in fact. A few times a week, she and Derek got together, and Timmy was resolved to be okay about it. No reason to make a big deal about it, or bring it to his attention particularly, but no need to hide it either. A nice arrangement for her. Though of course it was in the nature of things to evolve.
Handing Her Off--pt. II
The games she played with Derek were very different from what she did with Tim when they were intimate. With Tim, she wanted to be loved and cherished, worshipped like an object of devotion. With Derek, she wanted to be taken, tied and spanked, thrown down and roughly fucked, pumped like the cheating little slut she was.
At first, these two tracks ran in parallel, never touching. Loving wife, cheating adulteress. Yet it was inevitable that there was some cross-over. She dressed differently for Derek. Seeing her on her way out to meet him, Timmy could hardly be unaware of the fact. Catching his look, she said, “He likes me like this.” A little spandex mini, a revealing tube-top, high heels to shape her legs and thighs, her tight little ass. Blocky black shoes and white thigh-highs, like a schoolgirl. Derek took her out like this, wanting to show her off-the wedding ring she wore, and his lack of one making the nature of their relationship plain to any waiter or casual observer who cared to notice. It was just a game, part of the excitement, the new corners of herself she was exploring. Knowing Timmy was there for her made it safe for her to go farther with these feelings than she had back in college. She explained this, they actually talked about it. How she felt with Derek, how that relationship was evolving-it was natural enough, wasn’t it, that she should want to share that with her husband.
Inevitably, the two tracks began to converge. Timmy being such a loving, devoted, worshipful husband; it was easy for things to start to slide in a certain direction. Ronnie the slut-wife sex-slave her lover used for his pleasure and her husband worshipped as a goddess. There was a sense in which her husband, in serving her, was also serving her master. She began to think of it in those terms, and hard as she tried to keep things separate, these thoughts increasingly crept into her relationship with Timmy.
One of the first ways in which this began to come out in the open was when Derek told her he wanted her to shave her cunt for him. It was a marker, a symbolic gesture. Something she could do to mark herself as his possession. But Timmy would notice, she objected, fascinated by the idea. Of course, Derek replied. “That’s why you’re going to do it. When the two of you are together, you’ll have to be aware of us, too. Of what you are. I want you both to have to think about it, when you’re together.” And besides, he said, it was only proper that an odalisque, a possession of this kind should keep its cunt completely shaved.
It both scared and excited her, the afternoon she did it, that Timmy would see it and know what it meant. Would he be upset, would he object? In fact, his own response fascinated him almost as much as it fascinated her. This most intimate reminder that she also belonged to another tormented him, maddened him with excitement. To kiss her there, now, the way he loved, took on a whole knew dimension of meaning. Worshipping her not just as his beautiful wife, but as the slut-goddess possession of her master. It excited her to enact this reminder with him, to have this power over him, at least during the special, set-aside moments of their intimacy together. Parallel lines: the daylight lives they led, no overt indication of their unusual marital situation; but alone in the bedroom, it was increasingly out into the open, becoming part of things.
Those daylight lines, too, began to converge. Derek had given her a necklace, a platinum choker-style chain with a single green emerald. She was to wear it all the time, not just when she was with him. Others might assume it was a gift from her husband, but in fact it symbolized something completely different. And her husband knew what it really was, that she had promised her “master” she would wear it. Meanwhile, it had become his duty, his rite of obeisance, to keep her mons pure and smooth of any hair or stubble. And while he loved how smooth it was when he kissed it, it was quite explicitly something done at the command and for the pleasure of her lover.
These things hurt and tormented him, when he thought about them from the perspective of his life outside the bedroom, yet at the same time there was a new dimension, a new excitement in their intimacy together as husband and wife that had not been there before, and there was no denying it.
Things had been at this level, something of a plateau, for a few months, when Derek again raised the intensity.
He wanted to use her as, well, an asset, a business asset. He wanted to loan her out to select clients-a special offer, a deal-closer.
It was a big step. On some level, the whole slut-wife, sex-slave thing had been a game, a role she’d been playing. This would take it to quite another level of reality. To be handed off as a possession, loaned out as a special perk to some powerful client Derek wanted to snag, some deal in which he needed a special edge to ace out a competing firm, whatever. It scared her-what if she didn’t care for the person, what if he didn’t care for her-what if she didn’t please him? And what about Timmy-should she keep this secret from him, or could he handle it? At the same time, the thought of it, the reality of it, stung like Derek’s hand when he cunt-spanked her during some moment of special sexual intensity. The sting followed by the maddening rush of heat, the tingling fury of arousal making her into an animal, a toy to be played with, helpless to resist her own lust.
She had to trust him, Derek said. He would not let a cherished possession be damaged or misused. Obviously there were clients for whom such a gift would not be appreciated, others whom he would not consider worthy of it. But often enough, he encountered men in his dealings who would appreciate not only her, but the whole surround, the whole milieu. The fact that she was so pretty, so sexy, so willing to be used, and at the same time married, a promiscuous wife, willing to be used in this way . These things made her an incredible asset, under the right circumstances, and it would be foolish not to avail himself of that. Would I take off my ring, would they know I was married, she asked, redundantly, simply for the sake of asking and hearing the answer. “Heavens no. Of course not. It is absolutely critical, a key part of the value here.”
Timmy was watching her get ready. She liked that. It excited her and she had told him so. Having him help a little, hand her things, asking his opinion-is this too much make-up, are these sexy, do you think he’ll like me in this? The teasing had become quite open. He knew she spread her legs for another man, and nothing made her feel sexier, more aware of how naughty and desirable she was than having him watch her getting ready to go out and do just that.
Only this time it was different. This time, Derek had warned her that another man would be joining them, and if things went well-if she did as she was told, and behaved herself, and didn’t shame him or herself by failing to be as alluring and attractive as she could possibly be-he was going to let this other man have her for the night.
The thought of it tickled her slut-mind, she was tingling with anticipation, the thrill of being used in this way. The guy would know she was not only Derek’s mistress but another man’s wife, yet she had accepted being handed around like a toy to play with.
All these thoughts making her feel even sexier than usual, and was Timmy picking up on that? He was being more solicitous, asking if he could put on her skin creams, checking the smoothness of her legs with a real concern for her lover’s pleasure. She had not yet decided whether he could handle being told about this new aspect of her affair. Indeed, she wasn’t entirely sure of it herself-she had never really agreed, but Derek had assumed her readiness for it and left it up to her to object. And now the thought of telling Timmy filled her with contradictory feelings: the thrill of sharing it with him, this major step, excited at the thought of having him know what a slut she was about to become at the same time fearful that the reality of it would be too much, that he would get upset and make her feel ashamed, the whole thing collapse. Yet increasingly he seemed to enjoy this aspect of their marriage, and even her teasing about it, tonight more than ever.
Heart thumping, letting the moment carry her, that lovely letting-go feeling.
“Kneel to me,” she told him, panties in hand, “kiss me. Kiss me there and I’ll tell you something nice.”
As it turned out, the event was even more liberating exciting than she had expected. The guy Derek introduced as they arrived at their table-Jason, majority shareholder of Dor-Addison Technologies-was to her surprise and curiosity a large, handsome, black man. Somehow this fact made it all so magical and thrilling, she felt very much in her role, truly out of herself, fully merging with the identity she’d been adopting: the sex toy of a masterly lover, the object he was free to use how he would, her sparkly wedding diamond transformed into a mark of her exciting depravity.
The two men largely ignoring her, talking past her as drinks and hors d’oeuvres arrived. Jokes, light politics. Sports chat, as they enjoyed their entrées. Then over coffee and dessert, business talk, the deal, what Wilson and Griffith were offering. “Of course we’d prefer to stay with Western,” Jason said. “But we’d want some assurances. Those intangibles-I can make it happen on that basis. But of course I’d want some concrete form of acknowledgment.” Under the table, Ronnie felt the warmth of his large, strong hand on the bare skin above her knee.
“As I’ve said. She’s fresh, willing, fairly well trained. Aren’t you, Ronnie?”
“If you let me,” she said, looking into Jason’s dark brown eyes, “I would try to please you.”
“And your husband,” Jason taunted, “what’s he think of this?”
“He knows I have to date other men. He loves me, but I have needs, special needs, sometimes.”
“Ever been with a black man?”
“I-no. No. But it excites me.”
“And you don’t mind being loaned out-Derek just lending you to me. You like that.”
“What pleases him… pleases me.”
Hard to talk. His fingers, strong black fingers, tracing delicately and she was hot between her legs. Outlining the shape of her cunt, but not touching it. Making her feel plump and swollen and sensitive against her panties, eager for him to touch her there.
“Little adventure for you, isn’t it. You like that, don’t you. Being a little slut. A little whore. Little toy.”
“I think I’ll leave you two now, yes?” said Derek, rising.
“She doesn’t disappoint me, I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jason said, staring into her eyes, stroking her between her legs. Like a pet. His pet. “Let you know if we have a deal.”
This letting-go, this descent into pure slutdom. Much more intense than ever before. The feeling itself was a gift her master had given her-she loved him for it. Her emotions as they went to Jason’s car swirling. This was really happening-an exciting role she was playing, only was it a role or was it real. Too late, as they got into his limousine: too late to do anything but just go with it, now, yield to the whole scenario.
Sitting next to him on the leather upholstery, shivers as he stroked her hair. His pet. His toy for the night. “Please,” she whispered, leaning forward, reaching to unzip him. “Please. Let me….”
The layered emotions were incredibly arousing. The excitement of the act itself-the novelty of the dark-skinned penis, extending itself as she touched and played-exciting in itself, pleasing it, its size and stiffness gratifying in themselves. But it was also an act of devotion toward her master. She felt that as she went down on Jason in his limousine-pure devotion toward her Derek. To please this one to whom she had been loaned was to please Derek. All would be reported back to him, so she must do her very best. Her very very very best.
Fortunately, despite her fears that she might not be good enough for him, it was all so easy. All she had to do was be as excited as she truly was. The whole situation-a married slut, willingly loaned out, so eager that she had taken the initiative here in the limousine, leaning down and unzipping him so she could take him out, explore him. The thing he had: massive, rising hugely from his lap, at least as big as Derek’s. Gleaming in the low light, the flash of streetlights passing, the shiny head, the twinkle of her engagement diamond. Moaning with unfeigned pleasure as she licked and kissed and adored it. Hearing him grunt with pleasure, as she teased and tickled with her tongue tip, then slid down over it with her mouth, deep as she could. She would be perfect for him, the perfect perfect slut.
“Will you fuck me?” she whispered, looking up at him, her lips and tongue slithering over his blunt, steely hardness. “Will you fuck me with this? Please?”
“Oh yes,” he chuckled. “Oh that’s the plan for tonight, yes indeed.”
The most exciting part, she told Timmy later, was when he took her in the ass. Something she’d recently started exploring with Derek, though only to the extent of letting him insert fingers, or the smooth plasticine dowel he’d found somewhere.
Their first fuck had been an impatient hard coupling up against the wall of his hotel room with their clothes still on. Her skirt pulled up, panties stripped off, and his trousers dropped around his feet as he lifted her and settled her on his big thing. Back against the wall, thighs around his hips as he banged her with his angry and impatient cock. Banged her and used her and pleasured himself in her. Her own pleasure not at issue: she was a tight slippery cunt providing friction for his cock, that was all. But that was the deepest pleasure-to be used like this, used by the cock. Gasping and quaking as he fucked her against the wall. Spurting her at last as he whispered “Like that, cunt? Like it? Little slut? Little cheating fuckslut?” Her cries so loud, she wondered if the night receptionist who’d looked at her so knowingly could hear her all the way down in the lobby.
The second time had been softer. They’d stripped and gone into the bath to wash and play. Big room in a luxury hotel, with its own Jacuzzi. They’d relaxed in the hot foaming water, idly fondling each other, each curious about their difference-the color thing, fascinating and sexy-his incredibly buff body, his huge cock, now relaxed and rubbery. Then it stiffened as she tickled and played with it, and they were both ready and he took her back to the king-size bed and fucked her with it again. This time starting out slow, tantalizing, teasing her with what she was doing. She lay on her back, lax, legs spread to receive him, and he on his side, right angles to her, holding her foot in the air so she could have his cock in her, staring into her eyes as he inserted himself, throbbed and pulsed and stretched her. Going slow, slow. “Like that? Like my big black dick? Like it, don’t you.” The words crude yet spoken lovingly, exciting them both. “God,” she was all she could say, whispered it again and again, so intensely aware of everything, how sweet he was, what a slut she was, a perfect perfect slut for him. Just slowly building and building until they were both just straining at it, straining to keep from going as fast as they wanted because this delicious building and awareness of her sluthood was so thrilling. Staring into each others’ eyes like lovers, but the message was what a slut she was and how that excited them both. And then “aaah, aaah, aaah,” as they both felt it becoming too late and it was okay, “Now,” she gasped, “Oh now now now” and he loosed it in her, a kind of collapsing “Uuuuuhhhhh” as it just went off and spurted one two three four five six seven, going on and on as she clenched and climaxed helplessly on it.
They’d dozed for a while, happy and warm and satisfied, and she’d thought at some point she’d need to rise and dress, a whore finished with her business-that would be sort of a thrill too. But enough just to drift in his arms for a while. And she did drift off, at some point, because she woke to his touch, to his hands caressing her thighs, her rear. His big thing hard again, back there, hard against her as his hands moved to her tits, then down to her cunt, slick with the orgasms he’d already jetted so powerfully into her. She’d lifted her leg to invite him in again, and he teased her, slicking himself in the wetness flowing so freely and easily from her. And she’d reached down for him, and some impulse to do the sluttiest thing, to be the perfect slut for him prompted her to push it backwards, slippery and huge and blunt to the rubbery little ring of her rear. His grunt of recognition, what she wanted, his hands taking her cheeks, squeezing and pulling apart, opening her. Ronnie relaxing, the way she’d learned with Derek, fingers guiding him and he grunted again as he pushed and the rubbery little ring stretched. So slick and wet back there, the hugeness of it scary but nothing could stop it now-the ring stretching to accept his slick bluntness. Her gasp as she arched and pushed, wanting this final obscene invasion. The stretching becoming fire, the fire becoming pleasure and the gasping sudden rush of him as he slid into her.
So exciting, she told Timmy later, just transcendently exciting to be taken like this for the first time, the first time fucked in her ass by this huge black cock, this cock she’d been loaned to for the night. She had doubted she could actually come like this-how wrong she was. It was so deeply stretching and satisfyingly obscene-arching her back, thrusting back onto it, onto the ass-fucking-and it touched that good spot in her, touched it through the membrane of her ass, and it was so abandoned and obscene that she was just easily able to come again and again, several times before he finally did. Rising up on his fists, his hips slapping her ass as she ground her face into the covers. His rampant engine of a cock pumping her in her ass and his words exciting them: “You are a slut,” he gasped, as if discovering it for the first time, “my god, what a perfect little slut you are,” and then going hard and fast in her: “Like it? Like it like that, don’t you. Little slut. Little whore.”
“Will I see you again?” he asked as she got ready to leave, an hour or so later.
“That’s up to him.”
“Yeah, but do you want to, is what I’m asking. I mean, you liked that, didn’t you. Us.”
This was hard for her. He was going outside the frame, dropping the scenario.
“If he says yes…. I would be pleased.”
Jason laughed, pulling her closer to the bed. She stood looking down at him, his hands sliding up to her ass. “Yeah, but what if he doesn’t? If I call you. If I decide I want you again. I mean, you being married, too-doesn’t stop… all this.”
A little dilemma. She'd have to think about it for a few days….
