Inspiration is known to come from many sources, most of which us ‘writers’ can’t explain at the best of times. (Wait, isn’t that an oxymoron?) It results in a feeling, a flow, sometimes an unknown connection that somehow rises to the surface amongst the muck of life, a beacon to a means. I guess what I’m trying to say is that sometimes “the shit just has to come out.” Eloquent, I am not.
I’m lucky enough to call the inspiration for this story a friend of mine. Thank you for keeping me company on a daily basis. Thank you for being you. Thank you, more than anything, for accepting me, warts and all, and for calling me a friend. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it for you.
He watches quietly from across the room, taking in every inch of the scene played out before him. He sips his whiskey in the corner, the thick liquid rolling on his tongue, the warmth rushing through his body. Her toes barely touch the gleaming amber wood floor, the muscles in her legs quivering as she struggles to keep her balance while perched over the arm of the leather sofa. He studies the length of her milky thighs until his gaze lingers at the round of her rump, the thin material of the thong already damp against her flesh. A smirk crosses his face as he inspects the now raised welts across her arse, speculating to himself if he pushed her too hard in his zeal with the cane. Her wrists are bound, her fists clenched as she concentrates on the task before her. He watches intently as the object of his lust greedily savors the sex of another woman laid out before her on the sofa. The whore is merely a prop, a means to an end, hired at great expense to bring about this very event. There’s no doubt that this woman is divine, physically flawless, yet he pays no attention to her beauty. He has no vision of ever being with her, his lust is saved but for one, and he is intent on bringing his beloved the sexual experience of her life.
The moans and gasps of the two women fill his ears, create their own symphony along with the ebb and flow of the background music. He is delighted at the sight of his wife’s tongue darting in and out of the stranger’s pussy as she gyrates on the arm of the sofa. He decides that she is ready as he lifts from his seat and crosses the room.
The two women pay him no mind as he unbuckles his belt, the material of his pants hissing to the floor while he inspects his lover’s cunt. She’s wet, so wet that his two fingers slide into her with ease as she continues to tongue-fuck the whore before her, both women wriggling and writhing in mutual pleasure. He withdraws his fingers and smooths her arousal all over his stiffening cock, placing his thickness against her bound hands. His shaft slides against her heated palms as she moans into the whore’s flesh, for she has become the conduit to both of their pleasure, her one fantasy that she’s held onto for all of these married years. Her flesh aches to be filled with cock while she pleases another, and she starts to beg.
“I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep fucking your whore,” he commands as continues to rub himself against her palms. She pauses for a moment of protest, his hand immediately cracking against her bare rear. She squeals in pain as the second smack hits her flesh, the thud of impact making his cock lurch, harder still.
“You know our agreement. This came with rules, my rules. Now you’ll do as I say.” He unfastens her hands and she sighs in relief.
“Pick up the belt.” His eyes are dark, pupils big in the half light of the room. The shadows from the flames of the fireplace lick against his face. He almost looks possessed as he eyes both women. He’s brimming with lust and his control is dwindling. She does as he requests and retrieves the leather from the floor.
“Now place it around your whore’s neck.” Both women look at him in quick astonishment.
“I said, place it around her neck.” His palm smacks against her once again, and she does as she’s told.
“Now fasten it securely.” She does this hastily, too, until the leather is snug around the stranger’s neck; the look in her face is one full of alarm.
“Don’t worry, pretty thing, your purpose here will be served soon enough.” He smiles sinisterly at her as he slips his wife’s thong aside and enters her from behind in a rush, plunging his flesh deep into her waiting cunt. She moans loudly and throws her head back, her hips arching towards him, the stranger’s body also arching back, the thick leather straining around her neck.
“Now lick her, lick her until she comes all over your face, and don’t let go of the belt.”
His wife bends to task, her face buried in the whore’s mound once again, his hands in her hair pushing her face down to meet her lover. Both women move together, gathering momentum as he drives his cock into his wife’s silken flesh. Her cunt clenches him tightly; it feels as if she’s going to suck the orgasm right our of him. He doesn’t stop though, he’s waited too long to stop now. He pounds into her savagely, taking what he wants from her, from them, using both for his own gratification as he fucks his wife with powerful strokes. With each woman gasping, he plies his beloved full of cock as the whore comes moaning against her face, the belt taut around her neck, legs splayed before her. His wife bucks, the orgasm ripping through her body and shuddering down around his cock as she pulls on the belt. It is then that he withdraws, his come exploding down his beloved’s back and arse, his seed spilling over her creamy flesh. He rubs his come over her skin and smiles as he slips his wet fingers into the whore’s mouth, the carnal satisfaction spread all over his face as the two women recover in a heap, the stranger sucking at his digits. Seconds pass as they gather themselves.
“Now, while we have time, who wants to hear about my fantasies?”