Queen for a Day: Part 10

To neither Sarah’s surprise or my own the call is made just ten minutes later. I might have hummed and hawed for another hour or more had Sarah not pointed out that we were almost right up against the end of store’s the delivery hours. Deep down though I knew I would have made the call no matter how long the delay. Once the prospect was broached, and with Sarah willing, my fetish was not going to let this opportunity slip by. I had an itch that needed scratching and right at this moment Emile was the only one who could reach it.

Equal measures of tension and erotic anticipation hangs heavy in the air as we wait for our young bull. Bull! Gah! Just the thought of that pint-sized man carrying that title stings my pride even as it fans the flames of my lust. He was the furthest thing from the classic hung ‘other man’ from the stories and videos I consumed. He was relatively good looking, though nothing special, and relatively fit, though hardly an athlete, but he was younger, less experienced, and worked at a dead-end job. He was just this little white dude with a slight Belgian accent. But a bull he was, at least in my mind. The moment that Sarah had stroked his cock and revealed to us both that he was just TEENY bit thicker and a TEENY bit longer than I was…that was it. In that moment I’d become the cuck, though I kept it to myself as I tried to play it cool. In the end he earned his status too as he ravished my wife with impressive vigor and stamina. Doubly impressive considering it was his very first time with a woman, something we didn’t learn until after the fact.

It stung like a bitch being bettered by Emile but fuck if it didn’t hit my twisted fetish with the force of a god damned atom bomb. Had he been older or physically imposing or black or a womanizer or some kind of alpha specimen of manhood it would have given my ego somewhere to hide. But he was none of those things. He was just a dude. A little white virgin from Europe. Fuck, it even stung my pride as a Texan and patriot! Yet like a salted chocolate the bitter only made the sweet all the sweeter.

While Sarah sat on the very sofa that she and Emile had done the deed with an expression that was just short of a smirk I am on my feet moving around the living room. The curtains were closed, some soft music was playing, and in the center of the coffee table sat a bottle of lube, a box of tissues, and the same big box of rubbers we’d bought for him last month. Everything was ready in case something happened. For her part my wife was looking so damn sexy. Unlike last time where she’d worn skin tight workout clothes that left little to nothing to the imagination, this time she was in snug jeans and a lovely green short-sleeved blouse. Her long blond hair she let hang loose and her make-up subtle but on point. The style was simple but Sarah had a look and a body that made simple look GOOD.

“David.” Sarah says. “You’re pacing.”

“It probably won’t even be him.” I pause and peek out the curtains for the dozenth time. “He’s probably not even working tonight. It will be another driver.”

“Maybe.” Sarah pats the cushion beside her. “Come sit down, baby.”

“You think he kept his mouth shut after last time?”

“He said he would.” She says, her giddy composure completely at odds with my anxious fretting. “He seemed honest enough. And I haven’t noticed any funny looks around the neighborhood recently. Well…except for Old Man Brown, but that’s an entirely different reason. He he he!”

Her bringing to mind her deep throating and having anal sex with the elderly man down the street certainly didn’t do anything to calm my nerves. In our day to day life it was so easy to forget the extent to which my sweet, beautiful, once innocent little Sarah really had gone buck wild back in November.

“I know you said you wanted something different.”

“But it’s what YOU want.” She beams. “I certainly won’t complain. The uncertainty is quite exciting, isn’t it?” She giggles. “I’m all tingly!”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re right. The rest of the month is lousy for planning something new, if we’re going to involve other people. Let’s throw caution to the wind have have some fun tonight if we can.”

“But…you wanted to do something else this month. I know you did.”

“And we still might.” She winks with a mischievous look in her eye. “Who knows what the future will bring.”

“Huh?”

“Please.” She says softly, giving me a bat of her baby blues. “Come sit?”

With a sigh I come around the coffee table and slump down in the seat beside her. “God. I’m just as nervous as I was the first time.”

“I can see that.” She titters as she snuggles up beside me. “I think it’s part of what you like about it.” Her right hand finds my junk and immediately begins to rub my shaft through the denim. “You’re already almost hard.”

“What are you…?” She answers my half spoken question by pulling down my fly and reaching inside! “Um!”

She fishes my cock out through my underwear and pants to pull it out into the open air. Without pause she begins to stroke. Though dry her small hand was soooo soft as it glided up and down my shaft.

“Sarah.” I whisper. “Now?”

“Mmm.” She nods. “I need to relax my Papa Bear somehow. All that tension can’t be good for you.”

“Ohhhh.” I let out a long breath as her hand brings me to full mast in just a few strokes. “Sarah, he might be here any minute.”

“It’ll be a little while still.” She says, a twinkle glimmering in her eyes as they gazed up into mine. “This won’t take too long.”

“Fuuuck.”

She giggles again. “Maybe this will help you avoid any…he he he…accidents this time?”

“You are so bad.” I huff.

“And you love it.” She grins. “God baby, I hope he fucks me as good as he did last time.”

“Rrrmmm.” My manhood strains to maximum hardness in her grip. I stare down at it to watch her hand pump in quick, efficient strokes.

“That got his attention!” She titters as she turns her attention down toward my dick. “Take a good look, baby. You can see how big my hand is compared to you. You’ll really be able to see the difference when I’ve got his BIG, super hard cock in my hand.”

“Fuck!”

“Ooo! He he he!” Her giggles rise as a little dew drop of precum sprouts at my tip. All the stamina training I’d done over the past week and a half are out the window as Sarah teases my pride. I could have tried to resist…but I didn’t want to. That kinky demon inside of me yearned for those kindly mocking giggles.

“His cock is bigger than mine, isn’t it baby girl?”

“Mmm.” She tilts her head, studying my junk closely. “Just a little.”

“Hoh!”

“Little bit longer and a little bit thicker. The longer is nice but the thicker is quite lovely!”

“Oh fuck!”

“And he gets SO hard.” She pauses just long enough to give my penis a squeeze as I flex with all my might. “Nope.” She says as she takes up stroking me even faster. “Even harder than you, baby. He’s gonna feel so fucking good in my pussy, baby.”

“Hohhhhh!” I could already feel the pressure rising. “That feels good.”

“Uh ohhhh.” She croons in a sing-song voice. “Are you gonna beat that three minute mark? He he he! Remember? From the video?”

With a ragged pant I nod swiftly. “I remember.”

Faster she strokes and harder she grips, her petite hand a blur up and down my pole. “You really do love this, don’t you David? Knowing your sweet little wifey is about to be fucked so good by Emile’s big…thick…young…long-lasting…rock hard cock.” Leaning down closer and closer to my knob she parts her lips and lets out a hot breath over my manhood. “Ohhh, baby.” She mewls as if she was on the edge herself. “Ohhhh, God. I can almost feel him inside of me already.” She writhes against me as her hand quickens once more. My hips begin to thrust against her strokes on their own volition. “Ohhhhh, fuck, baby!” Her lips are soooo close to my tip! “He feels so good! Mmmmm! OH GOD!”

“Fuck!” I gasp. “FUCK!”

Having read my body to prefection Sarah is ready for my load. Just as I pass the point of no return she moves as quick as lightning to snag a couple of tissues from the box on the table and brings them back to take a firm hold over the head of my dick just as the first wad was busting loose.

“GNNNNGHHHH!!!”

“There he goes! That’s my Papa Bear!” Gazing deep into my eyes she holds my penis hard but still, refusing to stroke me through my orgasm and forcing me to settle for the firm inert pressure. “Ohhh, that’s it baby. Give me that big warm load. Bust your seed in those tissues.” Her sweet tone is equal parts pride and condescension like one might have toward a boy who’d just gotten a participation ribbon, which only takes me to higher and higher levels of bliss. “Yes! There’s a good cucky. Blow that load. Let it alllll out.”

“OHHHH FUUCK!”

When it was all over she leaves me a trembling husk of a man. What an orgasm! It goes quiet as she gently milks the last of my cum out into the tissues then pulls it away in one clean swipe. Folding the soiled tissues in her hand she holds it as she puts me away and zips me up.

Looking back up into my eyes, her cuckoldress persona melting away, she whispers. “I love you!”

“I love you too! Ohhhhh my GOD!”

“He he he! Seeing what this does for you…” She’s speechless a moment. “God, I love you! I can’t wait to see what it feels like.” Leaning closer she says emphatically. “We do this together. Our adventures, together. Together!” She leans up for a long, lingering kiss. “For us, baby.”

“For us.” I echo back. “Together.”

Just then the doorbell chimes! Both our heads snap toward the front door then back at each other. “That was quick!” There’s a moment of panic as Sarah looks left and right for a place to put the cummy rags. With no time to lose she just stuffs it under a cushion and stands up. “Oh my God.” She says, her cool act cracking as the moment of truth was upon us. “I wonder if it’s him?”

I stand and compose myself. “Only one way to find out.”

As one we walk to the front door to accept our delivery. It is only as I am pulling the door open that it hits me. A side effect, unintended or not, from Sarah’s pre-game handjob was that I was now going into this with post-nut clarity. While Sarah was still drunk on unreleased lust…I was suddenly stone cold sober!

There on our porch stands Emile with a bag of groceries in each hand and a smarmy grin on his attractive young face that told us he knew exactly what he’d been called here to deliver.

Part 11