47. Wife's POV [Part 2]

NOTE: This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.



His hand disappeared into the waistband of his loose shorts, and my stomach melted, as I felt a hot thing pressing against my stomach. I couldn’t help it—I stared down at it, my mouth slightly open, drooling despite myself, desperate to taste that dirty cock, to feel him inside me.

He didn’t give me a chance to recover. His cock moved down, teasing the folds of my pussy, rubbing against me with teasing pressure. I gasped, my hands pressing against his chest, my knees buckling. I wasn’t ready to take him fully, not with my husband so close, and yet my body ached for it. Every stroke, every press, made my cunt throb and leak, the humiliation mixing with a sick, thrilling heat that left me desperate and begging.

I grabbed his fat, throbbing dick in my hand before he could shove it inside me, because if he did, I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave this room even if the door opened. I kept staring at it like a junkie staring at her next fix. My fingers trembled as I wrapped around him, feeling the heat, the weight, the pulse. My heart hammered in my chest, half terrified, half desperate. He leaned in, lips brushing against my neck, sucking softly, and I shivered.

“Start rubbing,” he whispered, his voice low, commanding.

I replied, shaking. “W-we can’t… f-fuck here… it’s too risky,” I stammered, my body betraying me, aching for it even as my mind screamed for caution.

He bit my neck lightly, enough to make me quiver. “Show me that you need it,” he murmured.

I looked at him, lost, unsure. My body wanted it, ached for it, but the risk of being caught, made me hesitate. He bit again, firmer this time. “Do it.” That was all I needed.

I moved. I rubbed his fat dick against my cunt like a whore, feeling every inch, every pulse, the slick warmth soaking him as I pressed down. My cunt throbbed with every rub, every drag, my body quivering as I surrendered, desperate, exposed, and shamelessly wet.

The old man caught my cheeks in his hands, tilting my face roughly toward his. My eyes stayed squeezed shut, burning with shame, but he leaned in anyway, pressing his lips to mine in a deep, wet kiss. I was already trembling, rubbing his fat dick against my cunt, and the kiss sent a jolt straight through me, making my body clench and shudder with an orgasm.

His saliva coated my lips, invading my mouth, and I finally opened my eyes to see him so close, so dirty, and realized what I was doing.

The smell of his old, stinking mouth made me gag, but the sensation was unbearable and addictive. I gasped, trying to catch a breath. I was kissing him, this disgusting old man, mouth to mouth, the same mouth I had only ever used for tender kisses with my husband. Humiliation shot through me hotter than any lust.

How did it even come to this? My mouth was tightly mashed against an old man’s mouth, his saliva mixing with mine.

When did it all begin?
Was it when he hugged me? Or Was it when I started doing chores at his house?

Yeah, it started then. From that moment, my fate shifted, my control slipping without me realizing. Look at me now. Look at who I’ve become. This is me. This is exactly who I am.

“You,” he growled, voice low and commanding, “stick out your tongue.”

I hesitated for a second, my mind screaming, my body shaking, but obedience overtook my shame. Trembling, I did as he ordered, letting my tongue touch his.

Immediately, he devoured me again, his mouth pressing into mine with more hunger, and this time I couldn’t resist reciprocating. My body arched, pressing down on him as I moaned against his lips, the heat of my cunt, slick and desperate, driving me wild. I could no longer hide myself, my need too raw, my shame and lust colliding in a flood I couldn’t control.

Every kiss, every pressure of his mouth on mine, sent me further into a haze of arousal and degradation. I was caught, completely lost, and the realization that I was letting an old man dominate me, mouth to mouth, while my husband remained just outside, made my orgasmic desperation reach its peak.

We kissed like mad, a frenzy I had never experienced before. It was dirty, raw, a kiss made for me and me alone. Not those pathetic, tender kisses with my husband, but this—something filthy, demeaning, overwhelming. I was made for this.

Our bodies pressed tightly against each other, my hands gripping his neck like a lifeline, his saliva covering my face while mine smeared across his. Our eyes locked through the chaos of our kiss, every second of humiliation burning hotter in me. I was utterly lost, melting into the filth of it, and every inch of my body responded, aching and wet.

He shifted forward a little, losing balance, and my back bumped against the door with a soft thud. My husband’s voice came instantly, a little nervous. “Hey, everything good in there?”

I was too lost to give a fuck, too consumed to even think about him. But the old man was still in control. He pulled back just enough from my mouth, keeping me trembling and in control, and growled low, “Of course. Let’s focus on the door.”

But the old man’s reply wasn’t enough for him. “Hey, you okay?” my husband called again, his voice a little louder this time.

I gasped for air, my chest heaving, my body still trembling from the kiss. I forced out a reply, broken and ragged, just to end the conversation quickly. “Eah… don’t… worry… just… focus on the door. I’m… just taking… a break… for a minute.”

Every word I spoke was just another act, another layer of self degradation I couldn’t escape.

“Hang in there, okay?” my husband replied back. “I’ll get this damn thing open, I promise.”

The old man looked at me, smirking at his sorry ass and my poor state and growled again. “Hear that? Look how much he cares for you.” He pressed my cheeks harder, making me stare at him like a crackhead. “Really giving it his all out here.” A faint chuckle followed. “Aren’t you a lucky woman? A husband who’d push and strain himself just to get to you.”

He gripped my tongue, holding it out like a leash, and I froze. My body stiffened, completely at his mercy, unable to reply to my husband until he allowed it.

“You are right about that,” my husband said, his voice calm. “She’s lucky.”

The old man’s other hand slid down again, teasing and fingering me while his voice purred, “How about a word for him, hm? Something to keep him going. A little motivation will do him good.”

Finally, he released my tongue, and I gasped, broken and trembling. “Y-You… can… do it…” My voice was shaky, my mind still half lost in the wet heat of his touch.

His fingers kept moving over my pussy, driving me wilder, making me moan. “Keep… going…” I closed my eyes, my voice cracking as I continued, “You’re… doing… so… good…” Every word carried my hidden intention, meant for my husband and layered so the old man felt it too.

“That’s it,” he whispered, voice low and commanding. “Keep telling him… let him know how much you… appreciate him.” He leaned in, pressing a short messy kiss against my lips, and I shivered before continuing.

“I… believe… in you…” My body trembled, inching closer to orgasm as the old man’s fingers worked me, each stroke driving me higher while my words dripped with shame and obedience. “Don’t… stop…” I whispered, both for him to keep moving inside me and for my husband to keep trying his best.

The old man’s fingers stopped, and his low whisper cut through the haze of my pleasure. “That’s enough for today.”

He then pulled my skirt down, letting it fall into place, then turned me toward the door. My legs wobbled, knees weak, every inch of me still burning with heat and humiliation. A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and finally my husband appeared in the dim light.

I moved past him quickly, trying to hide my messy, flushed face, forcing my steps to be calm, normal, even though my body was screaming with what had just happened. The shadows of the room cloaked me, keeping my shame just out of sight, but inside, I was satisfied...

Thr next chaper will take slightly longer than usual to upload