THE PARTY FAVOR: A SLUT WIFE STORY
Veronica was an adorable wife when she was made up to the nines. But none of her looks unglued me quite like when she was sitting across the kitchen table from me, pouring over bills or tax deductible receipts in her glasses and a concert T-shirt. It wasn’t “nerdy girl,” per se. It was just “intelligent knockout.” Veronica had natural platinum white hair. She was a unicorn. I know she did something to her hair, coloring wise, but it was only to enhance nature’s blessing. For some reason she dyed her blonde eyebrows a light brown. She said dark eyebrows made her face more expressive and without them she looked like a light bulb.
Veronica had pale skin that didn’t freckle. She wore makeup most of the time, but I was never sure why. Her natural silverwhite hair over porcelain skin and soft blue eyes blended to create a feminine masterpiece. She had a tiny nose like a doll. Veronica couldn’t take a bad picture if she tried, but my all-time favorite photo was Veronica doing Lord of the Rings Cosplay as an Elf for a stupid office party we had at my stupid job back when we first started dating in the early 2000s. She was just so perfectly suited to the look. So petite and feminine. All she had to do was glue on some fake pointy ears and make a purple robe out of an old hoodie, and she was the sexiest elf who ever elfed in a tree. Or whatever verb elfs did when they were elfing. I fucked the daylights out of her that night with the pointy ears still glued on. Still remember it well.
And when she put on those red fashion glasses of hers... Oh man. It was like pressing a button to replace my hot wife with a whole different kind of hot wife. I loved it.
She bought the red glasses through an app you’ve probably heard of: Mezmer-Eyes. For those of you not familiar with the app, you live-cam your face into your phone screen and the app analyzes your facial features and your coloring and your hairstyle. Then it superimposes a series of spectacle frames over your face. Most people don’t even swipe to the third pair of imaginary glasses, that’s how perfect the matching algorithm is. Then you click through and enter your prescription because every pair of imaginary glasses in the Mezmer-Eyes app is real inventory from some real optics company somewhere in the world.
Yeah, I know That’s a lot of blather about an app. But that app was how Veronica bought her sexy red glasses, and that app was the reason we were pouring over our net worth at our kitchen table. Mezmer-Eyes was created by my college buddy, Brandon Bauer. Yes, THAT Brandon Bauer. He’s not really a billionaire, by the way. The company sold for $1.1B, but Brandon had a lot of overhead and partners to pay off. I’m not exactly sure how much he walked away with personally, but I read it was high $700 million. Man!
Brandon was pretty cool. He came to our wedding back when he was just a programmer for a big tech sweatshop. Veronica and I went through a swinger phase in our late 20s when we were dating and early 30s after we married, but before the baby came. We had a policy not to swing with friends, only Craigslist hookups. But Brandon was our one exception. He was a lot of fun. Even back in his programmer nerd days, he was trim and impressively cut. We were both 6' 3", but I'm a little on the skinny side. Brandon was at least two inches longer than me in the dong department. And I’m not small. The guy had a club, for sure. Veronica always had a great time when we took turns at her. When Brandon banged her puss and I DPed her ass, she’d squirt a fountain two feet in the air when she came.
Anyway. The hookups with Brandon ended when he moved to Seattle for a job, but we kept in touch. Like I said, he attended our wedding, and he came back to Salt Lake City on occasion. Whenever he was in town visiting his dad and my band was playing at a decent bar, we got together for drinks. He’d flirt pretty mercilessly with Veronica. I could tell he wanted another chance to fuck her, but we didn’t do that any more. We had a kid.
Of course, that was before Brandon sold his company to Warby-Parker and became rich as buttercake. I'd only seen him once since the big sale. Last week. He showed up at our doorstep unannounced.
Brandon had a pitch for Veronica and I. He was putting together a new company in the medical space. Not an app, but some kind of VR surgery-slash-microbot thing. I didn’t understand half the words he said, but Veronica took notes and did some research that confirmed it was a new technique with a lot of buzz. Brandon had all the startup money he needed and a line of investors and VC guys around the block who wanted to work with him. But he offered us a tiny share of his new IPO... If we could come up with thirty thousand dollars.
Did Brandon Bauer need our thirty thousand for his company? Absolutely not. It was entirely a favor to us. But Veronica and I actually had to come up with real money. Our own money. He couldn’t give us the money to buy the stock or that would have made us illegal stalking horse investors. He couldn’t finance it for us. Brandon’s gift was the opportunity to invest in a purposely undervalued IPO; to buy shares for essentially the same price he was getting his shares. Technically we had to be his employees for that to happen, but Brandon had some sneaky way to hire Veronica and I before the contracts were finalized and quietly terminate us a couple months after the company went public.
Did I mention that Veronica is an accountant?
“Did I ever mention to you that I’m an accountant?” Veronica chewed on the clicker-end of a ballpoint pen. The tip of her pointy, pink tongue flicked out and clicked the little button in-and-out rapidly. Even though she was deep in thought and concentrating on the pile of paper in front of her, it was pretty fucking sexy to see that tongue work the pen clicker with expert cocksucker precision, the same way it flicked in and out of my cum hole after I nutted. Or at least that’s the way I remember it. We hadn’t messed around in forever.
“Yeah, I think I heard that somewhere.” My sarcasm was dulled by my nervousness.
Veronica sighed and looked up at me for the first time in an hour. I knew immediately that it was bad news. “Yeah, Carl... Honey... I just can’t do it. We just can’t do it.”
“Oh come on! We can sell one of the cars. Surely we can carpool for a while.”
Veronica shook her head. “With all the miles you put on your Mitsubishi with that crazy commute of yours? You’re upside-down on your car. And when we were pinched for cash after the Honda’s transmission died, we took that crap seven year loan on my Jeep. We’re upside-down on that too.”
“The mortgage? Could we get another mortgage?” I asked.
“Nobody is going to give us a third mortgage on this house, Carl,” Veronica said. “We already took the second mortgage to cover those tests for Becca’s operation.”
Shudder. We tried not to talk about our daughter’s operation if we could help it. She was a healthy five year old now, but the ordeal nearly bankrupted us. One of Veronica’s friends put together a successful GoFundMe campaign for the experimental surgery that saved her life. Otherwise we’d definitely have gone bankrupt. If we’d gone bankrupt, Becca might not be here today.
“How much do we have open on the credit cards?” I heard the desperation creeping into my voice. I sounded like a little kid.
Veronica looked at me over the top of her stylish glasses with a “Bitch, please!” glare. “Honey, we’d be pressed to pay for a family dinner at Taco Time with our available credit.”
I already knew that we were barely getting by with all of the medical debt we’d racked up. I knew our credit cards were maxed out. I shouldn’t have asked.
“Your mom...” I started.
Veronica cut me off. “No! You know better, Carl.”
“We could pay it back in a year. Maybe less.”
“We can’t sell any stock for two full years from the date of the IPO, Carl. Those are the terms. And you know how my mom is with money. She wouldn’t even help pay for Becca’s genetic testing when we begged her.”
“We have to! This has to work!” I shouted to no one in particular. “This is free money! You’re telling me that we can’t afford to buy a lottery ticket that’s one hundred percent guaranteed to pay off?”
Veronica slumped in the chair. Her bubble breasts pushed up at her chin. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you, Carl. We sold everything for Becca. We leveraged everything for Becca. We squeezed every dollar out of every family member we could. We both cashed out our retirement plans. We’re simply out of leash.”
I went on a cursing tirade. I knew things were not great in our net worth department, I’m not an idiot. I knew we started coupon shopping at the discount grocery and didn’t get the good coffee anymore. But it wasn’t until Veronica shook her head that I realized we were really too broke to take Brandon up on his offer.
“You want me to call Brandon?” Veronica muttered.
My eyes were bulging with frustrated rage. “We’ve still got two days to come up with something,” I said.
Veronica flicked her tiny hand over all the bank statements on the table like she was flinging a booger. “We’re not going to be thirty thousand dollars richer on Thursday,” she said. “One of us might as well make the call. I’ll do it.”
I bent over and put my hands on my knees, feeling like I’d been gut punched. I hissed a long, angry sigh of frustration. “No,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
“Sorry, Honey,” Veronica said, sweetly. At least she wasn’t mad at me. At least Veronica and I were still okay.
“Momma, why Daddy mad?” Becca was standing in the hallway, rubbing her eyes.
“Oh, did we wake you up, Sweetness?” Veronica put her arms down and her hands out. Becca hurried into the comfort of her mother’s embrace. As Veronica lifted Becca onto her lap, Becca’s night dress lifted and I could see the scar on her stomach from the feeding port she used for the first half of her life.
...And there it was. That scar said everything. We had sold our souls (and virtually every other thing of value in our lives, including my classic 1960s Les Paul guitar collection) to keep that little girl alive. The intimacy of our marriage evaporated when Veronica went through a whiplash transition from sexy, adventurous, vixen wife to Capital M Mother. ...And then immediately to Capital M Mother of a Terminally Ill Baby. After working eight hours at our jobs and driving straight to the hospital to spend six hours every night standing at an intensive care unit incubator, there was no bandwidth left for intimacy. For a solid two and a half years, the only thing Veronica wanted to do when I held her was cry.
In the end, we had traded the opportunity to become rich for Becca’s chance to live a normal life.
And that was okay. It didn’t feel okay in the moment. I was still pissed. I’d get over it. Eventually.
“I called Brandon.” Veronica pulled wrapped roast beef sandwiches out of a takeout bag.
“What?” I asked. “Why? I told you I’d call him.”
“I just wanted to get it over with,” Veronica said. “I knew you’d keep stewing over it. The sooner we pull off the Band-Aid, the sooner we can deal with the pain and move on with our lives.”
I shrugged. She was right. Veronica was always better at seeing the bigger picture. “Ahkay. He take it well? Was he disappointed?”
Veronica’s jaw clenched. She continued staging dinner onto paper plates and pulling condiments out of the fridge. She stopped abruptly. She turned back at me and put her hand on her hip. Her eyes went thin. “Actually, he was kind of a dick.”
“Brandon? How so?”
“I dunno, he was just like... Dismissive and cold. Like he didn’t give a shit one way or the other.”
“To you?” I asked. “He adores you. He still wants in your pants again. I can’t believe he was short with you.”
Veronica was still in her dramatic pose; the refrigerator door still open behind her, forming a yellow halo. “I know, right? What the eff is with that? I’m freaking fabulous.”
I smiled and nodded. “Indeed you are.” Then: “You thought you were going to negotiate some new play, didn’t you? You thought you were going to sweet talk him into another road toward the buy-in.”
“Noooo. Well. Maybe. I knew better. Like you said, he’s still into me. I just thought he would maybe be nicer about it.”
“Money changes people,” I said.
“It would never change us,” Veronica said.
“Momma, don’t like Arby’s!” Becca walked in the kitchen. “I have a peebutjelly sammich?”
“Sure, darling,” Veronica nodded. “Just a moment.”
Thursday was quiet at the recording studio where I am an engineer. One of the local commercial houses had us booked the morning for a couple ADR sessions to sweeten a noisy Kia dealership commercial where some amateur thought it was a fine idea to shotgun mic the owner spewing his superlatives surrounded by steel and interstate traffic a hundred yards away. Dumb.
Anyway. We were done with that client by eleven. Some days I get paid to bust ass and some days I get paid to drink coffee and noodle around on the studio guitars. I took my phone into one of the client greenrooms and -- I don’t know what I was thinking -- I dialed Brandon. I didn’t even hear it ring.
“Carlos!” Obviously my contact profile was still in Brandon’s phone. His voice was bright but I could hear a lot of noise surrounding him.
“Hey B, are you busy?”
“Buddy,” Brandon said, “I cannot remember the last time I wasn’t busy.”
“What is that noise? You sound like you’re in a tunnel.”
“Sorry, I’m actually in Manhattan, walking from the car into a meeting. I’ve got about three minutes.”
“Okay. I get it.”
“I’m so glad you called. I spoke to your hot wife yesterday.”
“She mentioned that,” I said.
“Look I didn’t want to tell her this, I wanted to tell you the good news first.”
My ears perked up. “Yeah? Tell me!”
“Bro, I’m getting married!”
“You are what?” I felt the air go out of me. I thought it was going to be good news about the stock offer.
“I know. Me! Who’d have thought it!”
“Anybody I know?” I asked. I was trying to be polite, but I probably sounded churlish.
“Not unless you keep up with families of Italian shipping magnates.”
“Oh. Well congratulations.”
“Thanks! I’m stoked! I’ve never been crazy in love like this before. I’ve always wanted what you and Roni have, Carl. And it’s great! I’m so happy!”
“And I’m happy for you.” I meant it. Mostly.
“Hey, I’m about to lose you when I step in this elevator. I want to talk to you about the bachelor party. Can I call you back later?”
“Oh sure! I’d be honored to put a bachelor party together,” I said. Brandon didn’t respond. “Hello? Brandon? Did I lose you?”
“Uh, Carl, Bradley Cooper is making the arrangements for the bachelor party.”
“Oh.” I felt my ears burn. “Wow. Of course. Well, you let me know when and where, buddy. I’ll be there.”
Another long pause. “Carl, the buy-in for the poker game is three times the buy-in for the IPO I offered you, and you didn’t have the thirty kay. Look, they’re holding the elevator for me. I’ve gotta blast. I’ll call you back later.”
The phone clicked dead. What an asshole. What a colossal asshole!
Two days later, I was brushing my teeth, getting ready for bed. I had my long hair up in a bun for bed. I froze when I saw a gray hair in my goatee. I froze with a mouth still filled with foamy swish. I leaned toward the mirror. What the actual fuck? I was too young for this shit. A college photo of Brandon appeared on my mobile screen as the phone buzzed. I stood at the sink, staring at my phone with a soapy load of Crest bubbling on my tongue. I didn’t answer it. I let it go to phone mail. Three seconds later he rang again. That’s the international signal that somebody must have died.
I spit and swiped. “Hey,” I muttered.
“Hey, I know you’re not happy with me right now.” Brandon was always blunt. “And I totally own that. Can we talk?”
I stood there in my pajamas, blinking. I considered hanging up. “Alright,” I said. “What is on your alleged mind, Brandon?”
“No, not on the phone. I’m back in town, buying my dad a house. Can we meet up at the Denny’s next to the airport?”
“Now? Dude, it’s bedtime. I’m getting ready to hit the hay. It’s a weeknight.” Truth be told I was actually thinking about loading a bowl of weed and rounding the corners off my anxiety.
“Oh come on, pussy,” Brandon said. “You never slept in college. Besides. This is overdue. Don’t stand me up. I don’t know the next time I’ll be back in SLC.”
“Hang on. Lemme put you on mute while I talk to Vee.”
“Jesus! When did you get so P-whipped, bro?” Brendan asked. “Who wears the pants in that fam, anyway?”
“I... I can’t be out too late. Some of us have to work tomorrow.”
“Dude, we both have to work tomorrow,” Brandon said. “C’mon. Denny’s. Just like in college. I’ll buy.”
My eyes rolled for the benefit of noone. “Oh, free pancakes! How could I resist free pancakes and coffee, Diamond Jim Billionaire?”
“It’s the only restaurant that’s open in this backwater burg.”
“I’m looking at Google Maps on my phone and I don’t see any Denny’s near SLCI.”
“No! Not the big airport. South Valley. Just south of the University. I’m flying a private charter.”
“Oh of course.” I immediately regretted agreeing to meet Brandon. “Of. Course. You. Are.”
Brandon was at a table in the back, drumming away on a laptop. As soon as he saw me he smiled and closed it.
“Rock and Roll! Thanks for making it, Bro.” Brandon was dressed casually, but it was a T-shirt that probably cost two hundred dollars. He had a great haircut, blonder than I’d ever seen him. He’d been working out. I didn’t recall his chest being so wide or his neck being so thick. And remember, I’d seen him naked when we double-teamed Veronica. Mr. Busy was definitely finding time to exercise.
We made some small talk, starting with me asking about the seven foot tall black dude standing in the Denny’s parking lot in a suit; a badass who looked like he just ate the beating heart out of an alligator. Yep, he belonged to Brandon. Part driver, part security detail. Then the talk switched to my daughter Becca.
“So she’s catching up?” Brandon asked.
“Yeah. She’s still developmentally about a year or two behind for her age. But that goes along with being in a medically-induced coma for almost two years when she should have been hearing people talk and forming language skills. The doctors fully expect her to catch up with her peers and be ready for Kindergarten next fall. Or maybe the next one.”
Brandon nodded. “She’ll be the cool kid driving before all her friends.”
“Yeah. The Dev Specialist who we are working with said that holding off on school can turn into a huge advantage down the road. If nothing else, because of maturity.”
“Speaking of maturity, or lack of it,” Brandon smiled. “I’ve got an idea for my bachelor party. A win-win kind of idea.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Bradley Cooper back out on you? What the fuck does Bradley Cooper want to do with a bachelor party anyway? I thought he was gay.”
Brandon waved his hands to reset the conversation. “Look, Carl. I’m really sorry about the IPO. I’ve got regulators from Price-Waterhouse half way up my ass right now and Morgan Stanley up the other half. I can’t give you the stock. I can’t front you the money. I was even getting some pushback on the hiring thing right before we go public. I tried man. I really tried. They are watching my cash flow right now like fucking hawks, man. I can’t get anything by the FTC.”
“I get it, Brandon. I understand.”
“But...” Brandon raised a finger triumphantly. “Nobody is watching Bradley Cooper’s bank account right now.”
“I don’t get it.”
“There’s a snag with the IPO. Nothing big. We’re plowing through it. We just need to clear some patent issues with some turd in New Hampshire. It'll work out. The point is that I have a little more time than I thought to get a buy-in commitment from you.”
“Thanks, B, but...”
“Hang on!” Brandon cut me off. “I have an educated suggestion as to how you might earn the money you need to buy the options in the next two months.”
“I’m listening. Unless it involves robbing a bank and then I’m not listening. Well... Unless robbing a bank involves Brotherzilla out there in the parking lot, in which case I’m listening again.”
“There’s a rather substantial entertainment budget for the bachelor party, Bro. Some dark slushy money in that pot. Expenses that nobody is going to look too closely at, especially with a famous actor signing checks out of the fund.”
I blinked. “I don’t understand. You want me to like bartend your bachelor party or something?”
Brandon laughed. “Not you, dork! Roni.”
“You want Roni to bartend?”
Brandon facepalmed. “Sheesh. This isn’t going to be as easy as I thought.”
“Hey, she can bartend. I think. I’m the one who knows drink recipes, but we can get Veronica up to speed on the basics. That works for me! How much?”
Brandon looked me in the eye. “Thirty kay. The full boat.”
“Thirty grand to make cocktails for a night?”
“Dude,” Brandon slumped a bit more. “You are not getting this. It’s not one night. It’s three nights. Ten Gee per night. And it’s not bartending. It’s escorting.”
“Escorting,” I said the word out loud but it still didn’t make any sense. “Escorting,” I repeated.
“You know,” Brandon rolled his hand in a circle, “Flirting. Dancing. Hanging out with the guys.”
My eyes squinted. “And what does ‘hanging out’ mean, exactly?”
“Oh come on,” Brandon said. “Don’t get precious with me, Bro. You guys used to trust each other to mess around a little. Step out. Kitchen pass.”
“You want to buy a weekend with my wife for thirty thousand dollars?”
“Shut up,” I said.
“Bro, hear me out...”
“Shut up!” I shouted. The waitress on the other side of the restaurant turned to look at us.
Brandon stared at me.
I smiled, “You had me at ‘thirty thousand.’ Hell yeah, you can fuck my wife for thirty thousand dollars and the stock options we’re going to buy with it!”
Brandon got the joke and laughed. “Cool.”
“But I’m not sure how I’m going to get Veronica to go along with it.”
“That’s on you. We’ve got a history. Of sorts. This isn’t Indecent Proposal, man. It’s just one last fling for old time’s sake. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Let me know by noon tomorrow. Plans need to be finalized.”
“Carl, are you high?” Veronica only had one open eye that I could barely make out through a tangle of bangs. The other was buried somewhere in her pillow.
“Hand to God.”
“You want me to jump out of a cake and lap dance Bradley Fucking Cooper for thirty thousand dollars?” she mumbled. “Either you are fucking with me or Brandon is fucking with you. I’m thirty-six years old, Carl. Nobody is paying a thirty-six year old woman with a saggy mom-butt that kind of lettuce to jump out of a cake.”
“You have a great ass.”
Veronica’s face melted deeper into her pillow and she mumbled from the periscope corner of her non-submerged mouth. “I did a Google image search of the woman Brandon is marrying. Trust me. He’s not interested in the likes of me any more, and Bradley Fucking Cooper doesn’t want this old mombod anywhere near him.”
“You are more than a mom, Honey,” I reassured her. “You are still sexy Ay Eff. And you know Brandon still has a crazy thing for you.”
“Maybe,” Veronica yawned and stretched. “But he could get a much younger, much hotter girl to jump out of a cake.”
I blinked. “Maybe I wasn’t perfectly clear. I’m pretty sure Brandon wants to fuck you.”
Veronica chuckled. “Right. Me. Jump out of a cake and fuck Brandon.”
I snapped. “What is with you and jumping out of a cake!” I shouted. “Nobody said anything about jumping out of a cake! There is no fucking cake! Stop with the cake jumping already!”
Veronica wrinkled her brow and lifted her head. “Isn’t that how the girl shows up to a bachelor party? In a big fake cake?”
“No! For fuck’s sake! Apparently your concept of a bachelor party comes from 1960s Tony Curtis movies. Nobody jumps out of fucking cakes. You just ring the doorbell. Or step onto the bus.”
“Oh.” Veronica seemed to be processing the opportunity seriously for the first time, rubbing her eyes and trying to focus. “And that would be okay? With you? We never messed around with other people without both of us in the room.”
This wasn’t exactly true. One of the guys we swung with was a young resident orthopedist. One time the doctor asked if Veronica could make a house call to his hospital where he took her up to his Resident sleeping room and fucked her on premises. I said it was okay and Veronica had a great time (and I had a great time hearing the details for months after when we were fucking).
“Wouldn’t that weird you out?” Veronica asked.
“No. Okay, yes. Probably yes. But I’d get over it. Looking out over the Pacific breakers from my mansion in Malibu, I’d think out loud, ‘Gee, that time Veronica fucked Brandon at that bachelor party weekend was really weird. Oh look! It’s time for my manservant to polish the chrome on my Ferrari.’ ”
“Our mansion,” Veronica said. “He’s your friend, but it’d be my actual pussy earning that hypothetical mansion. I’m pretty sure both of our names will be on the deed. And Ferraris are for guys with little dicks. You don’t have a little dick.”
“Why thank you. It has been a while, I wasn’t sure if you remembered.”
Veronica sat up. “Wait, what? Which conversation are we having at...” Veronica reached over and tapped her phone on the nightstand to wake it up. “...two-twenty in the morning? A conversation about whoring me out to Brandon? Or a conversation about the ruinous state of our sex life?”
“It’s not whoring. It’s escorting. It’s being charming and nice to the guys at the party. Sitting on laps. Giggling. And...” My chin made an awkward bobbing motion. “You know. Taking the D a couple times.”
“A couple times?”
“It’s a three day party, Blondie. C’mon. I mean he’s probably going to want more than a single trip to Pound Town for thirty large. But, he is just a guy, yaknow. How many times can a guy get it up in a long weekend? Two? Three? Maybe four if he times it right and takes you as soon as you walk through the door?”
Veronica stared at me in the dark. “You are totally serious. This is really what you want?”
“It’s the ticket out of the hole we’re in.”
“It’s the quick ticket out of the hole we’re in,” Veronica corrected me. “We’ll eventually get right on our own. We don’t need Brandon for that.”
“And it’s just Brandon, right? The sex part?”
“Pretty sure. Yeah.”
“Wait. Pretty sure? Or sure?”
“Sure,” I insisted. “I’ll make certain that part is clear. Just Brandon.”
Veronica’s mouth twisted diagonally. “Bradley Cooper would be okay too.”
“Bradley Cooper is gay,” I said.
“Really?” Veronica asked.
“So with-or-without gay-or-not-gay Bradley Cooper, are you in?”
Veronica paused for a long time. “Okay.”
“But I want to jump out of a cake.”
“I’ll present your terms,” I nodded dryly.
“C’mon,” Veronica said. “Get your clothes off and get in bed. It’s late.”
“Mmmm. No. I want a blow job first,” I said, undoing my belt.
I nodded. “Yep. All that talk about you fucking Brandon has got me hard.”
Veronica sighed. “Okay.” She pulled her cami over her head and her big, bare tits bounced out. “I guess I’m going to need to practice for the big event.”
“Oh gawd,” I groaned. “You sound like a slut.” I crawled up on the bed and Veronica slid between my legs for the first time in forever. She dragged a set of sharp fingernails down each of my thighs at the same time.
“I guess we’re going to find out,” Veronica said with a wicked smile. Her lips parted and she slow-screwed a tight, wet suck down over my engorged cock head. She moved so slow and sucked so tight that it took half a minute from the time her lips locked on my cum hole until she cleared the crown ridge of my cock head. I trashed with the sensation of burning anticipation boiling over to overstimulation. Her suction was off the charts.
She popped off, licked her lips, and then dove back down to suck away at my twitching cock, moaning from her throat and wiggling her panty-clad ass behind her.
“Oh fuck,” I arched my back off the bed. I looked back down to see my beautiful wife having a good time slurping away at my dick like a... a... a paid escort. Veronica’s extra pale skin and ghost-white hair had a way of attracting light in a dark room. She kind of glows.
“You lack thowt?” Veronica purred around my shaft without pulling her mouth off.
“I love it. Oh man, I missed your mouth.”
“I mithed yogr gock,” she whispered. She sucked even harder and faster, stopping only to add, “I mithed the tatht uh yogr cgum.”
“Well I can help you out with that,” I grunted. “You’re killing me. You’ve got me so fucking hah-hah-hahr-oh shit!”
I didn’t last long, but what I lacked in stamina I made up for in volume. I looked down at Veronica clamping her lips around the head of my cock and gamely trying to gulp my load. She lost. I kept pumping into her throat until she gagged and choked. She had to pull off my cock, but my spew hole continued to spurt thick white ropes all over her face. Veronica coughed until she got most of my cum where it needed to be, in or out.
“Jesus, Carl. You fucking drowned me.”
“Sorry not sorry,” I panted.
“That was really nice. I forgot how much I love sucking your cock.”
I smiled. “You love sucking cock. Not just mine.”
Veronica smiled a naughty smile and pulled a thick drip of my seed off her cheek with her finger. She regarded the gloop for a moment in the dark before she looked me in the eyes and slowly sucked it clean between pouty tight lips.
“I guess we’re going to find out, aren’t we?” Her pink tongue swished around her lips, lapping up cum spatters. She winked at me.
My balls ached from cumming so hard, but I was still wondering if I might be able to go once more when I drifted away.
My alarm went off and my first thought was that there was a 100% chance that I was going to have to call in dead to work. I was exhausted.
My second thought was that Veronica wasn’t in bed and I had never heard her get up. I listened for the sound of her in the en suite. Nothing.
I forced my way out of bed and into the bathroom to check. “Honey? Veronica?”
Perhaps I had slept through one of Becca’s epic bad dream screamfests in the night and Veronica was sleeping in Becca’s bed. Nope. Becca was still snoring.
I walked the entire house, but no Veronica. I started thinking paranoid thoughts about Veronica leaving me because of what I’d asked her to do. I looked in the garage to make sure her Jeep was still there. It was.
I called her cell phone but it rang on the charging table next to the front door.
She wouldn’t have left without her phone, right? The front lock buzzed and I heard the door open.
“Veronica?” I called. I sounded panicked.
“Hey babe,” my wife panted. She was wearing exercise clothes and her running shoes. She was sweaty down past her boobs, revealing the outline of her dark sports bra underneath. She pulled earbuds from the side of her head and tossed an ancient iPod on the counter next to the wine bottles.
I stared at her.
She filled up her water bottle in the sink. “What? What are you looking at?”
I started laughing. “So this is how it’s gonna be?”
“Don’t laugh. I’m a woman. I have an ego. I want to make a good impression.”
I laughed even harder. She threw a sink sponge at me.
I laughed so hard that I cried.
A week later I was the first one home from work. It was Veronica’s turn to pick up Becca from daycare that night.
I could barely see my front door for the boxes piled on my front porch.
“What the actual fuck?” I mumbled to myself. I checked the labels. They were all addressed to Roni Daniels.
That had to be Brandon. He was the only one besides Veronica’s jailbird brother who called her Roni.
Veronica was stunned by the number of boxes. She looked at me with some weird mix of amazement and concern. An hour had passed and she was cooking dinner, but her focus kept drifting to the giant pile of packages we’d staged in the living room, still unopened. She eye-checked Becca working a coloring book in front of the TV before whispering to me.
“He said he was sending some stuff for me to try on, but I thought it would just be two or three things,” Veronica said. “It looks like he shipped half a Macy’s store.”
My forehead creased. “He told you that? When did you talk to him?”
“What? When? You were sitting next to me on the couch all night. When did you talk to Brandon?”
“Uhm, right when I got home. The FedEx guy was waiting at the front door right as I pulled up. Before you and Becca got home. He had a package from Brandon that said I was supposed to open it right away. It had a tablet computer inside.” Veronica checked Becca again and lowered her voice. “It was freaky. There were no buttons on the tablet anywhere, but I just looked down at it and it came on. Right there on the front porch. I didn’t charge the thing or connect it to the WiFi. I just looked at it, and then Brandon was staring back at me in a video chat.”
“Huhn,” I mused. “Really?”
“It was nuts. It was like he knew exactly when I was going to be there picking up the envelope and he was waiting somewhere in L.A. to activate that tablet.”
“He probably had GPS on the package. Where is this tablet now?”
Veronica looked nervous. “I, uh, it’s in my closet. I put it there so Becca didn’t stumble on it.”
“It’s a tablet, right?” I asked. “Like an iPad?”
“Not an iPad. Not any brand I recognized. But yeah. Like an iPad. Why?”
“Because you’re making it sound like a sex toy you had to hide from your daughter. Because you hid it from me too. Because you’re acting really damn sketchy right now, Veronica Chelsey.”
“Oh come on, Dad,” Veronica smiled. “I only talked to him for like half a minute. And then I unpacked Becca from the car and got the groceries and I totally forgot about it. Until just now.”
“Yeah. Right. I want to see this tablet.”
“You’re going to see it after Becca goes to bed. You’re supposed to use it to video me trying on the clothes.”
I pushed drinking glasses into the refrigerator icemaker. “This is getting really weird, Vee.”
Veronica winked at me. “Save it for your manservant, Carl.”
The tablet was -- indeed -- weird. There were no markings on it anywhere. No buttons. The only anomaly of any kind in the solid black frame was a micro USB charging port and a modest camera lens on the back..
When I tapped the screen, it came up with a countdown clock. “TIME TO FASHION SHOW: 23:16.”
I watched it count down for 20 minutes until it was almost showtime. Veronica had the boxes in the bedroom, staged in the order she was supposed to model the clothes. Like I said, there were stickers on the boxes that determined which boxes went together (shoes with dresses) and in which order they were to be modeled.
“What am I supposed to do when the clock counts down?” I leaned against the door frame.
“It’ll tell you what to do. All the instructions will be right there on the screen. That’s what he said.” Veronica was standing by the bed in her underwear and a Spanx girdle up over her panties, pulling the bladed edge of an open pair of scissors through packing tape. “Go in the other room. Wait there.”
“I don’t trust the camera on that tablet. I don’t want him to see me in my underwear.”
“I think he’s already seen you in a lot less than underwear.”
“Carl! Knock it off. Just go in the other room and wait. I... I don’t want him seeing our bedroom. There’s something about that idea that creeps me. Just play along.”
“Okay,” I sighed. “Ninety seconds. Eighty-nine. Eighty-eight. Eighty-seven.”
I sat on a stool at the kitchen counter and waited.
The screen went black for a couple seconds and then the screen filled with something dark, blurry, and bluish. I realized the camera on the back had activated and was pressed against my jeans. I lifted the tablet to point at the open area of the living room where Veronica was going to model the dresses.
Text appeared over the screen.
That’s better. Where’s Roni?
I tapped the screen to try to bring up a keyboard input. Nothing happened. “How am I supposed to type on this thing?” I grumbled.
“Oh. Microphone,” I said aloud. “Right. Uh, Veronica’s almost ready. Women, yaknow, heh heh. Never ready on time.”
I heard a swishing noise and Veronica walked in the room in a purple sateen cocktail dress that was absolutely stunning and fit her like a tailored glove. My heart stopped.
“What do I do?” Veronica asked me.
Tell her to spin around. Shake her cake a little. Also hold the ducking tablet steady, Carl. Is there an earthquake in SLC or are you having a ducking seisure, man?
“Sorry,” I said.
“Sorry about what?” Veronica asked.
“Not you,” I said. “Uh, you need to spin around a little. Shake your butt a little. Show off that dress.”
“Like this?” Veronica started cocking her hips a little, doing little catwalk struts and posing sexy at the stops.
There was a new text. Not the big text superimposed at the bottom of the screen, but a smaller chat text along the left margin.
Moose: Is she wearing a bra?
More texts populated under.
KKdawg: No bra!
Rollo: She’s wearing panties. I see a pantyline.
KKdawg: No panties!
KungFu: This is bullshit.
Carlos, tell her to take off her underwear and show it again.
“Veronica, hon, they want you to go take off your bra and panties. They can see them in the dress.”
“They?” Veronica’s sculpted eyebrows arched.
“Uh, yeah. I think there are a couple guys watching.”
CARL YOU DUMBSHIT! DON’T TELL HER THAT! Now tell her it’s only a few of my stylists.
“What the fuck?” Veronica was suddenly very self conscious. Her shoulders hinged in, defensively.
“Er,” I said, “false alarm. It’s just a couple stylists.”
I held up my arm and hinged my hand forward at the wrist in the international symbol for “gay.”
“Oh,” Veronica nodded, obviously satisfied. “Be right back.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
DingDongDaddy: Can he put the tablet on something steady? I’m getting seasick.
Carl can you put the camera on a counter or something?
“Yeah yeah,” I muttered. “Hang on.”
I went to my music room and pulled the cowbell off a drum stand clamp. I brought it back in the great room and used it to clamp the tablet toward Veronica’s fashion show area.
Moose: Thank you ducking Jesus.
“Okay is this better?” Veronica danced back in. The purple sateen dress looked every bit as droolworthy as it did the first time. She was wearing a perfectly matched pair of heels that were at least three inches. Veronica is only five foot three, so even moderate heels turn into stilts under her. Her ass lifts half way up her spine in high heels.
I made a spin motion with my hand and nudged the tablet camera to frame her better.
Veronica spun and looked at me expectantly.
KungFu: Is this a hostage situation or something?
I pushed both my index fingers into the sides of my mouth and lifted. Veronica got the hint and smiled.
KungFu: That’s better.
Moose: You weren’t kidding, BB. This bitch is fine!
I smiled with pride.
Veronica looked at me. “So... Is that enough? Next dress?”
Tell her to wait a second. Keep moving.
“A little more,” I motioned for her to walk with two downward stepping fingers on my right hand.
Veronica sasheyed and posed.
VOTE OUTFIT #1
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“What does what mean?” Veronica thought I was talking to her again.
El_Presidente: PENDING REVIEW
TwatWaffle: It’s fine.
KEEN: PENDING REVIEW
Rollo: Duck you guys.
TwatWaffle: Where are Austin and Q and Wayne?
Moose: A & Q not on committee. Wayne with CuD in New Z-land
K Carl. Next outfit. Watch names in chat plz fellas.
Holy shit, there were a lot of guys watching this! “Okay, Babe,” I said. “Change to the next dress.”
“What do I do with this one? Is it a yes or a no?” Veronica asked.
“What does she--” I started.
We can ducking hear her, Carl. Tell her just to put it aside and I’ll send her a report for what to keep in a couple days.
I relayed this to Veronica.
I sat in awkward silence and no text appeared on the screen until Veronica walked back in the room in a black minidress she was nervously trying to pull down her thighs. Fuck! It wasn’t sequined, exactly, but it shimmered. It had a deep V line in the chest.
“I dunno,” Veronica said. “This is like way too short.”
And it was short, hitting the very tops of her thighs.
Moose: I’ve got wood.
TwatWaffle: Why isn’t she dancing?
“Veronica, move around a little.”
“This dress is so short and these heels are so high, my ass is going to pop out if I move too fast.” Veronica blushed.
KungFu: TELL HER TO RUN!
DingDongDaddy: Jumping Jacks!
KDawg: We’re done here. I just came.
Rollo: Not yet, Kev. Stick around for #11
KungFu: Did you pick out #11, R?
Rollo: You ducking bet I did.
KungFu: Well played. I like your style, bro.
Rollo: BB whats w word filter?.
sry using corp IM server to drive this
MMM: Call the vote, B. It’s late and I’ve still got contracts to review.
Hang on. Carl, tell her to clap her hands over her head and hold them.
“Veronica, clap your hands over your head and hold them.”
“Just do it.”
“My beaver is going to show. I’m not wearing panties, remember? This dress is too short.”
“Just do it.”
Veronica flashed a bright red blush that poured down her face and neck onto her exposed cleavage. She raised her hands into the “A” of YMCA.
Step her legs apart a little.
“Veronica, take a step. Move your legs apart a little.”
“He’s trying to see my pussy, Carl.”
“So? Show him your pussy. It's not like he hasn't seen it before.”
Veronica stepped her legs apart, about as far as the tight dress would allow without ripping, which is to say not very far. Her entire face and chest was crimson red. Her expression was a mix of bemusement and mortification.
The very bottom of Veronica’s pale mons bun with a bright pink meatburger middle glowed at the hemline of the dress.
Kdawg: “Look at that blush! She just went off like the light the top of the Empire State Bldg!”
VOTE OUTFIT #2
El_Presidente: PENDING REVIEW
KEEN: PENDING REVIEW
KDawg: Hell yes.
DingDongDaddy: “Mos Def.”
Rollo: “Can we just skip to #11?”
“I think that one was a definite yes,” I said to Veronica.
She brought her legs together and smoothed the front of the dress as she regarded herself. “It’s Elie Saab. He didn’t exactly skimp. But it’s so short. I’d have to wear panties with it or I’ll get arrested.”
Move her along, Carl. Number 3.
“Chop chop!” I clapped my hands. Veronica scurried off to change clothes.
And that’s how it went for nine more gorgeous outfits. A couple times she couldn’t get the zipper herself and I had to go in the bedroom and help her before the unveiling in the living room. I opened a bottle of red wine and poured a glass that I left on her nightstand along with the bottle. “You’re killing it,” I whispered in Veronica’s ear. She shivered at my hot breath moving down her bare neck.
“Thanks for the wine, Honey,” she said.
At one point the guy called Moose wanted to see Veronica’s bare feet. I took the tablet off the stand and pointed it low after Veronica stepped out of another pair of perfectly matched heels. She was wearing stockings that were part of the outfit package. Veronica has great feet. High arches. Small, round feminine toes.
Moose insisted that she take off the stockings. I kept the camera pointed low while Veronica reached up in the dress and shimmied her pantihose down and then off.
Moose liked that a lot. He told me to suck her toes while he watched, but Brandon (Big Text had to be Brandon) told Moose to be a kinky bastard on his own time.
Then came Outfit Number Eleven. I’ll tell you I was plenty curious by the time they finished voting on Outfit Ten. They kept mentioning “#11” and getting more and more excited. There were some very short, very low cut dresses in the first ten outfits. I couldn’t imagine anything sexier than outfits #2, 5, and 9. Those stopped my heart.
“Carl!” came the shout from the bedroom.
“No fucking way. Tell him no fucking way.”
LOL! Tell her to hurry the duck up, Carl.
“No! Tell him I’ll pack it. And I’ll wear it if he wants when we’re alone. But I don’t want to walk around in front of strangers in this getup. Not even if they’re...” Veronica caught herself. “...stylists.”
“Let’s go, babycakes!” I smiled. I thought about all those guys watching my sexy wife somewhere. Maybe some of them had their pants down and were really enjoying the show, especially those little peeks of flashing ass and gash when she moved around and posed. There were a couple dresses with a front cut so low and so wide open that it barely covered her nipples. If she hadn’t shaved her beaver for this show, Dress Number 9 would have shown the top of her blonde bush, that’s how deep the cleavage cut was.
“Carl!” Veronica sounded really frustrated. She sounded like she just stopped having fun. And she was having fun right up until Number 11. The wine was working on her. She smiled a little more and flirted a little more with every successive outfit. The level of wine in the bottle I left on her nightstand got lower every time I went in to zip and unzip her from a dress. But we’d just reached the limit of what wine could do.
“Honey, he’s seen it all before, okay? C’mon. Stop being uptight.”
There was an uncharacteristic quiver in my wife’s voice. “Carl... Carl, I don’t care if he sees me in this, but I don’t want you to see me in this.”
“Er, I’ve seen you naked before too, babydoll.”
“Carl, you don’t understand,” came the voice from the bedroom. “Yes, you both have seen me naked. But I don’t want you seeing this outfit and then picturing me wearing it after I’m gone to the party. It’s... It’s not healthy for us. It’s not good for you.”
MMM: WHOOO!!! Fight! Divorce!
Carl you have a TV in your music room, right? What kind is it?
I whispered, “Uh, some cheap Chinese Roku thing.”
“Yeah. That’s it.”
Awesome. That’s even easier. Go turn it on, but don’t tune to a channel. Just leave the main Roku screen on. Tell her you’re doing what she wants.
“Uh, okay Veronica. I’m going to go in my Music room then. You call when you’re done and I can come out.”
KungFu: He doesn’t have to be such a pussy. Jesus.
“Fuck you,” I mumbled.
KungFu: No. Imma fyuck yo wife. In da pooper.
Knock it off.
I walked in my music room and shut the door. I powered on the remote and just stood there, staring at Roku channel tiles. I finally realized that I’d been tricked. I was so fucking dumb. Of course there was no way Brandon could control my telev--
It flashed twice. Then I was seeing my living room through the tablet camera. The resolution wasn’t great, but then again, it was a cheap Chinese television.
My wife was flaming sunburn red from embarrassment, starting at her forehead and washing down to the place where her feet disappeared into peignoir boudoir mules with a puffball on the toes. Her arms were crossed over her chest. Number 11 wasn’t a dress at all. It was thigh-high stockings, garters, and crotchless panties. And not much of those, from the amount of ass cheek I could see. It didn’t make any sense that Veronica was covering her chest when her shaved pussy was on full display. Veronica stood awkwardly and looked at the camera. Then she willed her arms to drop, revealing her bare breasts riding on top of a bustier demi-cup that was so tight around her middle that I wasn’t sure how she was breathing.. Veronica’s pale nipples were rock hard and even pinker than usual from the flush of embarrassment washing over her.
Veronica’s eyes slowly locked on the tablet camera. She took a deep breath. Her hands went to her hips.She turned in slow, short steps to show her mostly exposed thong-covered ass. She looked back over her shoulder with a sultry look, her white-blonde hair swinging to the opposite shoulder. Her lips tightened into a tight pucker. And then something happened to her eyes. Something wanton and naughty. She said a lot with those eyes. And she wasn’t saying it to me anymore. She didn’t even know I was watching.
Still facing away with her ass to the camera, Veronica’s hands went to her thighs and then slid down to her knees as she presented a better view of her curvy bottom to the camera, peering around her hips in a come-hither smoulder.
“Oh fuck,” I mumbed to myself. “She’s totally into this, isn’t she?”
Oh yes. Oh yes she was into it. I heard some sexy music blare from my TV. I realized Brandon must have been sending it through the tablet. I recognized it as a Post Malone tune. Veronica adores Post Malone. Veronica flinched at first, but then realized what the music meant. She began to sway her ass left and right. She spun back around and pulled her hands up her sides until they pushed under her tits and lifted each milky globe up from the bustier cup. She pinched at her own nipples and her eyes turned to sloe, sexy rapture. She lifted one funbag higher than the other, her chin dipped awkwardly, her pouty bottom lip unhinged, and her long, pointy tongue unfurled down over her nipple like a carpet runner unrolling. I’d never seen her do that before. I wasn’t even sure it was physically possible, but she had big tits and a long tongue. So... Yeah.
I’d been half-hard all night, watching the fashion show and enjoying the guys in the chat eating up my sexy wife with their jealous eyes and locker room compliments. Somewhere around Dress Number Two, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was going to fuck my wife tonight. One hundred percent. The cameraman stuff was all just very intense foreplay.
But that expression my wife was giving the camera as she danced... Giving BRANDON, as she danced... That caught me off guard. I knew that look, but it had been a long goddamn time since I had seen her squint those sexy, fuck-me eyes. And she was finally doing it for another man. I was not part of this show as far as my wife was concerned.
One set of thumb and forefinger continued to stretch a pink nipple to masochistic lengths. This was also unusual because Veronica had super sensitive nipples and didn’t like them bit too hard or stretched too much. Veronica pushed her other cluster of fingers into her pink folds. I could hear the wetness slather and pop through the TV speaker as she diddled herself. Her eyes glossed and she opened her mouth with her tongue sliding back and forth over her teeth as if her mouth was aching for something hard and warm... I don’t even know when I unzipped my pants, but I was standing and panting with a throbbing rod of needy nerves sliding back and forth through my fist. The bubbling fizzle of precum pushing the air out of my sperm chute was almost as loud and the wet pussy squishes made by my wife. I thumbed the volume up on the remote so I could hear more of her sex and less of mine.
Veronica looked straight into the camera. She spoke in a breathless, sex kitten voice. “Did you miss this pussy, Brandon? Did you miss this sweet, slutty pussy? Is that why you thought of me? Did you think about fucking that dark little piece of Italian ass for the rest of your life and think maybe you just wanted to have this wet blonde pussy one more time? Oops! It’s not blonde anymore is it? Is it Daddy? It’s aaaaalll bare down there. Yes, I remember what you like, Daddy. A good girl remembers the things her Daddy used to whisper in her ear when Daddy had that big throbbing dick all the way into her horny, wet fuckbox. You remember that time that you came over early to double me with Carl? After your golf lesson? But he had a flat tire on the way home from band practice? And he was late. But you didn’t want to wait? And I told you to wait?”
Veronica was frigging her clit in a circle. Her pink button was flashing Morse code between gaps in her blurring fingertips.
“But you didn’t wait, did you? You pushed me over the back of the couch and pulled my pants down, didn’t you? And I told you to stop, but there was no stopping you, was there? And you talked so naughty to me as you took me, Daddy. So naughty. You called me your little girl. And you made me call you Daddy as you spanked my ass, remember? And I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain those handprints on my ass to Carl, but you didn’t care. And I was sooooo wet that my pussy dripped all over the back of the couch where you bent me over, and I wondered how I was going to explain that part to Carl, too.”
Veronica’s kitten voice transitioned to panting words between grunts. She was winding up.
“And you fucked me so hard, Daddy. Remember? Remember how hard you fucked me? And I was so close to cumming. So close. And we heard Carl’s car pull into the driveway. Remember? And I knew we were going to get caught, but I begged you not to stop? And then you pushed me down on the floor and jammed that hard cock into my throat, and you came soooo hard. All in my mouth. I swallowed all that cum...”
Veronica’s eyes turned to slits. She was definitely about to orgasm.
“And you pulled your pants up and I ran in the bathroom right before he opened the door, remember? My pussy still aching to cum. And I thought, ‘Well surely he’s done for the night with all that jizz inside my stomach instead of my horny cunny.’ But you weren’t done, were you? By the time we all got back from Pizza Bingo, you were definitely ready to go again. And you didn’t disappoint me that time. No, Sir.” She winked. “No, Daddy. You got right up in my ear while you were deep-dicking me. Your hot mouth biting my ear. My hand was pumping Carl’s dick right in front of my mouth, I was waiting for him to push in and unload on my tonsils. And you were grinding that brick of yours into the very deepest parts of my slutty pussy, chewing my ears. Do you remember what you said, Daddy? Do you remember what you whispered in my ear? You said, 'You’ll always be my best little bitch, li’l girl. I’ll always be your Daddy. You better shave that pussy clean for Daddy.’ Oh and I came so hard, Daddy. I came so hard that I tensed and couldn’t get Carl’s cock in my mouth in time and he blasted hot cum right into my eyesssss.... Ohhhhhwwwwwwfuuuuuuuuuck.”
Veronica thrashed like an upright car dealership Wavy Winston balloon. She came and moaned. Whet dribbled between her thrashing fingers onto the living room rug. I lost it too, spraying her likeness on the television in gloppy jets. I was standing five feet away from the television, so that was some high pressure lust. My brain sizzled.
Veronica recovered, panting. She llicked her lips and rolled her chin. “Well that just breaks my heart, Brandon. It breaks my heart to think of that enormous cock of yours all bored with the same pussy every night forever. If I can send you off with a tight, wet good-bye, it’s only fair. It’s only fair that I get one more turn to have that hard throat-stretcher in my horny, slut mouth.” She made a pouty mouth, but her eyes sparked. “And in my tight, bare, pink pussy.” She parted her sex to display it’s full, pink, glistening glory.
Yes, this was sexy as fuck. My cock definitely thought so. But my post-orgasmic brain wasn’t so sure. it was nine kinds of wrong. There was a difference between the concept of a slut wife and your wife actually having a thing for another guy. This was taking an uncomfortable turn toward a “thing.”
Veronica kissed the tips of her pussy-soaked fingers and hinged them flat right in front of the camera lens, blowing a wet kiss to her audience. She smiled and walked off.
“What the actual fuck,” I sputtered, taking it all in. The camera cut to black.
Veronica took to sleep like a cinderblock falling from a bridge.
I just stared a the dark outline of the ceiling fan over our bed and tried to get a handle on the monster I had let into my house.
Veronica obviously had no idea that her sexy performance art was being watched by a lot more guys than just Brandon. Or at least I think it was. Maybe when Veronica started talking dirty, Brandon turned off the feed for all the other guys.
Aw, who am I kidding. Probably not. Brandon probably let them all watch and got off on the ego trip. When I got back to the tablet, it was a brick. Dark and unresponsive.
So, should I have said something to Veronica? I should have, right? She needed to know, right? But then I’d have to explain to her that I had watched her too on the camera feed. She’d know I found out about her... Her... Her what? It wasn’t really cheating. I mean, we were all getting together for a threesome that night all those years ago and I was late to the party. If Veronica had told me the next day that Brandon took her hard before I got home, I wouldn’t have been mad. I don’t think. But it bothered me a little that it was a “thing” now. A secret. She kept a secret from the boyfriend who later became her husband.
...And now I was keeping a secret from her.
I sighed deeply.
“Imma fyuck yo wife. In da pooper.”
Ah shit. Obviously I told Veronica that I was going to set boundaries with Brandon to make sure it was clear that he was the only guy greenlighted to have sex with her. I never did. I thought that part was just obvious. Honestly, I was thinking about the money and didn’t want to make waves.
I wondered if some of those guys who were watching the fashion show maybe thought they were going to get a turn at her too. I needed to call Brandon and make sure he knew he was the only one with a Disney FastPass to ride Veronica Mountain.
That triggered me thinking about how sexy Veronica was when she had two guys at the same time. There were three other guys besides Brandon who I’d shared her with, sexually. One of those guys, Matt, was married and we did a same room swap with me fucking Matt’s wife while he pounded away at Veronica.
And there was one hookup with my old high school girlfriend. Becky, Veronica and I got really drunk at my five year high school reunion and we all ended up back at the apartment Veronica and I shared at the time. That was a couple months before we got married.
Becky and Veronica took turns giving me a blowjob. That was incredible, of course. Becky and Veronica kissed a little for my benefit and sucked each other’s titties, but that was as far as the girl-on-girl went. Really they were just putting on a show for me before I took turns fucking them. That part didn’t last nearly as long as I wished it had.
After Becky there were two Craislist guys. Those romps were the ones that took center stage in my spank bank memories when I was jerking off.
Despite the scene I described with the lingerie, and despite the fact that I just told you our swinger history, the truth was that Veronica was kind of shy and very reserved. Swinging and swapping had been my idea and Veronica was a really good sport to go along with it. I’ve painted her as a total slut, but actually she was more of a frozen fire. She’d grown up in the church, and there was a lot of repression going on with that girl.
Those times when she was getting double-teamed by me and another guy at the same time, those times when she was just overwhelmed by male need and male demands and testosterone competing to squeeze male pleasure from her? Those were magical times. On a good night, I can lick two orgasms out of Veronica. But when she was getting banged by two guys, she could get off six, even seven times in a long night of pounding.
Her animal side came out when she had two guys bossing her around, sticking cocks into her face at the same time and waiting to see which cock got her hot mouth and which cock got parked in a hand.
And Jesus, that girl never came harder than when she was sucking cock while another cock banged away at her pussy. She went off like a tactical nuclear explosion. Her crazy orgasm cry started in her epicenter and shook it’s way up through her and burst through her sexy mouth, spraying a fine mist of spittle back on the cock pistoning into her tonsils.
I should have woken Veronica up, but I jerked off instead and rained hot cum from my neck to my thighs.
The Brandon boxes were still stacked in the corners of our bedroom the next evening. Despite Veronica’s protests that she didn’t want Brandon’s shadow in our bedroom, it was very much present. I didn’t ask if he “sent his instructions” regarding which dresses were getting returned. Veronica could deal with that. I knew that “Number 11” was not going anywhere but closer toward Brandon.
Veronica put Becca down for the night and disappeared into her bathroom. I was in my music room watching TMZ on a muted television and working through some drumkit polyrhythms. I’m a mediocre drummer, but trying to get better. Mel, the owner of the studio where I work, encourages everyone who works there to be competent enough on guitar, bass, drums, and keyboard that we can step in for a missing session musician in an emergency. Clients love that shit. Drums are my weakest skill.
Veronica leaned against the doorway of my music room in her short robe. She usually wore pajamas, so seeing all that bare leg was unusual. She smiled at me and slowly pulled the end of her robe belt tie with dramatically-pinched finger and thumb. The knot pulled away and the front of the robe gapped open to reveal a straight line of porcelain skin from Veronica’s long, thin neck to her bare pussy.
I froze in mid crosshand transition between the high tom and the ride. “Whoa.”
“Wanna blowjob, Lars Ulrich?”
I whistled. “ I want a lot more than a blowjob.” I was glaring at her shaved twat and trying to remember the last time she kept it bare. Probably back when... Oh. Yeah. Brandon Part One. She let her pussy fur grow back over after he left for Seattle.
A weird expression flashed across Veronica’s face. “Mmmm. I really want to give you a blow job.”
“That’s fine, but I want some pussy too.”
Something was wrong. “Carl, I really need some practice, honey. My jaw kind of needs to get used to working... You know... For a little longer stretch of time.”
“Ah. Okay. I get it.” I nodded. Brandon had a lot of stamina back in the day. I did too, back then. But I was out of practice and Veronica was out of practice. Brandon was probably not out of practice. “How about I cum once in your mouth and once in your pussy?”
“If you can cum twice, I really really need you to put both in my mouth.”
“Bedroom?” I set my sticks down.
“No, here.” Veronica walked around and knelt at the open flank behind my drum stool. I spun to face her and she started clawing at the button on my pants.
“You’re aggressive,” I smiled.
“I’m drooling. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
I stood for a moment so Veronica could pull my pants all the way off as I stepped out. I was well on my way to a firm chub.
“I want you to do something for me,” Veronica said.
She pulled the thin robe belt from the loops and handed it to me. She turned around and Xed her wrists behind her back. “Tie my hands?”
“I gotta be prepared for anything,” Veronica said. “I need you to challenge me. Make me work for it.”
“Whoakay,” I shrugged. I wrapped a few loops around Veronica’s crossed wrists and flopped the loose ends in a half-assed knot.
Veronica straightened up and pulled against her bondage. Her hands pulled right out. “Carl! Come on! Do it right!”
“Wow. You’re taking this more serious than you did guitar lessons.”
“Now is not the time for score keeping,” Veronica grumbled. “Now bind my wrists tight.”
I made my second effort count. “Is that too tight?”
“Much better.” Veronica said, her shoulders rolled as she tested my work.
“You sure? Your hands are turning white. I should loosen it a little.”
“No! Carl! Stop being so nice. You’re not helping when you’re too nice. I told you I need you to challenge me.”
Veronica was looking up at me, blinking. Her nipples were hard and pink. I noticed her eyeliner for the first time. She prepared for this.
I looked at Veronica.
Veronica looked at me.
“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
Veronica sighed. “Carl,” there was a frustrated terseness in her voice. “Tell me what to do. What do you want?”
Veronica flushed with anger. “Like licks? Sucks? Tell me what you want.”
“Oh! Uh, lick, please.”
“Don’t say please, Carl. Just say what you want.”
Wow, I loved the way Veronica’s long, thin tongue looked when it was whipping around a cock, especially when it was my cock. Her tongue was so pink and sexy. She really put on a show. The warm, glistening wetness felt as amazing as it looked.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned. I really wanted her to start sucking, but she said to challenge her. I hadn’t even started and I was already too close to popping my cork. “Suck my balls, baby.”
“Oh yes,” Veronica moaned hot breath all over my sack. She latched her rosy lips around one of my hairy nads and gently sucked, hinging her mouth wide open to try and take the whole nut without hurting me. The sensation of wet warmth on my left ball sent chills up my spine.
I heard my own breathing get grunty. “Other ball.”
Veronica’s neck swiveled and she paired the wonderful sensation to my right nut.
My pecker was an absolute flag pole, pointed at my chin and twitching with my pulse. Jesus, I was fucking horny. I couldn’t not-be-sucked a minute longer. I was aching with the need of rippling nerves along my shaft.
“Oh baby, suck that dick, sweetie. Ow! FUCK! You bit my ball!”
Veronica looked super pissed off. I cradled my sack in my hand and reflexively bent forward with the second wave of nausea that follows ball trama. “The fuck, Vee!”
“Carl....” Veronica was literally growling between clenched teeth in a mad way, not a sexy way. It came out more like “Kkaaaarrrrrrrrrrllll...” Veronica took a deep breath. “Carl, I love you, but you. Are. Not. Helping. Me. I need you to be more forceful. Remember how forceful Brandon was with me when we were together?”
I started to say “Even more forceful when I wasn’t around,” but I stopped myself. No need letting her know that I knew her little secret. Not yet. I nodded and rubbed my sore gonads.
“Remember how when you were saying ‘fuck me, babydoll,' that Brandon was saying ‘move that ass, bitch!’?” Veronica’s voice was quivering with suppressed anger.
“Well,” Veronica said, “I need to practice for Bossy Brandon, not Caring Carl. I really really REALLY need you to be a little more Brandon right now, Carl. C’mon.”
I got madder at Veronica than I had ever been in my entire life in that moment. My vision went red. I had never laid a hand on Veronica in anger and I don’t know what happened to me. I slapped her right across her cheek. Hard enough to turn her entire face and shoulders with the impact. The sound was loud. I froze with fear.
Veronica turned slowly back toward me and looked up at me, blinking and gaping her jaw open and closed.
“I’m so sorr--”
“Shut up!” Veronica cut me off. “That was perfect. Do it again.” Veronica blinked at me. I wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on. “Do it! Slap me again. Harder!”
I slapped her again, but definitely not harder.
“Now grab my hair and fuck the shit out of my throat.” Veronica hissed through clenched teeth and looked at me like she would go for my throat if she had the hands to do it.
I mounted Veronica’s mouth and reached behind her head to gather a handful of silky white hair in my fingers. I thrust my pecker into her mouth and held her head until my cockhead gagged her throat. She retched. I instinctively pulled back.
“Don’t pull out!” she shouted. “Damn it! Carl! Come ON! Be a man!”
I pushed my cock back through her lips and thrust until she gagged again. And again. And again. And again. I’d never really forced my cock that deep in her mouth before. The guys we’d swung with all pretty much had done it. I was always a little concerned that it was hurting Veronica when they did that, but she never said anything and I never said anything. It felt really good to get that much mouth on my cock. The soft warmth of her throat palate felt great rubbing every twitchy cell on my engorged cock head, top-bottom-and-sides.
Veronica’s eyes bulged and looked panicked, so I stepped back and let her catch her breath.
“Perfect,” she gasped. Spittle sprayed out on her chin and tits. “More! Be bossy, just like that. Take it. Take this mouth. Show me it’s yours.”
This was crazy, but it was definitely consensual. It felt great. I grabbed the hair on the top of her head with one hand and put my other fingers around her throat. Man. If she wanted her throat fucked, she was going to get her throat fucked. Her eyes popped when I put my fingers around her thin neck, even before I jammed my dick between her lips. I did as she asked, fucking hard into her mouth. She made a crazy sound, frightened and animal.
“That what you want, bitch?” I growled. I felt my animal self come free of its cage. “You want more Brandon in your cocksucking submissive slut mouth, bitch? How’s this?”
“Ghunnngh! Gnnnughg! Mmmmnnnooouuug!”
“I’ll take that for a ‘yes,’ Slut.” I let her have it, the most sadistic face fucking I had in me. I looked down and her eyes were watering, Her mascara began to melt little black stalactite lines under her lower lids.
“You want it fucking rough, bitch?” I looked down at Veronica for an answer, but as hard as I was pulling her throat onto my cock, she couldn’t answer. Her eyes bulged. Her corneas were getting bloodshot with the pressure behind them. Drool was flowing from the corners of her mouth all over her lower chin.
Again, I’d seen this Veronica a couple times before, but always under the ministrations of some other horny guy about to nut.
I finally understood what those guys were experiencing. The power felt good. If I hadn’t been angry with Veronica, I don’t think I could have been as forceful for as long as I kept it up. But it was pretty great. I didn’t like the terrified look on Veronica’s face, but I sure liked the sensation of all that velvet mouth clamped around my dick.
The boil came on fast. My teeth clenched. Some rational echo in my brain warned me that if came too fast, it wouldn’t “challenge” Veronica, and that I should back off and put her back to sucking my balls until the urge to pump cum slowed down.
Oh, fuck that. I thought about the way she looked in that camera when she was talking sexy to Brandon. I pulled my thrust back farther and then pushed my cockhead even harder into her tonsils, pulling at her hair so hard I thought a handful might rip out in my fingers. I backed out again and pistoned back into three more hard jabs into her grunting, mewling lips.
I short circuited. I made a howling grunt all the way from my chest and surrendered to the uprush of my entire being pouring through the pressure valve of my pleasure-clamped cock. My grip on Veronica’s neck and hair slipped away as my muscles all went numb with the overwash of orgasm.
Wow. She tried to stay on and ride the bull as I unloaded buckets of white seed in her pretty mouth. She gulped and gulped. But then she gagged and squinted and blew the load I was still pumping back out of her mouth in a retching explosion. I stepped back and my cock sprang up and slapped my stomach before sending one last arc of semen up in the air and down onto Veronica’s back. Veronica retched hard again and a huge floe of spit and sperm washed over her bottom teeth and splashed her tits and the carpet. This wasn’t sex, this was throwing up.
Veronica gasped and forced herself to swallow all of the wash in her mouth. She panted and looked like she was winding up for a bazooka barf. She stopped herself. She breathed hard and looked up at me with bewildered eyes.
“Honey, I’m so sorry,” I panted. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Shut up!” Spittle flew out of her mouth with the force of her words. She was a fucking mess. A sweaty fucking sloppy mess. “Can you go again? That was short.”
Holy shit, what was going on? Who was this woman?
“I need a minute,” I panted. This was crazy.
Veronica fell on her back hard like a falling timber. She spread her legs wide to me. I could see her distended pussy lips flapping two inches out of her hairless puss, the way she got when she was super horny. “Please lick me while you recharge. Please, baby?”
I dropped on the floor and pushed my mouth in the sopping, flappy folds of my wife’s needy slit. I lapped and sucked her clit while her heels dug into the small of my back to pull me harder into her sex.
“You want me to untie you?” I grunted into her pussy.
She didn’t answer verbally, just whipping her chin back and forth in a “No!” motion. Her eyes were gone. Her mouth was shaping silent profanities. Her thighs quivered. I latched my lips around her clit and sucked it hard. Veronica shrieked some kind of whitenoise scream and her heels pulled me even tighter. I tried to remember the last time she’d been this wanton and out-of-control. It had been years. I poked two fingers up in her tunnel and her head thrashed into the floor over and over. I was concerned that she’d knock herself out; the carpet padding wasn’t that great and I could feel the “thunk” vibrations of her skull moving through the floor. I wiggled my fingers in her tight, hot fuckbox.
“Yuuuungh!” She moaned. “Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t you fucking stop!”
“Shut up, bitch,” I growled back at her, muffled by the slathering pink slit dancing over my lips and chin. I pulled my fingers out of her pussy just as her thighs were about to vibrate into a different dimension. I pushed one sloppy index finger into her little pink asshole and fingerbanged it hard and fast.
Veronica pulled her ass off the carpet, all of her weight on the heels digging into my back. Then it was my turn to swallow. She gushed pussy honey into my mouth like a pressure washer. She was screaming something silently as she flooded my mouth. The silent scream transitioned to a wounded animal sound as her orgasm contractions passed the halfway point and she jerked her torso in an attempt to get away from the overstimulation. I didn’t let her go. I grabbed her tits to pin her to the floor and kept sucking and licking that pink button until I heard her crying between convulsions. Real crying. Hard sobs.
That stopped me. I looked up at her and her face was a knotty rag of unhappiness.
Or so I thought.
“I’m sorry baby,” I said. “I thought that’s what you wanted. You said to--”
“So good!” she sobbed. “So fucking good.”
“Oh,” I blinked. I’d enjoyed many post-orgasmic compliments from my wife, but not while she was crying as hard as she did when the OB/GYN broke the news to her about Becca.
Veronica’s face was glistening with drying spit and sperm. Her neck was coated. Her hair was everywhere. Underneath her eyes were nothing but Goth black smudges.
“So can you go again?” she sniffed.
I crawled up and pulled my wife into a spoon. I held her tight and kissed her ear. Her bound hands reached for my spent cock and pulled at it, trying to spark it to life.
I didn’t go again. I untied her and we went to bed. To this day I believe that if I’d cum in her mouth one more time that night, things would have turned out a lot differently than they ultimately did.
Two days later we had an almost identical repeat of that same seduction and blowjob. The only three differences were:
1. We did it in the guest bedroom with the door locked. Me sitting in the dressing chair.
2. Two hours earlier, right after dinner Veronica handed me a little blue oval-shaped pill and demanded that I take it.
“Viagra?” I shook my head at her. “I don’t need Viagra, honey. I’m good to go anytime you’re good to go. I’ve never had a problem getting steel.”
“It’s not for your wood,” Veronica said. “It’s for your stamina. It will help you go more than once.”
“Where did you get this?” I asked.
Veronica blushed. “Does it matter?”
I felt a wave of anger along with the manipulative presence of Brandon sneaking his way between the intimacy of me and my wife again. “Oh, you’re kidding.”
“Just try it, baby. It won’t kill you.”
“I don’t need it. He shouldn’t be sending you drugs through the mail.”
“Courier,” Veronica said. “Private courier. And there’s something else.”
I cocked an expectant eyebrow.
Which brings us to the third difference:
Veronica gave me her bondage blowjob while I pointed the camera on the mystery tablet at her, POV style. Brandon was going to watch. He had assigned her homework.
The rest was pretty much the same as two days earlier. Before we got started Veronica reminded me to slap her face and growl at her just the same way that I did the first time.
She insisted that I face fuck her until she couldn’t take another second of cock in her throat.
She wanted to roleplay a little. She would say, “Please, no more! I’ll be good!” And I was to be cruel to her and slap her and choke her when she begged me for mercy.
She insisted that I try to cum twice this time.
There was no pussy licking and no crying during the mulligan. But she was just as big of a mess after two exhausting head sessions almost in a row. I lasted a lot longer under the spell of the little blue pill. It kind of numbed my nerves a little. And my recycle time wasn’t instantaneous, but it couldn’t have taken longer than ten minutes of watching Veronica writhe around on the floor, opening her legs and her distended folds to the camera. With her arms tied behind her back she had to reach under her own ass to get her fingers close enough to her pussy to spread a little gap of pink to the camera. Her pink tongue made snake flickers through her white teeth and her eyes were communicating pornographic thoughts.
That pink peepshow wasn’t for me. That was for Brandon. Her sluttiness sparked me and we were back to the races. After Veronica’s slithering show all over the carpet and her lip licking at the camera, I was emboldened to start slapping for real and pulling hair hard enough to make Veronica’s eyes water.
“Please!” Veronica panted. “Please, I can’t take any more. I’ll give you whatever you want. Don’t be rough with me any more!”
CRACK! I left a red mark on her cheek and stuffed my cock in her throat, just the way she scripted it. Roleplay was kind of fun. Being the heavy was kind of fun.
Brandon wanted to see what my wife could take? By God, I showed him. I showed my wife as well, right up until I fisted the base of my cock and pumped heat-thinned seed all over her eyes and lips. For a second orgasm in an hour, it was an impressive load, even if it wasn’t as thick and milky as the first paste I creamed on her outstretched tongue.
She was already a mess, but I made sure she was an even bigger mess when I was done with her.
“How do I turn this fucking thing off?” I panted, looking around the tablet for a button I knew wasn’t there.
The camera kicked off and the screen went black.
“Oh whatever,” I panted. I tossed the tablet on the guest bed. I was pretty sweaty from exertion. I untied Veronica. “You want some loving, now, babe?”
“Maybe when we get to bed. Let’s shower together first.”
She couldn’t wait for the bed. I fingerbanged her in the shower and she creamed in less than three minutes.
There were two more weeks before the bachelor party, but no more “practice.” I didn’t even see so much as a nipple in that time.
I thought there was going to be a bus, the way Veronica thought there was going to be a cake.
There was no cake and there was no bus. BIllionaires don’t rent busses for their bachelor parties.
A town car driven by a Latino guy in a black suit picked Veronica up in front of our house and drove her to the private airport. She met up with Brandon and the bachelor party on a midsize charter plane stopping in Salt Lake City en route from Los Angeles to New York.
Or at least that’s the picture she texted me.
I was kind of dizzy. I tried not to think about what was going to happen. For all the fantasizing I had done about my wife getting worked over by horny Brandon, when the moment came, it was all just wrong. I had Becca to take care of for three and a half days. A slate of Daddy-daughter activities were lined up to keep my mind occupied. It didn’t work at all.
I got a final text from her: “This is my last text. B taking phone. CU <3”
Asshole. She wasn’t going to be escorting 24/7 for three days. He didn’t have to take her phone. I didn’t plan on that. That just made the quiet house even creepier. I kept catching myself breathing heavy through my nose like a bull. My footsteps were heavy for some reason, practically stomping.
“Daddy, why you mads?” Becca asked.
“Daddy’s not mad, princess,” I smiled. “Daddy just misses mommy.”
“But mommy come home soon,” she said.
I nodded. “Yeah, baby. Not soon enough.”
I took two Tylenol PM’s and smoked a big bowl of sticky BC indica to finally turn off my brain and get some sleep. It stopped my pacing. I had been pacing, every nerve on edge. The not-knowing and communication blackout was driving me nuts. The plan had been for her to text me updates in her down time; To call and whisper me the sexy detail parts while I jerked off. Not this. Not radio silence. Not my imagination churning up all the worst things.
But sleep finally stripped me of that heavy mantle.
And then the fucking smoke detector battery died and that infernal chirping started. “BWIPT!” I tried to ignore it, but I’m thatguy: The guy who can’t sleep through a smoke detector battery beep, even when he’s stoned as fuck.
“Ah holy fucking Christ on a cracker,” I moaned. My mouth was a sandy sack of dogshit. I needed to drink a gallon of water and piss twice that much.
“I’m too fucking high to get up on a ladder,” I said to the darkness. Then the irony of what I said tickled my stoner bone and I started giggling.
Ah. Fuck me running. I forced my legs over the side of the bed and shuffled to the bathroom where I sat on the pot and peed for what seemed like one hour and a hundred “BWIPT!”s. I made my way to the fridge in the dark and cracked a can of LaCroix, gulping it empty in seconds. I cracked another and closed the door to silence the deafening light.
Step One was to find the offending smoke detector. Why do smoke detector batteries never fail during daylight hours? Why don’t they have different tones so you can tell which one is beeping? What’s with that? I shuffled through the house and trained my ear, listening... Listening...
Fuck. Coming from the other end of the house. I shuffled that way and listened... Listened...
Wait. That seemed to come from the bedroom. How did I not notice that in the first place. I stood in the dark next to the bed and scratched my balls.
“What the fuck? Okay what was that? The bathroom?”
Goddamn it. Not the en suite. But it was close.
That sounded like it came from Veronica’s closet. I didn’t think Veronica even had a smoke detector in her closet. Really? I stood in there, smelling her perfume and the lavender afterwaft of dry cleaning. Waiting. Waiting.
Okay, now I was pissed off. That wasn’t coming from the ceiling. I turned on the light and shielded my smoked-out eyes from the glare of the light strips overhead. Veronica insisted I put a stupid amount of lights in her big walk-in closet.
The fuck? It was coming from one of her lingerie drawers. I opened them one at a time until I saw it. The screen on the tablet was active.
“IT’S THREE A.M. DO YO KNOW WHERE YOUR SLUT WIFE IS?”
Below it was a tap button on the screen. “Tell me more!”
I blinked. I definitely wanted to know where my wife was. But... Did I really?
“BWIPT!” It was loud enough to make me wince.
“Oh you fucker,” I groaned. “You self important fuckwad jackass.”
I took a deep breath. I tapped the button.
It was the kind of private plane you see in movies. Too small to be a 727. Too big to be a little Citation. Something more like a larger Gulfstream. I could only see the interior from a camera that had to be mounted just on the other side of the cockpit door.
It didn’t look like there was enough seating for all the guys milling about the cabin interior. There were a lot of dudes on that plane. I could see Veronica sitting in some guy’s lap. He was in one of the larger chairs. He had a doughboy pale face, squinty eyes and red hair. He looked like the actor Jesse Plemons, and for a while I thought it was actually Jesse Plemons from Breaking Bad. I mean, why not. Yeah, there was Bradley Cooper sitting in the back, talking on his phone. Why couldn’t that guy who looked like Jesse Plemons be Jesse Plemons. Veronica was sitting in his lap, her legs crossed at the thighs, her arm draped around his shoulders. He had a goofy look on his face. A goofy smile and thin, squinty eyes. Veronica was smiling and laughing politely at whatever they were talking about. Brandon walked toward them. He looked back directly at the camera and then down at his phone. He tapped Veronica on the elbow and said something to the guy who may-or-may-not have been Jesse Plemons. The guy nodded and smiled. Veronica slid off his lap and took Brandon’s hand as he lead her down the center of the plane and through a door at the back.
I had enough time to count ten or so other guys in the cabin, and for the first time I noticed the two other women. And man, they were hot. One brunette. One smoking hawt redhead. I wasn’t sure if they were girlfriends or escorts, but goddamn they were young and they were flawless. They were wearing upscale evening wear like Veronica.
The tablet cut to a different camera view. I had assumed Brandon pulled Veronica into a bathroom, but I could see it was actually a small office. Very small. But plenty of room for Veronica to kneel on the carpet. Brandon looked back and forth between his phone and the camera mounted above the door. He was obviously controlling the camera feed with an app on his phone. Satisfied that the camera was working, Brandon smiled and winked at the camera. He tapped his phone and for the first time I could hear the ambient rumble of the jet engines and voices in the plane’s interior. Audio was now active. Mostly I heard Brandon’s zipper as he pulled it down.
“You want this, baby?” Brandon reached into his pants, fishing for his rod.
“Oh you know I do,” Veronica smiled. She seemed oblivious to the camera.
“Did you miss this big meat?”
“Oh my god, I missed your big dick so much.”
Brandon had to struggle to unsheath his hard sword through the opening in his pants. When he finally pulled his dong out it was as impressive as I remembered.
Veronica’s lips tightened and her eyes got big. I realized she was swallowing a mouth full of drool.
“Beg for it,” Brandon flipped his cock like a fly fishing rod, bouncing it off the tip of Veronica’s nose and pulling it back. “Beg.”
“Oh Daddy,” Veronica used her little girl voice. “I’ve waited so long. Please, Daddy. Please. I’ve been a good girl for you. Please let me give your daddy dick a little wet kiss? Please, Daddy?” Veronica blinked too much and made a pouty mouth.
“You know Daddy wants you to be a good girl,” Brandon growled. “Show me how a good girl loves her daddy.”
Brandon leaned forward and Veronica’s horny mouth met him halfway. She latched on and started sucking like a tramp. She made squeaky little goodgirl moans. Her big eyes looked up into Brandon’s eyes. He had planted an arm into the wall behind where Veronica was kneeling and suddenly looked like he was going to collapse on her like a tree. It was hard to see her mouth on his cock when he leaned forward and thrust. But I could hear it. I could hear the suction. I could hear his grunts and heavy breathing. I could hear her littlegirl yippy moans being snipped short by his dick crashing into the back of her throat.
“Oh fuck, you are such a good cocksucker,” Brandon gasped. “So fucking good. Such a good cocksucker shouldn’t have to work. You should suck cock all day. Daddy has a lot of friends and you have a talented little cocksucker mouth.”
I saw something in Veronica’s eyes. Surprise. Just a flash. Recognition.
“But you’re my Daddy.” Veronica had stopped sucking long enough to lick Brandon’s twitching shaft and talk babytalk. “A good girl should only be good to her Daddy.”
“Hush!” Brandon barked. “You’ll do what you’re told, Little Girl!”
“Yes Daddy.” It was all Veronica could say before Brandon barked at her to suck and remounted her throat. Hard. It was all “Glarg glarg glarg!” after that. Brandon grabbed the back of her hair in his right hand and went to town, swaying from his hips. He fucked Veronica’s head back to the wall behind her and then fucked her mouth even harder when she had nowhere to go.
Veronica started moaning through the gags. Brandon stopped long enough to push the straps of her dress off her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her ivory breasts and pink nipples made a grand appearance. Brandon couldn’t keep his hands off them. He pinched her right nipple and twisted and pulled. Veronica winced. Her nipples were super sensitive. Brandon noticed this and pinched harder and pulled farther. He twisted sadistically until Veronica’s jaw dropped and she cried out. That’s what he wanted; an open mouth. He stabbed his cock forward and drilled her throat until her head thonked into the wall behind her. His left hand kept tugging and twisting her pink cone.
For a moment Brandon face-fucked her hard and his arm blocked my view. Then both of his hands pressed to the wall over her head and he slowed his piston stroke into my wife’s plump lips.
“Aiigguuuuuh!” Brandon moaned.
Veronica made a surprised “Mmmmf!” sound and then I could see her throat gulping down all the seed that Brandon was pumping in her mouth. She gulped and gulped, so he must have been saving up for my wife’s delightful blowjob.
“Oh fuck!” Brandon smiled down at her. “I’ve been waiting so long to have your sexy mouth on my cock again, Babydoll.” He pulled back until his thick rod came out of my wife’s mouth with a plop. He was still quite hard. He grabbed his cock at the base and pulled up long milky last blob of sperm. Veronica’s eyes were transfixed on Brandon’s dick, so her tongue was exactly where it needed to be for Brandon to unload right into the cup of her bubblegum tongue. She swallowed it instantly.
“Clean,” barked Brandon.
Brandon groaned as Veronica took hard sucks at his shrinking cock. He had to pull back in just a few seconds. He was human after all.
“Nice job, Slut,” Brandon smiled down at her. He reeled his dick back into his underwear and zipped up.
Veronica smiled a huge, contented grin. “Thank you, Daddy!” Veronica started to tuck her arms back in her dress.
“No!” Brandon barked. “Stay there.”
“Bran-- uh Daddy?” Veronica was confused.
“Just do as you’re told.”
“Yes sir.” Veronica blinked.
I hadn’t noticed the little ring things mounted to the wall behind Veronica until Brandon pulled some tethers out of the tiny desk’s drawer. The rings were only an inch or so in diameter. I thought they were... Fuck, I don’t know. Office decor?
Whatever those wall mounted rings were supposed to be, they were perfectly spaced for Brandon to tie each of Veronica’s wrists to the wall.
Veronica looked really confused.
Brandon pinched Veronica’s chin and lifted it until their eyes locked. “You’re going to be a good girl. You’re going to do what you’re told.”
“AREN’T YOU?” Brandon shouted it and Veronica flinched.
“Yes Daddy,” Brandon corrected.
“Yes Daddy,” Veronica nodded. She used a little girl voice.
“I own you,” Brandon said.
“For the time being, I own you.”
“I could tell the pilot to set this plane down in Dubai, and I’d own you forever.”
Veronica looked worried. She paused. Then nodded. “Yes Daddy.”
“Be a good girl. Do not embarrass me.”
“I won’t, Daddy.”
Brandon looked below the camera and adjusted his shirt in the waistband of his pants. Obviously there was a mirror on the door underneath the camera I couldn’t see. Brandon looked up right in the camera and winked.
Left alone, Veronica couldn’t really do anything but fidget and readjust her knees. She looked about the small room. She looked up at the camera. Then away. Then back at the camera. I still was not sure if she knew the camera was there or not. Did she know I was watching?
The top of the door blurred through the camera lens, momentarily scrambling the autofocus. It was the Jesse Plemons looking dude. He looked down at my wife and smiled.
“Aw shit, yeah,” smiled the redhead. “Bee says to leave your wrists tied. Sorry, but rules yaknow?”
Veronica gave a slight smile and nodded politely.
“That’s gonna mean you have to work at this,” the redhead unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. He stepped out of his pants, leaving his shoes behind as well. “Sucks to be you, right?” he smiled.
His chubby short cock was already in liftoff as he walked forward and stuck it in my wife’s face. “You know what to do, honey.”
Veronica stretched forward and latched onto a semi-flacid chub of man taffy. She moaned a little and the redheaded guy liked that. She sucked and pulled her head back until the redhead’s cock thickened and pushed her lips wider. His cock was probably average, but it was smaller than mine and way smaller than Brandon’s, so it looked small. Veronica’s head didn’t have to move very far back and forth. She grunted and moaned and tried to look up at her new master.
His squinty eyes were completely shut and his jaw was wagging open. “Oh fuck. Brandon was right. You are great little dick sucking slut. Oh shit. Oh gawd. Oh fuh-fuh-FUHNG!” The redhead’s head swiveled around his neck. He was definitely cumming in my wife’s mouth. “Oh yeah. That’s so fucking good,” the redhead whispered. “Nice. Nice. Get it all. Ffffffuck yeah!”
He had to step back. He was burnt. “Wow thanks, Roni. That was fucking awesome.”
Veronica smiled politely. “Thank you.” Her tongue cleaned the goo coating her teeth.
“Did you like that? You like sucking my cock?” Redhead was panting and had a goofy grin.
“I love sucking cock.” Veronica said it in a sweet, submissive voice that was so sincere I believed she meant it, even though she obviously wasn’t really into the readheaded guy.
“Yeah? You wanna suck my cock again?”
“Absolutely!” Veronica was on her game.
“Okay. See ya later!” The redhead buckled his pants and left. What a goober.
“See ya later?” Really?
Veronica stretched against her arm bondage. Her knees were feeling their extended workout. She wasn’t 23 anymore. Her lower legs were kind of red from lack of blood flow. Her forehead was a little schvitzy. Redheaded guy only took about four minutes total, but sucking two cocks (three if you count Brandon’s twice for size and how hard he worked my wife’s mouth) was still a lot of work.
“So are you watching, Carl?”
I flinched. Veronica was looking straight at the camera. Yes, she knew.
“Did you see me suck those cocks?” she looked kind of serious. “Did you watch two grown-ass men unload their nuts in my mouth, Carl?”
I nodded. I don’t know why I nodded. I’m a dumbass.
“I thought this was just Brandon, Carl. I thought you said you talked to him and it was just Brandon?” Yikes. She was pissed. Veronica took a deep breath, the way she did when she was trying to stop a fight before it started. She looked around the office like she was looking for something that would get her hands untied from the wall. She looked back up at the camera. “Nobody has untied me. You think Brandon’s coming back in to untie me? Or do you think I’m about to suck another cock, Carl? Because I think I’m about to suck another cock.”
Veronica took another deep breath. Then she softened.
“Carl, I’m okay. I don’t want you to worry. I’m okay. It isn’t bad. I’ll get through this if you will. Brandon’s just trying to get in your kitchen. But you’re not the jealous type, honey. You’re probably beating off to this, aren’t you?”
Veronica smiled a little.
“Are you stroking your cock while you watch, Carl? Did you see how hard Brandon worked my mouth with that giant dick of his? I wonder if he’s going to turn on the camera when he fucks me with that big dick. You think he will, honey? I bet you will. I know how you like to watch me please men. Will you stroke your hard cock while Brandon rails my tight little pussy with his big. Har-ud. Dick?” Veronica snipped the words with emphasis, licked her teeth, and stared into the camera with a wicked smile.
For the record, my cock was hard since about twenty seconds into Brandon face fucking my wife. The whole thing with the redheaded guy was pretty base and pretty sordid. Not exactly porn fantasy material, but I was already thinking about the way my slutty wife had played him like a fiddle and gulped his sperm like a whore. The specifics weren’t sexy, but the idea that my wife’s mouth had slurped down the start of a blowbang and she was still tied to the wall... I was half crazy and half insane with lust. At some point I’d pulled my dong out of the leg of my boxers and yes, I was taking the occasional tug on it.
Veronica was not entirely correct that I was “not the jealous type.” I was definitely feeling something toxic bubbling in my spleen that felt a lot like jealousy.
“Keep your shit together, Carl,” Veronica said. “Don’t do anything stupid. As long as I’m here, I might as well do this. Don’t risk us losing out on the reward after I go through the work. Don’t let Brandon get to...” Veronica’s head snapped toward the door. I could hear male laughter. “Somebody’s coming,” Veronica whispered. “I’ll try to call you later if I can get to a phone. Tell Becca I love her.” Veronica tossed her hair. Female vanity is crazy. Tied to a wall. Used. All she could do to make herself presentable to the next man who was about to walk in and probably use her was roll her neck and toss her flaxen hair. And that’s what she did.
There was an eternal pause. More laughing from close by. Veronica looked at the door. She swallowed. She looked at me. She looked at the door. She looked at me.
The tension was hot molasses.
She looked at the door again. She licked her lips. She looked at me. “It’s freezing in here.” She looked down at her bare breasts. Her nipples were rock hard and tantalizingly long. “You see these nips, Carl? They could cut glass.”
She looked at the door. Back at me.
“But I’m kind of a slut, too, right? I’m -- like -- trying to guess who is walking through that door next? Bradley Cooper is really here on the plane. Did you know that? Of course you don’t know that. How would you know that. Maybe Bradley Cooper is next? Maybe? If it’s Bradley Cooper I hope you haven’t cum yet, Carl. Because honey, you’re about to see a display of slut cocksucking that would make Stormy Daniels stop and take notes.”
Wow. That wicked fucking slut smile. That was the slut wife I remembered from our younger days. She was okay. So far.
Veronica looked up and whispered, “My panties are soaked. I can feel them. I’m thinking about all the men I’ve met on this plane and wondering which one might come in here next. I’m thinking about what comes next. Thinking about the ‘what comes next’ is making me fucking crazy horny, Carl. Brandon knows how to get in my kitchen too, I guess. Jesus my nipples are throbbing. I can feel them. Would it kill one of this horndogs to actually suck on them a little?” Veronica pushed her chin down and rolled out her super long tongue, trying to lick her own nipple. She couldn’t do it without a free hand to push up her tit.
The door opened and the camera blurred. “What the hell are you doin’, girl?” I desperately waited for the autofocus to catch up to the room, but the guy was standing with his hair just below the camera and it triggered a drunken wash of blur. But one thing was sure. It was a black guy’s voice. “I axed you a question. What were you doin’?”
“Er, I uh,” Veronica stammered. “I was trying to lick my nipple.”
“Why you doin’ that?”
“I... Uh... I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“They’re really sensitive. I can’t reach them. Brandon pinched them really hard.”
“So that’s why you’re trying to lick them?”
“I... I don’t know how to describe it. Just looking for a little relief.”
The black guy stepped to my wife and the camera finally focused. He was dressed like a million dollars. Turtleneck and sports jacket. His hair was short with a stylish fade. He reached down and cupped Veronica’s tits.
Veronica’s eyes went thin as the man rolled her big breasts around, one in each hand. He seemed reserved as he gently tested her nipples between his thick fingers. This wasn’t the bodyguard. He wasn’t seven feet tall. But he was a tall drink of chocolate milk. He had really big hands. Veronica looked very small in his shadow.
“I can see why you’re trying to suck your own titties,” said the man. “They are fabulous knockers.”
“Thank you,” Veronica gasped.
“No, thank you,” laughed the man. He had to get down on his knees to suck Veronica’s nipples, but that’s what he did. He had a long tongue too, and he flipped each nipple with the tip of his licker before he latched his mouth on them and took turns stretching my wife’s boobs upwards with the force of his suction.
Veronica looked like she’d been tapped with a live wire. She shook and her head thrashed. “Oh sweet fucking Jesus, that feels so amazing,” she grunted.
“Can you take some bites?” the man asked.
Veronica clenched her eyes shut and nodded rapidly. “Please?”
The man laughed. I could see his jaw clench as he bit down on a nipple that was sucked all the way in his mouth. Veronica made an animal sound and her chin literally quivered in a mix of pain and pleasure. What a fucking slut. I mean... Yeah, okay. She’s my wife and I know she’s a slut, but her response to pain was blowing my mind. Got me thinking about the rough play we had before she left for the Bachelor Party. Got me thinking about what she looked like when we were done and I was spent; what a sweaty, wrung-out mess she was. Her hair in wet tangles. Her mascara streaked to her cheeks.
The black dude was in no rush. He was flickering his tongue and sucking titty, switching back and forth, like he had no place else to be. Veronica was going crazy, pulling against the wrist restraints. She panted. Her tongue kept licking her lips. Her eyes watched the man suck tit for a while and then spun upwards at the ceiling while she winced at the bites and then her neck swayed at the slurping sucking sounds. He was really winding her up. I can’t keep my dick out of Veronica that long when she’s super horny. I’d never seen that much desperation on her face.
The black guy slid a hand up her thigh under the dress.
“Oh fuck yeah!” Veronica cried out.
“Shit!” The black man smiled. “You got a wet pussy there, girl.”
Veronica nodded rapidly. “Yes.”
“You are dripping.”
“You like that?”
“Oh fuck! Please. Ooooowwah. Yeah. Please. Please don’t stop!”
“Oh, I can’t make you come,” smiled the man. He leaned into her ear. “Not yet. That’s against the rules.”
“Oh fuck. Please!” begged Veronica. “Just a little more. I’m so close.”
“Them other bitches out there? Them fine bitches? No rules for them. But there’s rules on you, sweet thang.” He was growling in Veronica’s ear.
My wife was thrashing on his touch. She was about to go off like dynamite. I knew from experience that I was about to see a wet jet of girl cum fire out and probably ruin her nice dress. “Jesus! Don’t stop. Oh gawd, don’t stop! Please!”
“Nah, nah, nah!” smiled the man. He stood up and sucked his glistening fingers clean with wet sucking snaps. “That is a tasty pussy though. I think me and that pussy are going to be friends. You like that?”
Veronica nodded. Fuck if she didn’t mean it, too.
“You know what I do, Sweetie? For a living?”
Veronica flushed red. She nodded. “I heard one of the other guys say who you are. What you do.”
“You ever see any of my videos before? You ever see my porn?”
I knew the answer to that was “no.” Veronica didn’t watch porn. I tried to get her to watch a couple with me, but she was the WORST. She’s so literal and analytical. Trying to watch porn with Veronica was maddening. “Oh like a pizza guy would do that. He’d be afraid he’d get fired or arrested. Why would she order a pizza if she didn’t have money. How does he know she doesn’t have an STD? That’s an awkward way to fuck. Oh I’m pretty sure her friend can see her fucking her boyfriend from ten feet away!”
Anyway. Veronica on the plane blushed again. I thought she was going to lie.
“No sir,” she looked at the floor.
“Did you know who I was? You know my name?”
“Don’t you watch porn with your man?”
Veronica and I said it at the same time: “Because I’d rather make it than watch it.” She’d said that line a hundred times. Ironic. She was with some kind of porn star and she was making it instead of watching it. I was watching it. She was making it, even if it was for a single customer.
The man laughed. “Alright! Alright! I respect that. I’d love to have you on the set. You’re fucking hot. But right now you’re all mine. You ever suck a brother before, Sweetie?”
She’d never had a black man before. We talked about it when we got a million replies from black guys to our Craigslist ad, back in the day. “Well, are you into black guys are not?” I’d ask her. Same thing every time. She’d shrug. She’d never fucking answer the question. “So is that a yes or a no?” I’d ask in exasperation? And she’d shrug. “Okay, fuck that, then. No black guys.” She’d look at me. I’d look at her. “Right?” I pressed. And... she’d fucking smile and shrug in a way that made it seem like she was actually interested. Drove me nuts.
Well the seal was coming off that taboo quickly, because the black man unzipped his perfectly pressed slacks, pushed his hand deep, and pulled out a cock to be reckoned with. As long as Brandon’s but way thicker. Looked like a fucking fungo bat, especially with his menacing grip on the base of it. It made the big pink cock head at the end of all the shaft look like a mace.
Veronica swallowed hard. She was trying not to look impressed, but she was impressed. Or maybe terrified.
“You gonna be a good li’l slut for me, right, Sweetie?” The man stepped forward and dropped his mostly erect monster on my wife’s right cheek. Or I should say, across the right side of her face. He gently bounced his cock against my wife’s face with wet skin-on-skin slaps.
“Holy shit.” That was me.
Veronica nodded. “Anything you want.”
The man laughed. “Well, yeah! Like you’re gonna do anything about it!” He took a step back and lowered the massive head of his cock towards my wife’s mouth. “BeeBee says you like it a little rough. That true?”
Veronica. Was. Terrified. Her mouth opened but she obviously didn’t know what to say.
The man laughed. “Easy, Sweetie! I ain’t gonna break you. We’re just getting started with you.”
He pushed forward and my wife’s mouth stretched to crazy cocksucking limits as she started slurping on it. Her teeth HAD to be rubbing against it. HAD to be. That guy was probably used to it. I can’t imagine the woman who could take that much meat in her mouth without bumping her choppers on it. Veronica was giving it the old college try. Her moan came from her chest. Her blue irises were barely visible through her sloe eyes.
“Lookagtme, Sweetie,” the man said in a deep, no-nonsense baritone. “You got pretty eyes. Lesse’em. Yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Nice. Them’s some pretty eyes.”
My wife and the man locked eyes. They were in each other’s heads. The camera no longer existed. The plane no longer existed. I no longer existed.
The man started small thrusts. Even small thrusts took a toll on Veronica’s mouth. She moaned and grunted horny, animal sounds. She barely blinked, looking up at the man across a long plank of black cock.
“Oh yeah. You’re doin’ great,” said the man. His nostrils flared. Other than that and his words of encouragement you wouldn’t know he was enjoying his blowjob. His face was stone.
“Nice, nice, nice,” he rumbled. “Now I saw that long tongue when I walked in. I know you can get more mouth on my root.” He reached under and tapped a thick finger on my wife’s bottom lip, stretched thin. “Lesshaveit. C’mon. C’mon!”
Veronica had to squint under the effort it took to extend her tongue over her bottom lip and windshield wiper it back-and-forth across the ebony wrapped veins and capillaries. The man shuddered. I shuddered too. My fist started pumping warmth into my cock. Fuck, it was a show to see, my ghost-white wife servicing that black member. The contrast of her pink lips against black cock, and then pulling back to blend in with his pink cock head. Then back down on his shaft. I could see her pushing forward, trying to take more of it. Her nipples must have been an inch long. Her expression was in another dimension.
“Aw yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Suck that cock, bitch. Nice.”
My wife gave it her all. She forced her neck forward to gark on the big black cock. She was moaning a long, thrumming song. Totally into her work.
“Kay, Sweetie, I’m gonna test those tonsils of yours. You ready?”
The man laughed. “Yeah,” he said flatly. “I don’t really care.” He put his massive hand on the back of Veronica’s head and started taking bigger strokes until he was jamming her throat so deep that his rock hard dick bent on impact.
My wife’s mouth got wet and spittle started pulling out with every backstroke of the man’s butt. He was still wearing pants.
As if he was reading my mind he stepped back and his pecker launched out of Veronica’s mouth and flung spittle back all over her face as it sprang up and pointed at the ceiling. Jesus that was a monster. It had picked up at least another inch of length since y slut wife went to work on it.
The man reached into his pants and pulled his shaved nutsack out of his fly. Seriously, I’m talking tennis ball sized gonads on this guy. He was a specimen. He pushed his sack into Veronica’s face and told her that she knew what to do.
She knew what to do.
My wife could barely get her mouth around those big, round baby factories, one at a time. She made up for it with her long tongue licking all over the stubbly shaved surface of his tight sack. His steely demeanor finally softened a bit as he began succumbing to my sexy wife.
“Aw yeah. Fuck. You suck nuts good, girl. You ready for some cum?”
“Yessir,” Veronica panted.
“I bet you’d like my cum all up in dat pussy.”
“Jesus yes! Please!”
The man smiled. “Soon, nuff. Soon nuff. Now show me why I should fuck you good when BeeBee takes the wraps off you, Sweetie.” He presented his cock to Veronica again and my wife sucked it like a complete whore. She forced it as far down her throat as it would go. She sucked the head like she was trying to get money to come out the tip. Her pink tongue lashed out over her bottom lip and worked the dick she couldn’t get in her mouth (which was quite a bit. Four inches, at least).
“Aw baby. Aw baby. Yeah. Yeeeeeah. Suck that cock. Yeah girl. More. Mo’. Mo’. Good. Aw yeah.” The man started licking his own lips in anticipation. He looked down at Veronica and she looked up and locked determined eyes on him.
Man, it was intense. I’d just watched my wife suck off two men. But this was on another level.
My wife had turned into an absolute cocksucking slut. So much for *shrug*. She was a tramp for black cock.
“Oh shit, you’re good,” the man moaned. “Imma nut. Lemmesee that tongue, Sweetie.”
The man stepped back and began pumping his shaft. He lowered his cockhead at my wife’s mouth. Her tongue shaped into a wiggling sperm scoop, taunting the man’s cock to load it with salty white splooge.
That pretty, willing tongue my wife offered the man was mostly a waste. The man shot a sticky rope of pearly cum across Veronica’s nose, over her left eye, her forehead and into her hair. He grunted and immediately crossed her face in the other direction with another squirt. Veronica’s tongue never stopped begging for a taste and she eventually got it as the man pumped three good blasts into her mouth, coating her perfect teeth in the process. While he put his last two blasts into Veronica’s right eye, she used the break to gulp down the load in her mouth. There was more sperm than she bargained for and some dripped out the corners of her mouth.
Veronica was a glazed donut of sperm and eyeliner.
“Whooo! You’re pretty!” the man laughed. “Imma give you some Good Girl Points. Good job.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Veronica panted.
The man made a rather quick exit of the room, leaving my wife tied to the wall and her eyes fluttering with the sting of sperm dripping into them.
“Fuck, he got me good,” Veronica panted. “I can’t see. I bet this dress is ruined.”
The door opened and a regular-looking Average Joe (white) guy walked in. He looked like he probably either coded software or maybe he was the lawyer who was working on contracts in the chat. He stopped abruptly. “Ffffff-f-f-f-fuuuuuck! DeShawn! DeShawn! You fucking asshole! You frosted her!” He opened the door and shouted into the plane. “Hey, you guys see what DeShawn did to Bee’s girl?”
“He ruined her!”
Moments later at least five men crowded into the small office and laughed at the site of my wife covered in DeShawn’s babypaste. They thought it was a hoot.
“Fuck that!” said Average Joe. He didn’t think it was funny. “I can’t even get my dick in her mouth without getting DeShawn’s gunk on my johnson!”
Even more laughter.
Brandon crowded into the room, looked at Veronica, and smiled a shit eating grin. “Holy shit, he got you good, Roni.”
“He sure did.” Veronica was still struggling with the sperm in her eyes. She looked uncomfortable.
“I know how to get you cleaned up.” Brandon stuck his head out the door. “Daisy. Bethany. Get in here!” Over his shoulder he said, “Make room, gentlemen.”
The stunning redhead and amazing brunette pushed into the room. Fuck they were crazy hot. Not as hot as my wife, but flawless in their own way. The girls smiled at the site of my wife tied to the wall with her face frosted in melting sperm.
“You two wanna earn some Good Girl Points?” Brandon asked.
“Of course!” said the redhead girl.
“You know what to do. Clean her up.” Brandon nodded.
“Oh yes!” said the brunette.
The brunette knelt on one side of my wife and the redhead knelt on the other. They began licking the cum off Veronica’s face in big, showy licks. They took turns turning their open mouths toward the men so they could watch the swallowing of DeShawn’s copious load, a mouthful at a time. The brunette leaned down and traced a dribble run of thinning cum down Veronica’s neck and down her exposed right breast. She latched onto Veronica’s nipple and Veronica jerked against her restraints. Veronica’s mouth opened and closed and opened again. She moaned.
Brandon looked up at the camera. Looked at me. He reached in his jacket pocket, pulled out his phone and tapped it. The tablet went dark.
I peed through my brick-hard cock, stumbled to bed, and jerked off twice in a row thinking about what I had just witnessed my slut wife doing for strange men. The second time I felt hot cum hit my chest, the frustration of it all evaporated for a moment in the afterglow. Somewhere, maybe thirty thousand feet in the air and God knows how many thousand miles away, my cocksucking slut wife was probably still horny and waiting to orgasm. I almost felt sorry for her.
I had just dropped Becca off at daycare and pulled out of the parking lot on my way to work when my phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize.
Veronica’s voice: “Hey baby, I’ve only got a second.”
“Hey!” I said. “How are you? Everything okay?”
“Yeah I’m good.”
“I didn’t recognize the number.”
“I borrowed a phone.”
“Why did Brandon take your phone?”
“I dunno,” Veronica sighed. “Power trip? Just to piss you off? Who knows.”
“Well I guess they finally untied you from the wall if you can call.”
Silence. “So you did see that.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah? You were talking to me. Are we pretending that didn’t happen?”
Veronica sighed again. “I kind of figured you were on the other end of that camera, but I wasn’t a hundred percent. I hoped maybe he was just recording it for himself.”
“But you’re okay?”
“Where are you? Atlantic City?”
“Uhhh, France I think?”
“Well everybody who works at the hotel is speaking French and I don’t think it’s Canada because everybody I can see out my window walking down the street is smoking.”
“Don’t know where. Could be Paris. Looks kind of Paris-y outside, but I can’t see the Eiffel Tower from my window and I’m not allowed to leave the room.”
“You can’t sneak out?”
“He took all my clothes. I’m naked and I don’t have anything to wear but a sheet or a pillow case.”
“Becca’s fine. How long did they keep you tied up?”
Long pause. “You really want to talk about this, Carl? Fine. What was the last thing you saw?”
“Those girls licking DeShawn’s sperm off you.”
“Okay, well they untied me right after that.”
“And what, Carl? I’ve got to give Daisy her phone back in a minute. She wasn’t supposed to let me borrow it and she doesn’t want to get docked points.”
“So after they untied you?”
“Jesus, Carl. Uh... I sucked off a bunch more guys at the same time. Me, Daisy and whatsherface. Beth. We sucked everybody off who hadn’t been sucked off, two at a time.”
“Two at a time? What does that mean?”
“Dammit, Carl, you know what it means. You’ve seen porn. You’ve been there when I sucked off you and another guy at the same time. One guy in each hand. Two at a time. Taking turns... you know. Sucking. Until everybody came.”
“Yeah, but not me. One of the other girls. I was too busy to see exactly who sucked him off.”
“But you sucked off a bunch of guys?”
“Uhh... four? Four more after DeShawn. No, five. Wait, are we counting total cocks in my mouth, or how many guys came in my mouth? Some of the guys were moving around between girls. Some guys were in my mouth more than once as they moved around. It was kind of blur. Six or seven cocks total and I think I swallowed four of them.”
“You made four more guys cum?”
“Yeah, that’s how blowjobs work, Carl.”
“In your mouth?”
“No. In my ear. Of course in my mouth. What the fuck has gotten into you, Carl?”
“Sorry. Just wanted to know. I have to know. I have to know everything, Veronica. I’ll go crazy if I don’t know everything.”
“Okay. Okay. I get it. I understand what you’re going through, Ca-- HANG ON! One more minute! Please! Just one minute! Okay. Okay. Thanks, babe! Sorry, Carl. Daisy’s outside the door. She’s getting nervous. I gotta give her phone back.”
“What’s with the points thing? What are Good Girl Points?”
“Uh, it’s kind of a contest. Another Brandon invention.”
“What do you win?”
“It’s more like a contest you can only lose. You don’t win anything.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a thing to make sure I’m trying to get as many guys to have sex with me as I can. I’m not going to lose. OKAY! I’M COMING! Carl, I have to go. Now. I love you.”
“When can you going to call aga--” The call ended.
I kept the tablet with me almost all the time. I even took it to work. It was on the nightstand when I went to bed. I was ready for the next wave of Brandon’s homemade porno torture.
I couldn’t sleep. I kept getting up and turning the tablet over in my hands, looking for a button or something to press to wake it up. Maybe the battery had finally died. Back to bed. Still couldn’t sleep. Shook the tablet. Nothing happened. Back to bed.
I eventually got up and Googled images of black porn stars until I found DeShawn. No point in giving his porn industry name. Brandon didn’t mess around. When he brought in a ringer, he brought in one of the top names. It was 3 a.m. I had to go to work in four hours. Instead I went to PornHub and watched a bunch of DeShawn’s greatest hits.
My brain kept wondering if he was fucking my wife right now. Was she finally getting railed by that monster cock? I bet she was quivering and cumming all over it. Maybe she was taking it doggy while she slurped on Brandon’s dong. Gah. I wanted to beat off, but as soon as I did I know the tablet would finally ping to life and I’d have to watch my wife get whored with no sex magic in my bloodstream. That would make it nothing but torture.
I woke up with an erection and my face on the keyboard of my laptop. I literally had a keyboard print on the right side of my face. Becca was crying somewhere. The sun was coming up. Life hadn’t stopped for my anxiety. Two more days. A day and three-quarters and Veronica would be coming back. I wished I had an exact time that I knew she’d be home. It would have helped me count the minutes.
I checked my call history at lunchtime to make sure I hadn’t missed a ring. Of course I hadn’t. I wasn’t that exhausted. Well maybe I was that exhausted. I could barely chew my sandwich. The producer I was running boards for knew I wasn’t on my game. My ear was off. My pots were wrong. Two guys from the band we were mixing a song for were in the production room and they didn’t seem to notice that everything was taking too long and retracking too many times. The producer did. He had been giving me side eye. I had to get some sleep tonight. Get some sleep and burn some more hours until Veronica’s return.
I swiped over to check my email as I forced my jaw to open and close around turkey and bread. I wasn’t really hungry.
My ears fizzled with electricity when I saw the email from Brandon.
“HEY BRO! EVERYTHING is GREAT! She’s fine. Don’t worry. Keeping her busy!”
I’d read that far when photos started loading into the email. They were high rez, so they kind of trickled into the body of the email on a delay as I scrolled down.
Veronica was wearing nothing but a black dog collar and really sexy black high heels. The first picture was her on all fours with a black guy (not DeShawn) fucking her from behind, but the focus was on her face sucking cock. She seemed to be into it from the expression on her face. The next pic was her on her back, a guy under her and drilling upwards into her ass. Another guy was squatting over her and fucking down into her stretched pink puss. Veronica’s eyes were rolling back in her head. She looked like the porniest of pornstars.
“Imma fuck yo wife! In da pooper!”
Jesus. Now I wonder if I was looking at the picture of the guy who wrote that in the chat. Was he the one stretching her asshole? I hope it wasn’t DeShawn who wrote that. His big meat would hospitalize Veronica. That freak cock couldn’t possibly fit in my wife’s tight little poop-yoni.
Jesus, her expression. I should probably fuck her ass more than I do. She looked more into it than I remember. Veronica struggled with cock in her ass. But that expression might just be the result of her getting doubled. She loves getting doubled. Gee, that looked like a huge hotel room. Looked more like a museum.
The next picture loaded. It was a closeup of Veronica’s face smashed into a pussy. I couldn’t tell which girl’s pussy it was. The pussy was shaved and the girl’s face wasn’t in frame. From the skin tone, I’m guessing it was the redhead, Daisy. Veronica’s long tongue was all over the perky clit. Her eyes were thin with pleasure. I could see an out-of-focus Brandon behind her, crushing her ass in a doggy fuck. My wife was definitely breaking new ground; black cock and eating pussy.
The last picture was the back of my kneeling wife. Couldn’t see her face because she was sucking the cock of a guy standing in front of her. Her hands were up and pulling at the cocks of two more guys on each side of her.
I was back at the mixing board when Veronica’s number buzzed into my phone. I launched out of my chair and excused myself to the hallway.
“HEY! You okay?” I asked.
“You got your phone back!”
“Just for a second. I’m not supposed to be calling you. Had to call work and get cleared for a couple more vacation days.”
“I’m still about three days from home, Honey. That’s not official, but that’s what Beth said she heard them say.”
“That’s not what we agreed to.”
“Well that’s what it is, Carl. There’s been a lot of shit I didn’t agree to. But here I am.”
“Get out of there. Just leave.”
“I can’t leave, Carl. I won’t leave. Not after all the cocks I’ve sucked and fucked for that thirty thousand dollars. My asshole is throbbing. I’m not leaving. I don’t even know where I am or how I’d get home.”
“Go to the American embassy in Paris. Tell them you’ve been trafficked.”
“Carl, this isn’t a Liam Neeson movie and I’m not in Paris anymore. I don’t know where we landed this time. Maybe Hungary. I think that’s the Hungarian flag on the hotel across the street. And I’m not trafficked. I’m here because I’m getting paid a lot of money at the end of it. That makes me a prostitute and probably a criminal, not a victim.”
“I... I... I’m so sorry, Veronica. I should have guessed that Brandon would have pushed this too far. It’s all my fault.”
“Carl stop. I always kind of knew this was the game. You’re not dumb. You know how much money thirty thousand dollars is. We should have known I wasn’t going to make this much money sitting on laps and mixing Whiskey Sours. And right now, I’m winning Brandon’s game. So it’s all good. I’m fine.”
“What’s this game? What’s with these points?”
“I get points for every guy I seduce. Points for every cock I suck... No sorry. Every load of cum that goes in my mouth or pussy. I don’t get points unless the guy cums. Brandon says that sucking dick when I don’t get the cum is just ‘overhead.’ Ha-fucking-ha. You’d think fifteen guys would eventually run out of sperm with three full time sex toys servicing them, but Brandon’s got a candy dish of Viagra, and these guys know this kind of access to girls who can’t say no doesn’t come along every day. They’re making the most of it. Especially the nerd guys. They’re the horniest. But they’re really good for my points game. Daisy’s a good slut, but she’s not as good as I am. That cunt Beth... She’s a fucking slut the likes of which I’ve never seen before. And I was a Tri-Delt, so I’ve seen some fucking sluts.”
“So...” I swallowed hard, “you’re fucking a lot of guys?”
“There’s three guys with cameras around here. A freaking crew. He hired a camera crew and a sound guy with a boom mic. He videoed everything. I’m sure you’ll see it all sooner or later.”
“Oh god. I’m so sorr--”
“CARL! Knock it off. You’re not listening. I’m fine. As long as I don’t lose this contest bullshit, I’m fine. You’ve seen the video, Carl. I’m fine. I’m... I... Carl, I haven’t had this much attention from men in a long time. I’m just leaning into it. I’m... Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m having the time of my life. Let’s face it, you and I weren’t intimate that much before Brandon showed up again.. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed sex. I’ve missed being a slut. I’ve missed performing for two men at once. Fuck, Carl. I had never run a train before, but now that I have, I’m probably going to miss that when I get back. Three and a half hours of non-stop doggy pounding? What girl isn’t going to respond to that? I did. I got my brains fucked out.”
My jaw fell open. What the fuck was I hearing?
“Carl? Honey? Are you there?”
“Maybe we could start swinging again when I get back. Would that be okay with you?”
“Uh... Sure. I mean not with Brandon, of course. But I could find somebody clean and respectful.”
“Why not Brandon?” Veronica asked.
“Are you fucking serious, Veronica?”
“Well he knows how to fuck me. And he knows a lot of upscale guys who are really cute and cut. Just sayin’.”
“After all this? After whoring you out to all those men?”
“Those men are on my side, Carl. At the end of the trip each guy gets so many Good Girl Points bonus points to give out. I’ve got a tableshow in an hour and I’m going to kill it. Beth and Daze can suck it out for Second Place after that. I’m trying really hard to make every guy feel special when I’m sexing him. Brandon has told everybody I’m not supposed to cum. He lets Daisy and Beth cum all the time. But he’s tormenting me. Guys keep pulling out when they’re about to cum or I’m about to cum. It’s costing me Good Girl Points and I’m still winning. I’m the best fucking slut these guys have ever seen.”
Tableshow? “You haven’t cum yet?”
“Oh, I’ve cum a bunch. I get so wound up after a couple guys that I go off as soon as the next guy sticks his dick in me or licks my clit. They can’t stop me when I get too horny. But not nearly as much as I want to. That part where I got fucked nonstop for three and half hours? I probably squirted eight times. The hotel is going to have to replace that mattress. You know how much I cum.”
“Uh, has DeShawn fucked you?”
I could hear her smile over the phone. “Are you kidding? I’m his favorite girl.”
Her response was more flat. “Yeah, he’s okay. I think he’s more into Daisy. Beth thinks he’s hers. It’s not over yet. When you see video but you don’t see the guy’s face or he’s wearing a mask? That’s Coop.”
“Yes, Carl. I told you. I’ve fucked DeShawn. A lot. I’ve sucked off DeShawn. A lot.”
My hands were trembling. “Uh... In the butt?”
“FUCK! I gotta go!” I heard Brandon shouting before the phone went dead.
Miles stepped into the hall. “Dude! What are you doing? Get your ass back in here or I’m going to have to comp the client an hour!”
This was fucking bullshit. This needed to end. Veronica was getting on a fucking plane and coming fucking home. Now.
I dialed Veronica back.
Brandon answered. “Lo?”
“Put my wife on the phone, asshole.”
He hung up. My phone buzzed. Text from Veronica.
“Bad form, Dude! You just cost her 20 GGPs!”
GGPs. Good Girl Points. I still didn’t understand what was going on with Good Girl Points. I didn’t know what twenty Good Girl Points meant.
That would change. My understanding of good girl points would become quite clear about ten hours later.
It was after one a.m. when the tablet chirped. I was crashed hard and it probably took a while for the sound to pull me out of a deep sleep.
The button on the tablet said “RONI’S GOOD GIRL HIGHLIGHT REEL! (SO FAR!)”
I got up to pee, drink some water, and check on Becca before I sat in my dark living room chair with the tablet. I wished I could bluetooth the sound to my Bose headphones so I could hear the sex parts without waking up Becca. I didn’t have any control over the settings and I didn’t have any control over the volume of the tablet. I could close two doors between Becca and the living room, so...
I took a deep breath...
I tapped the button.
Jesus. Horatio. Christ.
I was expecting to see my wife having sex. I was not expecting to see a fucking porn whore montage of her moaning like a slut and slurping wet, drippy, drool around cock after cock after cock after cock. She sure didn’t look like a captive. Besides the dog collar (the only thing I saw her wearing besides her black patent leather heels) there were no signs that she was anything but a willing participant.
There were a lot of fast cuts, about forty seconds long, each. Each one was a closeup of my wife’s mouth around a cock. Some of them she was bouncing her head, screwing her mouth from side to side and slurping around the shaft and heads of rock-hard dicks. Some of them she was getting her face fucked by guys who had two handfuls of hair and were jamming their cocks down her throat mercilessly. Three or four of the cuts had guys using a leash clipped to her dog collar to pull her into their manmeat until she choked, turned bright red, and spittle fizzled from the corners of her mouth as she tried to pull off and catch air. Some of those guys were pretty sadistic. Most of them she was just garking a slutty performance into the guy thrusting into her mouth. In a third of the blowjobs you could either see a guy fucking her while she gave head, or you could see her rippling forward with the impact of some guy pounding on her.
My shy wife. My shy, smart wife. My shy, smart, elvin’, petite, platinum, loving wife.
Used. Used like a whore. And -- from all appearances -- loving it.
“Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m having the time of my life.”
Fuck! She meant it. I would never hear that stupid fucking song again without seeing a mind-montage of my wife licking and slurping away at a parade of disembodied dongs.
You think you know someone. You think you know your wife. I did not recognize the slut who was giving everything she could to cock after cock after cock. Man after man after man.
Then the montage of cum shots started. Splash! A black cock unloaded on my wife’s desperate mouth; her tongue outstretched to catch it all. A superimposed graphic at the bottom of the screen flashed, “+5 GGP! Good GIRL!”
The next cock was Brandon’s, starting with him holding Veronica’s head and her eyes bugging out. Her face was crimson and her lips were trying to ‘O’ off Brandon’s cock to let in air. Then she was coughing and he was pumping his fist and spraying goo all over my wife’s nose and lips. Veronica still managed to get her mouth open and her tongue out in time for Brandon to shoot a thick blast right into the bullseye of her tonsils. She reflexively gagged at the hot cum getting her right in the throat. There was a lot of male laughter.
The next cock was DeShawn, no question about that. My wife was working it with the skill of a slut cocksucker. Her head was rocking everywhere. She was looking up at DeShawn, somehow managing to shape a smile under the pressure of that giant girth stretching her lips thin.
“Here comes!” DeShawn warned.
Veronica made sexy eyes and pulled back until she was just sucking the pink plum of DeShawn’s cockhead, moaning like she was starving for his cum.
Veronica flinched like she’d been shot. Her eyes went serious. DeShawn must have blasted her mouth with a giant load of sperm. This was confirmed when his cock popped out and put two more lazer beams of cum into my wife’s open bird mouth. I could see the flood of sperm that was already testing the dam of her lower teeth. Her extended tongue was awash in bubbling white slimy mess.
Graphic: “+10 GGP!”
The camera followed DeShawn as he pivoted to his right and pointed at Daisy’s open mouth. Another shot. Another shot. Another shot. Jesus, he must have nuts like gallon milk jugs.
Graphic: “10 - 5 = 5 GGP.”
Daisy’s mouth clamped into a swallow. DeShawn pivoted one more time to his right. Bethany’s sexy mouth was waiting and DeShawn had two good loads and a half load (a half load that would have been a big load for my cock) onto her tongue. Bethany swallowed it quickly and attacked with her own slutty suck of DeShawn’s cockhead.
The camera swished back to Veronica who looked perturbed.
Graphic: “10 - 10 = 0 GGP!” A frowny emoji popped up to match and mock Veronica’s arched eyebrows. It looked as if she’d done all the work getting DeShawn to nut but all the girls had gotten a big mouthful of sperm, leaving them all even at the end.
Then countless rapidfire shots of my wife getting her tongue and lips pasted with sperm; mixed with many shots of men making orgasm grunts and Veronica’s lips locked on a cockhead while her throat bobbed and gulped down hot loads straight from the tap.
God, my wife was beautiful and sexy. Yes, it was fucking hot to see her suck all those cocks.
But how was this possible? Veronica said there were fifteen men. She’d been gone three days. I’d just witnessed twenty cum shots and videos of my wife swallowing seed straight from a dick. Plus she mentioned the big blowbang on the plane. What kind of fucking sexual athletes were these guys that they could all go so many times is such a short period?
Before I could formulate a reasonable answer, the short clips of men cumming in my wife’s pussy and unloading on her back started. At least ten of those. Most guys came inside her. You could see her eyes rolling as men pounded her doggy and then groaned and banged her hard enough to jerk their heads before slowing to a stop. Veronica looked drunk with cock and sloe eyed as men emptied into her womb and slapped her ass to announce their completion. Three of them I could see the splash of her orgasm gush between her legs either as the man came, or as he took his final after-grunts.
Underneath all of these tableaus the graphic kept the score: “GGP +5!” “GGP +5!” I should have kept better count of what all those numbers added up to, because apparently they were important to Veronica. My phone call had set her back four successful fuckings. Many guys just fucked her missionary. The missionary guys all pulled out and painted her stomach and tits. One guy pulled out and Veronica leaned forward, grabbed his dick, and stared him in the eye as she talked like a whore and jacked his cock.
“Come on my tongue! Give me that cum! Nnyeeah! Nnyeah! Spray me, David! Mark me, David. Please. Show Daddy whose bitch I really am. Drench me in cum and make me yours. Nnyeah, baby!” Veronica unfurled her tongue and waggled it. That was silly. Not even DeShawn could spray cum that f-- Whoa shit. He actually got a couple shots right on her licker as he sprayed everywhere. Nice work. Nice job by Veronica who was pumping the meat and aiming it. She must have known the Latino guy was a power cummer.
Then a montage of 14 men (I counted those men. Fourteen.) fucking my wife in the ass.
I’m not sure if they all went one after another at the same time, but Veronica was positioned the same in every video clip. She was on all fours. Her hands were in wrist cuffs that were O-ring locked to something that looked like a gymnastics mat. Her ankles above her high heels were locked in ankle cuffs chained to the mat, pretty far apart. Plenty spread for men to kneel behind her upturned porcelain ass. A T-bar that looked like it was fashioned out of parts of black iron pipe was screwed to a mounting bracket on the floor under Veronica’s stomach. The crossbar top of the T was high on Veronica’s thighs, meant to keep her from moving forward too much or lowering herself defensively. I could see Veronica’s dog collar had some kind of chain stretching forward to an anchor out of frame to keep her from backing up. She could wiggle, but not much.
The videos were only about twenty seconds long each. The camera was pointed at my wife’s face, and meant to catch the agony of each expression as you saw a man behind her ass reach down and position his cockhead on her asshole. I couldn’t see any of the men break her pink ring, but there was no mistaking the agony on her face as each bastard pushed into her. She jerked against her restraints. Her mouth turned into a crying scream. She made the most awful sounds, wailing and squeaking and outright crying at the assault on her bum. But she couldn’t go anywhere. There was no escaping the position she was locked into. All she could do was take it. Fourteen men. Every fucking man at the party fucked my wife in the ass. Brandon made sure I saw every one. Made sure I saw every ounce of agony and pain move through my wife’s face as another man lined up to sloooooowly screw his pecker into her pink pucker. Made sure I saw her shoulder muscles bunch and tense as she desperately tried to lift herself out of her bondage position and fail. Made sure I saw every painful tear crest her cheek in focus.
Fourteen men fucked my helpless wife in her tiny pink bum.
I don’t know how long they fucked her ass, or how many men came into her bottom. One blurred face was a celebrity. But fourteen times I watched a cock break her ass just by the expression in her eyes and the tears and her wailing sharp cries.
And then came DeShawn. DeShawn was last.
I could hear the chant of the men in the room egging him on. I could see DeShawn behind my wife’s ass, lifting his giant ebony club up and then whacking it down onto the small of my wife’s back to let her know what she was about to endure.
Veronica bit her bottom lip in terror. Her eyes were huge. Tears of fear streaked her cheeks. A bubble of snot popped out of her tiny nostril. She was shaking from her shoulders to the toes of the one shoe I could see from my angle.
“Oh god, no,” I whispered to the dark room.
Oh yes. Oh yes.
DeShawn toyed with my wife for several minutes. Dropping his cockhead to her asshole several times. Each time Veronica’s eyes turned to dinner plates and she yelped, “Yahahhahahhhiii!” And each time DeShawn pulled back and wacked her ass cheeks with his big ebony club while all the men laughed and he smiled.
And then, when Veronica probably thought he wasn’t really going to do it, he did it. He forced that impossible black cock in her tight little ass.
Veronica passed out. Like a light switch. Turned off. Slumped. Her forehead clonked into the mat and her eyes closed. Her ass remained in the air where her stomach fell on the iron T-bar.
The men went wild; they thought that was the funniest, best thing they had ever seen. The roar was deafening. Even DeShawn was laughing as he pushed into my limp wife’s ass.
Veronica’s eyelids fluttered. Tension poured into her back. Her hands pressed down and her head lifted. “OH FUCK GOD FUCK NO NO NO FUCK SHIT YAH GHUD NO!!!” she screamed from her soul. Boom. She passed out again.
Lots of clapping.
The scene cut so I don’t know what happened next. I don’t know how long DeShawn broke my wife’s little ass or how many times she passed out or what.
There was one last scene. Brandon was on his back, fucking up into my wife’s ass as she faced the ceiling. It was the classic DP pose, but nobody was pounding down into my wife’s open pussy. Not everybody was in frame, so the cameraman was moving around, catching every angle. Two men were gripping each of my wife’s ankles. Her shoes were finally off in this shot and her toes were curled into the soles of her feet. The men were clutching each of my wife’s ankles really hard and pulling her legs WAY open. You could see her thigh muscles taught like banjo strings, her legs were stretched wide. Her wrists were bound together with rope and pulled back over the top of her head. A guy standing behind Brandon’s head was pulling the rope back and down so Veronica’s upturned tits had to arch up. Men were standing all around whatever table this was happening on and the cameramen had to shoo clusters of them out of the way as they blocked the shot. Men standing around the assfucking scene kept reaching over to pinch my wife’s tantalizing, hard pink nipples.
Veronica’s face was a sweaty mess. Her eyes kept rolling back and her mouth was involuntarily flapping with ecstasy as Brandon drilled hard up into her ass, slapping his thighs and stomach into the curve of her ass cheeks and lower back in a spanking sound. Brandon’s long rod was perfectly suited to the task; having the extra inches to keep the head buried in the target on the backstrokes, even after the long trip around the curve of my wife’s round bottom. Veronica had sex flush from her forehead to the tops of her thighs.
She was mewling like a wounded cat. Her teeth kept clenching, which meant my wife was close to an orgasm. As far as I knew, Veronica couldn’t come from anal sex. She was clitoral and she could come from her g-spot, especially if her nipples were getting sucked or pulled while she took the D. But not from an ass-fucking.
Veronica hissed through her teeth and her muscles began to clench inward in what I had nicknamed the “orgasm baby.” She did this when she was about to orgasm really hard; when her pussy was going to spray a super big fountain. She clenched so hard against her restraints that the three men holding her down had to flex their muscles to keep her in place. She hissed like a train coming up to speed. Her teeth locked. Spittle sprayed out of her lips. Her face was beet red.
The redheaded guy (whom -- after seeing from a lot of angles in the videos -- I had decided wasn’t really Jesse Plemons) stepped forward and licked his fingers. He reached into my wife’s shiny, stretched open pussy and rubbed her clit in a hard circle. The rest of the men in the room started chanting “Go! Go! Go! Cum! Cum! Cum! Go! Go! Go! Cum! Cum! Cum!”
Veronica’s eyes went googley. Her face got so red that it turned white under the extended exertion of her clench. The men holding her limbs tensed against her whole-body vibration like they were holding the ropes on a wild stallion.
I can’t even describe the wet, syllabant sound my wife made as she exploded. Brandon’s cock came out of her ass and thrust against her ass crack and pussy hole as it pumped it’s last gasp.
Veronica pussy became the Bellagio fountain. She sprayed the biggest, wettest, longest (highest) gush I’d ever seen. Straight up in the air. In the middle of her glossy gush, Brendon’s cock pushed a long milky blow of sperm right through it. White semen and crystal girl blast, mixing together almost three feet above the table.
Veronica continued to shake and orgasm against her restraints like she was pushing out a newborn. Brandon reached around my wife and pinched her jugs in each hand as he shook and wiggled and rained sperm down on my wife’s stomach and tits and chin. He knew that was one of my wife’s secret unlocks.
It was the most impressive sex scene I’d ever witnessed. Bar none.
It was the image that I thought about for a long, long, time afterward. Not just the spray. Not just Brandon’s big load firing right through the middle of it, and continuing to blast up and down onto my wife’s pretty body and neck. It was mainly the memory of those men holding her down. How she was fighting against their overwhelming strength and responding to it at the same time.
I started thinking about her and my own “highlight reel.” I thought about the times I’d witnessed her cumming hardest. They were all with either Brandon and me taking Veronica in a threesome, or the other guys who were rough with her. And that time we “practiced” for Brandon and made the roughplay video for him.
How fucking out-of-it was I, really? Could it be more clear that my wife was craving a flavor that I was personally denying her? Did I need more evidence? Fuck, she asked us to have threesomes with other men when she came home. How much more clear did she need to be that I wasn’t giving her what she needed?
This time the video didn’t cut to black abruptly. I got to see my wife’s goofy smile as she melted back into Brandon’s embrace. The hooting appreciation of the men in the room droned on. Many of them clapped. My wife grinned a sappy, embarrassed smile. Her wrists were untied and her legs released. Her little hand shaped into a fist and her arm fought exhaustion to reach upward in triumphant response to the chorus of male appreciation around her.
Two men rolled her off Brandon and helped her down off the table like backup dancers lowering Madonna to the stage. God, In bare feet she looked every bit as tiny as she was standing in a forest of shirtless men wearing boxers and boxer briefs. Veronica started high-fiving and hugging the men as she passed them. She was smiling and fuck-drunk. She looked like some frat little sister who had just crushed a keg stand, walking around and taking her proper congratulations. She leaned up and initiated an open mouth kiss with one of the guys. Then another. She grabbed at the front of a guy’s briefs as she tongue kissed him hard and took a long hug. And then on to another man who wanted to embrace her.
“That was amazing, Roni!”
“Thanks, Francis. Oh! you liked that show, didn’t you?” Her fingers gripped around the front of his underwear.
She was smiling and enjoying every moment of her triumph lap around the room. The attention of men: Veronica’s drug of choice. No, she wasn’t a captive. She wasn’t a victim. She was a rockstar in that room.
Brandon had finally found the energy to pull himself off the table he fucked my wife’s ass on. Still naked and his cock flopping between his thighs, he walked up to my wife and fell over her in a hug.
“Nice job, babydoll! Great job. I’m so proud of you. “
“Thank you, Daddy!” Veronica leaned up and kissed Brandon with a long open mouth kiss. The sincerity of it turned my stomach.
They hugged again. Veronica pressed her face into Brandon’s bare chest and squeezed him hard.
“Love you, Roni,” Brandon said.
WHAT? THE FUCK???
The camera zoomed into Veronica’s face. She opened her mouth and...
Black. The camera cut out. The tablet was black.
My head spun. What did I just watch?
The tablet beeped. “TUNE IN SOON FOR QUARTERFINAL ACTION! LIVE!” It was followed by a 90 minute countdown clock.
Live. Okay, so this confirmed that I was watching edited, semi-produced videos on a delay.
It also meant that I was probably going to get fired, because there was no way I was not going to be staring at that tablet in 88 minutes. 87 and a half minutes. I could set an Alexa timer for 80 minutes and grab some shuteye. Or I could wrap my paw around the steel bar of jangling nerve ending between my legs and milk out my own hot load of anxiety thinking about all the porno I’d just seen starring my very own wife. I should have no trouble vividly recalling every cock sucking and screwing and ass-breaking I’d just watched.
“Love you, Roni.”
Barf. I Concentrated on the memory of DeShawn toying with my wife like a cat batting a mouse around in a corner. I pumped my meat and thought about my wife coming to consciousness on DeShawn’s telephone pole and losing her mind as she realized she was still getting ass-railed by a locomotive. I thought about her hands pulling so hard against those wrist cuffs, trying to pull her away from that giant prick and the merciless man behind it. The way that sexy foot in that sexy shoe kicked furiously trying to swim away from her torment.
“Nice job, babydoll! Great job. I’m so proud of you.“
“Thank you, Daddy!”
“Love you, Roni.”
That kiss. That hug. Her face. Her mouth opening to say...
“No! Don’t!” I chided myself. My stomach flipped.
My mind dialed up the image of my wife, her legs apart, reaching down and grabbing David’s cock, jacking it fast nd eye-fucking him while she licked her lips and begged for his cum. Her hand a blur. That sexy, begging, musical voice of hers. “Nyeaaah-uh! Nyaaah!”
Yeah. That was more like, it.
“Mark me! Mark me, David!”
Oh yeah. So fucking hot. That was doing it for me.
“Spray me, nyeah! Mark me, please David!”
Ffffuck. Such a hot little slut. My nuts tightened.
“Spray me, David, nyeeesss!”
Yeah. Yeah. Spray her, David. Her tongue is so far out, you can do it. You can hit that horny, outstretched tongue. You can do it, bro!
“Show Daddy whose bitch I am!”
No. No. Not that. Don’t think about that.
“Drench me with your cum! Nyeah!”
Yes, that. THAT! Jack his cock, tramp. Get his cum, Slut. He’s gonna nut. Get that tongue way out. Like that, baby. Yeah. He’s a big cummer. You’re a roundheeled mantoy, borne to pleasure boys. Made to serve men. Get his cum, trampy cumtart.
“Show Daddy whose bitch I really am.”
NO! FUCK! GODDAMMIT. I dropped my shaft and stomped around the living room.
“Daddy why you yelling?” Becca rubbed her eyes. She had Sandy Panda in a half-nelson.
“WHA- Fffuhhhgo to bed, honey!” I pulled up my pants as fast as I could.
“Why are you pee pee in the libing room?”
“I’m not peeing in the living room, honey. I was just thinking about taking a bath. Go to bed. I’ll go right in to kiss you in a minute.” I wrestled my erection past the waistband of my underwear.
“Too late for baffs,” Becca grumbled, turning back for her room.
The coffee pot signaled it’s completion. I poured a hot cup and looked out the kitchen window. Across the backyard fence the light came on in the Hollister’s kitchen. Destiny Hollister shuffled into her kitchen and yawned. Destiny and Kirk Hollister were a couple years younger than Veronica and I. We met them at the community workout room two years ago when the four of us were still in the February phase of a New Year’s resolution. We’d steal an hour twice a week before heading to the hospital. Kirk and Destiny were always there when we were there. Destiny was a cute redhead-blonde, a little taller than I like my girls. Like five foot nine-ish. Veronica caught me checking out her yoga pants and teased me about it. Kirk was kind of short for how Veronica liked her guys, the same height as Destiny.
All I could see was Destiny’s head and her bare shoulders above the window. She was either nude or topless. I was so animal horny anticipating the next episode that was coming to the tablet in...
[I already knew the number, but looked anyway]
...nine minutes, I wondered if Veronica might want to swing with the Hollisters. Better them than Brandon, that’s for sure.
I licked my lips and stood on my toes in hopes of getting enough advantage to see Destiny’s nips. No such luck. Sigh. That was uncool, I know. But I wasn’t myself. I was becoming one of the horndog animals at Brandon Bauer’s bachelor party.
I made one more check on Becca. She was usually a late sleeper and it had taken me a long while to get her back down after our early morning anatomy lesson. She’d be out for a while.
I planned to call in sick to work. I had an afternoon VO session for an industrial video. Donnie should be able to cover me. Maybe I’d catch some rest and take Becca to daycare late and still make my client session. I had no idea what I was going to see next. I just knew I was a sleep-deprived, anxious, jealous mess. Best I stay away from clients and bosses until I got my shit together. Tomorrow was Saturday. Veronica was coming home on Sunday. Hopefully I’d be back to something approximating normal on Monday.
But THIS TIME I was ready. I had the tablet in the bedroom, clamped into a drum stand AND my cell phone clamped into a second drum stand, pointed at the tablet. THIS TIME I was going to video the video. All that wife porn and I had nothing to show for it. That was going to change. If I had to edit Brandon out of my own version of the video, so much the better.
BWIIIP! The tablet was about to activate.
I ran into the bedroom. I locked the door. The tablet was on a 20 second countdown.
I swiped my phone on. It didn’t respond. I swiped again. The screen went black. A graphic of a thermometer displayed an extreme temperature warning. Phone must cool down before proceeding. Keep out of Sun.
No way! The house was 73 degrees. The phone hadn’t been anywhere that it would---
Fucking Brandon. Creepy fucking genius twat bastard shit fucker asshole fucking Brandon.
The button said, “Quarterfinals are Starting! Wanna Watch?”
I poked the tablet with an annoyed index finger.
The view was chaotic. The camera guys were not in place yet. It was hard to tell where they were. A big room. Most of the room was dark, but they had set up studio lights so when the camera stopped on brunette Bethany, she was bright, in focus, and warmly lit. She was kneeling between the two black guys who were not DeShawn. Those guys were “just big.” Like seven-and-a-half, eight inches big. A little smaller than Brandon and considerably smaller than DeShawn. They were shaved. Most of the guys I’d seen in the videos shaved their junk.
Bethany was slurping turns on each dick, pumping the other cock with her hand.
“Bethany!” Someone shouted from behind the camera. She turned to the camera, pumping cocks in each hand. “Hey! You’re the fluffer! Don’t suck those boys off!”
“I can’t help it,” Bethany smiled. She had perfect teeth. All the girls had perfect teeth. All the girls had perfect everything. “I can’t not suck for cum!”
“You’ll get your chance for cum soon enough! Don’t nut those men!”
Bethany laughed and went back to servicing her men.
The camera spun and I could see four naked guys standing just outside the lights and pulling at their own meat.
The camera spun again to Brandon. He held a microphone! “It’s time!” he smiled. “Time for quarterfinal action! You fellas ready for quarterfinal action?”
The loud cheer confirmed that the full bachelor party contingent was in the room.
I looked at the microphone in Brandon’s hand and -- for the first time -- I asked myself if all the video and graphics and production were for more eyes than just mine. Were there other guys out there pulling their cocks to all this livestream sex? Did Daisy have a husband somewhere in Albuquerque who was climbing the wall, watching compilation videos of his wife taking a train of cocks? Did another man in Dallas watch Bethany bound to the floor while DeShawn screwed his black bitchmaker into Bethany’s asshole?
Or was this a pay-per-view for his investor friends? Was there a whole living room of men in Seattle, drinking beer and watching my slut wife beg for a stranger’s cum?
The thought made me dizzy. And even more turned on. I caught myself wondering if I agreed to swinging a threesome with Brandon, could I negotiate a threesome with Veronica and Daisy? Man, it would be amazing to have Daisy’s pretty, plump lips around my cock while I watched my wife lick Daisy’s flawless pussy. Play with that gorgeous red hair while she serviced me.
“First up!” Brandon was in full carnival barker mode. “Our first quarterfinal contest in the Snowball Olympics... DAISY. VERSUS. RONI!!!”
God as my witness: He had a colorful Mortal Kombat name graphic superimposed over a split screen of Daisy on the left and my wife on the right. Both of them dressed in only dog collars and -- I guessed but later confirmed -- heels below frame. Both of their makeup was flawless. Both of them were smiling and waving at the cameras like they were about to announce a category at the AVN awards. Whoever that woman was that I was looking at on the right side of the screen, she looked like my shy little wife, sure. But she had to be a shapeshifting alien. She was so relaxed. Her nipples were hard. Her eye makeup was breathtaking, drawing focus to her beautiful soft blue irises. Her platinum hair was shaped and styled better than I’d ever seen it since her office Christmas party two years ago.
Brandon again. “Who will be the lucky son of a bitch who starts the snowball rolling? Jimmy, the hat please.” An upside-down SF Giants cap stretched into frame. Brandon reached into the hat and pulled out a piece of paper. He tucked the microphone under his armpit long enough to unfold the paper. “JARVIS! Get that pecker out! You are the mark! Cocksucking bitches, get on those knees and get your ASSES IN THE AIIIIR!”
The men in the room responded to all the circus barker bullshit. They roared.
“This is going to be a short contest!” Someone chided. The rest of the men laughed. “Short fuse! Short fuse!”
The nicely cut man pulling at his dick with one hand raised a middle finger with the other hand. “Fuck you mutherfuckers!”
“Imma make these cocksucking bitches work for it!” said Jarvis.
“You’re going to blow faster than an asthsmatic dolphin, JarJar!” I recognized Bradley Cooper’s voice.
The room roared. Okay. It was kind of funny.
Brandon: “Kev, you work the horn.” He pointed off camera and an airhorn blared. Brandon winced. “No. Use the other button, dumbshit.”
Another toot, this one musical and not as loud.
“Okay, cocksuckers, you know the rules. When you hear the horn, suck cock. Points for the bitch who gets cock in her mouth first. Everytime you hear the horn beep once...” Brandon pointed and the air horn made another toot. “...switch cocksucking bitches. If you hear the double beep...” Brandon pointed. Double toot. “...mouths off and bitches lick cock until the next beep. Always points for the bitch who gets first cock after a lick-break. Got it?”
Veronica and Daisy nodded and smiled. Jarvis’s average cock was a red brick, but he was still keeping it chuffed with his stroking hand.
“When Jarvis nuts, which will be in about fourteen seconds...”
Jarvis shot more middle fingers everywhere.
“...the bitch who gets his cum gets twenty points. Do NOT swallow his cum. If you swallow cum without permission, you will be disqualified and lose one. Hundred. Good Girl Points.”
The room: “Whoooooooooo!”
“And we know what that means, gentlemen!”
A bunch of guys off-camera made barking sounds. I didn’t understand what the fuck was going on.
“Bitches will snowball!”
“After every snowball, the room will take a thumbs-up thumbs-down vote to see if you deserve to swallow Jarvis’s cum. The bitch who gets the privilege of swallowing the snowball gets FIFTY points!”
“Now gentlemen, and I use that word ironically, are you going to give FIFTY Good Girl Points to just any slut with a mouth full of spit and splooge?”
Brandon: “No sir! No ma’am! No cocksucker snowball bitches. You bitches better work for your permission to swallow. And if you spill the load?”
Brandon: “Ten points from Gryffindor every time you dribble the snowball. Got it?”
Veronica smiled and gave a thumbs up. Daisy looked a little nervous. She smiled.
“Well?” Brandon asked. “What the fuck are you cocksucking sluts waiting for?”
The airhorn blasted. Neither Veronica nor Daisy seemed ready for the green flag. Both turned back to Jarvis’s hard dick at the same time. Their heads bonked as they both went for it at once. Daisy shoved Veronica’s shoulder. Veronica’s hand flew up and smacked Daisy hard in the ear. Boom. That hard shot gave my slut wife the entre she needed to get her lips around Jarvis’s cockhead, latch on, and go to town. She moaned and looked up, trying to lock Jarvis’s eyeline. Her mouth was a machine, garking deep and fast. She wasn’t messing around. Daisy recovered from having her head bitch-punched. She wrapped her pretty, plump lips around Jarvis’s right nut. This unglued him. My wife seemed to try and end this contest before it started. She went at Jarvis’s cock like a mewling whore. Her eyes were huge. She was sucking the entire length, from a pucker kiss around Jarvis’s cum hole to a tight O-ring where shaft turned into balls and then back to cum hole. Rapid fire.
Veronica reluctantly popped off Jarvis’s member and it launched up and smacked his six pack stomach, hard and wet.
Daisy had to raise way up on her knees to retrieve Jarvis’s crimson dickhat with her cupid’s bow thick lips. Daisy had her lipstick lined and looked sexy as fuck. She was fun to watch. She gave her cocksucking performance every bit of gusto that a man could want. When I saw my wife’s tongue whipping around Jarvis’s balls and her paw raise to give his sack the tips of her fingernails, I reached down and started pumping my choad. I knew what those perfect red fingernails felt like when they dragged down the front of my tight sack. It was amazing. The sensation made the hair on my ears stand up. Watching my wife give another man this intimacy of ours made my balls quiver and my jealousy skyrocket simultaneously.
Jarvis flinched and looked down at my wife’s wicked smile. Daisy was trying to make eye contact, but he was looking at Veronica. Veronica knew it.
My wife was back at it. Cocksucking slut! Jarvis’s average cock left Veronica plenty of room to shape a sexy smile as she looked up at Jarvis and garked his prick deep in her throat. Jarvis’s eyes went thin. Yeah. Maybe he was going to nut fast. It hadn’t even been five minutes.
Veronica kept suction on Jarvis’s cock to the last moment. It sounded like a cork gun when she finally pulled off the tip of the cockhead that was turning purple with pleasure pressure. Daisy and my wife both flashed tongues all over that lucky sumbitch’s twitching prick. That was the sexist thing I could think of. Both of them raised up and their tongues banged into each other and wrestled for skin as they worked each side of Jarvis’s throbbing rod.
Jarvis’s eyes went googly. My cock went crazy and fizzled with need.
What followed was not pretty. The scene of co-operative lick pleasure ended and a full-on hair pulling cat fight ensued.
While the girls were banging against each other’s shoulder, Daisy’s hand tried to grab Jarvis’s dick and Veronica karate chopped it.
“No hands!” Brandon yelled. “No fucking hands! Get your hands down! Mouth only!”
The girls didn’t seem to hear or care. Daisy pulled Veronica’s hair with one hand and grabbed Jarvis’s shaft with the other, pulling it in her mouth.
“No hands!” More than one man was shouting at the ladies.
“Hang on! Hang on! Time out! Bitches! Stop. Let go. Daisy, drop cock! Now!”
Both girls turned backwards and looked confused. A camera shot of Brandon looking concerned. “Pete, you and Marcus, grab those mounts from the back. Keith, cuff the bitches up. Bethany too.”
There was an intermission while my wife and Daisy were locked back into the same rigs that they’d used for ass fucking, only they unscrewed the T-bar so the girls could move around a little.
Then the horn and I could hear their melons bonk (hard) as they went for Jarvis’s dick once more. Upon second attempt, their mouths crashed together. The disquieting clack of their teeth colliding. Veronica scored the suck, Daisy got a bloody lip where their teeth smashed together.
The break had provided Jarvis the chance he needed to get dominion over the orgasm he was about to have. He seemed more in control this time. Of course there were no more elegant fingernails tickling his bag, either. So that had to help his stamina.
The horn blasts started coming sooner together, making quick trade offs.
Then, while my wife was sucking the skin off Jarvis’s purple cockhead, her eyes lit up and her mouth fell off it’s rhythm. She grunted.
Another camera angle showed that the two black guys who Bethany had been fluffing at the beginning of the video were positioned behind each girl, pounding them doggy. Veronica was getting rocked so hard, I could tell she was struggling to concentrate on the dick she was sucking.
That was it for me. The scene of those two perfect female specimens flapping pink lickers around the throbbing man steel between them while they were both being jostled by the men pistoning into their pussies was my “Check please!” moment. I blew cum all over the wall.
Veronica was taking dick so viciously that she couldn’t win the suck. Daisy got the points for first suck on Jarvis. A moment later she got more points as Jarvis locked his fingers into the top of Daisy’s beautiful red hair and his balls lifted up into his body. He was blasting into Daisy’s perfect mouth.
“Unlock ‘em!” Brandon shouted. “Quick. Quick!”
The girls were swarmed by men reaching for their bondage leather and their hands and legs came free. The fucking stopped and both girls came to their knees and leaned in, tit to tit. The camera zoomed in on Daisy. She opened her mouth to show the thick swish all over her tulip tongue and perfect teeth.
“Gentlemen?” Brandon asked into his microphone.
“Whoo! All thumbs down! No fucking way, Daisy-doll. Are you ready to SNOWBALLLLLLL!!!!”
Daisy went high. Veronica hunched down. Daisy spit her sticky load of cum and spit into my wife’s mouth. I will not dwell on the part where a little blood from Daisy’s split lip went in my wife’s mouth as well. Kind of gross.
Veronica turned to the camera and started hamming it up. She pinched her nipples, opened her mouth, and blew bubbles of cum and spit as her tongue windshield-wipered across her front teeth. She was giving it everything. Such a slutty sexpot.
“Gentlemen? Whoa! Okay! That was closer than I thought, but sorry, Roni, not enough thumbs. SNOWBALL!”
Veronica closed her mouth and gave a little pout as her fists went to her eyes and twisted in a “boo hoo” pantomime. What she was actually doing was using the delay to work up a wash of her own spit to the mix.
Someone had handed Daisy a tissue while Veronica was showing off. Daisy had been blotting her broken lip. She dove under and Veronica raised up. Daisy offered a sexy, tongue-flickering baby bird mouth. Veronica lifted and opened her mouth. My wife spilled in a fucking torrent of cummy spit into Daisy’s maw. Daisy started to vamp for the camera when Veronica grabbed her jaw in a pinch and pulled her back. Veronica forced another blob of spit into Daisy’s mouth and then spit hard several times to make sure Daisy had every drop of moisture in Veronica’s mouth transferred to Daisy’s yap.
It was Daisy’s turn to open her mouth and show the fizzling soupy glop behind her teeth to the camera. Daisy arched her tongue and a little an icicle of goo made a run over her bottom lip. Her finger came up to keep it from escaping. She threw her head back and tried to push it back in. It seemed to work. Daisy looked back at the camera and dropped her jaw to display cummy spit to the camera.
Unfortunately for Daisy, that’s when she gagged. And then gagged again.
“OH NO!!!” Brandon shouted.
My wife slid her mouth under Daisy before the vote could be taken. Daisy gagged hard and wretched the whole soapy load into Veronica’s mouth. Veronica took it all. She turned to the camera, the corners of her mouth turned up, but her chin was high because there was so much cum and spit in her little mouth. Her nostrils flared as she took air. Such a wicked smile as Veronica vamped and blew cum bubbles. Veronica pinched her fingers into her mouth and pulled up a rubber string of wet white mix. Her tongue extended long to steal the stretch back her her mouth. She showed the cummy slop to the camera and wiggled her ass seductively.
“Oh gentlemen? What say you?”
The air horn made another BWOOT!
Veronica threw her head back and made cum bubbles one more time before closing her lips and gulping the load down in several waves. She pinched her own nipples, wiggled her ass, and smiled at the camera as she leaned in to show her teeth and tongue.
The men. Went. Crazy.
Veronica vamped and pretended to push cum off the corners of her mouth onto her index finger that she sucked lewdly. What a fucking slut my wife was! Holy shit!
The screen went black while a message said “Makeup Break! Back in 10 Minutes!”
It took twenty.
After the camera came back on, it was “DAISY! VERSUS! BETHANNNNNY!”
The guest of honor was “THE MASKED PERVERRRRRRT!!!” A.K.A. Bradley Cooper. He had a ski mask on.
They had stopped the bleeding on Daisy’s lip, but it was swelling up on the left side. You could tell she wasn’t at 100%.
At any rate, Bethany won. She won everything. She got every first-suck because Daisy got gunshy about her busted lip. Bethany got Cooper’s cum, even though The Masked Pervert held out for forty-five minutes of back and forth. Bethany seemed unphased once she started taking a pounding in her pussy from the brothers. Daisy seemed to really lose focus.
Daisy gagged again during the snowballing, even spilling once on her tits. Bethany licked it up. Bethany had to be an actual porn star. She did everything exactly like a porn star would do it. Daisy was heartbreakingly beautiful, but she wasn’t a porn star.
Bethany got the thumbs-up to swallow cum. Daisy was toast.
During the next “Make-up Break!” I called in sick to work. I had to use the landline, my iPhone still wasn’t working. First I had to FIND the landline. The ringer was muted because the only people who ever called on it were scammers and telemarketers. The handset was under the couch and barely had one bar of battery.
“Aaaaand now! The matchup you’ve all been waiting for!” Brandon’s Michael Buffer imitation was in full bloom. Probably the last time he’d command a room, the fucking douchebag. He had to buy status with other men’s wives, the big tough guy douchebag. I was going to break his nose the next time I saw him.
“...RANDY RONI! VERSUS! BEAUTIFUL BETHANNNNNY!!!!”
Yeah. Yeah. My wife was going to make that “Beautiful” bitch lick her asshole when she sucked the lucky hat-name-draw guy inside out through his own piss hole.
Not so easy, as it turned out. Brandon picked his own name out of the hat as the designated cock to be sucked. Yeah. Surprise. That sounds like it wasn’t set up at all.
Brandon lasted over an hour. I had to run out and fix Becca breakfast and set her in front of cartoons, missing several minutes of action. Veronica was a sweaty mess by the time the air horn blasts were coming fast and furious, twenty seconds apart. The girls were trading cock so fast that Brandon couldn’t get a cum rhythm going in any one cocksucker mouth.
Both the girls’ lips were swollen up like life rafts, they’d both sucked so hard and so long. They both moaned as much from exhaustion as they did from fake encouragement for Brandon to nut. They sucked cock for so long that they each went through the brothers and two more men nutting in their pussies before Brandon’s balls ratched up into his body.
Everytime I thought Beth was going to take the splooge, the air horn went off and I was certain that my wife was going to suck the head right off Brandon’s nine inches of steel. Back and forth. Apparently whoever was working the airhorn was told not to double-blast for the licking, after all the teeth crashing together and all the concussion trauma of the first two contests. This was only the quarterfinals. Nobody wanted the girls to end up in a Hungarian Emergency Room for trying to win a stupid blowjob contest.
My wife won Brandon’s orgasm. She had just taken suck possession of Brandon’s dick when it popped. His balls disappeared into his body. The base of his cock twitched and twitched and twitched as he pumped load after salty load into my wife’s moaning slut mouth. I saw the concern in Veronica’s eyes after the hot sperm kept coming beyond what she was expecting. Her nostrils flared wide, making her tiny elf nose seem larger in the moment.
“She’s gonna swallow or hurl!” shouted someone off camera.
“She’s got it! Roni got it! Roni can’t have too much cum! Bitch don’t know what too much cum is!” Sounded like either DeShawn or Paulo, one of the other two black guys.
Big fan club. Her efforts to win the fan vote were definitely paying off.
Brandon hissed. I could tell he was trying to keep his cock in my wife’s mouth, but losing the battle to sizzling, overstimulated nerve endings. Instead he tried to jam his deflating meet into Roni’s... I mean VERONICA’S throat. My wife flinched. Her eyes squinted. She looked like she was going to gag on all that cum and too much cock in her throat. She recovered. Brandon tried to jam his cock down her throat again. Veronica jerked her head back and locked her lips around the crown of Brandon’s cockhead and sucked so hard that her cheeks collapsed inward.
“FFF-f-f-f-f--yuuuuuuuuck! Shit! Stop! Let go! Let go, bitch! Fuck. Let GO!” Brandon stumbled back until he almost pulled Veronica onto her stomach, finally extracting his burned meat from my whore cocksucking wife’s tramp mouth.
I could see when Veronica opened her mouth for the camera that -- if there had been any doubt -- Brandon had dumped a DeShawn-sized gallon of hot sperm into my slut wife’s jaw. She was struggling to keep it in her mouth. Her nostrils flared a rapid S.O.S. in Morse Code. She was in trouble from the start. Her attempts at cum play were flat. Her neck was tilted way back. The best she could do was dip her finger tip in her mouth and pull out a coating of goo that she painted around the circumference of each areola.
When a panting Brandon called for thumbs, Veronica looked at the men with pleading in her eyes, begging them to let her swallow.
Of course they didn’t.
Don’t get me wrong. Bethany was not an Amazon. When I say Bethany is bigger than my wife and had a bigger mouth, it’s not like Bethany was Adele, or anything. It’s just that my wife was a pixie. A wood sprite.
Bethany took the load like the pro she was. No problemo, Senor. I saw my wife frantically trying to swallow her mouth as empty as possible as the thumbs snowballed Bethany up on her knees and my wife hunched down with her mouth upturned to receive.
Wow. That Bethany bitch didn’t play. She pushed so much spit and cum into my wife’s mouth that I gagged just watching her. Veronica’s eyes squinted shut and her neck was all the way back to keep the wash from cresting her bottom teeth. Veronica took it all somehow. She was struggling. The camera zoomed out to show Bethany vamping for the camera. Her hands were all over Veronica’s tits and sliding up her thighs from behind. Bethany pinched my wife’s sensitive nip-tips. Veronica flinched in pain but didn’t spill precious cum. Veronica’s fingers pushed through the crack of Veronica’s ass to Veronica’s pussy and V-ed open Veronica’s wet twat for the camera. My wife’s clit was way out.
“Thumbs, Gentleman?” panted Brandon.
Right when he asked, Bethany’s hand dropped down Veronica’s thigh and then bladed back up into my wife’s pussy. Hard.
Veronica flinched and gasped at the pain, The gasp had nowhere to draw air from and instead Veronica gulped down cum and saliva.
“OH! OH NO! WE HAVE A RULE BREAKING BITCH WHO IS SWALLOWING SPERM WITHOUT PERMISSION!”
I was sure from Veronica’s expression that she was going right at Bethany, fingernails and fists. Instead, my wife gulped down everything in her mouth and licked her lips lewdly. “I couldn’t help it, Daddy!” Veronica purred. “I just couldn’t bear to share my Daddy’s delicious cum with another cunt who doesn’t deserve it!”
Laughter and hoots in the room.
Brandon smiled. “Well, rules are rules, but it is my party. So... I think we can let that one slide, right gentlemen?”
The screen went black.
Then: “FINALS! IN SIX HOURS! TUNE IN!”
Jesus. At least I had a chance to sleep and charge my nuts a little. I did the clock math in my head. Maybe I could time Becca’s afternoon nap just right. What more could Brandon ask of this women? What more did they have to prove?
At any rate. My wife was the best slut. Better than Bethany. Fuck them all. The best slut was coming home to me. Her husband. I was going to get that perfect pink pussy and that cocksucking whore mouth for the rest of my life. Hope they enjoyed their six days of fantasy with her. Pretty soon she was going to be all mine.
More or less.
Becca went down for her nap without a fight. Later in the afternoon than she usually took it, so that helped me have some privacy.
My iPhone had miraculously come back to life after the last broadcast. With three minutes on the countdown clock, it mysteriously overheated again. Well fuck that. We had a little SureShot camera of my wife’s from a decade ago. It was charged and Brandon didn’t hack that. Probably did not know of its existence. It was locked into place and it worked just fine as the countdown clock ticked away. It was the best resolution money could buy in 2005, which is to say it was awful. But it’s all I had.
FINALS: Not as sexy as I’d hoped.
All three girls were nude-with-dog-collar-and-heels on their knees, about six feet apart from each other and perfectly lit. All the men had their clothes off and were pumping their cocks hard on one side of the room.
Brandon was naked too, but he had that stupid RF microphone.
“Welcome back to the Final Event in the Good Girl Slut Olympics, Ladies and especially... Gentlemen. How are those cocks, my friends?
Brandon smiled, “You’re welcome! These sluts have definitely lived up to their bad reputations, haven’t they?”
“...And every one of you has had your mouth in each of these three sluts’ mouths at least twice, right? Good. And you’ve all fucked every bitch at least once, right? Perfect! Then these sluts should be plenty familiar with all your cocks. Quentin, will you do the honors, brah?”
One of the guys I’d seen least in the videos started wrapping thick black blindfolds around the eyes of each woman.
Veronica’s white-blonde hair was a perfect contrast to the silky black blindfold. It was wide and long and the tails of the blindfold made two long black pirate pigtails behind Veronica’s head. The effect was dramatic. Daisy the redhead looked great too. Bethany looked as if this was nothing new to her.
“Allll right, Sluts! You know how this works. You’re going to suck three mystery cocks in a row, each for 90 seconds. At the end of the third suck, your blindfold comes off and you pick the three men in order of which cock was in your mouth. If you only get one cock matched, that’s only five points. If you get two cocks right, that’s fifteen points. And if you get all three cocks right, that’s thirty points. But if you get zero cocks correct? Yep. Minus FIFTY Good Girl Points. Ready Sluts?”
All three girls smiled and nodded. Daisy’s lip was almost back to normal, save for a little scab you could see that had been plastered over with lipstick.
It should have been a nut blasting scene for the husband of a slut wife. I watched my blindfolded wife slurp three three-quarters hard pricks to full erections in ninety short seconds each. Veronica sucked each cock slowly, her tongue working every shaft. She sucked cockheads hard and deepthroated shafts until they bottomed out in her throat.
So did pretty Daisy.
So did pretty Bethany.
After five minutes, all three men who had their cocks slurped by each woman stepped back and waited. And that’s when things got fucked up. Brandon had the three men my wife had sucked step back. He pushed three different men up onto the line. The blindfolds were removed.
Bethany looked at the three men she’d just sucked. “Oh this is easy,” she said. “Ray was the first cock. Then DeShawn, duh. And last was Cuddi.”
“Perfect Slut!” Brandon barked. “Well done, Sweetheart! Nice job! Thirty Good Girl Points to you! Now, Daisy.”
“Uhm,” Daisy looked nervously at the three hard cocks left twitching in front of her, “first was Kevin. Second was Paulo. ....And, uhm. The last one was... Uh... No wait! First was Kevin. The second was Jarvis. And the third was Paulo.”
“Neeeew! Should have stayed with your first instinct, cocksucking slut! You sucked Kevin, Paulo, and then Jarvis! Five points, darlin’. Better luck next round. Okay, now my slut! Roni! Look closely at the three men in front of you. Which was first, second, and third dick?”
Veronica looked really confused. “Uhmm.... Okay, I was sure I knew the cocks in my mouth, but... Apparently... Uhm... First was Francis. Second was Quentin? And the third had to be David?”
“OH RONI!” Brandon moaned. “Zero correct!”
All three men on the line who knew they were part of the fraud shook their heads in disappointment.
“Really?” Veronica asked. “Because I was sure I had Francis and I wasn’t one hundred about David, but I know how Quentin’s cock tastes. I’ve sucked it ten times. None of the cocks seemed like it belonged to Quentin.”
“Sorry, Roni!” Brandon said. “Very sorry, because you’re my pony, honey. Get your shit together.”
The scene repeated itself. This time Brandon was the first man in my wife’s mouth. Then the Jesse Plemons looking guy. Then the guy I now knew as Ray.
Same thing. Brandon stepped back and pulled the two other guys my wife had sucked back in the shadows. Bradley (wearing a Trump mask) and DeShawn and Andre stepped forward. When my wife’s blindfold was removed, she abruptly stopped smiling. She looked really confused.
“Ronislut?” Brandon asked.
“Whoa shit,” Veronica whispered. “I know your cock, Daddy. I know the taste of your skin. I know how it fits the very back of my throat. I’m sure I sucked you first. And I’ve sucked Chaz so many times, Daddy. I’m sure he was next. And then the third was definitely Ray.”
“Those aren’t the men you sucked, Roni,” Brandon said. “Look at the three men in front of you.”
“I didn’t just suck Brad. I know his cologne. There’s no way I just sucked DeShawn. Andre maybe, but...”
“”Roni, you have ten seconds. You are breaking my heart, Babydoll.”
“Fuck,” Veronica whispered, “uh, DeShawn, then Andre, then Brad.”
“Neeeeew,” Brandon groaned. “All three wrong. Brad, DeShawn, Andre. Minus another fifty points! Shit, Roni. Get it together.”
My wife looked baffled. She nodded slightly before the camera switched to Daisy correctly guessing two out of three men. As did Bethany,
She was being played. Brandon was running some kind of unfair shell game on my wife. It’s like he was purposely trying to make her lose the game.
“FINAL ROUND!” shouted Brandon. “Get blindfolds on those cocksucking sluts, boys! Make sure they’re tight and low. I can’t abide cheating bitches. There you go. Okay, you stunt cocks, line up and take position. First swinging dick, you’ve got a minute and a half to bust your balls, because the next event isn’t for ten hours and the sluts will be sequestered until then.”
The naked men took this as a challenge and began furiously fluffing their cocks to full erections.
There were men at the Bachelor Party that I knew from video, but not by their names. This name-your-blowjob contest of Brandon’s was filling in the gaps. The guy named Cuddi was first in my wife’s mouth. She was giving his cock hell with a grunting, mewling suck, trying to get him to say something or moan something, something to give her a clue. Bethany sucked Paulo. Daisy’s first cock was the redheaded guy who I thought might be Jesse Plemons. Turns out his real name was Chaz. Or all the guys called him Chaz. Daisy was smiling around her suck of Chaz. Her plump lips were on full display as she worked Chaz’s average dong.
Much to my delight, when the horn sounded Cuddi did not pull out of my wife’s mouth. He waved off Austin, flapping his hand.
“C’mon!” Austin growled.
“Shhh!” Brandon hissed. “Shut up. No talking at the stripe.”
“Fffff-f-f-f-f....” Cuddi’s chin lifted and he unloaded in my wife’s slurping mouth. She didn’t miss a drop.
“Way to go, Quickdraw McGraw!” the men chided Cuddi.
“Everybody shut up!” Brandon yelled. “You’re giving the cocksuckers clues!”
“So are you, Genius,” Bradley Cooper drawled.
All the men laughed. So did Daisy and Bethany.
Austin finally pushed his twitching member between my wife’s teeth and made up for lost time by putting his hand on the back of her head and fucking Veronica’s throat visciously.
Bradley Cooper was half-hard in Bethany’s porn mouth. Brandon was taking privileges with Daisy.
When the air horn BWOOTed again, there had been no orgasms. All these men seemed exhausted, even Brandon.
The third and final stunt cock in my wife’s mouth was Quentin, the first man to blindfold all the sluts. Wayne was barely stiff and Daisy stretched his shaft like taffy as she pulled at it with her lippy suction, never bringing Wayne’s remarkable system of capillaries any harder than half-staff. Wayne looked like he was in his late fifties or early 60s. Dapper, but older. Bethany sucked David who was on the slighter side of the continuum of buff partygoers.
And again to recap for clarity, my wife had sucked Cuddi, Austin, and Quentin. When her blindfold came off it was Kevin, Francis, and Ray standing in front of her, thanks to Brandon’s trickery.
“No way!” Veronica said. “This is bullshit! I’m certain that Cuddi creamed my mouth. His cum tastes lemony. I’d know it anywhere. Plus I heard him grunting and Austin bitching. I know how aggressive Austin is and I know the feel of his hand on the back of my head when he jams his meat down my throat. This is bullshit!”
“Whoa!” Brandon held up his palms. “That’s a poor sport, Roni! You are absolutely breaking my heart; first with tanking the semifinals, and now with being butthurt! C’mon. You’ve got three men in front of you. In what order did you suck them, Slut?”
Veronica was pissed. “Who cares. Francis, Francis, and Francis.”
“Oh we have a butthurt bitch, gentlemen! I hope that doesn’t affect your final tally for your personal discretionary Good Girl Points from the team! Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Sore losers are sad.”
Well, Veronica would know the truth! I had it all on video! Crappy video, but video nonetheless! Fuck Brandon and his cheating bullshit!
About that time the ancient 500 Mb memory stick filed up and my SureShot stopped recording. I missed Bethany’s score, but who cares.
I did hear this: When it was Daisy’s turn to identify, she pointed at Chaz and said, “No fucking doubt, Charlie was first! His cock has been in my mouth more often than my own tongue! I’d know it in my sleep. Fuck, I’ve had his cock in my mouth while I was sleeping!”
The men roared with laughter. She and Chaz obviously had a sexual history. The redheads knew each other.
“Alright, gentlemen, rest up those scrotums and drink plenty of water, because we are ten hours from announcing the winner of the Third International Bachelor Party Slut Olympics! And that means we’ll also be announcing the loser of the Third International Bachelor Party Slut Olympics, so bring a full nutsack and an empty stomach if you’re squeamish!”
All the men in the room started barking like idiots and the tablet went black except for a nine hour and fifty-nine minute countdown clock.
I guess I could have gone into work for the afternoon. It was possible. But I’d already called in sick and I might as well finish out my Friday afternoon. I’m really not a bad parent. I never smoke up while I’m taking care of my daughter. Never. But she was really mellow and I was insane with anxiety. I snuck into the garage and took some tokes to easy my brain and stop my hands from shaking. I wanted my wife home. After watching Brandon cheat Veronica in her semifinal slut contest, I was certain that this game was rigged. There was no point in rigging the contest unless it was so Brandon could drive to some final outcome. In our short phone downloads I couldn’t get my wife to explain what it meant to “lose” Brandon’s game but I could tell from the tenor of her voice that it wasn’t good.
Miracle of Miracles. Because Becca is technically developmentally disabled, she doesn’t have a ton of friends, but she does have a couple girlfriends from her Special Needs daycare group and I got a call from a mom who asked if Becca could come over to Janelle’s house for a princess sleepover. Apparently this invitation was already on Veronica’s radar, but Veronica had never confirmed due to obvious reasons. My wife had not expected to be sequestered in an Eastern European hotel, sucking away at a blow-bang fellatio contest three days after she was told she’d be back home.
The way Brandon described this fiasco as the Third International Bachelor Party Slut Olympics opened my eyes that many of these guys had been through this rodeo before and there was a methodology to it. They weren’t just making it up as they went along.
I was hoping to beat off to some sexy porn, but the video I actually had on tape wasn’t great spank material. Watching the cuts of the girls sucking cock was hot, and that Cuddi guy unloading quickly in my wife’s slut mouth was great. But not as sexy as the snowball competition. Or the “greatest hits” video compilation of my wife sucking and fucking guys and video of her tied down while each man fucked her tight little ass. That was fucking spank bank gold!
I opened up my email to jerk it to those high-res pictures Brandon emailed me. The pictures had disappeared. Fucker. He got me again. I didn’t save them on a detached hard drive.
I just thought about Veronica locked to that mat by O-rings through her cuffed wrists and ankles. I thought about all those humiliated, pained expressions of her face as one man after the next entered her puckered pink asshole. It didn’t take me long to spray my sperm all over my fist and thighs. There was going to be a lot more ass fucking when my wife came home. I was already considering putting a full length dressing mirror on the closet door so I could see Veronica’s crazy expression as I cornholed that upturned bottom of hers.
Now if I could have just time traveled to the end of the countdown clock, I’d be seven hundred percent less insanely jealous and nervous than I was.
I was a nervous, pacing wreck for ten hours. I couldn’t even sit down.
That’s a lie. I passed out with exhaustion after I got back from dropping off Becca at the sleepover. I goddamn near overslept the last video.
Wow. I wish I had. I wish I’d slept right through it and never seen what happened when that countdown clock hit zero.
But I did.
My heart was beating out of my chest when the tablet came back to life. My makeshift video copying system was back in play. I knew I didn’t have very many minutes of video recording before the shitty old memory card filled up. They didn’t even manufacture that kind of memory stick any more or I would have run by Best Buy and bought a Terabyte version to make sure I didn’t miss a second of my wife being a whore for a room full of horny men and hard cocks.
My laptop was on the bed, the memory stick adapter was in the USB port. I’d have to make a quick dump operation if the events on the video ran long. A desperate part of me hoped they’d run long. I hoped I’d get some great second-hand video of my wife getting doubled and tripled by every horny sumbitch in the room. I prayed she’d take another train in her asshole, this time captured for posterity.
Once again, they were in the same huge hotel (?) ornate conference room (?) with the high ceiling and studio lights around a perimeter pointing at the three performing sluts. Once again, the lighting was dramatic. The women’s makeup and hair were flawless and perfectly lighted. Once again, the circle of bright light disappeared into a shadow outside the circle of plaything whores, made up for the camera. Once again, I could barely make out the entire Bachelor Party complement of men skulking just outside the shadows in various states of undress.
My stomach leaped at the sight of the women. They were all three locked back onto the bondage mats on all fours, their legs spatchcocked wide for easy access to their pussies and assholes.. Their faces all pointed toward the same focal point and their asses and shoes were angled away from each other like a child’s rendition of sunbeams from a yellow circle.
The T-bar was locked under the lower stomach of each woman, giving me a surge of hope that I was going to see my wife ass-fucked by a line of men once more.
Each woman had a long chain leash clipped to their dog collar, the open end pooled into a coil on the floor in front of them.
This was new: Each of the women had in an open O-ring gag behind their teeth and strapped around their perfectly coiffed hair. The women must have been locked into their doggy bondage position for a while. A cameraman showed each of their closeup faces, one at a time. They were all drooling over their open ring bondage gags. All of them had an unbroken line of spit between their bottom lip and a puddle on the floor.
The camera(s) made passes behind so I could see all their upturned perfect asses, and all their perfect shaved pussy bottoms with distending flaps of slutty pussy lips dropping out. All three little assholes looked crimson red and sore. They’d all taken a lot of D in the A over the past six days and it showed.
The cameras tracked down the sides of the sluts so I could admire their gorgeous swinging jugs and erect nipples in addition to their curvy thighs and elegant sexy shoulders. My dick was already begging for my hand to start pumping and shit hadn’t even really started.
There was some shitty, bass-heavy Eurotrack music under all the hero footage of three sluts secured in place. The camera lingered over their curvy velvet skin, eating them up.
Here’s the other thing besides the O-ring gags that was different. The girls looked nervous this time. Very nervous. Even Beth. Daisy looked like she might pass out; her eyes were darting everywhere. My wife did not have a paranoid expression. Hers was more subtle. But I was her husband. I knew what Veronica looked like when she was trying to hide how upset she was. This was that look.
I must admit. I’ve seen chicks wearing ball gags in porn before. I’d never seen girls wearing open O-ring gags. That forced drool thing was humiliating and quite sexy. I doubted any of the guys except the really small peckers could get a dick through those rings, even though they were forcing the slut girls’ mouths about as wide open as they could go. Looked quite uncomfortable. Nearly broke my heart.
The music stopped. There were three quick cuts of each girl’s drooling face once more. They looked terrified.
Brandon was relaxed. “Hello and welcome back to the final accounting of Good Girl points and the closing ceremonies of the Third International Bachelor Party Slut Olympics! How are you gentlemen doing this morning? Rested? Good! Those ballsacks brimming with sperm? Good! Are you ready to see what cannot be unseen?”
The roar was louder than any response I’d witnessed so far. The guys were ready for the big show and ready for one last chance to pump their hot cum in some submissive sluts.
“Before I go any further, I must thank everybody who made this trip happen. I have to thank our financier over there who cut the checks. Thanks, Masked Pervert!”
“Thanks to Francis and Jarvis and Paulo for the logistics and accounting work! Special thanks to Chaz and DeShawn for providing what I think we can agree are the sexiest sluts we’ve ever had. And you can thank me, of course for my contribution!” He pointed a hand at my wife: Cheers and clapping. “Yep, I’ve never won this competition before, but Chaz and Big Dee! You know I can’t wait to cash those sweet checks you two wrote, mutherfuckers!”
“You ain’t won nothin’ yet, BeeBee!” DeShawn shouted back.
“Well we are about to find out who takes the wager envelopes home, aren’t we? Francis, do you have the final accounting?”
Francis handed Brandon an envelope.
“Now, Francis and Paulo are the only ones who know for sure who our prize-winning and prize-losing sluts are. I have not seen the final accounting yet. But I have been told that the total number of Good Girl Points issued this time are a whopping TWO thousand SIX hundred and TEN!”
The men all hooted, cheered, and clapped.
“That’s like what? Seven hundred total points more than last time? Twenty SIX hundred and ten GeeGeePees. You horny mutherfuckers fucked some bitches, bros!”
“Now granted, DeShawn was personally responsible for twenty-five hundred of those points...”
“Just kidding. But man, that’s a lot of cum swallowing and pussy creaming, guys! You outdid yourselves. Of course, again, we had some amazing sluts to inspire all that sperm. Give it up for our Sluts of Honor guys!”
Applause started but Brandon cut it off.
“Just kidding. Nobody cares about the sluts.”
Brandon played with the tension of the reveal. “I have no idea how these pretty sluts ranked. I heard from reliable sources that it was pretty much neck-and-neck right up until my slut ganked it at the Know-Your-Cock semifinal competition.” Brandon put his hands on his hips and walked in a circle with mock frustration while the men laughed it up.
“But... Each of you beautiful bastards had fifty Good Girl Points to distribute between the sluts as you saw fit. That’s seven hundred and fifty... Sorry Andre... Seven hundred and FIDDY...” [laughter] “...GeeGeePees that could tip the balance in any direction. It’s any slut’s game to win. I hope none of you bitches lose by a single blowjob. That would just be terrible!” Brandon smiled. The men laughed naughty guffaws. “Just oooooone more cum,” Brandon smiled a shit eating grin. “Just oooone more ass wiggle! Ooooone more ball tickle!”
The men were getting more rambunctious by the minute.
“Read the fucking card, BeeBee!” shouted Bradley Cooper. “My heart can’t take the suspense and my balls are fucking Vesuvious, here!”
Cheers and laughter.
“Okay. Okay!” Brandon waved and laughed he pulled the paper out of the envelope. He looked at it and smiled. He was in no hurry to read it aloud. He knew he held the room. “Jesus fucking Christ. I can’t remember the exact numbers from the last two Bachelor Parties, but this has to be the closest total ever! Wow!”
“Read the fucking paper, BeeBee! For fucks sake!” screamed Bradley Cooper.
Brandon smiled and shook his head. “Wow. Okay. So, with no further ado, with nine hundred and thirty Good Girl Points... FUCK, that’s a lot of sperm!”
“BeeBee, I’m going to beat you to death with DeShawn’s dick in a second!”
“Even after tanking the semifinals, with nine hundred and thirty GGPs, the winner of the competition is MY SLUT! RONI!”
There were a lot of cheers in the room. My slut wife had definitely made the rounds on all those cocks to get such a reception.
The camera cut to my wife’s face as she slumped with relief. A weary smile washed over the part of her expression that she could still shape with the O-ring gag forcing her teeth apart.
“Okay, Paulo unlock her.”
Francis came running out, waving frantically at Brandon. “Wait! Hang on! Hang on!” Francis leaned into Brandon’s ear and whispered while pointing at the paper in Brandon’s hand. Brandon’s eyebrows lifted.
“Okay, hang on, everybody! Hang on!” Brandon said. “Sorry, I wasn’t reading the card correctly.”
The camera caught my wife’s head snapping up and her laser eyes locking on Brandon’s back.
“My bad,” Brandon raised an apologetic hand. “I didn’t see that Roni has some deductions. She lost one hundred and fifty points at the Semis and another twenty GGPs for unauthorized use of a communication device. Minus one hundred and seventy points... Jesus fuck, it hurts me to say this... But... With nine hundred and five points... BETH! YOU are the best slut!”
Beth looked elated. Men swarmed her and unlocked her from the floor as the cheering continued. DeShawn looked to the heavens and gave the ceiling two fist-shakes of victory.
The camera showed Chaz and Brandon with fake scowls as they reached into their pockets and pulled out envelopes. They made a begrudging show of trying to pull the envelopes back out of DeShawn’s fingers after handing them over. Then Brandon, Chaz, and DeShawn hugged it out.
The cheering continued until Brandon walked back into his mark in front of my wife and Daisy still locked to the floor, still drooling into two puddles of spit.
“Okay, settle down. Settle down you animals!”
Barking. WTF was with the barking? Was this some kind of frat shit?
Brandon looked back at the results and shook his head in disbelief. “Fucking amazing. Fucking amazing, gentlemen. The two remaining scores for the two remaining sluts are seven hundred seventy-five to seven hundred and sixty.
The camera split screened to the two sluts still bound to the floor. Daisy was quivering with fear; literally rattling the O-rings that bound her wrist and ankle cuffs to the floor like a Salvation Army Kettle Bellringer. I could see my accountant wife doing math in her head on the other side of the screen. Veronica began shaking her head “no” violently.
“So by a paltry FIFTEEN points... DAISY!” Brandon barked it. The camera showed Daisy jumping with fear at the abruptness. “Daisyslut, you are....” Brandon smiled and let the tension build. But I knew from looking at my wife’s expression what the final result was. “...SECOND SLUT! Congratulations! Chaz, come give your little sister a big hug! Both you twisted, incestuous monsters have a lot to be proud of!”
Sister? Sister? Chaz and Daisy were brother and sister? The fuck?
While Daisy was extracted from bondage, the chants began. “RON-NI! RON-NI! RON-NI!”
My wife went nuts. She tried to pull herself out of her restraints more voracioiusly than she did when DeShawn was on the verge of fucking her asshole. She was a fury. She was no longer a willing participant. She was trying to escape. Her white blonde hair flew everywhere as she whipped around and kicked and pulled at the mat-locked wrist restraints like she was trying to escape a burning room.
“Fifteen points!” Brandon exclaimed. “Fifteen points! So close, but no cigar. Roni Babydoll, you are the worst slut!” Brandon pointed his index finger in a dramatic, sweeping “J’Accuse!” motion.
The men were insane with cheering and jeering. The view cut to redhaired “Jessie Plemons” Chaz and the luscious Daisy open mouth kissing in a triumphant embrace. For the first time I could see how they might actually be siblings from the profile shape of their faces.
Brandon unscrewed the T-Bar from under my wife. For a moment I thought that was the first step of releasing her from bondage. Instead he walked in front of Veronica, picked the end of her leash up off the floor and yanked it straight up in the air, momentarily strangling my wife against the dog collar noose. “DeShawn, do you want to do leash honors?”
DeShawn was happy to take Brandon’s place holding my wife in all fours by the leash. They didn’t need a cross bar under her to keep her in doggy as long as they had a strong man keeping my wife upright by pulling upward on the leash attached to her dog collar.
Brandon’s hands were free to pick up the microphone.
I could feel cold sweat pouring down my back. This was not good. They were going to hurt my wife. Maybe whip her or worse. This was really bad.
The tablet filled with a blurry dark shot of out-of-focus wallpaper. Then a bright vertical line formed and I could see a door open. Shadows marched through the door, into the circle of light and sharp focus.
...And then I knew.
“Gentlemen and sluts... May I introduce for your sick, sick entertainment pleasure, AUGUSTUS! Aaaaand! KAIIIIIISER!!!”
Two crazy looking Eurotrash sluts with masculine pageboy haircuts and wearing full-body latex bondage suits that exposed their bare tits and asscheeks paraded a wide circle around my wife on the floor. One of them dragged along the biggest German Shepherd I’d ever seen. It was the size of a small pony. The woman could have ridden the dog like a horse.
The other Eurotrash bitch pulled an English Mastiff with a head the size of a mini-fridge on a short lead. They paraded in circles around my bound wife and waved at the men.
“Oh no. Oh please, God, no...” I moaned.
Angry tears poured out of my wife’s eyes and spilled rippling drops into her spit puddle.
“They wouldn’t,” I whispered to my lonely house. “He wouldn’t. I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll rip his head off.”
Sigh. I was half a world away. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop the disgustingly sick shitshow that was about to happen to my wife.
The woman holding the Mastiff handed her lead to the other handler. The woman with the dogs took them to get head pats from all the men. The other Eurotrash woman disappeared for a moment and came back with a thick saddle-leather corset that she started wrapping around Veronica’s stomach while Veronica attempted to kick her with the business end of a high heel and squirm away. DeShawn lifted Veronica’s leash and choked her out while the Eurotrash girl finished cinching my wife into the worn brown leather girdle.
“Relax,” said Eurotrash Bondage Bitch Number One. “You vill vant thees. Eet vill keep you from das scratching und da bleeding.”
Veronica made terrible grunts and moaned. She pleaded with the woman using only her wet eyes and terrified sounds.
Eurotrash #1 looked at Veronica’s face and seemed concerned. Eurotrash #1 turned to Brandon and pointed at her own mouth. “Thees wheel not werk,” she said. “Dogz wheel get caught on ring. Thees will hurt dogz.”
Brandon waved her off. “Already ahead of you, we’ll pull it out after she’s mounted.”
“Shee cannot bi-yut dawg.”
“She won’t bite the dog,” Brandon assured her.
I was so fucking naive that I assumed they were talking about Veronica actually biting the dog, like in aggressive defense.
“Dawgz wheel bi-yut her, if she for to be making thees crying,” said Eurotrash #1. “She must stop for the crying!”
“Roni, shut the fuck up,” Brandon shouted at my wife. “Shut the fuck up or these canines are going to fucking eat you and we’ll have to send you back to SLC in a ZipLoc bag. Knock it off!”
My terrified wife stopped screaming and mewling, but the tears didn’t stop flowing and the terror didn’t leave her expression.
“Better,” said Eurotrash #1. She retrieved the Mastiff and began circling my wife with him. The circle kept getting smaller and smaller. The Mastiff’s nostrils flared when he passed Veronica’s butt. He eventually made a move for her behind, but Eurotrash #1 wasn’t letting him have my wife just yet. Three more shrinking concentric circles and it was clear that Kaiser the Mastiff was more than interested in mounting my wife.
Veronica’s wet face was agony and terror.
Eurotrash #1 brought Kaiser the English Mastiff into a tug stop several feet in front of Veronica’s face. Eurotrash #1 barked a command in German. Kaiser’s massive carpet runner of a tongue lolled out and he lowered himself. Eurotrash #1 shouted another command and Kaiser rolled onto his side. Eurotrash #1 dropped to her knees and rolled Kaiser all the way on his back. His creamy short brindle undercoat looked neatly groomed. The little blood red penis tip was out of his cock pocket. At least that couldn’t do a lot of damage to my wife’s pussy. Or so I thought. Eurotrash #1 put on a show for the men (and my wife) rubbing the little red rocket with her fingertips. The bigger (much bigger) white-pink cock behind the red tip began to extend out of the dog’s sheath. As it did, Eurotrash #1 gripped the dog cock and stroked it, revealing even more dog dick. I had no earthly idea that a dog cock could be that big. It wasn’t DeShawn big, but it had massive girth and looked angry as fuck. Eurotrash #1 sucked the pointy end of the dog dick. I thought I was going to puke. The men in the room went wild. Kaiser’s lolling tongue gave way to a snarl. The dog’s expression went back and forth from docile wonderment to aggressive growl.
My wife was mesmerized by the show. Her eyes were huge.
Eurotrash #1 rolled Kaiser back upright on his paws and started walking a tight circle around my wife again, from just in front of her face to just behind her heels. Eurotrash #1 pointed at Veronica’s heels and Chaz and David appeared from out of frame to remove them. My wife had sexy little elf feet. Watching her toes clench and unclench from the tension was alluring.
Veronica’s eyes nervously tried to follow the path of the dog around her butt as far as she could, but DeShawn yanked up on her leash. Veronica would gasp and whip her head to the other side to pull against her brutal choking and try and see the dog coming around. Kaiser’s crimson-tipped pink dick was still all the way out and still alternating between swinging low and twitchy up against his furry belly. Kaiser kept trying to muscle himself into my wife’s upturned doggy ass but Eurotrash wasn’t letting him take his prey.
And then Eurotrash stopped between my wife’s spatchcocked legs. Kaiser nudged in toward my wife’s ass. He sniffed her asshole with his wet nose and my wife flinched hard.
The men all laughed uproariously.
Kaiser sniffed again and his ten inch tongue flapped out and licked my wife’s pussy from clit hood to asshole. And again.
Veronica jerked so hard that I swear she got all four appendages off the mat -- to their full two inch bondage maximum extent -- at the same time.
The men loved this and cheered.
That was enough foreplay for Kaiser. He raised up and walked his big front paws across my wife’s ass, stopping on the leather corset around her waist. Kaiser was so much bigger than my doggystyle wife that I didn’t think the physics could possibly allow him to do what he was trying to do at that angle.
Add that to the long list of things I was wrong about.
Kaiser’s rear turned into a wiggling machine.
My wife’s face was a portrait of cold terror. She stopped trying to look over her own shoulder and squinted her eyes shut. She was trembling.
Camera shots jumped between my wife’s “please make it stop” expression and Kaiser’s butt in profile. It looked like he was fucking my wife pretty good. But that was just an illusion of motion. A camera shot from the back showed Kaiser’s long red dog dick frantically pushing over the front of my wife’s pussy slit, his glistening, pointy cockhead sanding away at her clit.
Eurotrash #1 pulled Kaiser off my wife. He did not appreciate the interruption to his fuck game and growled viciously. Eurotrash #1 was unphased. She jerked Kaiser off Veronica’s back using both hands and her body weight to unseat the dog from my trembling wife. With Kaiser finally disconnected from Veronica, Eurotrash #1 pulled a tiny bottle from a pocket I had not noticed in her Matrix bondage getup. It looked like a large-ish bottle of eye drops with a long pointy dropper at the end. Eurotrash #1 stuck the end of the bottle into my wife’s fuckhole and squeezed it. Veronica winced at the violation. The camera showed Eurotrash #1 pull the bottle out and fart the glossy contents all over Veronica’s open pussy folds. Eurotrash #1 reached her fingertips into my wife’s sex and wiggled them until the camera could see all the lube splashing and dripping from my wife’s cunt.
Eurotrash stepped back.
Kaiser was interested in the dripping liquid and took almost a minute of slurping my wife’s twat with his impossible tongue while Veronica shook and moaned and tried to crawl out of her beastial torment. Eurotrash #1 encouraged Kaiser’s head upward and he seemed quite amenable to remounting my wife. Again there was a flurry of Kaiser’s hindquarters and an incredible expression of bewilderment on my wife’s face. Then Eurotrash #1 reached her hand down and grabbed Kaiser’s cock and guided the pointy red end of it to my wife’s babymaker. The camera view switched to my wife’s face as Kaiser drilled home, deep into my wife’s pussy.
Veronica’s expression changed immediately. Her eyelids fluttered. Her mouth stopped crying. I was certain she was going to pass out. She didn’t.
Kaiser got his fuckstroke where he wanted it. Fucking machine that he was bred and trained to be, his front nails spread wide and dropped low around the leather corset, gripping his bitch low, exactly where he wanted her to take his relentless meat hammer. The dog was actually pulling my wife’s ass and knees off the floor on the backstroke of his powerful fuck.
Veronica began to pant through the O-ring. It was a crazy expression that I’d never seen before. She stopped crying. Her eyes kept crossing and then fluttering. She began grunting in rhythm with Kaiser’s merciless rutting. Grunting. Moan grunting.
Kaiser leaned forward and growled a warning in the back of Veronica’s hair. He bared his teeth in dominance and let a low rumble vibrate through the back of my wife’s neck.
The camera captured my wife growling in response. Her lips went back and she bared her teeth. That’s when I realized she was actually trying to clench her teeth together, if not for the bondage ring.
Really? She was going to cum?
“Uhn gawh. Uhn GOW! GOW! YUNghH!” Veronica blasted through the open ring.
Kaiser’s teeth flashed again and his piston haunches smashed over and over into my wife’s rippling porcelain ass cheeks.
“Nyuuuuuuhh... Gow! GUW! Nuyuhnnn!” Veronica was in a frenzy. She was as out-of-control as the dog, grunt-talking and wiggling against her bondage. DeShawn kept randomly choking her out, not because she was trying to escape the dog any longer, but just to make a hard time even harder on my humiliated slut dog-fucking wife. Randomly cutting off Veronica’s airflow against the tight collar seemed to be adding to her red-faced sex tempo.
Then my wife orgasmed in a torrential downwash. The men went crazy. A second later Kaiser made an incredible face of his own as he began pumping dog cum into my humiliated wife’s pussy.
Veronica’s head snapped back. “OW! OW! OWWWW! HURS! OWGH!” Her eyes transformed from orgasmic slits to dinner plates.
“Steel!” shouted Eurotrash #1. “Hee iz knotted! Remain steel!”
I had no idea what “knotted” meant, but it was hurting my wife. That much was obvious.
Kaiser’s claw grip loosened a little on Veronica’s midsection. He raised up and straightened his spine. Kaiser smiled a contented dog smile. He’d just unloaded his dog balls in a gorgeous human bitch’s puppy hole and he was happy.
“HUUURZ!” Veronica cried.
“Quiet or ze dawg wheel bite!”
I didn’t understand why the spent dog didn’t back out of my bitch wife and go about his business.
“Fuck,” one of the men shouted, “I can see his knot pushing out the front of her stomach!”
What the fuck was a knot?
Eurotrash #2 was in the picture now. She had Augustus on the mat, rolled on his back, and was pulling and licking at the Shepherd’s crimson dick tip, trying to wind him up to take Kaiser’s place in my wife’s abused cunt.
The camera caught Kaiser pulling out of my wife’s pussy. The sack-end of his dick was the size of a tennis ball. No wonder Veronica kept saying it hurt inside her. Veronica screamed as it finally plopped out of her pussy hole and the most incredible wash of clear dog sperm poured out onto the mat between her legs. Kaiser’s pecker tip was still spitting thin streams of clear spray.
To the delight of the cheering men, Eurotrash #1 walked the dog around to Veronica’s face and pulled Kaiser’s squirting club sideways towards my wife’s locked-open mouth as Eurotrash #1 milked an endless spray of dog cum into my wife’s open mouth. Veronica tried to turn her head away from the hot spray, but DeShawn grabbed Veronica by the ears and held her head in place until the dog had unloaded a gallon of Mastiff cum into her mouth. It rolled back out off her tongue just as fast.
Brandon unlocked the gag harness straps from the back of Veronica’s hair. This was followed by hooking the ring with his thick fingers and pushing it back in my wife’s throat before he could extract it entirely from her mouth.
“Suck that dog cock, Slut,” Brandon ordered.
“No!” Veronica recoiled.
“You don’t tell Daddy ‘no,’ Slut!” Brandon barked.
“Go fuck yourself. I’m not blowing a dog!”
Brandon raised up. “Kev? Toss me that cane, willya bro?” A moment later a long thin stick was snatched out of the air by Brandon. He took hold of one end and swished it through the air. The high pitched whistle it created was terrifying.
“Last chance,” Brandon said. “Suck that dick, Slut.”
“N-n-n-n-no!” Veronica quavered.
“You were warned,” Brandon said flatly. He walked to my wife’s rear and sliced her ass with two sharp cuts of his cane.
Veronica screamed. Both dogs bared teeth and startled. They really were about to bite her.
“Want some more?” Brandon asked.
“Please! No more, Daddy!” Veronica cried. She sobbed loudly.
“You better shut up, Slut. You’re about to get torn apart by two trained killers. Now suck that dick like I told you, loser slut. You cost me twenty thousand dollars. I want twenty thousand dollars worth of cocksucking slut out of you. Now suck that dog cock, loser fucking slut!”
Eurotrash #1 still had Kaiser’s dripping dick pulled sideways toward my wife’s mouth. Apparently Kaiser had no problem with his dog dick being twisted at a right angle.
Veronica leaned forward slowly. Brandon swished the air with his cane. Veronica flinched and opened her mouth. She leaned in and sucked the end of Kaiser’s pointy dick.
The room went wild again.
Veronica made a bitter face, but she sucked. She was a slut, after all. And now my slut wife was was a dog dick-sucking slut wife. Amazing. She sucked more dog dick and Euroslut #1 pumped the swollen base with her hand.
I could not believe the depravity that I was seeing from my wife and a dog. It was so gross. It was so hot. Would I beat off to this video later?
FUCK! The video stick had filled and the camera kicked off. I hadn’t even noticed. When did it stop? (ANSWER: When Kaiser and Euroslut #1 started walking circles around Veronica.) Fuck! I wanted to download the memory stick onto the laptop and start recording again, but I couldn’t pry my eyes away from my wife’s pink lips moving up and down Kaiser’s canine rod.
Good thing I didn’t miss it, too. Kaiser started another round of spraying cum, this time in my wife’s whore mouth. Veronica spit the cock out and coughed.
“How does dog cum taste?” asked Brandon.
“Hot,” coughed my wife. “Hot and bitter.”
“But you love it, don’t you Slut? You love dog cum. Don’t you?”
Veronica’s face flushed with humiliation. “Yes Daddy.”
“Say it. Tell the camera what a dog slut you are. Tell the camera how much you love dog cum.”
“Please, Daddy?” Veronica blinked. “Please don’t make me-- FUCK! OOOOWWWW!!!!”
Brandon stung her ass with another stripe from his cane.
Tears poured out of my wife’s humiliated eyes. “I’m a slut!” she sobbed. “I’m a slut and I please boys and men and dogs! If they have a cock, I’m a cocksucker. Because I’m a whore slut!”
“That’s better. Now it looks like ol’ Augustus there needs a little encouragement. We’re going to unlock your arms and legs and you’re gonna give us a show, Babydoll. Right?”
Veronica nodded reluctantly.
“Weeeelll. Get busy, Slut!”
With her wrist and ankle cuffs unlocked, Veronica crawled slowly toward the Shepherd. Her hand slowly reached out and fluffed the white undercoat of August’s stomach, lowering closer to the exposed tip with each sweep of her hand.
“Last warning, Slut,” Brandon growled.
Veronica’s hand replaced Euroslut #2’s hand on the tip of August’s prick tip. My wife leaned in and tickled the red tip of the dog cock with her pointy tongue. It worked. August’s pecker started lifting out of its internal sheath. My slut wife locked her lips around the pink shaft and started sucking August’s dick like a whore. Veronica seemed amazed at how much more cock pushed out of the dog. Augustus’s tongue lolled in contentment, and why wouldn’t it?
My tousled wife looked every bit the depraved, sweat and cum-soaked, used fucktoy that she was. Her hair a mess. She had glossy dog cum drying on her cheeks and neck. The camera switched to an ass shot where I could see the red welt lines from the cane raising up, tiny blood speckles drying as fast as the cum on my wife’s face.
Then back to my humiliated slut wife sucking a giant dog cock, slurping it every bit as skillfully as she sucked Brandon or Bradley Cooper. Augustus’ tongue wagged.
Eurotrash #2 pulled Augustus back to his feet. It was time for another fucking.
“You wheel like thees,” Eurotrash #2 purred at my wife. “Augustus ees a goot fucker!”
Augustus wasn’t interested in licking all of Kaiser’s cum off my wife’s pussy and ass. He was all business. Augusted mounted my wife’s back. Eurotrash #2 started to reach in and aim Augustus’s missile into my slut wife’s pussy, but Augustus didn’t need any help. There was no mistaking Veronica’s eye-popping, jaw-dropping, headsnap as Augustus locked onto and into her.
“OH SHITMUTHERFUKINGFUCKSHIT!” Veronica shouted.
“Dog-fucker!” one of the men shouted.
“Dog-fucking slut! Bitch likes it!” chided Andre.
“Hey seriously,” Brandon said, “how can you guys watch this and not give me the prize money? Look at my slut take dog cock! How can she not be the biggest slut in this contest?”
“That contest is over,” drawled Bradley Cooper. “This ain’t the slut who sucked my cock and fucked me. This is a different slut. Dog-fucker!”
“Oh fuck!” shouted my wife. “Oh jesusfuck!”
Augustus was hammering her pussy with his girthy cock. His hindquarters were a blur. His nails dropped low on the leather corset and he began lifting my wife’s ass and legs off the floor as he took her. Veronica’s hands turned to claws as she fought to keep her hands planted on the tile floor as Augustus lifted her into his own personal fuck-wheelbarrow.
“Nugh!” Veronica’s teeth clenched. Here we go. There it went. She sprayed everywhere. Augustus feet had to dig in and walk to avoid the slippery tile from my wife’s cum squirt. Augustus wasn’t done. Neither was my wife. That dog was a fucking machine.
Veronica couldn’t even form words any longer. She turned into a babbling, crimson-faced slut with nothing to offer the camera but exertion and spittle spray from her locked jaw.
In less than three minutes, my slut wife orgasmed again, spraying her thighs and the floor.
A minute later she cried out and shortly after that, Augustus raised up and lolled his tongue. The dog had came and knotted my wife. Her eyes blinked with pain. Now I knew why. That swollen ball at the back of the dog’s engorged dick had ballooned up to ensure his sperm stayed in his bitch until it did the job. It was evolutionary afterglow for Augustus, but a giant baseball materializing in my wife’s fuckchute. All she could do was take it and wait.
“I can feel his cum,” Veronica panted. “It’s like lava. Why is dog cum so hot? It’s burning me.”
“Ees not burning you,” Eurotrash #2 shook her head. “Eees filling you. Much cum.”
Bradley Cooper walked in front of my wife, pumping his cock. She opened her mouth to take it.
“I ain’t putting my pretty cock in a mouth that sucked dogs, Slut,” he growled. He unloaded pearly sperm all over my wife’s nose and eyes. When his balls emptied, he wiped the cum dribble of the tip of his dick on my wife’s flaxen hair.
The cameras cut to the shadowy periphery where Daisy and Beth were on their knees, fluffing the boys up for Go-Go-Gadget, one man’s cock in their mouth and one in each outstretched hand.
Chaz was next to cum on my slut wife’s face. “Take it, dog-sucking slut,” he groaned as he whitewashed my wife’s cheeks. Her tongue was extended, but Chaz jerked his load everywhere BUT her willing licker.
“Suck more dog dick, Dogdicksucker!” shouted someone. Eurotrash #1 walked Kaiser back in front of my slut wife’s face and pulled his distended cock sideways again. Eurotrash #1 pumped it. My wife sucked it.
Augustus didn’t appreciate the encroachment and he growled and snapped teeth toward Kaiser. Kaiser barked back and growled. My slut wife trapped on-and-between their aggressive cocks quivered in fear.
Augustus made his point by resuming rutting my wife.
“No,” Veronica moaned. “Still too hard! Still has knot! Fuck that hurts!”
“Take it, Slut,” spat Andre, stepping up. “And suck that dog cock while I watch.”
Veronica obeyed. Her eyes kept bugging at the pain of Augustus’s cock taking everything her slut pussy had to give. Faster. Faster. He was almost back to full speed. Veronica’s eyes went thin. There were two other men crowded up on her now, pumping their meat and watching her suck dog cock and take a dog rutting at the same time.
They all masturbated and called my wife degrading names.
“Look,” one of them said. “He’s cumming in her mouth.” Indeed, the camera pushed through the forest of legs surrounding my wife and caught Kaiser’s thick meat pumping and flexing. Veronica squinted.
“Swallow!” shouted Ray.
The rest of the men jacking off over my wife started shouting “Swallow Slut! Swallow Slut!”
Veronica tried, but apparently once dogs start cumming they just keep cumming for minutes, not seconds. She gulped and gulped and made a gawd-awful expression at the taste. She eventually choked and spit out Kaiser’s red tip, but it kept spraying her face.
Ray pumped his load all over the back of my wife’s head and hair. Andre followed with an impressive display of quantity all over my slut wife’s pretty face.
Jarvis nailed her in both eyes at close range.
When those three men stepped back my wife was swarmed with men who were ready to call her degrading names and blast their sticky seed all over her face and hair.
Augustus just kept doing what Augustus did, fucking hard and deep.
My wife made a sound. The camera was having a hard time shooting through all the naked men surrounding her. The men laughed. She was cumming again. Cumming on a dog cock. Augustus didn’t care. He just kept fucking her like an organic piston. Men kept unloading sperm on my slut wife, calling her terrible names. Terrible but true.
Brandon was the last man left to sperm my wife’s face. He had quite a load. My slut wife actually managed to get some of his man seed on her outstretched tongue. She drank it greedily and stretched her tongue back out for more.
Augustus finally came a third time.
My slut dog-fucking wife came again, but she didn’t have much pussy cum left to spray by that point.
Veronica was exhausted. Her shoulders were trembling from taking her weight when Augustus lifted her ass up into his merciless pounding.
Augustus raised up and lolled his tongue over sharp teeth. He’d done his job. He was a goodboi.
The bitch he was knotted too shook and panted and tried to wipe cum out of her eyes so she could see.
A room full of men high fived and toweled off their own sweat and cum.
My slut dog-fucking wife couldn’t do a damn thing except wait for Augustus to unknot. Or even fuck her again. She had nothing to say about it.
The tablet went black and stayed black. My hands were trembling. The pits of my shirt were soaked with flop sweat.
My telephone reactivated. The high temperature warning went away. A moment later a text tone sounded. I checked the phone. It was an automated notice from my bank that thirty thousand dollars had been deposited in our account.
Was it over?
Was it over?
Spoiler: Yes. And No. And Yes.
Sunday afternoon Veronica finally called me.
“Where are you?” I answered.
“It sounds like it. I can barely hear you.”
“Yeah, this place is enormous,” Veronica said. “It’s like a city.”
“Yeah, Carl. Listen to me. This is important and my flight is boarding in five minutes. I need you to get my light blue pantsuit with the silver buttons and the zippered pockets out of my closet. Hanging with my white tops is a lace collar Donna Karen -- Sorry, you’re a guy... it says DKNY on the tag. I need a fresh pair of pantihose out of my middle drawer and a clean white bra. Bring those white flats with the silver buckles that are on the floor under where my long dresses hang. There’s probably a pile of shoes there you’ll have to dig through. Oh, and there’s a paisley scarf with matching light blue highlights and mauve accents on the back of my closet door. If you can’t find that, that’s okay. You’re a guy. Do the best you can. My flight is due in tomorrow at SLCIA at ten twenty. You HAVE to be curbside pickup at exactly ten thirty and drive me straight to Heller and Braunshin while I change in the car. We’re at end-of-quarter accounting for taxes and I’m going to get fucking fired if I’m not there for the client lunch with Redrails. Don’t let me down, Honey.”
“I’ve got to work, too,” I stammered.
“Flex it!” shouted Veronica. “If you fuck this up, you better be working two jobs because I’m damnsure going to lose mine.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll be there.”
“Good. I’m counting on you, Carl.”
“Are you okay? You sound stressed.”
“I’m a long goddamn way from okay, Carl. I damn near missed my connecting flight in Paris. I’m going to have a twenty minute connection in Charlotte and if this American Airlines flight delays any longer, I’m nine kinds of fucked. It’s like Francis deliberately made another game out of the goddamn flight portfolio. I could have been home five hours earlier if he’d just booked me Paris to New York to SLC.”
“You’re flying commercial?”
“Oh. I thought you were coming back in a private plane.”
“So did I, Honey, but Last Place Girl flies home commercial. Not allowed on the plane with the civilized proper folk. I’m an outcast.”
“Oh,” I said. I was secretly relieved that she was finally free of Brandon’s clutches. “Harsh.”
“Whatever. I got notice that the deposit hit the bank,” she said.
“Tomorrow morning after you drop off Becca, I want you standing at the doorstep of Zions when they open. Open a new account and transfer all thirty kay into it so Dickface can’t pull a yo-yo string and fuck us.”
I blinked. “Uh... Done.” I had not considered that. Veronica was the smart one.
“Complete new account. Not an additional savings account on our existing account. Say it’s your own personal account and not a joint account.”
“Can I do that? Can I raid a joint account and take all the money?”
“You can in Utah. Whoops. Carl, they’re calling my boarding group. I gotta run. Ten-thirty curbside pickup. Don’t be late.”
“I love you, Baby.”
Veronica jumped in the car with zero suitcases and zero baggage. She didn’t even have a purse. She yelled at me to “Go! Go! Go!” As soon as we hit the airport exit she pulled off her sweatpants. I could see her pussy and her cane-stripped ass as she pulled on pantihose and a the rest of her clothes. She ducked down on the highway to trade off a ripped, ratty cami for the bra and top.
“Carl! Do you not know the difference between white and cream? These are my cream flats.”
“Sorry. They look white to me.”
“Fuck. Okay, I’ll just leave another button my top unbuttoned so maybe they’ll stare at my tits instead of my mismatched shoes.”
“I might have to work late to catch up. I want Becca in the car when you pick me up. I’ll call you.”
“Jeez. You came home bossy,” I said.
“Carl...” I thought she was going to punch me. She took a deep breath. “Just keep rolling with this. We’re almost to the finish line.”
How prophetic that turned out to be.
That night Becca finally went down after the excitement of mama being home again. Finally. We turned off the Disney Channel and both sat on her bed until she started breathing deep. We went to our bedroom. Veronica disappeared into her bathroom routine. She came to bed in workout shorts and a T-shirt with no bra.
She didn’t look at me as she slid in our bed and turned out her light. My bedside lamp was still on.
“Carl, Honey, turn out the light, please.”
I turned back to my wife and put my arms around her. She was stiff. She smelled great. I missed the smell of her skin in my bedclothes. I missed the smell of her hair on my pillow.
“Sorry Honey,” she whispered. “I’ve been through a lot this past week. I’m really... Not well.”
“I get it,”I whispered. “I’m just happy you’re finally home.”
Veronica sighed. “I might need to see someone. Like a professional.”
“A professional what?”
“Oh. Sure. That’s a good idea. You can always talk about things with me, too. I’m here for you, Veronica.”
Veronica tensed in my arms. “Can I?” she said. “Can I talk to you?”
“Sure, Baby. I love you. I’m here for you whenever you’re ready to talk.”
There was a long silence. “So did you see. Did you see... the very end. What happened?”
Veronica jerked out of my arms and sat up on the bed. “WHY? WHY did you watch? Don’t you love me at all? Why didn’t you just turn it off!”
Oh shit. Landmine fight. In bed. The worst. “Darling I don’t think anything less of you. You were just doing what you had to do. Surviving.”
“Well I was THRIVING right up until it all went wrong, Carl. You had to fucking call me back when I told you not to! I had to blow fucking dogs because you didn’t do what I told you, Carl!”
“Oh my God. You’re really putting this on me.”
“You didn’t mind putting it on me!” Veronica imitated me talking like an idiot: “Just sit on some laps, Veronica! Just flirt with some dudes, Veronica! Take a couple-three trips to PoundTown with my old buddy Brandon, Veronica!”
“Whoa! Whoa! I had no earthly idea it was going to get that far out of hand, Baby! Oh, and Brandon cheated. Brandon cheated at that part where you had to guess the blowjob guy.”
“Duh,” Veronica huffed. “Of course he did. You think I’m an idiot. I knew that two seconds after the first time they pulled off my blindfold.
“I can prove it!” I said. I rambled like an excited six year old describing the plot of a Marvel movie. “He hacked my phone so I couldn’t record but I figured out a way to record some of it not all of it I have the recording where you can see Brandon changing the men before your blindfold--”
“I know he cheated. What do you expect me to do with that? Take your recording to the International Rape Tribunal for Unsanctioned Bachelor Party Games? Get the final results overturned? Get an apology for being whored out to a couple of fucking dogs? Cross my arms in triumph as Daisy gets dog raped? What the fuck good is your recording of something I already know!!!”
I blinked in stunned silence. “Okay,” I whispered. “I just thought you were the smart one.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means you were going to lose no matter what happened or how good a sex slut you were to those men,” I said. “That was always the plan. If not a phone call, it would have been some other bullshit thing he invented on the fly. He’d have docked you twenty points for bad makeup. Or that part where you swallowed the snowball early. He specifically set it up so you’d lose by exactly as many points as he invented for me calling you. It was never about you winning. It was always about driving a wedge between us.”
I could hear my wife stewing on this, breathing through her nose.
“Why would he do that?” Veronica asked. “He lost money.”
“Brandon doesn’t give a fuck about a couple ten thousand dollars. What’s twenty large to him? Not even a Kia Forte. And Brandon wouldn’t be caught dead in a Kia Forte.”
“Why would he try to break us up?”
“He’s jealous of what we have.”
“He’s getting married. To a young beautiful heiress.”
I shrugged in the dark. “I wonder if that’s even real,” I said. “And besides, if he can’t have you, he doesn’t want anyone to have you. He’s an asshole. That’s what assholes do. They break things just to watch the pieces fall.”
Veronica didn’t have an answer. I used her silence to try and defuse the landmine.
“Love you, Baby,” I whispered as I turned away. “Sleep well. See you in the morning.”
Before she left for work the following morning, Veronica kissed me in a way that let me know our fight was over.
She was smart. She was figuring it out.
All day long I was thinking about fucking her when we were finally alone again. But Veronica said she wasn’t ready that night. Or the next. Or the next.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I’d been saving up for “Welcome Home” sex, but my balls were overflowing. I had to jerk off to relieve the pressure. Oddly, the spank bank memory to which I kept returning was the sound of that cane as it cut into Veronica’s bottom. The look on her face as the pain cut through her ass, up her spine, and into her face. Over and over again I thought about the dogs mounting my wife a little. But I thought A LOT about that short caning she took from her master above her.
I later realized I kept focusing on the cane because I was so fucking mad at my wife for being such a slut. A slut for other men, but too fragile for anything but small pecks on the lips from her husband. I respected that she had been raped and traumatized. Probably had PTSD. But would it kill her to give the man in her bed a handy?
On Saturday I caught her stepping out of the shower. “Your ass looks better,” I said.
“It finally healed,” Veronica nodded, corkscrewing to regard her own backside. When she did that her tits pointed at the ceiling. Her nips were hard. She looked mouthwatering.
“How about everything else?” I asked, sliding in to cop a feel and steal a kiss. “You ready for a little husband time, wifey-wife.”
“Just a little longer?” Veronica pressed her fingers into my chest and pushed me away.
I was hurt and angry. I bit my lip and nodded.
“Please don’t be mad,” Veronica said. “I just need a little time.”
“Okay,” I muttered. “Take your time. If you need to see a therapist, see a therapist.”
“It was very traumatic,” she whispered.
“I know. I believe you,” I nodded. “I love you. We will work it out.”
Veronica looked at me in an odd way.
“What?” I asked.
Her eyebrows made a funny shape. “Never mind.”
“Go check on Becca, Carl.” She didn’t stop looking at me with her weird expression.
“Okay,” I said.
Veronica looked disappointed. I can’t imagine why. I was the one with blueballs and a semi-continuous jealous potboiling rage beneath the surface.
THIS HAPPENED: On Friday I got an automated text that two grand had been deposited in our joint account. I was dialing Veronica for answers when a second text saying the same thing appeared.
“Yeah,” Veronica confirmed. “We are employees of Bauer-Signet Technologies, remember? We work for Brandon’s new company, remember?”
“I got two messages,” I said.
“Yes, Carl. Your paycheck. My paycheck. I’m an accountant so I can assure you that adds up to two.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” I growled. “Four grand? That’s a lot of money.” I could not explain why I wasn't more excited about the windfall. We had already transferred the thirty grand to a middleman accounting firm for the stock options. No interaction with Brandon.
“Well, don’t get used to it,” Veronica warned. “It’s not going to last long before our IPO shares go into escrow and we get fired from BST. “I guess we’ll get another payroll disbursement next month and that will be it.”
Turns out we got paid every week for eight weeks. Cha-ching.
Didn’t change my mind about Brandon, though. I was still going to kill him the next time we were in the same room together.
We were still sexless a week and a half later. I’d watched my crappy video-of-a-video almost everyday, beating off to those pretty girls chained to the floor and the drool from the O-ring gags and those giant dogs circling my panick-stricken slut wife. I did it in the bathroom with the door locked and my Bose headphones on.
Wednesday and Veronica was staying late at work catching up on her backlog. I had fed Becca and was working out a new riff on my Martin while the kiddo watched Nickelodeon. Yes, I’d used the lack of wife to beat off to the video again when I got home from work.
The doorbell rang. It was a DHL courier with a padded envelope addressed to me. I signed for it. I opened it in the hall. I tilted the envelope and a small key slid into my hand. Nothing attached. I opened the envelope wide and checked it for a packing slip or a note or something. Just a key. WTF?
It was after ten when Veronica called. “Hey, Hon? Did they deliver my replacement desk key?”
“Oh, is that what that is? Yeah. I had to sign for it.”
“I’m an idiot,” she said. “I’ve got a drawer that I have to legally keep locked when I’m not here and somehow I lost the key, I had to call the people who manufacture the desk for a replacement. It’s a special secure key.”
“Okay, well. I got it. You headed home soon.”
“Yeah. Soon. Pretty soon. Carl, I tell you what, Honey. Just leave the key on the charging table next to the garage door and go to bed. I don’t want you to have to wait up for me.”
“I don’t mind. I’d like to see you.”
“No, Carl, I really don’t want to be rude. Just leave my key by the door and go to bed. I’ll kiss you when I come to bed. If you want to wake up we can talk, but don’t stay up.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m putting the key by the back door now. There it is. Wake me up when you come to bed.”
“Okay, Honey. Love you!”
“Love you, too,” I smiled. I put the key in my pocket and waited.
It was after midnight when she slank through the door from the garage to the house. I saw her shadow feeling around the charging table. I snapped the lights on. She jumped.
“Holy shit,” I flinched. “What the FUCK!”
“Carl... Honey... Uh...”
“You’re going to wake up Becca!”
“That’s the LEAST of your problems!”
My wife was wearing a bondage collar with a lock on it. And nothing else. She’d driven home like that. But from where?
“Carl, I’m so sorry.”
All the air went out of me as I finally put it together. “Him.”
“Please don’t be mad. I had to, Honey. I had to do it.”
“You had to be a slutty toy for a man who is not your husband?”
“Carl, he has pictures of me. You know this. He has lots of pictures of me and I would be ruined if he sent them to senior management. Don Heller is in The Church, Carl. He sings in the Tabernacle Choir. If Brandon sent him that sick shit I’m done.”
“Get another job.”
“Where am I going to go that Brandon can’t reach me, Carl? Tell me. I could go be an accountant for a Pashtun tribal elder in a remote mountain village of Afghanistan, and Brandon would STILL figure out a way to show the mutherfucker that I fucked a dog using smoke signals. I can’t outrun him! You know how he can hack phones and shit. He hacked my work computer. He hacked the fucking sixth floor copier, Carl! He sent me a text that he was going to hack the break room coffee machine! AND HE DID! He hacked a fucking Nesco, Carl!”
“Did you have sex with him?”
Veronica raised her hands and looked down at her tits and pussy. “What do you think, Carl?”
“Say it,” I said. “I want to hear you say it.”
Veronica sighed. “Please, just give me the key so I can get out of this thing before I have a bruise on my neck tomorrow. It’s stupid tight. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
“The fuck we will,” I said. “We will talk about it now. Did. You. Fuck. Brandon?”
“Yes!!!” Veronica hissed. “Lower your voice!”
“Where? Your office? Your car? His car?”
“What? You were on a plane?”
“Parked on the tarmac?”
“No, he had a thing in Denver. He picked me up on his way through and dropped me off on his way back to San Francisco.”
“You fucked him on a plane?”
“I already answered that.”
My brain spun. “Who else was on the plane?”
“Who?” I demanded. “Which one? Bradley Cooper?”
Veronica rolled her eyes. “No no no! None of those guys. Nobody you’ve ever heard of. Nobody I’d ever heard of. Just some clients of Brandon’s. Older daddy dudes from the FDA.”
“And you fucked them too?”
“Do you really want to know all this, Carl?”
“I... I.... You’re right. Let’s go to bed.”
“Thank you sweet baby yoda Jesus!” Veronica exhaled. “Gimme the key.”
I did not give her the key. I turned and walked to the bedroom. “Where are your clothes?”
“He’s going to mail them to me at work.”
“Power move,” I said.
“Power move,” Veronica nodded.
Veronica entered the room and closed the bedroom door and locked it. I pointed at the floor. “On your knees.”
“What? Oh no, Carl. Don’t do this.”
I smacked Veronica across her cheek. Harder than I meant to, but no regrets.
“Floor!” I pointed.
Veronica stared at me with bewilderment. I raised my hand to strike her again and she dropped to her knees. I angrily shucked my gym shorts. My even angrier cock rose to the occasion.
“Suck my cock, you fucking cheating slut.” I growled.
Veronica leaned forward and closed her lips around my engorged cockhead, scuffed with all the jerking off I’d been doing.
“Suck that cock right, Slut!” I growled.
My naked-with-dog-collar wife looked up at me with big powder blue eyes and sucked like the slut she was, her tongue wiggling over her bottom lip. Enough suction from those lips to break capillaries in my cockhead. For the first time I noticed how puffy her lips already were.
“How many men did you suck tonight? Don’t lie, Slut.”
“Three plus Brandon or three total.”
“Three total.” Veronica talked breathy between sucks.
“And how many men did you f--”
“Three total,” Veronica cut me off.
“Aren’t you a little slut,” I shook my head in disgust. “And I bet you made them all cum?”
“Of course!” Veronica slurped my cock deep in her throat. The sensation actually shut me up until she came up for air.
“How many times did you make them cum?” I grunted.
Veronica was picking up steam. Her responses lagged behind her sucking efforts until she was ready to break her sloppy lock on my meat. “Once. Once each,” she panted. “Two in my mouth. One in Brandon’s pussy.”
“His pussy? Brandon’s pussy?”
“I’m wearing Brandon’s collar, Carl. It can’t exactly be your pussy when I’m wearing a dog collar that another man locked on me. Take it off. Take off the collar. Take your pussy back. Make it your pussy.”
If it was a trick to get me to unlock the collar it worked. I threw the collar into the bathroom like it was a ticking bomb. I grabbed my wife by the hair and pulled her up on the bed. She tried to roll on her back but I grabbed her ankles and flipped her into doggy position. “No, you take it like a bitch,” I growled.
“Carl, don’t do that. Don’t say that.”
“I’ll say anything I want. It’s true. You’re a bitch. You’re a slut bitch for men. You’re a slut bitch for dogs. Aren’t you?” I slapped Veronica’s ass hard. “Aren’t you?” I repeated.
“Yes.” It was a defeated little squeak. I lined my cock up to my slut wife’s pussy and pushed. She was dripping wet, probably with other men’s cum. That thought made me insane and I fucked like it. I pounded that pussy hard. Veronica squeaked and wiggled and took every crashing thrust of my dick, every clit-smacking spank of my balls. I was half crazy.
I came inside my wife’s used, slut pussy. She didn’t cum. I didn’t care. I was hissing and thinking about all the men who had fucked my naked wife that evening. I clenched my teeth. Anger started washing away the afterglow. My cock started hardening again. My afterglow-draining fuckstrokes spun back up into slow screwing motions deep in my wife’s pussy.
She yipped. She moaned. “I thought you came.”
“I did. I’m not done.”
“Okay,” she panted. “I want to tell you something. Keep fucking me.”
“I lied. I said I fucked three men. Brandon and his two clients.”
“And?” My fuckstroke found a new life. I was teaching Veronica’s cervix who was boss. Veronica yipped from the deep impact.
“Jesus, you’re deep.”
I smacked her ass. She flinched. “You were saying something,” I growled.
“Brandon dropped off his clients in Denver. He left me on the plane while the limo took then to drop off the FDA suits. I was naked. He had my clothes and I couldn’t go anywhere anyway.”
“And he told the pilot I would do anything I was told to do. I couldn’t say no to anything until Brandon returned.”
“Oh fuck,” I hissed. “Fucking slut. “You lied. You fucked four men, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t lie. I only fucked three men. Jesus, Honey, you are up in my tonsils. Fuck you’re deep and hard.”
“Take it,” I growled.
“I’m taking it,” she grunted. “I’m going to cum. Don’t stop.”
“You’re not going to cum until you tell me the truth.”
“I told you the truth,” Veronica moaned. “I only fucked three men.”
“But you sucked four cocks.”
“No,” whispered Veronica. “The pilot of the plane was a woman.”
I blinked and almost stopped fucking.
“Please don’t stop, Carl. I’m really close. Can you fuck me missionary? Please? You are breaking my insides with that big dick. You’re too deep.”
“Shut up and move your ass,” I growled. “So you and the pilot?”
“Was she cute?”
“Daisy. Daisy is Brandon’s pilot.”
“You two went at it?”
“I wasn’t allowed to tell her no. And she wanted me. She wanted me, Carl.”
“Did you two kiss?”
“For an hour before she even started fingerbanging me.”
“Did you cum?”
“Twice on her fingers.”
“Did you finger fuck her back?”
“I tried. She just wanted my mouth?”
“On her pussy?”
“On her tits. On her pussy. She wanted me to eat her ass.”
“Did you? Did you eat her ass?”
“I couldn’t tell her no, Carl. Brandon would have caned my bottom.”
“Did you like eating Daisy’s ass?”
“It was okay. She was clean. It didn’t bother me as much as I thought.”
“And you licked her pussy?”
“For a long time.”
Man my fuck rhythm was back at full tilt. I hammered Veronica’s slut fuckhole.
“Did she cum?”
“How many times did Daisy cum?”
“Of fuck, Honey...” Veronica was starting to tense and clench. Her toes were folding up into the bottoms of her feet.
“Do not cum, Slut.”
“I’m trying,” Veronica panted. “But I’m a slut.”
“A cocksucking slut.”
“Yes,” Veronica panted. “I suck the cocks I’m told to suck.”
“And you fucking love it.”
“I do. Oh Honey, I’m going to cum.” Veronica’s thighs were quivering. I was going to blast soon too.
“I love sucking cocks. I love making men cum.”
“And you love fucking strange men.”
“I can’t help it.”
“And you love licking pussy.”
“I kind of do.”
“And you made Daisy cum, pussy-licking slut?”
“How many times?”
“I don’t know!”
“How many times?”
“I couldn’t tell, like either a hundred or one long one that just kept cum-cum-Oh!-cumming for fifteen minutes. She’s a slut t-t-too-- Ohh- Ewwwwwwah! Yeah. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fffffuuuuhhhhhoooooooh! Ugh!”
Veronica creamed the bed.
I creamed Veronica.
So, dear reader, let’s just cut to the chase and wrap this up so we can all jerk the gherkin one more time and see if there’s anything new on Netflix.
I received exactly eight paychecks from Brandon’s company. That jumps the story line ahead six weeks. Six very awkward weeks. Knowing that your wife is being used by another man you can’t get your hands on... And she kind of loves being used by that man... And there’s really nothing you can do to stop it without hurting your wife’s career...
In six weeks Brandon did the key trick three times. The key trick was to ensure that I had to know that he was fucking my wife and sharing her like a hummus tray.
It was snowing in SLC through the end of the year. We had a pretty sweet Christmas with all the extra cash.
Whenever my wife came home from whoring, she always tried to tell me she didn’t want sex with me, I always lost my shit and got rough. We always had pretty great “Tell me everything” sex. And then the next day, things were normal again.
Awkward was the new normal.
One Saturday around noon, right after New Years, Veronica was going to the mall to shop for new clothes. I heard her cuss. I found her standing near the front door, looking at the doorbell camera on her phone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She sighed. “Honey, I’m not really going to the mall.”
“You going whoring again?”
“And?” I asked.
“His clients are picking me up in the limo outside.” She held up the phone and I could see the doorbell camera view of a huge SUV limousine astride the unplowed snowy street outside.
My face flushed with anger. What could I do?
“And?” I shrugged. “Go whore, Whore.”
“Carl, I’m supposed to go to the car naked.”
“In the snow? In fucking daylight? Where our neighbors can see you?”
Veronica cussed again. “I didn’t think he meant it. I thought, you know. I thought I could work something out with the driver. A little quid pro blow to not snitch on me. Just let me strip in the car.”
Veronica pointed to her phone screen. The limo driver was standing outside the limo pointing his phone at the house. Brandon was watching a video stream of the front of our house.
“This is insane,” I said. “Where does this end?”
Veronica cussed a blue streak and ripped off all her clothes in the foyer.
“You’re not serious!”
“That cane hurts like a sumbitch. You’d understand if he opened up your ass with it.”
“Well, I’m not a man-hopping slut, soooo....”
My wife was buck ass naked. She handed me her phone. “Not allowed,” she said. “I’ll be back by bedtime tomorrow. Save up some sperm. I think you’re going to need several loads to get through this story.”
She opened the door and ran through the front yard, high stepping through the snow. The limo driver smiled and followed her all the way to the big double doors in the back of the SUV limo.
Veronica looked at the driver. He didn’t move. He just stood there with his shit eating grin and the camera held high.
“C’mon!” My naked wife was the same color as the snow, save for her headlight nipples, red fingernail polish, and blue eyes. “Open the door.”
“Not yet!” smiled the driver.
“I’m freezing!” Veronica growled. “It’s freezing out here. I’m going to get frostbite! I’m fucking barefoot!”
“Noooot yet,” smiled the driver.
Veronica covered her tits with her arm and tried to point her pussy toward the car.
“He wants you to lift your arms and spin around,” said the driver.
I was standing on the front porch wearing clothes and I was cold.
I looked over and Mr. Wallach was standing like a statue in his driveway, his snow shovel frozen in mid air. He was transfixed on my naked wife dancing around the snowy street.
“Fuck!” screamed Veronica. She lifted her arms and started jumping in a circle making the YMCA dance letters with her arms.
“That’s better,” smiled the driver. He clicked a fob and the double doors at the back of the limo unlocked. They opened wide. Rap music blasted out. Four large black men in the two facing back seats looked at my naked wife and laughed. One of them licked his lips.
“C’mon in the car, mama, before you catch your death!” he smiled. They reached out and pulled my naked wife into the limo. Two of the men looked at me and smiled before they closed the door. The limo rumbled down the street.
I looked at Mr. Wallach. Mr. Wallach looked at me, still frozen in tableau.
“She’s working through something,” I shrugged. “Like a therapy thing.”
Mr. Wallach blinked. He swallowed. “Well if she ever needs to work through it at my house, I’ve got a hot tub.”
I went inside and closed the door. My slut wife barely made it home in time to get a shower and drive to work on Monday. Her lips looked like two deployed airbags and she was waddling like a penguin with hemorrhoids. Infuriating.
Thursday of that week, Veronica left for work. I left for a daycare run and then work. Miles from the studio called and asked if there was any chance I owned an ADA Phase Flanger stomp box. Obscure, but I actually did own one. We had a band in-studio who needed a wider sweep ratio than their cheapo flanger could handle. No prob. I drove back home and ran in the house. I scared the shit out of my wife who had changed out of her clothes and back into sweats.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I changed my mind,” Veronica lied. “I’m going to work from home.”
“End of quarter and you’re working from home?”
“What’s going on?” I repeated.
“I don’t feel well.”
“Third time, last time,” I growled. “What’s going on?”
Veronica’s mouth flapped silently. “Uhhh... Er... Shit. Carl I don’t work at Heller and Braunshin anymore.”
“You got fired? Bauer got you fired?”
“No. Not exactly. I quit.”
“You quit your job?”
“Yeaaah. I got a new job.”
“Where are you wor-- Ah! FUCK! SERIOUSLY, VERONICA?”
“It’s really good money.”
“Sucking stranger cocks pay well, does it?”
“I’m a Senior CPA, Carl. It’s really a great company, doing really great things. I’m part of something that is changing people’s lives, Honey. Don’t be mad.”
My head nearly exploded. I shook my finger in Veronica’s face. “This is not happening! You are not working for that psycho! You are seriously working for an abusive nutbag sociopath who is BLACKMAILING YOU! What is WRONG WITH YOU!!!”
Veronica flinched. She started to cry.
“I’ve got a real job,” I seethed in her face, my finger stab-pointing at her little nose. “I’m going to my real job where I don’t whore myself for money. When I get home from my real job, you and I are going to have a serious fucking talk. And between now and when I get home from my real job, you better hit the Internet and find a real job, or you better call Don Heller and beg him to let you come back to your old real job!”
I grabbed my stomp box and stomped out.
Veronica didn’t answer my texts after I cooled off. I checked her dot on the FindMy app. She was still at home. She didn’t answer my calls. I came home with Becca and Veronica wasn’t in the house. Her phone was on the counter. Her Jeep was in the garage. She was out whoring, I guessed. Leaving the phone was part of Brandon’s games.
She didn’t come home that night. Or the next. Or the next. She didn’t make an appearance all weekend. I was getting worried that maybe there was some kind of foul play. Monday at work I started seeing in my head the Lifetime Channel movie where the actor playing me was going to jail because the jury didn’t believe a wife disappeared for five days without the husband filing a police report. I thought about calling Veronica’s mom, but that was going to open a can of worms. Occam’s razor said the simplest answer was that my wife was humping her slut clit over Brandon’s balls doing reverse cowgirl in some European capital.
Becca was missing from daycare when I went to pick her up Monday evening. They said Veronica picked her up at noon and told them Becca would not be back.
I figured it out pretty quickly. If there was any doubt, I was served divorce papers at work on Wednesday. Fffff-f-f-f-f-f----
I finally got around to googling Brandon Bauer’s name. His engagement to the shipping heiress had been called off the previous week.
My lawyer pulled me into his conference room instead of his office.
“Veronica has some serious connections, Carl. You weren’t kidding about her boyfriend. She’s got both Bill Beslow and Denny Wasser on her legal team now.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what that means.”
“If I said that her quarterback was Tom Brady and her backup quarterback was Aaron Rodgers, would you understand that?”
I shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“This can be really easy, Carl. They’ve made a compelling offer. You keep everything: The house, the bank account, the cars, the shares of Bauer-Signet Technologies, everything.”
“I don’t want any of it, Hershel. Especially the shares of BST. Veronica can stick them up her ass. Or Bauer’s ass. I just want my daughter.”
“It’s a reasonable offer, Carl. You’ll see your daughter twice a year. Christmas and Fourth of July week.”
“No way. I told you. I told you all the twisted shit she did. All the ways she and Bauer defiled our marriage. She fucked dogs. That should be all we need to get custody of Becca.”
“No, Hershel! Never! I’m never going to give up fighting for custody of my daughter!”
Hershel sighed. He reached over and picked a remote control off the conference room table. He pressed a button and the lights dimmed and a projection screen hummed out of the ceiling at the far end of the room. Hershel stood up and locked the conference room door and twisted the stick that closed the blinds on the window to the hallway.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Aren’t you wondering why we’re in here and not my office?” Hershel plopped back in his chair and hit another button on the remote.
It took me a couple seconds to realize what I was seeing projected on the screen. It was a highly-edited version of the roughplay porn that Veronica and I made for Brandon before the Bachelor Party. All the tender parts and the parts with Veronica begging me to be rougher with her were cut out. It looked like I was beating the shit out of my wife and raping her.
Hershel paused the video and turned it off after a minute. He looked at me.
“That is not what it looks like,” I stammered. “That was consensual. She asked me to do that!”
“Sure doesn’t look consensual, Carl. It looks bad. Judge is going to look at those tears and you’re going to be lucky to stay out of handcuffs.”
“This is a setup! That is not who I am, Hershel!” I shouted, pointing at the screen.
“I sure didn’t think that’s who you were, Carl. Now I’m not so sure. I’ll be honest with you. I’m not sure I want you as a client anymore. I was eating a sub sandwich when I opened that video attachment out of my email. Just so you know, I’m going to bill you for the sandwich I had to throw away, Carl. In the meantime, I’m going to tell you what the next one hundred lawyers you’ll hire to replace me are going to tell you. Take the freakin’ deal, Carl. You’re toast. It’s a freakin’ miracle that you’re ninety-nine percent of the way to a win but somehow you’re going to hardhead your way into a one hundred percent loss. It’s over. Find a way to be the best dad in the world, twice a year.”
“If there’s a one percent chance, I’ll fight until it’s over. She’s not getting my daughter.”
I sat in my lonely house, filtering all my pain through the fretboard of my Martin. Sad words followed minor chords. Sad words from somewhere in the sub-basement of my id.
I wrote a song called Cream Not White. It was as stupid, sappy song about a guy whose girl was heading to a job interview and she spilled coffee on her dress in the car, so she calls her guy in a panic and tells him to bring her the cream dress hanging in the closet. The guy in the song accidentally brings her a dress that’s white, not cream. The woman doesn’t get the job. She blames the guy. She leaves the guy. But it’s obvious that the woman didn’t really leave the guy singing the song because he brought the wrong dress. She left him because he didn’t understand the subtleties and nuances that make a relationship work.
It was a dumb song, filled with dumb, Moon-June rhymes. If there was any worthy art to be found it was backloaded into the chorus.
Turns out the difference between cream and white
is the difference between “almost” and “alright!”
the difference between the dream and real flight
the difference between what happened and what might
the difference between just holdin' on and bein’ held just right
The real difference between cream and white
is when she brought me coffee in the mornin' and these empty sheets at night
I wrote a lot of shitty, sad songs. I was so into my own grief and such a butthurt victim, I punched my DAT recorder before I sat down to strum out my blues out every night.
I was at my employer’s studio. It was mid-morning. We were on Day Four of cutting and mixing a debut album for an L.A. band. The label was a good one, In the Red. They had deep pockets. The only reason we got the gig was a studio crunch on the West Coast. The label was fantastic. The band... Well, they were talented but troubled. The lead singer contracted a bad case of Black Tar Heroin flu. The band members were still trying to dry him out long enough to lay his tracks later in the evening. I was killing time. I had no better place to be than a lonely house. I was working out the piano charts for Cream Not White on the Baby Grand in Studio A.
“That’s pretty soulful shit.”
I looked up. The L.A. producer responsible for the AWOL band’s album was leaning on the talkback button in the booth.
“Thanks,” I waved.
“You got lyrics for that funky dirge?” quacked the com.
“You want a fucking handjob, or you do I have to pay you money to sing those lyrics besides what I’m already paying you to sit on your ass?” asked the producer.
I sang Cream Not White from the piano. I was so fucked up in the the head and heart, I was dripping tears by the time I got to the last coda.
I finished and leaned into the top of the keyboard. It was really quiet. I thought the producer had left. But there he was behind the glass, not far from where I sat when we were tracking songs for the AWOL band. His hands were in his pockets. He was staring at me.
We just looked at each other for a while.
He leaned over and pressed the talkback. “I just recorded that. Is that yours?”
I nodded. “Just fucking around,” I shrugged.
“You ever put that on a chart?” he asked.
“I’m working on it. Mostly just in my heart and fingers.”
“Carl, can you get those notes on a two-handed grand staff in the next forty-eight? Do that for me, willya?”
“Sure,” I waved. The guy was being nice. It was a shitty song. I penned out the charts anyway. I faxed it to the number he left me after we finished tracking the seventh song for the fucked up Metal band with the even more fucked up frontman. We were contracted for nine songs, but seven was all the band could muster before the studio suits (those guys don’t really wear suits, btw, that’s just a metaphor) pulled the plug. Our shop got paid for nine songs, so nobody cared about the fucked up L.A. Metal band.
Five months after Veronica and Brandon snatched Becca, I was still refusing their legal offer. Still fighting for my daughter, although I got the vibe that Hershel wasn’t really fighting all that hard on my behalf.
He called me in for a sitdown in his office. Didn’t say why. I figured it was another strong arm attempt to get me to sign the papers. I went anyway. He shook my hand and walked me toward the conference room.
“Oh great,” I muttered. “You got more porno in your email. Here we go again.”
Hershel opened the door. I walked in and stopped dead in my tracks. Veronica was sitting on the far side of the conference table. Her lawyer sat two seats away.
“Veronica wanted to talk with you,” Hershel said.
I turned to leave. “She can call me and talk to me like a human being. Without lawyers,” I said.
Hershel blocked me. “Sit down, Carl. This needs to happen. For you most of all, this needs to happen.”
I took a chair and glared daggers at Veronica. She looked like a billionaire’s girlfriend. Her black suit was killer. Her hair was perfect.
“So talk,” I said. “I need to get back to my real job.” Dig. Dig.
Veronica took a deep breath. She looked at me like she was the one in pain. “Carl, she whispered. I totally get this. I get what you’re going through. I just want to say some things that maybe will help you see the bigger picture. I know what you think of me. And it’s fair. I’m sure most -- if not all -- of it is true. I got myself in a sticky situation, pun intended, and I couldn’t figure out how to get out of it. So instead I just saw a way through it. A long-view version of how to get through it. To something better.” Veronica was making weird expressions with her eyes like she was trying to tell me something in code.
“Something richer, more like it,” I grumbled.
Veronica stood up and walked around the table. She sat next to me. She put her soft hand on top of my hand, shaking with anger.
“Carl, Honey, you think this started the day Brandon showed up unannounced on our doorstep. It didn’t. This started way before that. When Becca was sick and we couldn’t get the money for that gene therapy treatment. Brandon was the one who paid for almost all of that expense, Carl. Brandon is almost single-handedly responsible for saving Becca’s life.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “We got the money from the GoFundMe. I saw the names of thousands of strangers who helped save our daughter.”
“Those were Brandon’s employees, Carl. The employees and their families. It was Brandon’s money. And this wasn’t billionaire Brandon, Carl. This was start-up, broke-ass-and-struggling-for-VC Brandon. He came up with one hundred and seventy thousand dollars.”
I looked at Hershel. Hershel shrugged. I looked at Veronica’s lawyer. He made a slow nodding motion that meant “Yyyyyup.”
“How could he come up with that much money back then?” I asked.
“Well there was a lot of shuffling of ---”
Her lawyer cut her off. “LET’S JUST say that there was some creative accounting, and all parties involved got at least their investment back or a generous return. And it’s all in the past. And there are no legal ramifications pending. Everybody was made whole. Including your daughter, Mr. Daniels.”
It was a lot to process.
Veronica squeezed the top of my hand.
“I knew the bachelor party wasn’t about a cocktail dress, Carl. So did you. The second I opened the box to Dress #11, I knew the score. He saved Becca’s life. I owed him. I owed him everything. And then the bill for everything came due and I’m paying it now. I’m going to pay it as long as I have to. I’m going to marry him. Look at me, Carl! That’s better.” She made those weird eyes at me as she talked again. “I’m going to keep paying this until it’s paid off.”
“Whatever,” I couldn’t look into those blue eyes any longer. When she said she was going to marry Brandon my heart shattered. I was trying not to lose my shit in that conference room. “You still can’t take my daughter away from me.”
Veronica sighed. “And that’s why you’re awesome, Carl. Because I know you’d fight for her until your last breath.”
“I will fight for her until my last breath! I want to see her!”
“You will see her. She can’t wait to see you. We’re here trying to make that happen.”
“More than two weeks in a goddamn year! She needs to live HERE! In Salt Lake! With ME! If you’re so fucking rich, you can fly out to see her HERE every other week!”
“Carl... Please listen. Look at me. Please. Carl. Carl...” Veronica whispered. “We have the top Childhood Developmental Specialists in the entire Western Hemisphere working one-on-one with our daughter. Right now. Every day. The pHDs who write the textbooks that the pHDs in Salt Lake use to earn their pHDs are sitting on very small chairs at a very low table right now in Orinda, talking to your daughter. This is not a game to punish you. You’re a wonderful man. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to give our daughter the second part of a gift. The gift of a fair shot. I know you hate me, but if you love Becca, let it happen. Take everything. Start a new life, if you want. But just let me borrow Becca for a little while. A short while. This is such a critical window of time to get her brain back to normal, Carl. That Special Needs daycare in Winslow is absolute shit! Deep down you know that. There’s a window for Becca, and it’s closing. Please, Carl. Please! You’re not giving up on her, you’re just letting go for a few years. She’s got one last chance. Don’t take it from her, Carl.”
You don’t realize that an empty house can be any emptier until you walk through the door after signing your child away.
I spent a lot of time thinking about hurting myself. But then I thought about Becca calling Brandon Bauer ‘Daddy” and that pissed me off enough to keep going.
Luke Bryan bought my song. It was good money. He didn’t even fight for a co-writing credit with some extra words he threw in. It was great money, to be honest. Then he released it as a single that charted and the mailbox money was incredible. For a while. Then Post Malone covered it for a movie soundtrack and I made even more money. For a while.
I had to hire Hershel as my agent just to sign the contract to sell Cream Not White. Soon after Hershel said he wasn’t the right lawyer for representation and he made me switch to a real entertainment agent. Miguel got me into a songwriting contract with Republic. I took a leave of absence from my job at the studio, sold everything, and moved to a condo in Nashville. Republic set me up with a three month partnership under Jack Antonoff. That’s when I found out I didn’t know shit about how to write a song. He was amazing. The best I did was some fourth line credits on a handful of songs that were picked up by Taylor and Lorde. Fourth line on a Taylor song was pretty freakin’ lucrative, even though the song wasn’t a smash. Lorde totally changed her two songs until I didn’t recognize them anymore. And they were so much better than the way Jack and I conceived them. She’s a genius.
For some reason, Lorde liked my melancholy songs about obsession and anger and heartbreak. I worked exclusively with her next, but all that came out of that was a friendship and some label money for my time.
My time with Jack and Lorde taught me how to write a real song, but I was never meant to write Pop. I was meant to write sad songs of obsession and regret.
I tried to move my SLC bandmates to Nashville so we could make a real run at being a working band. Half of them were pissed that I hadn’t recorded Cream Not White with our band, like it really would have been the hit it became when it was sung by a nobody coverband from Mormonville. The other half didn’t want to leave their jobs and their PTA bake sales.
So instead I started playing out by myself: Just me, my Martin, two amps and a microphone. Nashville bars are competitive for talent, but Cream Not White bought my way through the first couple doors of the first two beer joints and my voice and talent got me through the rest of the doors that followed.
I fell in love with an adorable redheaded waitress who had just turned twenty. I wasn’t sure that it was real love until we were at an industry party in L.A. and across the room I saw a Superhero actor cornering her with his game. She was smiling and polite. I saw him reach out and rub her elbow with his fingertips. She laughed and just kept conversing while Superhero gave her an elbowjob. Nothing happened, of course. It was just an entitled actor moving on a hot young girl at a party.
I broke it off the next day. Not because of her. Because I realized I could not trust another woman. Ever. Sooner or later I was going to break things with my paranoia. Might as well be sooner. It was best for her.
I wrote a song called Trustfall. I sold it to Sam Smith’s people in less than two months. He still hasn’t recorded it. I’m told he’s thinking about reselling it.
Then all I could do was play a guitar and try not to smoke or drink myself to death. I honed my craft.
I got picked up to cut a folk album for Razor and Tie. The album sold exactly negative four copies. They had me pay off my failure by warming-up the midwest leg of a Dar Williams tour. She’s a sweetheart.
Through Dar I met Richard Shindell. Richard asked me to come do a tour with him in Argentina where he’s an expat.
That’s where things got really weird. South Americans knew Cream Not White. They knew the Taylor and Lorde songs. I had rights to sing those live. My shitty folk album took off south of the equator. Rich taught me how to write songs in Spanish, which turned out to be way harder than I would have guessed.
I also fell in love with South America. I bought a little place in Costa Rica.
After I got “South America famous,” I toured to make enough money to not need to touch any of my Cream Not White mailbox money. Then I got “Certain Kind of American College Kid famous.” That was really weird. Started getting lots of offers from college bookers. Those kids didn’t buy my music, they stole it off torrent sites, but when I stepped out on stage, there was always a really nice house waiting for me.
And that’s all a sadsack, forty year old folk singer really needs: some mailbox money and a nice big crowd who knows all the lyrics to your songs and sings them loud when you step backwards from the microphone and let them.
Twice a year I saw my daughter. I always flew to a Disneyland hotel in L.A. for Becca week. That was easier on her than flying her to Costa Rica. We had more time together.
Everything Veronica had predicted came true. Becca made remarkable progress. Every time I saw her she was miles ahead in development from the previous visit. Around the second Becca Christmas when she had just turned eight, I was struck with the reality that my daughter was normal. Fully normal. By July I realized she was smarter than normal. Such a bright kid. She had a bright future.
I never stopped hurting, I never stopped missing her. The pain never left.
And also, my daughter never stopped loving me. She was still my girl. She talked about moving to live with me every time we were together. She never mentioned her stepdad. I never asked.
There’s a casita cantina with the most amazing fish tacos near the coastline of Westfalia on the Eastern coast of Costa Rica; walking distance from my house. Many days I just walk there with my guitar and sit at a table overlooking the ocean and watch the scuba charters heading out from the marina below. Celso lets me linger at a table drinking coffee and writing songs. I’m out before the tourists start coming in for dinner, where he makes his real money. Sometimes he asks me to stay and play an acoustic set for the dinner crowd. I don’t mind. I sing a folked-up version of Don Omar’s Pura Vida. Locals love it. Tourists kinda like it.
I was looking out over the ocean. A storm was rolling in from the East. Scuba boats were not heading out.
“Algo malo viene pour aqui, Celso.” I muttered absently.
I heard the chair scoot. I looked up at Mrs. Veronica Bauer, dressed in high-end tourist casual.
I guess I looked pretty stunned. She almost laughed.
“Mind if I sit, Troubadour?”
I nodded and made a gesture toward the chair. “Is Becca with you?”
“Yep. She’s at the hotel.”
“Can I see her?”
“Of course! That’s why we’re here. To see you, Carlos Daniels. We’re both big fans.”
“When can I see her?”
“Can we talk first? Grownup talk?”
“I dunno. It’s been a while since we adulted, Mrs. Bauer.”
Veronica held up her bare left hand. No rings.
“Oh,” I nodded. “When did that happen?”
“My prenup ended on March Third. I filed on March Fourth.”
“Ah,” I nodded. “Life with Brandon not what you thought it would be?”
“No,” sighed Veronica. “Life with Brandon was exactly what I thought it would be. Like passing a kidney stone is exactly what you think it will be. And now I’m through it.”
“So what brings you to Costa Rica?”
“You! I just told you that.”
“Why? You back on the market? Hooking up with old exes to piss off your new ex?”
“Hoping,” Veronica smiled.
“Well keep hoping,” I said. “I don’t love you anymore.”
Veronica didn’t even blink. “Yes you do.”
“It’s in every song you write, Carl. It’s in every intonation of every lyric you sing. They are all about me. And they’re all a profession of love. For me.”
“You think?” I laughed derisively.
Veronica remained unphased. “I know,” she said. “And so do you.”
“There might be some insurmountable trust issues on top of all that subtext, Veronica. There are diamonds in a mountain. But... There’s always that fucking mountain, yaknow?.”
She nodded. “Of course. But you know me. I’m in it for the long play. The twenty year plan. I was trying to tell you that between the lines, last time we were in a room together. You weren’t reading my eyes. My eyes were cream, not white, Carl. You didn’t get the hint. You didn’t decode the secret message. I got worried when I thought you were going to marry that Chelsea. But you didn’t. I knew you couldn’t heal up enough to love another woman in such a short time. I knew you were too big a mensch to risk hurting someone else when your heart wasn’t in the right space. I was right.” Veronica looked at me side-eye. “And besides, Carlos Daniels, a happy relationship would have ruined your career. You need the pain to make your art. Music is your canvas, but pain is your brush.”
“You know Brandon is never really going to let you go, right? He’s just going to keep blackmailing you and controlling you.”
Veronica smiled. She took a long beat to look over the view down the hill to the long expanse of ocean that stretched into forever. “Jesus, this really is beautiful, Carl.” Then: “Carl, I’m the CFO of Bauer-Signet Technologies.” She kept looking out at the ocean. “And as of yesterday, I am a forty-two percent stakeholder in BST, same as Brandon. Brandon and I both answer to the same board of directors and the same shareholders. We both have an identical amount of stock and the identical amount of leverage. I finally have the entire collection of videos from that bachelor party in my possession. Took me forever to collect them, one sticky cumshot at a time. Nobody had all of it but Brandon. Plenty of men had some of it. I had to track it down and buy the pieces, man-by-man. Had to suck and fuck for it too, of course. That was almost always part of the exchange. A couple times I told Brandon I wanted to watch it while we fucked. I had a USB drive hidden in the television, downloading it all. Soooo.... Yeah. Brandon has some video of me sucking dog cocks. But I have the full video of him opening up my ass with a dowel rod and making it bleed. I have the full video of him calling me names and treating me worse than a slave. How do you think that’s going to play with the Board in the MeToo era, Carl? How do you think that’s going to play with when it’s the billionaire CEO founder of the company sexually mistreating the CFO and largest shareholder of BST? As CFO of BST, the first thing I did with the Trump tax cuts was buy back stock. So my forty-two percent is actually saying something, because there’s not a lot of paper still on the streets. Everybody with a brain sold back when it jumped to one seventy. You never sold your shares, Carl.”
“I didn’t want the cursed shares in the first place. I don’t even know where they are.”
Veronica smiled. “I was counting on that. I was counting on that when I insisted that you take all the shares in the divorce. I was counting on you never thinking about them again.”
“What are you talking about?”
Veronica laughed. She really was gorgeous still. She still looked like she was in her twenties. She still had that sexy elf vibe that turned the amp to 11 when she smiled or laughed.
“Carl, how many shares of BST do you own?”
“Fuck. I don’t know. Like two thousand?”
“Thirty thousand dollars, divided by twelve dollars a share, that was twenty-five hundred shares. Two thousand, five hundred.”
“Okay. So? You’re the math wiz.”
“Carl, the procedure and the tech flew through FDA, with a little help from my whore mouth, remember? The procedure works. It’s already saving lives in clinicals. BST just went through it’s third split in three years. You own twenty thousand shares of BST stock now.”
“That a lot?”
“After the buyback, that’s almost two percent of BST. If you would marry me, we would own the majority share of BST. We’d own the company outright.”
I laughed at the thought of us ever being married again.
Veronica continued. “And what do you think is the first thing we’d do as majority owners and CEO and COO of Bauer-Signet? We’d fire that mutherfucker Brandon Bauer’s ass. We’d have Security literally toss him onto the street. And then we’d selectively release edited versions of that bachelor party tape to the media to make sure he never works in the public sector again. We’d ruin him.”
“What about your reputation after people see the video?”
Veronica smiled. “The fuck I care. I’m rich as fucking midas, Carl. And everybody knows I’m a slut. That’s no secret. I sucked my way to the top of that company. I sucked my way through the FDA and FTC and three dozen VC investors. I’ve taken it up the ass from two Board members. They all know. The only people who don’t know how wet my pussy gets when I’m being used and degraded by alpha men are the future 401K fund investors who will blacklist Brandon after I’m done with him. I have everything I want, Carl. Everything but revenge for what he did to me. What he took from us, Carl. Yeah. I’m a slut. But I’m the smartest slut those mutherfuckers ever met. Way smarter than Brandon Bauer.”
“Wow.” It was all I could say.
“We’re at the end of Phase One,” Veronica said. “I can’t complete Phase Two without you, Carl. And by the way, I love you. I’m pretty sure you know that, but it’s overdue to be said. I love you with every fiber of my being. Every telomere. I had to do something terrible to save you, save myself, and save our daughter. But it’s over now. I want you in my life. Full time. Every day. Starting tonight.”
“I was never the man you wanted,” I said. “You need an asshole guy to degrade you and treat you like shit. That’s not me. You don’t need a stoner poet.”
“You are ninety-eight percent of the man I want,” Veronica said through thinly stretched lips. “And you could be the other two percent at times, I just had to kick the gorilla in the balls to bring out the alpha in you. There’s a gorilla in you, Carl. I shouldn’t have to kick you in the balls to hang out with the sex gorilla. You should be able to manage a testosterone Hulk-rage without all the drama. It’s not all that much to ask. It was never that much to ask. Which is probably why I had such a hard time asking for the gorilla. You suck at hints.”
She was so beautiful. My heart ached in that old familiar way.
“Theoretically,” I said, “If I were to take you back, or even give you the chance to earn your way back in my trust, are you going to fuck other men?”
“Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate. “Absolutely.”
I looked at her.
She shrugged. “You know my dad left us when I was seven. You know that I’m always going to seek validation from strange men; powerful men. You know I’m a slut. I know I’m a slut. No point in kidding each other. I’d just be your slut wife. You are uniquely qualified to manage a slut wife.”
“Jealousy makes your Hulk stronger. Stronger Hulk means happier slut. We feed each other. We’re symbiotic. You and I are yin and yang, Carlos Daniels. Putting the revenge plots aside for a moment, I’m never going to be whole without you. I think if you’re honest with yourself, you know deep down that you’re never going to be whole again without what we were as an in-tact family.”
We sat in silence for a while.
“You might be right.” I sighed.
“Fuck, this place is paradise,” she whispered.
“It certainly could be,” I said.
Veronica stood up. “C’mon. Somebody back at the hotel can’t wait to see you. Your fan club awaits, Carl ‘Carlos’ Daniels.”
Veronica held out her hand to me.
I took it.