Choice

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Tammy got up from the breakfast table and went to the back door of the house. I felt my stomach sink, knowing what was coming. She opened it and stepped aside, her arm extended to the outside, palm up. She looked at me and my heart began hammering. “Get out,” she said plainly. Her voice was soft and even, and I instantly measured it against the first time she had said them, the harsh way she’d spat the words. “Get out now, or stay,” she finished. It was the choice. The same choice she gives me every time. I love her for it, that she would offer the option and never assume. I lowered my head in shame as I do every time now, no longer scared or bitter or afraid. Jealous? Definitely. Humiliated and embarrassed? Without a doubt. Excited? Beyond all reason. The butterflies fluttered and my heart raced and I felt the beginnings of my erection pulse and swell. “Well?” she asked. “I’ll stay, please.” She likes when I say please. I lifted my eyes to see her smile. “Good,” she said. “I’m glad. You know I love you.” And there it was. Her love for me, as undying and eternal as mine for her. A love so deep I could never stand to leave. So much has changed these five years since our honeymoon. We’ve grown into our relationship together. And part of that relationship is her offer of the choice, and my decision to stay, every time. Early on, of course, I entertained the idea of leaving. But I imagined life without her, minus the close companionship, minus her supportive friendship, her easy familiarity with me. Her acceptance of me for who I am, and my acceptance of her. I tried to see myself without the love I feel and was unable. I tried to see myself living without the thrill and excitement she provides and find I am unwilling. So even in the early days, when there was bitterness and rebellion, anger and hostility, I would stay. Back then I would sometimes sulk and pout, or at least try to. But she always won me over. She closed the door and came to my chair, running her hand through my hair, caressing my head and cooing soft soothing sounds. “Who’s my dirty boy?” she asked, kissing the top of my head. “Hmm? Who’s my perverted nasty boy? Who loves his dirty wife?” “Me,” I whispered, “you know it’s me.” Our conversations hadn’t always been this way. There had been months, at the beginning, when they were filled with recrimination and anger, hostility and resentment and jealousy. The jealousy lingers, of course, and she makes certain that my shame remains sharp and intact, honing it like a fine blade, maintaining the edge with her vivid imagination whenever it becomes dull. “I know,” she sighed, pulling my head to her chest. “I have something special for you today,” she whispered above my head. I trembled with anticipation. God, how she knew me, sensed that I was becoming comfortable after her last few events and that I needed to be pushed further. It wasn’t like it was at first, when I’d sat dumbfounded, immobile and entranced as she’d fucked another man, a war of emotions raging through me. God, the power of that image was nearly overwhelming. The fact that she’d done it on our honeymoon made it more so. I was frozen, rock hard and snarling mad as I’d watched her take that cock inside her, smiling at me the whole while. But I hadn’t left. We’d only been married two days. Later, after the screaming, she’d explained to me that one cock would never be enough, that although she had been faithful during our engagement she’d had frequent lovers before me, and that she would now begin again. She had explained that she didn’t love them, that she loved only me, both as a person and husband. And she’d explained in graphic detail her desire for new cock, big thick hard cock. That she needed it. That she would have it. That there would be rules, rules I had to follow. And that I had a choice. I hadn’t left then. And I wouldn’t today. True to her word she continued to take lovers after our return home. While she was mostly discrete, doing Escort Karşıyaka it in our house while I watched, she was sometimes overtaken by her urges, coming home late with her hair mussed and clothes disheveled, and she would tell me about it while masturbating her cum-filled pussy. The jealousy would boil inside as I watched and stroked myself. But mostly she would bring them home, fuck them in our bed, our den, our living room. At first she was happy to let me watch, treating me as a non-entity. My jealousy and desire would battle for supremacy while she writhed and screamed as she fucked each new man. Over time she grew as tired of me sitting there like a humiliated statue as I felt and she sensed I needed more. She began to increase my shame and embarrassment. At first she just acknowledged my presence with a laugh, or would call me names. Eventually she allowed her men to join in, torment me, tell me how good it was to fuck her, how hungry she was for their cocks. When she saw how it excited me she allowed me to jerk off while they fucked and ridiculed me. Inevitably those interchanges led to further humiliation. She would make me ask them, and later to beg them, to fuck her. And then to encourage them as they laid the pipe to her, making me stand naked next to the bed, jerking my cock, telling them to fuck her harder, to ruin her cunt, make her unable to walk. All of which I did with relish and abandon, feeling every word as a deeply arousing and erotic wound. It’s weird, because ever since that first day, as angry as I was, I never failed to be aroused by it. She was so filthy, so wanton and nasty, letting them cum in her mouth, in her cunt, on her face, sucking their cocks, fucking them for hours. She was slutty and and disgusting and so beautiful and gorgeous, all at once. I could never tear my eyes away. I think part of the attraction for her became that I got off on it. She could never really describe why it made her so hot, any more than I could describe why watching her have sex without me was so arousing. And no matter how far she pushed me, when the door opened and she offered me the choice, I never left. And she never stopped loving me for staying. She kept pushing, extending my boundaries, finding new ways to humiliate me with her lovers. She made me undress her and offer her to them. She made me hold and fold their clothes when they undressed. I brought them drinks, made them dinner. A few times we had gone out and she had dragged a guy out to the parking lot, fucked him on top of a car, making me tell the crowd watching that I was her husband and that I liked her fucking other guys. For the last few months she had made me hold her legs open for them while I begged them to fuck her. And a few times she’d made me hold her lovers cock and put it inside her, jerking myself off with my free hand while they laughed. So I couldn’t imagine what she had planned for tonight. I remained jittery and half hard the rest of the day. Tammy spent a few hours getting ready, soaking in the tub, shaving, prettying herself for her date. She’d told me to have everything ready for seven o’clock, so I ran out on my errands, making sure the bar was stocked and we had plenty of ice, making sure there were snacks for before and something light and sweet for afterwards. I straightened up the house and took a late shower. When I came out of the bathroom I found the bedroom door locked with a note for me, telling me she’d laid out my clothes in the guest room. I got a little nervous, I’ll admit. She’d made me read some cuckold stories and I dreaded the day she would make me wear panties and a dress and makeup. But I found simple black casual trousers and a collared shirt and heaved a sigh of relief. I dressed and groomed and went to the kitchen to start the food preparations, keeping a sharp eye on the clock and one ear tuned for the sound of the door. Around five to seven the doorbell bornova escort rang. I wiped my hands and headed to receive her date. He was young, tall and well built, like so many of the recent guys. Tammy had taken to cruising some of the nearby college bars for well-hung adventurous studs. She often complained about how few men, even when offered easy pussy, would back off at the idea of fucking her in front of me. This guy apparently had no such qualms. “Hey there, cucky,” he grinned at the door, “I’m here to fuck your pretty wife!” He strode past me without an introduction as if he owned the place, glancing around, assessing and evaluating. He stopped in the middle of the den, put his hands on his hips and turned to face me. “Well?” he asked insolently. “You gonna get me a drink?” Shame ripped through me as I took his order and scurried off to the kitchen where I’d set up the liquor, close to the food. When I returned, Tammy was there with him and they were making out like teenagers. I waited patiently until they’d finished and handed her date, Kyle, his drink. “Red wine, please, dear,” she said sweetly, sitting next to him. She was gorgeous, dressed in a tiny white and pink baby doll nightie with nothing underneath. When she sat I could see her beautiful shaved pussy glistening. She saw me looking and took the opportunity to torment me. “Are you looking at my cunt, you pervert?” I blanched and felt my cock stiffen and twitch. I heard Kyle chuckle. “Need a better look?” She sat back on the couch and lifted her feet to the edge, spreading her knees wide apart. “You wanna see where Kyle’s big cock is going, is that it? You wanna see the hole you won’t have tonight while he fucks me senseless and you watch?” I felt my face redden deeply as the anger and jealousy tightened in the pit of my stomach, the sensations warring with my swelling erection as it tented my trousers. “I guess you do, judging by that bulge in your pants,” she giggled. And she was right, of course. I loved looking at her cunt, open and wet for her lover, knowing I’d get to see his cock plunging into her soon. Fuck, she’s such a slut for me. “Go get my wine, sicko, and hurry back,” she sneered, reaching over and rubbing Kyle’s crotch. “If you’re a good boy I’ll give you your surprise.” I nodded, watching wedding band glistening as her hand rubbed the growing mound that extended down his pants leg. Fucking guy must be huge, I thought. I fetched her wine and returned, standing silently as they kissed, open mouthed and tongues swirling, his hands all over her ass and tits, hers rubbing his crotch. I waited until they finished. “Good boy,” she said, standing and offering her hand to Kyle. “Freshen up Kyle’s drink and bring them to our bedroom.” She didn’t take her wine. They started for the bedroom, walking with arms around each other. His hand was playing with her ass and she giggled. I took his glass, freshened it with ice and topped it off and headed to join them. By the time I got there she was already naked and lying on the bed. I put the drinks on the bedside table, using coasters, of course. I hated when their drinks left rings on the furniture. Kyle stood next to the bed and began disrobing. I dutifully took each discarded garment and folded it neatly. When he undid his pants his swelling cock bulged inside his boxer briefs, a twisted confined snake of a tool, poised to strike. “Dear, could you help him with that?” Tammy asked from the bed. This wasn’t the surprise, she’d made me do this before. Stacking the folded pants on top of the neat pile on the dresser, I went to Kyle and knelt next to him. “Slowly, please, if you would,” she reminded sweetly, “I do so love seeing a nice big cock exposed.” Swallowing my shame, I reached up with both hands and pulled at the elastic waistband from the front and back, sliding them off slowly. His cock popped out at about three quarters full, and it was a wonder üçyol escort bayan to behold. Thick, veined and with a giant head, it hung there like a threat, a fleshy smelting fire sucking the oxygen from the room. “Ooh, it’s wonderful!” Tammy chirped. “Isn’t it wonderful, you filthy perv?” I silently admitted that she was right, and the thought of it made my cock strain more, made my breath catch. The idea of this fat monster fucking Tammy was indescribable. “Bring it over here, you useless husband,” she ordered, and Kyle chuckled above me. “And ask him nicely, like I taught you.” I stood and straightened my spine, swallowing my shame and embracing the humiliation and excitement. I reached out a trembling hand and wrapped it around Kyle’s dangerous cock. I felt it throb, felt the heat penetrate my fingers. Fuck. I took a few deep breaths and looked him in the eyes as he grinned in amusement. “Please come this way, sir, so that I can escort you to my wife’s eager cunt,” my recitation sounding thin and needy. It was broken by Kyle’s coughing laugh. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding,” he said to Tammy. “Wait, he’s not done,” she answered with a grin. I approached the side of the bed as Kyle climbed on, feeling his cock stiffen to full rigidity in my fist. “If you will allow, sir,” I finished as he knelt between her legs, “I would like to guide your cock into my wife’s cunt so that you may fuck her.” He gaped at me in astonishment as I tried to control my excitement. “And please, if you would, fuck her hard. Punish her cunt with your formidable cock. Please make her cum, screaming, over and over,” I recited with a tremble in my voice. The words were hers, but the emotional desire and passion was all mine. “Fuck her until she can’t walk, fuck her until she begs you to stop, and then fuck her some more,” I pleaded, speaking for me, now. “And I would be very grateful if you would allow me to watch as you defile her and fill her married cunt with your hot cum.” My remaining dignity vanished as I finished my honest confession. I thought I might cum in my pants without ever having touched myself. He shuffled closer to her parted legs. She had her knees pulled apart and up to her chest, her thighs outside of her breasts, the glorious image of a slut who needs a fucking. Reaching my free hand to Tammy’s shaved pussy and using my fingers in a practiced motion, I spread her lips wide, exposing her wet horny opening. With a tug on the mighty cock in my fist, I pulled it to her opening, lined up the head, and let it slip through my hand as Kyle pushed inside my wife. Fuck, he stretched her. Wide first, then deep. I knelt there, transfixed and silent as I watched him slide deep inside the woman I loved and adored. I kept my hand on him until he squeezed my fingers between them, breathless at the sight of her taking his full length and width. When he was fully inside I pulled both hands away and watched him wriggle his hips, seating himself deep in her cunt. She groaned and pulled her legs higher. I looked at her face, saw the rapture in her expression and fell in love all over again. She caught my eye. “Don’t jerk off, perv,” she ordered breathlessly. “Wait till I tell you.” My cock strained of its own accord, wanting my fist, wanting to be stroked, to spew its load while I watched the debasing of my wife. But I obeyed, that was the choice. Stay and do what I’m told, or get out. And if I left, I’d never see this again. Kyle adjusted his position and began stroking his cock out and back in, emerging slick and glistening from her wetness. Her cunt stretched around his shaft as he pulled back, clinging to his fat meat stick, then folded in on itself as he pushed back inside. My brain swam with the images and I felt lightheaded. I tried to catch my breath, kneeling next to them, watching her married cunt welcome his cock. He hissed and picked up his pace, fucking her harder, faster. The wet slapping of their flesh assaulted my ears, and I could smell her arousal. Between my legs my cock ached for attention, but I fought against it, waiting for the moment she told me I could relieve the pressure. He grabbed her shoulders then, pulling her down onto his cock as he began to thrust furiously, pounding her hard, smashing himself deep inside.

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