Lynn and Bobby Ch. 01

After dinner Bill and I would go out on the patio for a liquor, while Lynn cleaned up the dishes. The fourth night he fucked her, we sat there before Lynn joined us, and Bill laid it out for me. He was blunt. "I've fucked other guys' wives before, Bobby, but, like I told you the other day, this is the first time I've had the husband watch me do it. I was surprised. It turns me on. What turns me on most, is knowing that you just have to sit there, helpless, and watch me fuck her. I know you're jealous as hell. I know you feel it in your gut. So, let's get some things out in the open. Power over a woman turns me on. Knowing your wife needs my dick turns me on. The last three nights I discovered that power over a man turns me on too. This is new for me. You've been my friend for years, but still, knowing you have to sit there, helpless, and watch me fuck your wife turns me on."

"Let's make your position very clear. Do you know what she would do if I told her she had to move in with me to get fucked?"

I told him the truth. "She needs to fuck you. She'd move in with you, everyone would know, and our marriage would be over."

He said, "Right. So, Bobby, if you want to save your marriage, you just have to sit there, watch me fuck her, and take it, no matter what. Isn't that right?"

I nodded yes.

"Are you going to be a nice little boy and just watch me fuck your wife and behave yourself?"

It was a debasing way to say it but, if I were going to save my marriage, I had no choice. I was helpless and humiliated. I paused as long as I could, then nodded submissively, and said, "Yes," very softly.

He gloated. "Well, Bobby boy it looks like I gotcha by the balls. I'm gonna be fuckin' that horny bitch a lot, but, like I told you, when I'm finished with her, you're gonna' to get her back. So just be patient."

Then he laughed. I hadn't ever heard him talk this way before. Jesus! I was scared! But, after laying it on the line this one time, his conversation returned to something resembling normal social chatter.

Each night when Lynn came out she was always giggling and impatient for the sex to start. Bill smiled at me as she became more and more sexually aroused. It turned him on to see me watch her make the sexual advances, so he never made the first move. She would rub his thigh and try to pull him up. He would resist, pick up his drink and, grinning at me, he would say something like, "Wait a minute, not yet baby. Don't be so horny. Your husband and I are talking. Let me finish my drink. I'll fuck you in a minute."

He had talked to me about a horny bitch with the fetish begging for sex. Now I saw that the horny bitch doing the begging was my wife. And, she was doing it, knowing that I was watching. When she could not wait any longer she would pull him to his feet and start to undress him. What had been a sociable meeting of old friends for dinner and drinks, turned into an orgy.

When he stripped her he usually pulled her pants down, right in front of me -- flashing that big, thick, curly-haired beaver, that he knew I loved, right in front of my face, before he took it away for his personal use. He would toss her pants on the table in front of me. He usually had an erection and Lynn often would grab it, always with the same damn giggle that wrenched my gut, and lead him over to the hot tub by his big, thick cock. A soak in the hot tub was next, with laughter and kissing and caressing. Sometimes she so eager to fuck him that she made him skip the hot tub and get right to it.

This was a happy time for Lynn. She was getting what she wanted and getting it three or four times a week. Bill was very cordial to me, with none of the frank talk he had used on his fourth visit. He was enjoying sex with Lynn and her eager desire for him. I tried to conceal the sick, helpless jealously I felt watching him fuck her, but it showed in my face. I wanted to hide it, but I just couldn't.

One night I was watching as she worked for her orgasm and I realized that he was looking at me. Our eyes met, as he fucked her steadily and powerfully. He smiled at me and I remembered that he had said he was turned on by my helplessness watching him fuck her. I tried to keep eye contact with the bastard, but I couldn't and I dropped my eyes. When I looked up again he was still watching me, gloating. He watched me turn my gaze to her pumping hips, as he continued to pound her. He was taking pleasure in my helpless jealously. He knew I had to watch, humiliated, as he had said like a nice little boy and behave.

One night when Bill pulled her pants down in front of me he kept her beaver at my eye level and played with it. I couldn't help myself, I just stared, helplessly, watching his fingers stroke that thick curly hair. I could actually hear him stroke it! He held her just inches away. Close enough for me to reach out and touch her, close enough even, for me to lean forward and kiss her. God, how I wanted her. I wanted to put my arms around her, grab her tight little ass in both hands and pull that beaver close to my face -- feel that curly hair against my cheek. I started to tremble.

He kept her there and played with her and I couldn't take my eyes off of his hand stroking that curly hair. He was looking at me and grinning and then, finally, he leaned down and said almost in my ear, "It's not your beaver anymore Bobby boy. It's mine." Then he took her, giggling, over to the mat, laid her down, and spread her legs wide. He gave me a good look at what was now "his" beaver. Then he crawled in the saddle, shoved that monster dick inside her, and fucked her, while I watched, helplessly, as his huge balls slapped her ass.

When the fucking began on the mat next to the hot tub, it was always the same routine. It was like a choreographed, sexual ballet and my brain anticipated each step of their raw, carnal, performance. He fucked her hard and her animal grunting began almost immediately. After four or five minutes of sweaty pounding together, she would start to moan and cry out, then hold her breath, and that explosive, trembling orgasm would begin -- her pussy contracting rhythmically around his thick cock. Her cries of "Fuck me! Fuck me hard!" echoed in my ears as he took her to our bed and fucked her again while I listened.

The sights and sounds of that choreographed ballet burned into my brain, night after night. Later it would replay in my head, over and over again. I was helpless to turn it off, at work, at home, in bed. It would just start. Scene after scene would flash through my head. Sometimes it played from beginning to end, sometimes just special scenes, sometimes just voices, triggered by God knows what. Sometimes it was silent, sometimes there were sounds. It was a part of me now, seared into my brain.

Each night after Bill was left, Lynn called me to bed. I held her in my arms and kissed her and told her I loved her. She told me she didn't love Bill but needed him. Some nights we just lay together and fell asleep. Other nights I ate pussy as I had done before Bill came into our lives. Some nights she would push my head down toward her beaver. I would kiss her breasts and suck her nipples and belly and work down to her sticky, wet beaver. I loved to stroke it and kiss it as she held my head in her hands. When I tickled her clit with my tongue - she would moan softly.

Before Bill, I often ate pussy before I screwed her, but after I watched them fuck that first time from the hot tub, I couldn't get it up anymore. I still enjoyed eating pussy and it gave her pleasure - not the explosive orgasms Bill gave her - but gentle contractions like she once had with me. I would start sucking one lip of her pussy gently, working my way down and then back up the other lip, enjoying the feel of my tongue in that ridge of thick curly hair that came down from her beaver and surrounded her pussy. On nights he had fucked her, it was wet and sticky from their secretions.

When she was ready she would spread her legs and lift up to me so I could get my hands under her tight little ass and pull her up to my face. She held my head in her hands and sometimes guided me to places she liked. I would get my tongue deep inside her pussy and suck out the juices. After he had fucked her, I could taste Bill's semen, but her familiar taste was always there and after several minutes she started to drip more of her own juice as she pumped her hips gently and moaned. She pressed her thighs, moist and sticky from his semen, against my cheeks. I would work on her favorite spot near her clit, and most nights, I was rewarded by feeling her soft contractions on my tongue. It was my only way of making love to her now, but sometimes, especially on evenings when he had taunted me, I thought of it as cuckold's work -- cleaning up her pussy after her lover had finished using it. I had to remind myself that he was really not her lover. He was just a guy attached to a big dick she needed to fuck. I had to remind myself that there would be an end to this nightmare and she would be mine again. I loved her so!

For the first two months, his visits were remarkably like normal social visits with drinks, dinner, and after dinner drinks on the patio. With only a couple of exceptions, our behavior would not have been thought unusual by a casual observer, until that moment when he stood her up, stripped her naked, and fucked her, while I watched, sipping my scotch. Except for that night when he showed me it was not my beaver any more and the night he made her give me a semen tasting kiss, he seemed satisfied making eye contact with me while he fucked her and smirked at the sick, helpless jealously written on my face. I could not hide my feelings. In the third month his behavior began to change. Subtly at first, then more obviously as he taunted me at my helplessness and her need to fuck him. I knew his track record, so maybe we were approaching the end.

One night, he kept her in the hot tub for an extra drink, then kissed and caressed her on the mat, to turn her on. He brought her back to where I was sitting. Standing behind her, he gently caressed her breasts and belly. God she was beautiful naked. I wanted her so much. What the hell was that bastard up to? Gently he positioned her close in front of me, her naked body glistened with a light sweat. He made her stand so her legs straddled mine as I sat in the chair. I could feel her thighs against me as she stood, legs spread, his hands caressing her body. Then his right hand found her beaver and started to stroke it. Slowly and very gently his fingers moved down to her pussy. My God! The bastard's going to bring her off right in front of me -- touching me! The lousy bastard! She was sexually aroused and her pussy was dripping wet. I could hear the wet sounds his fingers made as he played with it.

"Look at your husband, baby. He loves you. Smile at him." His voice was soft and gentle, as he caressed her. He positioned her so she had to show me her face. His hard cock was pressed against her butt. He kept playing with her pussy until his fingers found just the right spot to make her respond. I felt it first in her thighs pressed tightly against me -- a slow, gentle forward thrusting. Then I saw it in her face. Her expression went slack, her mouth slightly open, eyes looking upward and glazed -- seeing nothing as fantasy captured her mind. In her fetish driven fantasy she saw that big hard cock he was pressing against her.

He had her now. She was his. She had given herself to him and that was exactly what the bastard wanted me to see. He was going to make me watch my wife come, responding to his gentle hands. Her breathing became heavy as her arousal increased. Her hips were thrusting obviously now, she was grunting softly, and I felt each thrust in her thighs straddling mine. She grabbed his left hand, pulled it up, and made him play with her tits. Her right hand reached down and gently caressed the back of the hand that was giving her such pleasure. Her grunts were louder. She was working harder. His fingers were gentle in her pussy and his voice soft in her ear.

"That's it baby. Relax and enjoy it. Your husband's watching you. He wants to see you come. Come for him baby. Come for your husband. That's it -- work for it. You're getting close now." He was right -- she was getting close. Her hips were thrusting obscenely toward me, her thighs rubbing mine. She was grunting like an animal, and panting for air.

Then she started to moan. I felt it first when her thighs began to tremble against me. I had never in all our marriage felt the trembling orgasm that I had so often seen Bill give her, but now I was feeling it against my body. The animal grunts stopped suddenly. Then I saw it in her face, eyes clenched, mouth open, head pressed back against his chest, holding her breath as her whole body started to tremble. Her right hand pushed his fingers deep into her thrusting pussy where now that bastard was feeling her contractions.

Bill looked at me, grinning. "Damn, Bobby boy, you oughta feel this pussy squeeze. Her pussy's grabbing my fingers like a tight hand. She likes it. She really likes it. You been married to this bitch for years and you never felt her pussy squeeze like that."

When her orgasm was over, she looked ashamed, like that first night as I watched her from the hot tub. "Look at your husband baby, he enjoyed watching you come." She looked at me, and then dropped her gaze. Bill said, "Kiss your husband, baby, and tell him you love him, then run on into the bedroom. I'll be there in a minute and fuck you." She obeyed, with a kiss on my cheek and a whispered "I love you," before she ran quickly into the bedroom.

Bill looked at me, smiling. "Well, Bobby boy, how'd you like that? Did you see her surrender? Did you feel it in her thighs? I bet myself that when she stared to come, you wouldn't be watching me finger fuckin' her cunt, you'd be watching her face as she gave herself to me. I was right. Damn, Bobby boy, you have no idea how much fun I had with you just now. It was like fuckin' a virgin -- like getting a cherry! I turned your wife into a horny bitch right in front of you, touching you. You saw her surrender, you watched her fantasize about my cock. You watched her hump like a slut, working to come. You watched her push my fingers into her cunt when she started to come. I just got your cherry, Bobby boy, and it was fun to take it. Now I'm goin' in there and I'm gonna fuck your wife while you sit out here playin' with your little dick and listening to her grunt, like an animal."

He was right. He got me. This was his worst open taunting so far, but he taunted me a lot after that, and it got worse. He was now becoming overtly sadistic.

There were variations in their routine, but for the most part it was once on the patio and twice in the bedroom. She needed to fuck him. She got scared when his schedule changed to twice a week. But, every Monday and Thursday -- like clockwork -- he stopped by for drinks, a pleasant chat, dinner, liquor on the patio, and then some of that user-friendly pussy. And Lynn made it as user-friendly as she possibly could. I was surprised at how we could talk so normally about the club, about friends, about politics, and then when he decided the time was right, he would strip her down and fuck her. After fucking her on the patio while I sat at the table having a drink and watching, they walked, naked, right by me into the bedroom. Sometimes he stopped to talk to me, casually playing with her tits or ass, while talking about golf. Showing me he owned her. Showing me she wanted to give herself to him. Then I would go into the living room, sit in my chair drinking and listen to her grunt as he fucked her. Listen to their soft laughter. Listen to the silence as they rested. Listen as their sex started again. Listen as the grunting suddenly stopped and my gut cramped with helpless jealousy.

Twice a week wasn't enough for her and she didn't hesitate, wasn't at all embarrassed, to tell me that she wanted more than she was getting. Once she said she thought he was getting bored with her. "I'm doing my best to please him. God knows, I do everything he tells me to do. I pump my ass hard the way he likes. He knows he can do whatever he wants to me. I told him he could fuck me in the ass if he wanted to. But, he can have any woman he wants! I'm lucky he wants me."

Several times she asked me what he liked best. She asked about the girls he fucked in our dorm. What positions he liked. She asked for my suggestions on how to please him. She asked me several times if he liked a woman on top of him. "I only fucked two guys in college, but they both liked me on top so they could play with my tits," she said, as though she were sorry she had so little experience fucking her classmates. "Do you think Bill would like that?"

"Darling," I said, "Bill runs the relationship. If he wants you on top, he'll tell you. I don't know of anything you could do to make him come over more often. Just pump your ass hard and fuck him the way he tells you to. Remember, he never uses a woman more than a few months. You said so yourself that first day. And, he told me that after about three months you'd be just a 'used-up bitch.' Those were his words. So you'd better expect him to be finished with you in a few weeks. You better get ready to lose him. Darling, I know it will be hard, but you've got to get ready to handle it."

She didn't hear me. She still seemed to think that if she could do the right thing, she could keep him interested in her, longer. She was terrified of losing him and told me so over and over. She kept telling me she still loved me, but she talked to me about the details of her sex life like I was her girl friend, not her husband. Well, why not? I wasn't performing like her husband. I couldn't. I don't think she saw me as her husband.

During these months our social life continued in an almost normal way and our friends had no idea what Lynn was up to. Lynn behaved like the perfect wife in public. At the club or sitting with friends at dinner, it was difficult to remember that just a few hours before, she had been sweating and grunting like an animal, pumping for her orgasm, legs spread wide.

******

One night leaving the club, Lynn saw Bill ahead of us headed to the parking lot and ran to catch up with him. "Bill, can you come over to our house tomorrow night for dinner?" Even if someone overheard her it was a harmless invitation.

"I hadn't planned on it," he responded.

"Please come. I'd like to see you," she said, as we walked along.

"Well maybe. Come over here and we'll talk about it." He led us a short way out of the lighted area to a dark, secluded spot behind the pro-shop.

"I'm open to persuasion," he said rubbing his crotch suggestively.

Lynn reached down and fondled him. She giggled and asked, "Promise to come over if I take care of this thing?"

"I will be open to an invitation if you do a good job on it."

Lynn unzipped his fly and took out his cock. She dropped to her knees in the grass and started to lick that big purple head. My mind replayed the picture of Bill grinning at me as she had sucked his cock in the hot tub.

Bill leered at me. "Bobby boy, keep a sharp lookout. Your wife and I are gonna be busy for a few minutes. You wouldn't want one of your friends to walk by and see her on her knees sucking me off with you standing there watchin'." Then he laughed.

Lynn's head was moving so fast it was just a blur of rapid motion. The leer on Bill's face changed to a satisfied smile and then a far away look as fantasy took over his mind. Lynn sucked him noisily and tirelessly for several minutes. Then the expression on his face changed and he started to groan. He reached down with both hands, grabbed her head, and his thrusting hips pushed his big cock in and out of her mouth as he pumped his load of semen. She took it without gagging. When he stopped his movements, Lynn kept his rapidly softening dick in her mouth, milked it down to get the last drops, and lifted one hand up, waving it in the air at me.