“A little,” Jordan admitted. His face was red with shame, but he wasn’t ashamed enough to stop her.
The older woman knew exactly what she was doing. She slipped the key into the tiny lock, opening it and slipping it free which allowed the cage to fall away in two parts. The moment he was free, his cock inflated like an iron balloon.
“So handsome,” Sylvia said softly, caressing him. She glanced at the exhausted Rhette, still strapped to the spanking bench. “I think your girlfriend is a little too tired to help you out right now.” She opened her mouth and engulfed his cock head, sucking him deeply into her throat.
“Oh fuck,” Jordan uttered.
“Jesus,” Rhette exclaimed as the other woman deep-throated all of Jordan’s cock. It was a neat trick and Rhette was sure she would never be able to do something like that.
After being caged for a day, Jordan was more than ready to cum. The blowjob didn’t last more than a couple of minutes. He tried to get control of his cock from Sylvia, but she wasn’t having any of that. When he was ready to cum, she sensed it, pulled back a bit, and allowed him to finish in her mouth.
“Did you enjoy that?” Sylvia asked after audibly swallowing and getting to her feet and stretching.
“Yes,” he said. Jordan was leaning against the wall, unable to stand on his own two feet.
Riordan began loosening the straps holding Rhette to the spanking bench. She didn’t know what to think.
Chapter Nineteen
Rhette shifted uncomfortably on her bed. She liked to sleep on her side, but the stripes that Riordan had given her extended across both hips so while laying on either side wasn’t nearly as bad as laying on her back, she knew she was going to have to sleep on her stomach.
“What did you think of Riordan caning and spanking me?” she asked Jordan as he settled into the bed next to her. Like her, he was naked. Well, almost naked like her.
“And fucking you as well?” Jordan asked.
“Yes, that too.” She ignored what he was implying and played innocent.
He sighed. “Actually, it was pretty fucking hot,” he admitted. “I mean, you looked like you were in pain and I couldn’t do anything about it, but it was also like I was getting a sex show like I couldn’t get anywhere else and…and…”
“And you were turned on. I saw how you were swelling in your cage, trying to get hard. And I saw how quickly you got hard once it was off. And I saw how little effort Sylvia had to put in to make you cum.”
“Okay, yeah, I liked it,” he finally admitted.
“And did you like it when she put the cage back on your cock?”
They both looked down at his emasculated member. The cage fit snugly behind his balls and around his shaft. The completely bold sexuality of having her boyfriend wear a cock cage was undeniable to Rhette. What was even better was that Rhette wasn’t the one holding Jordan’s key; it was Sylvia. Rhette had willingly become Riordan’s slave and was proud of that. Just the thought of being sort-of-literally and definitely more-than-metaphorically owned by another person gave her pussy a pulsing feeling that wouldn’t go away. Maybe Jordan wasn’t exactly Sylvia’s slave, but he definitely didn’t own his entire body any longer. His cock belonged to whomever had the key to his cage. Back at Riordan’s house, as Sylvia had been putting the cage back onto Jordan’s cock, she asked Rhette if she wanted the key.
“No. I’ll give in too easily. You keep it.” Rhette knew that if she was Jordan’s keyholder, she’d be too eager to take off his cage to fuck him. She knew she was that weak-willed.
Sylvia had smiled. “I won’t let him out unless you say it’s okay,” she had quickly agreed. “I like seeing men suffer.”
“Believe me, that’s true,” Riordan joked as he kissed his wife after witnessing the little exchanged, but Rhette couldn’t tell how serious they were being.
“I liked it,” Jordan admitted. “I think I like wearing it more than I want to admit.”
Taking his neutralized cock in her hand, wrapping her fingers around the metal cage, she gave him a little shake. “I like you like this.”
“You do?” From his tone, it was obvious that he didn’t fully believe her.
“Jesus, yes. I was raised Catholic and my family’s life was centered around sacrificing everything for God and family.” She glanced nervously at him. “I’m not a practicing Catholic, just so we’re clear. I haven’t been for years.”
“I kinda picked up on that,” he said dryly.
“Anyway, just like God sacrificed his only son for humanity—not that I buy that logic, it’s crazy pants—you’re sacrificing your cock and your sexuality for me.” She smiled and gave his encased cock another little shake. “It’s almost like you’re in love with more.”
“Or maybe this is just my kink,” he countered.
“Or maybe both,” she suggested.
“Maybe,” he warily agreed. “But this is really fucked up.”
“How so?” Rhette asked innocently.
“You really have to ask that?”
She shrugged a little as she rolled from her side to her stomach, her breasts squished into the mattress and her position gave Jordan a good look at the slowly fading red stripes that still decorated her ass. He wasn’t into the spanking and caning as much as she was, but he could appreciate what she liked. There was a certain beauty in seeing her suffer bravely for her sexuality. And though he wouldn’t bring it up to her, she was making a sacrifice with her body as well, for both her own sexuality and for Jordan’s pleasure.
“Okay, we’ve barely begun a relationship. You’ve agreed to be the sexual slave of a man you hardly know. You have a fucked up kink of liking to be spanked and paddled and caned before actual sex. You basically picked me out of a random assortment of men and are happy to go along with your new boyfriend’s need to have his cock put under lock and key controlled by another woman. How is any of that not fucked up?”
She laughed. Rhette knew their kinks and relationship was hardly middle of the road or even experimentally kinky. It was solidly into the territory of strange bordering on bizarre. Certainly arguments could be made that what they liked was marginally criminal, which made it even more exciting.
Leaning toward him she pursed her lips and he bent down for a kiss. “It’s all fucked up,” she agreed. “But I think it’s also hot. Red hot? White hot? Red, white, and blue hot? I’m always confused as to which color flame is the hottest.”
Jordan rolled his eyes and tangled his fingers in her dark crimson hair, looked at the cherry-bright marks on her pale ass and shook his head. “No, it’s just fucked up.”
“Why should we be any different from everyone else in the world?”
Running his finger along the necklace that Riordan had given her before they left, a subtle reminder that she belonged at least partially to a man other than Jordan, he said, “We shouldn’t.”
“Good. I’d fuck you right now, but I’m exhausted and your cock is in that little thing so…”
“So why don’t we save something for tomorrow?”
“Excellent idea.”
End
Ida’s Milk
Ida is a bored housewife who finds it easier to cheat on her husband than she would have thought. Her lover has a special kink for woman who are lactating and since Ida’s last pregnancy, she hadn’t yet stopped making milk. It was all too easy, falling into her lover’s bed and giving him everything he wanted.
And then Ida discovered what she wanted.
And then she discovered the problems her wants created…
Chapter One
Ida wasn’t proud of cheating on her husband, but a woman had needs, damn it, and Roger wasn’t seeing to her needs. Yeah, maybe her body wasn’t in nearly as good a shape as it had been before she had her first kid. And the second baby hadn’t helped matter, but she was a year past the birth of Justine and her sex drive was back, but Roger’s wasn’t.
Flirting online was supposed to be an innocent and fu
n way to relieve a little pent-up sexual stress. She’d find a guy who was interested in her, which wasn’t exactly a problem, and since she had no intention of actually meeting up, she didn’t feel bad about using some old picture of her before the babies.
But when she started flirting with Thomas, things took a turn that was both better and worse. The first time they flirted, they both said some outrageous things, Ida used her vibrator to get off, and she didn’t give it a second thought. When he popped up on the app a couple of days later, she didn’t refuse his request to chat again. She got off again. And then they started flirting and virtually dating online every day for two weeks. It was the best two weeks of sex Ida had ever had, unfortunately it was mostly with herself.
Her guilt started getting to her. She was supposed to be a good Catholic girl (they didn’t really exist, but every Catholic already knew that) so she confessed her deception. Not to Roger, but to Thomas. She told him she was married, had two kids, her online profile picture was five years old, and she was a big liar about her life.
How big are your tits now? It was the first question he sent her after her confession.
She decided to be completely honest with him to drive him away. I used to be a B before kids. Now I’m a D or DD depending on the day and how full they are with milk. I’m still nursing.
That’s fucking hot, was his response.
You’re a fucking liar. The raw language wouldn’t drive him away because they had been positively vulgar in all their exchanges, but she tried it anyway.
Send me a picture of your boobs now. He had asked for nudes before, but she had always demurred claiming she didn’t do that. What pictures she had send him were never of her face and were, at most, no more revealing that a typical swimsuit.
Seeing as she was being completely honest, Ida opened up her shirt, dropped the flaps to her nursing bra, aimed her phone’s camera at her naked tits, and captured the picture.
When she looked at it before sending, she saw her swollen breasts, her prominent nipples, and the blue veins visible under her soft, white skin. No man would find that attractive.
Making sure her face or other identifying information was in the background, she sent the picture to Thomas.
That’s fucking hot. I’d love to suck on your tits all day.
She knew he was just flirting so she fired back at him. They’re full of milk and I need to nurse my daughter in a few minutes.
Ida was surprised at his response. Save some for me?
She put down her phone and walked away, not knowing what to do, but knowing she wanted to meet him in person as soon as possible.
Making the actual arrangements to meet Thomas was the difficult part because she had to admit to herself exactly what she was doing and what it meant. The only reason to meet Thomas was for sex which meant cheating on her husband. It wasn’t a casual encounter or a chance meeting at a party or business convention. It was intentional, that was the worst and best part.
Ida was reluctant to meet Thomas at his place until he sent her pictures of his face, his driver’s license, and a few of his apartment. She was reasonably sure she’d be safe. If not, he’d be easy to track down. What to do with the kids? She handed them off to her mother claiming she needed to go to a doctor’s appointment without two crying children. Her mother didn’t question it at all; she was thrilled to watch her grandchildren for the afternoon; that only made Ida feel worse.
She tried not to think about all of that as she drove to Thomas’s apartment. He was a few years younger than her, unmarried, no kids and it occurred to Ida just then that she knew what he looked like from the pictures he had sent—torso and face; he was fairly fit—but he didn’t have the faintest idea of what she looked like—other than her boobs.
Her laughter in the car was borderline hysterical.
There was every opportunity to turn the car around, to drive somewhere else, to not park it, lock it, and go to door 214 and knock on it expecting to meet in person the man she fully intended to fuck instead of her husband.
When Thomas opened the door he was every bit as handsome in person as he was in his pictures—except the scent that floated out of his apartment was obviously a heavily sprayed artificial odor killer. He probably lived like a bachelor and used it as a last minute fix to a smell that wouldn’t go away.
“Ida?” he asked eagerly and happily after he opened the door. He didn’t size her up or stare at her tits, he looked her directly in the eyes, which she appreciated, even though it all might have been an act.
“Thomas?” she asked in reply, though it was obvious he was.
“Yes,” he said just as eagerly.
Ida nodded and said, “Next time don’t empty a can of Lysol in your place. Just clean and put some of those cinnamon rolls from a can in the oven. My mother would have said to bake bread, but that’s probably too complicated for you.” Somehow her first words in person to the man she intended to fuck were baking and cleaning advice.
“Oh,” he said, taken aback. “Do you…do you still want to come in?” He motioned for her to enter.
She nodded and pushed in. The apartment was clean and tidy and other than smelling like too much Lysol—and even a hint of Lysol was too much Lysol—it was fine. “Very nice,” she said. The furniture was utilitarian and the television that dominated the living area was hooked up to a video game console. On the screen was a scene paused in the middle of a zombie’s head exploding.
“Thanks,” he said. “Do you want a drink or something to eat?”
Ida found her courage and her purpose and knew that she had limited time. “No. I came here to fuck so let’s fuck.” She smiled at him.
Thomas was wearing jeans, white athletic socks—no shoes—and a t-shirt emblazoned with Deadpool riding a pink unicorn that was shitting a glittering rainbow turd. It made her wonder if he always dressed this was or if this was what he wore on dates. Not that this was really a date.
It was a date. There wasn’t dinner and a movie, but there was going to be fucking. It was a date.
He looked at her in surprise. “Really?”
She returned his wide-eyed look and unbuttoned the top two buttons on her shirt and pulled it up over her head, revealing the nursing bra she wore underneath. It wasn’t the sexist lingerie she owned because the limited sexy lingerie she owned hadn’t been worn in over a year and probably wouldn’t fit any longer. It wasn’t terrible, however. It had some lace and showed off the cleavage she had developed since her first pregnancy. “I came here to fuck,” she said not knowing where she had summoned up the courage to be bold and blunt, “so let’s fuck.”
Thomas, not believing in his good fortune, nodded in agreement and pulled his t-shirt off. His bare chest underneath was just as it had looked in the pictures, muscular without being muscle bound. In her panties, Ida felt her pussy quiver and dampen; this was what she wanted.
“Where’s the bedroom?”
He indicated the way and held out his hand to her, in a gentlemanly gesture. When she took his hand, she pulled herself to him. Their bodies became close and from there it was easy for Ida to lift up her chin so their lips met.
It had been years since she had kissed—really kissed—a man other than Roger. She remembered thinking to herself when they got married that she would never kiss another man in her life.
She had been wrong about that.
Thomas was a very good kisser. His tongue explored her mouth but he wasn’t overly aggressive. She allowed her hands to roam over his strong back and down to his ass. That was enjoyable.
He broke the kiss.
“You’re eager.”
“I haven’t been fucked in…in too long. Where’s your bedroom?”
This time he did lead her to his bed. It was made up and clean and she moved up against him again, kissing him, enjoying the height difference between them. She could feel his already hard cock pressed against her body.
“Enough of this,” she said, pushing him away and pu
lling at the button to his jeans. Popping it open, she lowered the zipper while going down on her knees as she pushed his jeans down along with his underwear. She was very eager.
His cock sprang out and she didn’t even take the time to admire it. Instead she engulfed the head in her mouth and sucked like a cheerleader on homecoming night. His scent was musky and similar to Roger’s, but just different enough to remind her she was definitely cheating on her husband. The salty flavor of his precum that unnecessarily lubricated her tongue and throat was more prevalent than her husband’s and she decided that was a bonus.
Just as she was getting into the blowjob, bobbing her head up and down on his length, while getting to know the cock that she thoroughly intended to bury in her pussy, Thomas pushed her away.
“Slow down,” he said, panting a bit. It was only then she realized she had pushed him right up to the edge of orgasm. “I don’t want to waste it in your mouth.”
“You want to dump it in my cunt?” she asked, liking the way the nasty words rolled off her tongue.
“If—if that’s what you want,” Thomas said, faltering.
Ida stood up and pulled down her very mom-ish yoga pants, but left on her panties. Maybe she’s chicken out just yet. Thomas finished stepping out of his jeans and sock and she took a moment to admire his body. He wasn’t quite a Greek god, but he had a better body than her husband.
As she reached behind her back to loosen her bra, he pulled her onto the bed. His hard cock got between them and she realized how soft and pudgy she had gotten in the last few years. While she had never been super athletic, time and motherhood was catching up to her. She felt positively enormous next to Thomas, and was having serious second thoughts about letting it go any further, but then he said, “I love your curvy body,” as he pulled on her bra band and lifted it up over her head before tossing it aside.
The Elliot Silvestri Erotic Reader Volume 6 Page 73
