by Cara McKenna
“Good?” Bern asked her.
Her dark eyes shut and a smug smile curled her lips. “You have no idea.”
And they had no idea what a spectacular view Mike had – explicit, as Sam rose up and dropped back down in slow strokes, aided by Bern’s hands.
“Yeah. Ride that cock.”
“You’re so fucking big, baby.”
Mike flushed – in his cheeks and between his legs. Keep telling him that.
“Want it a little faster?” Bern asked.
“Yeah.”
Of Mike he demanded, “You getting all this?”
A rhetorical question. Mike swallowed, hands antsy atop his thighs. Christ, he needed to touch himself. He’d jumped off a lot of diving boards recently in the name of his kink, but each new one still demanded a show of bravery, a leap of faith. And sometimes, a nudge from Sam. He settled a palm over his screaming cock, through his jeans, squeezing faintly. Even that had him panting. Look at me, he willed her. Tell me to.
It was another fevered, endless minute before she did. Another glance over her shoulder, another evil smile, then —
“Turns you on, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t reply, frozen when Bern’s stare met his.
“Does it get you hard, watching me fuck your wife? Or have you just forgotten what it’s supposed to look like?”
“Go ahead,” Sam told Mike.
His fingers went to his belt buckle, opening it. Then his button, his zipper… One last choked breath, and he eased his jeans and shorts to the tops of his thighs, cock springing free. He held his palm to the underside, not stroking, merely cupping – even that threatened his longevity. His entire body was pulsing in time with their motions. He was too close already, teetering on the edge, scared of the drop. He couldn’t guess if his pleasure might turn to pain, to see them together with the insanity of lust stripped away.
Bern was kissing Sam’s neck, teasing with his lips and tongue and soft bites. Mike got lost watching those subtler violations, and for a moment, anger subsumed lust. So strange, how the penetration didn’t threaten him, yet this did, somehow. He let the rage dull his excitement, then froze altogether when Bern’s eyes opened, aimed at Mike’s hand.
He wondered what on earth the man was thinking. And the authentically jealous side of him hoped the asshole was surprised. You’re bigger, but not by much. That little moment’s taste of power twisted his excitement, darkened it. And suspended in those few seconds’ intensity, Mike felt something shift between the two of them, this rivalry taking on a much realer edge, if a harmless one. Before you get any ideas, asshole, just remind yourself I only pretend not to please her. You’re the sex toy. I’m her husband. She’s mine and she’s fucking amazing.
And it was that thought that got Mike’s fingers circling his cock, caressing, if not stroking. In his line of work, there was a lot of figurative dick-measuring that went on, as colleagues jockeyed for position and as the good guys and bad guys sized one another up. Right now that clash of manhood felt literal and very, very real. And also hot in a sharp, unsettling way.
“Show him how hard you make me come,” Sam murmured, her voice cleaving the male tension.
In a breath Bern had flipped her over, onto her hands and knees. In profile, Mike watched the enemy sink deep in a smooth, long stroke. One hand held Sam’s hip, the other reaching around to tease her clit.
“Yeah, just like that.”
Her words had Mike’s hand tightening around his cock, and in a dozen strokes, he knew he’d gone too far. The pressure was tight, arousal gathering like a thunderhead, unstoppable. Come, he willed her. At least let him see that much while the lust haze kept it all safe.
“Just like that,” she groaned. “Don’t stop.”
Bern took her harder, his far arm flexing in time with his fingers’ motions. “What’ll you think about when you come, baby?”
“Your dick.”
“What about it?”
“Fuck… you’re big.”
“Nice and deep?”
“Yeah.”
“Nice and thick?”
She nodded frantically, voice lost in a groan.
“Yeah, you think about that.”
And shit, Mike was thinking about it, too. He held on until Sam’s face told him she was there herself, needy tension straining every feature. When her moans grew jagged, Mike fisted himself tight and jacked himself home. In his head he heard the things Sam would say, were it just the two of them. Yeah, come on, baby. Do it. Show me. This time she said those things only with her eyes, as her long hair swung to the beat of Bern’s punishing body. Those eyes shut just as Mike’s orgasm arrived. It rocked him in wave after wave, the crest of it nearly painful, the ebb pure white relief.
Mike came down, slowly and not completely. His cock was pulsing, only half limp, even after that revelation of a release. He’d come in his fist and on his shirt. He stripped his tee and wiped his hand and crown clean with shaking fingers.
Bern slowed behind Sam, only his gleaming skin giving away the effort. He regarded Mike carefully, it seemed, a mix of curiosity and caution on his face.
Mike dropped his shirt to the floor and hiked his jeans and shorts back up, searching his body for panic, or revulsion… but finding neither. He felt sex-drunk, and behind that, still turned on.
“Well,” Bern said. He pulled out, giving Sam’s hip a little slap, spurring her to turn onto her back. She did so with a sigh of greatest satisfaction, then let her head drop to the side to look at Mike. Her eyes widened. She’d not seen him come. And to judge by her expression, she’d not expected him to.
“I think your husband likes to watch,” Bern told her. He was kneeling astride her legs, cock in hand. “You think he’d like to watch you suck me?”
Mike sensed in an instant what that question was. It was the ball being passed to Sam, and she, in turn, passed it to Mike.
“You don’t mind, do you? After all that, I think he’s earned it,” she added, stroking Bern.
Mike could’ve shut it down then, with an unequivocal Get the fuck out of my house. He would have, if his excitement weren’t already building all over again, that curious heat gathering deep in his belly. Instead, he heard himself say, “Just make it quick.”
Sam smiled, biting her lip, and there were two layers to that grin – the one that belonged to the cold-hearted bitch, and the one that belonged to the woman who played her. Their games had survived to see the other side of Mike’s release, and it delighted her.
“Go and sit,” she told Bern, reaching back to pat the bed’s edge.
He got into position and Sam dropped to her knees, just as he’d done for her. She stroked his thighs and Mike checked the camera, angling it to center them in the frame. Between his legs, he felt his cock growing warm and heavy. Fucking crazy. Like he was twenty all over again.
Sam clasped Bern’s cock, her gaze moving to Mike and the camera just before her lips closed around him. He watched, mesmerized, in awe of the two of them. In awe of his own reality. Sam took Bern deep, dropping the man’s head back. His arms were braced behind him, every muscle looking taut and on edge. Strong and helpless at once.
Voice strained, he asked her, “You like how I taste, don’t you?”
She answered with an eager moan, still working.
“Yeah, you do. You love that dick. You love tasting me, don’t you?” Suddenly he turned, eyes burning straight into Mike’s through the viewfinder. Bern swallowed and, panting, he asked him, “What about you?”
Mike could only blink, brain going blank with shock.
Bern slid himself from between Sam’s lips. “On your back.”
She did as commanded and he climbed on top, sinking deep once more.
“Fuck, you’re wet.” He looked back to Mike. “You ever eat your wife’s pussy?”
A tremor rattled through Mike, setting his hands trembling atop his knees. “Yes.”
“Tastes good, doesn’t she?”
&nbs
p; Mike didn’t answer. He could sense the next question, one that terrified and intrigued him equally. What scared him most was that he was the only one who could answer it. Sam would never decide for him.
Bern pulled out and shifted to lay alongside Sam, stroking himself. “Why don’t you come over here and taste what your wife’s left all over my dick?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A
nticipated or not, the invitation struck Mike like lightning.
It was so brazen, so… confrontational. So soon, it seemed. And it was a question that demanded action or refusal, not limp, grudging obedience. It put Mike firmly in his place as the degraded victim in all this, and it scared him.
Scared him because he was tempted. Scared him more so because it underlined how this was no longer his show to orchestrate. Bern had stolen his reins tonight, and Mike wasn’t sure he was ready to embody his part so completely.
Sam was still playing. She turned so she could stroke Bern’s chest, but she didn’t meet Mike’s eyes. And he knew why – it was too much pressure. If she wanted him to submit to it, she wouldn’t tell him so. The ball was entirely in Mike’s court. Fuck.
He eyed Bern’s cock, trying to pinpoint what would change if he submitted. What it said about his own sexuality. Sam had a far better perspective on it, wisdom always at the ready. What would she tell him?
You don’t want to suck a man’s cock any more than you wish your wife would actually cheat on you. We explore stuff when we’re playing, but it’s just a game. I’m not unfaithful and you’re not bi, not for keeps. Not once the curtain drops. But it’s your script to read from. Your choice.
His choice, and all of this was his idea. His wife had broken her vows and slept with another man to please him. This upping of the stakes was nothing compared to that. And he’d tasted this man’s come on his wife’s skin before. Was the reverse really such a far leap?
Well, yes. It was. He tried to imagine doing it, guessing at what he’d feel. Humiliated and intimidated, demeaned. And with that, his cock stiffened. He eyed the camera’s screen, and adjusted it to center the bed with shaking hands. It’d capture whatever it captured, and surely anything it missed would be etched indelibly onto Mike’s memory.
Bern stroked the base of his cock as Mike took a step closer. “Thought you’d say yes. Stay there,” he ordered, sitting up. “Get on your knees.”
Mike swallowed and did as he was told, holding his breath as Bern rounded the bed to stand before him, erection at eye level. Mike swallowed again. The man smelled of sex – the familiar scent of Sam, plus his own musk, at once arousing and repulsive and infuriating, short-circuiting every primal male instinct at work between Mike’s ears.
“Taste her,” Bern said, still gripping his base.
This was the closest Mike had ever been to another guy’s dick, and it was scary. To head off a germinating sexual identity crisis, he reminded himself what this was – the symbol at the heart of his kink. The knife that stabbed him in the heart and, in turn, got him so insanely hot. But it lost its edge without a woman close by. He looked to Sam, and she read his mind.
She left the bed and dropped to her knees beside him. With a smirk, she reached for Bern’s shaft, stroking him with slow, lazy pulls. “Scared?”
Mike said nothing.
“He’s already had your wife,” she said. “Is your mouth really so much worse?”
His lips parted but no words came. Lust was beginning to crowd away the nerves, but not completely.
“Want me to show you how?” Not waiting for an answer, she leaned in to trace the underside of Bern’s cock with the tip of her tongue. His flesh twitched, and Mike saw a bead glistening at his slit. You’ll taste more than Sam. But what he’d be tasting didn’t matter. Only the sensations mattered – the complete and utter debasement. He shifted closer on his knees.
“Open up,” Bern said.
Mike did, glad he wasn’t being asked to use his hands. He wasn’t being asked to service this man, only to be degraded. A task he could handle.
Bern held his cock, sweeping his head across Mike’s lower lip, then along the upper one.
“Smell that?” he demanded. “You smell your wife on me? Or maybe that’s not something you’d even recognize.”
Sam ran her hand up Bern’s thigh and cupped his balls, admiration in the gesture.
“Taste her,” Bern repeated.
And Mike leapt. He shut his eyes as his tongue met the smooth skin of Bern’s head. He offered a few timid licks, and though it was mostly lubricant that greeted him, he imagined it was Sam – that intimate flavor he knew from hours of feasting. The rival taste was there as well, strange and strong. But what wasn’t there was regret or panic. Be it via his eyes or ears or mouth, Mike wanted to be demeaned. He craved it.
His role wasn’t cock worshipper, though – it was that of the loser husband, and he felt no need to pleasure Bern or prove anything in the skill department. He’d take orders like the obedient little cuckold he was, and the next one arrived shortly.
“Take me in your mouth.” Bern’s normally deep and confident voice was shaky, and it occurred to Mike in a flash that the guy had never done this with another man before, either. Seemed so obvious now. It didn’t breed a kinship between them, but it banished the very last of Mike’s misgivings. He parted his lips and let Bern ease his cock over the lower one.
“She’s all over my dick,” Bern breathed. “I know you love cleaning away whatever I’ve left on her. Now do the same. Clean me up. Make it so you can pretend like I’ve never fucked your wife. Never fucked her better than you could ever dream of doing.”
Mike met the challenge halfway, opening his mouth wider and letting Bern push inside. The sensation frightened him, nearly as though the man’s cock were a gun. He realized in that ugly moment what a cowardly fetish his was, the way he’d been practicing it, leaving all the physical submission to his wife. Now sit back and watch had become drop to your knees and open your mouth, but even behind the fear, the humiliation had his own cock rousing.
“Close your lips,” Bern said, barely a murmur. “Make it tighter.”
Mike did as he was told. Took what he was given – not deeply, but the two or three thick inches Bern fed him was plenty.
“You taste your wife on me?”
Mike moaned. He tried to imagine he tasted Sam, but Bern’s scent and flavor were intense, primal and intimidating, so starkly male. Mike shivered when a gruff hand cupped his head, fingers splayed in his short hair. For half a minute or more, Bern dictated. Not too rough, but bossy. Bolder. He gave more, and Mike gagged.
“Good.” And it was over. Bern slid out, and when he spoke his voice was stiff and stilted. “Bet you were worried I was gonna give you more than just a taste.”
Mike said nothing and kept his gaze on Bern’s legs. He shivered when the man ran his fingertips through Mike’s hair – a brief, patronizing gesture.
“Saving my come for your wife,” Bern said. “You want it, you’ll have to eat it out of her cunt.”
And would I? Mike wondered. He wasn’t sure, but more than likely, he’d find out before the night was over.
Sam’s breathing was short, high in her chest. It felt as though a fire were consuming her.
Only a couple of weeks before, she’d felt this same fever as she’d violated her vows and taken a new man’s cock in her mouth.
She’d felt all that and more, watching Mike do the same.
Never could she have imagined that would turn her on – not as much as it had. Before tonight, there had been a taboo appeal to it, a curiosity. Now? Jesus, maybe she did have a kink of her own. She’d be thinking of that moment a thousand times in the coming days… and amending it. Imagining Mike getting drawn into the act, not merely surrendering to it. His hands on Bern’s hips, or his fingers wrapped around the base of Bern’s cock. Of both men getting caught up. Of Bern taking it all the way, and of Mike drinking him down.
She flushed all
over, ready for whatever Bern wanted next. For the first time, she felt truly, fully immersed in this game. Fearless and utterly eager.
Her eyes met Mike’s, finding them edgy. Electric. She knew he must be seeing just the same in hers, and prayed she’d feel it when their bodies came back together, after Bern had gone home. She moved back to the bed when Mike returned to his chair.
“How was he?” she asked Bern, her casual words undermined by the breathy lilt of her voice. She might as well have said, That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
Bern glanced to Mike or the camera. “He could use a few pointers.”
She smiled. “I’d be happy to give him some.”
