Cherry Blossoms: A Losing His Wife Novel

by KT Morrison

  Rocco spit in his hand and he stroked that cock, got between her legs and then ran the big covered head of it along her pink sex. Nia moaned. He spit again, ran his hand through her folds and then over his cock again, gripped it and pushed it along her seam, up and down and then found her opening. He pressed it in. Nia hollered, a long, hungry, painful sound. He pressed harder, breached her and let his hardness go, sinking himself slowly into his wife bit by bit with the power of his hips.

  Nia inhaled, high girl sounds on each gasp, higher and higher as he sunk that grotesque cock deeper and deeper inside her. She struggled and squirmed, she grunted and groaned as he penetrated her. Geoff could see from the dresser camera her arm pulled back, her hip, Rocco standing behind her, Odie’s parted veil beyond that. From above he could see Rocco holding her hips and easing his tremendous girth inside her. One of Nia’s legs bent, her high heel coming right up and almost touching the back of her thigh. He withdrew. Then he thrust himself into her. Out again and back, Nia wailed with excitement and passionate pain. Then, his cock coated with her juices, he fucked her. His hips powered into Nia, shaking her rump and her thighs, rocking the dresser, making the camera shake, making the picture go blurry. Rocco’s hands went up and down her narrow back, his rough hands so big against her, sliding up the middle, grabbing at her hair and pulling her head back. One hand held both her wrists while he pushed himself in even deeper. Nia’s head came right up and Geoff saw her mouth open wide and she roared in pain.

  He held himself stuck firmly, deep inside her, his hand walked up from her bound wrists, along her back, and then wrapped around her throat. He clutched her like that, with two hands now, put his big bare foot up on the edge of the dresser, pulled her head back and then fucked her hard. He fucked her triple time. His hips pounded that horse cock up inside his tied-up wife and she snorted and wailed. His foot clenched the rough wood edge for purchase and Geoff could see from the camera above his big, powerful back ripple with his efforts. His balls bounced between his legs. Nia’s legs, slightly parted, quivered with his punishment.

  “Oh my God,” Geoff said. He could hear them. Not only through the monitor...he could hear the sounds of their fucking right through the wall of the studio. They were right next door. He was watching a small screen but his wife was right there, just past their kitchen door and up a flight of stairs. He looked out the side window of his studio, up at the brick wall of the house. Looked right at the spot, where as a bullet would travel, his wife and her lover were in atavistic union. He could hear the faint wailing of his beautiful wife. A brittle desperate sound that warbled with Rocco’s thrusts. He heard the banging of the dresser against the wall. Real live sounds.

  He didn’t want to be separate from it, didn’t want it overheard through tiny Chinese speakers. He could hear her through the walls. He wanted that sound to be a part of him. Wanted to feel that sound against him. Have it’s brutal vibration lick at his skin, rustle the delicate hairs of his ear. He wanted to be in his house.

  GEOFF

  Geoff was scrambling through a drawer, found his tangled wad of white-cord earbuds and he went to his door, trying to untie the mess as he went. He had the monitor tucked under his arm, the sound turned to its lowest setting and then muted. He cautiously opened the door facing the steps up to the kitchen. Listened. He could hear Nia getting fucked still. Heard the banging dresser.

  It was a nice day out, sunny, twenty-five degrees. Not a cloud in the sky. He could hear traffic from the Village. Kids played in the park. He crossed the path, looked to the alley, saw Rocco’s big, lifted pickup truck, turned then and silently made his way up the concrete steps to the door to the kitchen. He was wearing moccasins and he was deadly silent in them. He untangled the cord finally, plugged it in to the port on the monitor, meant for external speakers but worked just as well on sneaky, little ear buds. He popped one into his right ear, checked his monitor. He audibly moaned. Rocco was pounding the shit out of Nia from behind. One foot up, his wife’s rump angled awkwardly, she was up on her toes in her high heels still, her hands tied behind her back.

  He shook his head, his eyes narrowed and he had that sad urge wash over him again, like he wanted to cry. He opened the kitchen door and slipped into the house.

  The horrible sound of his wife being fucked by Rocco’s enormous cock was incredible. He could hear it now so clearly. Travelling down the flight of stairs from Odie’s bedroom, past the dining room, through the family room and into the kitchen where he stood nervously.

  “Angh, angh, angh,” she blurted, pained and breathy, with each powerful thrust. Her noise came quick and sharp just like her lover’s pace.

  Geoff walked the hall, headed to the stairs, holding his monitor out in front of him now, watching the horrible action playing out just about twenty feet away from him, up and to the right. He crossed to the bottom of the stairs, passed them, and pushed himself next to the wall on the other side. He was standing in the hall now, the front door behind him, the closet at his elbow...and a tall, copper milk jug with two umbrellas in it that he didn’t realize he’d leaned against and now they toppled behind him making an absolutely tremendous hollow metallic crash against the tile floor.

  “Fuck!” he hissed, and he literally jumped, one foot then the other, panicking out of his mind, his heart pounding, his hair raising up from his scalp. “Oh Jesus,” he whispered and he grabbed the milk container and he stood it up. The tall, black, wood-handled umbrella was still in there but he scrambled and grabbed Odie’s short pink and white polka dot umbrella that had slid out and across the floor. He tucked it back inside the jug.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he screamed in a tiny whisper, and he was on the verge of tears, in the midst of a full blown panic attack. He looked at the monitor and saw that Rocco had stopped fucking Nia. He still had a foot up on the dresser, his massive cock was still rammed up inside her body but he was poised, motionless, his head cocked, listening for more sounds.

  “Oh God, oh shit,” Geoff gasped. He could have crossed to the kitchen ran out the door and down to the Village and hid in the bakery like he was never here but his body didn’t function. He was literally frozen. His jaw quivered, his back twitched. He turned and he opened the louvred closet door and he saw his hand shaking uncontrollably, wracked with tremors. His nails scratched at the door trying to get it open. He stumbled into the closet clumsily and he turned and saw the open door and had to scream in his head, Close it! and his dumb arms worked so slowly to respond and he screamed again and they worked but barely, brought the accordion door across and closed himself in. He shuddered and shook in the dark closet, smelling his leather jacket in there, Nia’s Chanel on her pea coat she wore in the winter.

  “No, please, no...” he whispered.

  He raised the monitor, saw Nia by herself. She was bent over the dresser, her hands still tied, her head looking around, still blinded by her shirt tied around her head. Rocco wasn’t there.

  Geoff heard him then, his massive weight testing the stairs’ resolve. Creaking under him as he made his way down. He was moving slow. Looking around probably. Then he saw him. Rocco was at the bottom of the stairs, looking to the left towards the kitchen. Then he looked right, to the front door. He was massive. If he yanked this door open what the fuck would he do? What would Rocco do? Would he smash him? It was his house. His wife he was fucking. But Geoff’s knees literally shook. His bladder was truly on the verge of letting go. He clenched his ass, used his inside muscles to pinch his dick off. He wanted to spurt down his leg so badly. Rocco turned to face the door. He looked so mean. His black, razor cut hair, his stern, menacing brow. He was a monster. Looking so fucking huge standing in his front hall where he was used to seeing human-sized people. Geoff looked down and he wilted. Rocco’s thick, gnarly cock hung, still hard but heavy, yawing left and right. It was bigger than the thing he’d shown Nia in the sex shop. It was unreal. It glistened so wet. A white seam of light wriggled up its shaft from its wrinkled tip. It was coate
d with his Nia. It shone with her excitement. That was his wife’s shine on this man. He closed his eyes and waited for death. Then creaks again. Rocco going upstairs.

  “Oh fuck,” he sighed. His ears pounded wildly with his out-of-control heart. He waited until he could hear Rocco get to the landing before raising the monitor back up. His Nia was still there, still bent over the dresser. Her head was angled to listen, still blinded. Then Rocco was back in the room, walking right up behind her. She turned her head over her shoulder, said, “What was that?”

  “I thought I heard something.”

  “Worried it was my husband?” she sang, tauntingly.

  He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, made her yelp. He growled in her ear, “I’m more afraid of Maria than that little husband of yours.” Then he threw her onto the bed by her hair and she stumbled, her heels clicking along, until she fell face first onto Odie’s twin-size bed.

  She was on her stomach, her arms twisted awkwardly behind her back, tied tightly. She raised her rump and she scurried herself farther up their daughter’s bed, turned herself sideways to the camera on the dresser. Geoff couldn’t help but feel she’d done that for his benefit.

  “I see you, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  It was his birthday. Today he turned thirty-four. He had a wife he loved, a daughter he would die for, and a career on the verge of stardom. He was hiding in his closet watching that woman he loved getting fucked by the Frankenstein monster. His heart swelled. He wanted to burst out in tears. His cock strained painfully in his pants. He could barely fucking breathe. He loved it, he hated it, he wished he never got up this morning...

  Rocco was in the frame now, on the left, standing next to the bed. He was pulling Nia’s high-heeled shoes off for her. He rubbed her feet. He slapped her ass and she gasped. Then he got on the bed behind her. He leaned over her, up to the top of the bed and he grabbed Odie’s pillows and he yanked them under Nia’s face, pulled her by her hair so he could stuff them under her head. She lay on them with her shirt-covered face turned to the camera, facing Geoff.

  “Oh, baby, no,” he sighed.

  Rocco’s big hands grabbed her flawless flesh, grabbed her hips and thighs where they met, and he yanked her up til her knees were supporting her, her face pressed in the pillows, her rump and her swollen flower exposed to him. He took that freakish thing in his hand again, stroked it along Nia’s presented opening. Up and down, poking his fat head against her anus, lower to her opened sex. Then he slid himself inside her, half his cock disappearing without resistance. She cried out, a low monotone warbling sound that made Geoff want to hold her.

  Rocco gripped Nia tightly and he hate-fucked her. Pounded his colossus into her over and over, made Nia scream and wail like she was out of her mind. He watched for the longest time. She came. He was sure she did. Maybe a few times. Then he fucked her more. It was dreadful. Awful to watch but his eyes didn’t leave the screen for a second. Geoff had gradually slumped to sit on the floor, his rump on his winter boots. The image gradually hazed, warbled, fractal blobs of kaleidoscopic colour. His hands had clenched and twisted the monitor, bent it to a gentle camber. He saw the curve, willed his hands to release but they wouldn’t. He wanted to scream.

  “Breathe, Geoff, breathe,” he told himself. Slowly the screen returned to normal.

  Rocco had sloping shoulders like a cartoon bear. His body was covered in thick, matted fur, sweaty and wet. Droplets fell from his nose. His terrifying hands clasped over Nia’s flawless rump. The tips of his fingers pressed deeply into her flesh. The muscles in his arms wriggled and flexed, the black dragons rippled. Then he stopped. His hand held her bunched wrists and he leaned himself back like he was riding a bronco. He let her wrists go, placed both hands on the bed behind him, his back arched, hips pressed forward, thrusting the world’s biggest cock straight out. Nia whimpered. Ached for his pounding to return.

  She fucked him now. Her hips bounced, her little, wet velvet pussy swallowed up his thick cock. She bobbed, then thrust instead, wanting him deeper. She jounced her ass back against him, getting him to skewer her hungry sex. She got herself gasping, finding her own rhythm on his gross size. She panted with her thrusts, doing all the work, her belly flexing, her ribs pressing her skin out. Her arms were tied behind her, her effort was incredible. She really loved the feel of Rocco’s cock. She needed it.

  “Fuck that cock, you whore,” Rocco growled.

  She gasped, she made desperate, affirmative sounds while she fucked him.

  He spurred, “Get that cock, get it...”

  “Angh,” she cried, thrusting herself against him so deep his cock disappeared inside her all the way and her rump slapped his hips, shook with impact. She did it again and again. Careful, paused, deep thrusts. Painful by her cries, but they were what she needed, what she wanted. She would raise up, Geoff could see his glistening shaft, then she would plunge deep until she yelled and her head came back and her mouth opened wide, the corners turned down with discomfort. Then she did it again. Getting what she wanted. This wasn’t Rocco fucking her deep and hard. This was Nia. All Nia.

  Rocco slipped both hands between them, cupping her bouncing buttocks and he heaved her off like she was a playtoy. Nia was tossed up the bed, twisting, rolling to her back. She hissed and drew her legs up, protecting her sex like she’d been injured. Rocco was up the bed on all fours, grabbing her knees and forcing her legs apart. Nia cried out, her feet flexing, her toes pointing and curling downward. He grabbed her neck, pulled her face to him, his cock clutched in his other hand. He growled, “Scream for me...”

  He wrenched his blunt weapon through her smacking wet folds and he did make her scream. Once, her head thrust back into Odie’s mattress, twisting and jerking. He fucked her.

  Now she wailed a long sad mournful cry, her sounds bouncing with the fucking she was taking. Her turned-down mouth, her sad plaintive howl brought tears to Geoff’s eyes.

  “Oh, baby,” he sighed. His face twisted, his lips wriggled, elastic and quivering. He sobbed. It was shocking and tragic and absolutely beautiful.

  Rocco supported himself over top of his wife’s writhing body. His sweat dripped off his nose and landed on her. His triceps bulged, his arms massive, squashed against his body while he fucked Nia. His hips powered his cock into her.

  He smiled watching her blind face twist underneath him, her mouth opening and closing. He growled, “Can’t fuckin scratch me with your hands tied, you bitch.”

  She snarled. She spat in his face. He laughed. Then he grabbed her throat with both hands, she hissed, “Yesss—” before he squeezed her tight and closed off any sound she might make.

  Rocco had both his hands around her neck, his cock buried deep inside her, her legs dangled over his hips, her arms were tied behind her back, her breasts thrust out, bouncing and swinging while he fucked her. Her nipples were hard, clenched buds going around in circles with her immense lover’s thrusts. She had one shoulder higher than the other, her back arched, her hands trapped, her chin pressed into her collar, hair tumbling around her jaw. She was screaming. Literally screaming. Painful long moans, high and urgent. Geoff’s jaw trembled watching her like this. It was the most incredible, most filthy display he’d ever seen in his life. That was his wife. That was his daughter’s mother. She was a fucking monster.

  Then it happened. Something that made his eyes go wide. His heart dropped, he coughed silent gasps of disbelief in his dark closet. Nia came. High arcing streams tinkling out and up from between her legs, spritzing over Rocco’s hairy chest and belly, up over her own belly and bare breasts.

  Rocco roared, “Fuckin, yes...take it...fuckin...” her spraying excitement driving him harder and harder.

  She kept squirting, sending pulsing streams up onto Rocco and herself. A light cambered sprinkle, droplets winking in the sunlight from Odie’s sheer curtained window.

  He pulled out of her, big dick swinging, and he jumped up on his knees over top of her, grabbed her t
hroat again and stroked that cock over her face. Nia sensed it. She was bewildered, her legs clumsily writhing underneath him where he squat over her, she was still coming down or still in the middle of some crazy orgasm. She opened her mouth and she stuck out her tongue. Her pink glistening tongue going flat and wide, giving him a big surface to spray his seed. He stroked harder and faster, his hand a blur, a roar building inside him, a rumbling freight train coming down the track. He let it out, a gargantuan bellow from his belly, his face clenched, eyes open, not wanting to miss Nia drink his semen. He spurted over her face, a thick dollop on her tongue, streams landing on her chin and cheeks, up on the shirt that covered her eyes. He growled and groaned, he squeezed his cock out over her waiting tongue. She closed her mouth with his semen on her lips. She opened again, having swallowed the fluid that just came out of his big, gross testicles. He put the end of his cock in her mouth and he pushed it past her teeth. She sucked him, her cheeks pressed out with his glans pressing. She sucked him, still writhing, still with her hands behind her back. He wiped his cock over her chin, along the sharp edge of her jaw, finally, he let it go and he collapsed next to her on their daughter’s bed. Made Nia bounce next to him with his weight.

  He lay next to her for a while, both of them panting. Nia rolled on her side. It looked like her shoulders were hurting her. Now that the action was done and they lay exhausted, Geoff started to reel. A panic set in. A multitude of images, slides in a carousel clicking through his mind, horrid snapshots. Him running up and kicking Rocco out, him holding his wife, Nia squirting all over Rocco, tucking Odie in in that bed, painting the scrolls on the dresser one rainy fall afternoon with Nia, Rocco finding him in the closet, kissing Nia with Rocco’s come all over her lips and chin, running and running and not stopping, breaking the monitor over his knee, its wires and circuit boards and liquid crystal guts splintering all over their winter boots, him jumping off a bridge...his legs kicked involuntarily. Scraped on the tile floor of the closet. He looked at the monitor, didn’t care now if he was heard, come and fucking find me Rocco, smash my brains out, let those images I just saw float like ghosts out of the cracks in my skull. Send them away. Banish them. His sweet Nia. His girl.