I moved my hand a little, adjusting my hold. The cock's girth was beyond belief! I could barely get my fingers around it. I stroked lightly towards the base, pulling the skin gently along with my fingers in just the way I liked it. My hand slipped along easily because of all the pre-cum coating her cock. Above me, Donna was stuttering in response to this new stimulation, her body starting to jerk.
I'd never seen her this worked up before. Hell, I'd never been this worked up before.
Sighing, I resigned myself to the obvious. This was going to happen whether I liked it or not, so I might as well do everything I could to get it over with quickly. This would mean giving Donna an expert hand job, something that, as a man with my level of experience, I was uniquely qualified to do.
"Oh God. I can't believe how good that feels," Donna moaned as she started to hump my hand. I gripped her dick harder, and pulled back towards the tip. The shaft was so slick now, that my hand slipped right up over the sensitive head. Donna actually yelped out loud at this. At first, I thought I had hurt her, until I felt her cock jumping in my hand and saw what looked like cum spurting out onto to my palm.
I stroked her a few more times, picking up the pace slowly. My thoughts were jumbled. I tried so hard to remain rational, but it just wasn't working. I was incredibly turned on, not so much by the homosexual activity that I was presently participating in, but more in knowing I was pleasing Donna. Every time I thought about how good I was making her feel, about how well I was following her commands, my own cock twitched and spit out its own tiny load of pre-cum into my underwear. The more I looked at the expression of pleasure on my wife's face, the more I wanted to contribute to it. Whatever she wanted, I would be happy to provide.
Whatever she wanted? asked a tiny voice inside my head.
I blinked a few times, stroking Donna's dick even more rapidly while I pondered the question.
What would I actually do for her if she commanded it in that assertive voice she now had?
I shuddered with arousal. It was actually turning me on to think of how I was actually willing to debase myself for her, just to please her.
Fuck, I had to get this over with before I lost what remained of my free will.
Thankfully, I could tell from the noises she was making, that she was getting very close now. My hand was practically a blur as she had grabbed my shoulder for balance, and actively fucked my hand.
"I'M CUMMING!" she finally yelled out.
She jerked her hips forward forcefully as ribbon after ribbon of thick white cum ejaculated out of the head of her cock. The streaks were forced out with such intensity that one of the discharges actually knocked the clock radio off the night stand on the other side of the bed.
Then, sucking in a deep breath, Donna swiftly pulled her hips briefly, only to throw her whole crotch forward again as she spurted a few times more.
"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God," repeated Donna, her body shaking while the cum that was spitting out of her cock finally started to subside. Assuming this meant the end of her orgasm, I began to slow down my stroking. "No," she barked. "Don't stop Randy!" She uttered a few primal grunts before finishing, "KEEP. STROKING. ME. NOW!"
Immediately I obeyed her command, and increased the speed of my rubbing. She grunted her approval as, to my amazement, her orgasm started right up again. Within a few moments, she was shooting more ropes of thick cum across the bed, with almost the same intensity as the first time. That's when it occurred to me that her climax was kind of a combination of both male and female orgasms. It involved her entire body like a woman's, but was centered on her cock like a man's. She was also, apparently, multi-orgasmic because, shortly after this second ejaculation ended, she screamed that there was yet another one on the way and that she couldn't stop herself.
"FUCK!" she called out. "I'M STILL CUMMING!"
My hand should have been tired by now, but it wasn't. More than that though, I should have been completely grossed out. Whatever reservations that I'd had earlier about touching a cock were completely gone now, and my only goal was to help Donna reach her maximum pleasure potential.
Several minutes later, after my wife's fifth successive orgasm, she finally told me to stop pulling on her cock. I obeyed but, for some reason, I didn't actually let go of it. I looked down at the huge cock in my hand as it burbled the last of its cum out onto my forearm, and then at the room around us. The sheer volume of my wife's ejaculate was astounding: the comforter was covered in it, there was even some on the wall beyond, as well as a large puddle at her feet. Ironically, the only place that wasn't completely covered in spunk was the towel that Donna had placed on the bed. She had overshot it entirely, having completely underestimated the full extent of her pent-up arousal.
Above me, Donna was still shaking unsteadily, and was about to collapse against me exhausted, when she seemed to realize that I was still holding her now deflating cock. Her eyes narrowed at me.
"Good Lord! What have I done?" she cried as she pulled away from me, her cock slipping out of my stubborn grip with a wet slurping sound. "What kind of depraved monster have you turned me into?" Running from the room, she slammed the door behind her.
I sat in bed for a while as my brain fog cleared. When I was semi-lucid, I became aware of the fact that my crotch was wet. At first, I assumed that some of Donna’s cum had soaked through the comforter but, as I lifted that comforter to examine the situation, I realized that this wasn’t the case. Sometime during my wife’s orgasm, I had had one of my own. I hadn’t even notice it happening.
Shaking my head in confusion, I decided that I had little choice but to clean up our respective messes. Carefully avoiding the tiny lake beside the bed, I got a second towel from the closet and wiped off the walls, floor, and headboard. Then, I gathered the comforter and sheets into a sticky ball, threw it all in the washing machine, and remade the bed with fresh supplies from the rapidly dwindling stock in our linen closet. Even with fresh sheets on the bed though, the smell of Donna's cum was still in the room, although it wasn't affecting me like it had before. I had finally come down off the high, and had just now begun to wonder what the hell I had done.
I wasn't gay, was I?
If I had simply given Donna a hand-job in order to help her out, then why the hell had I cum myself? And why in the fucking hell was I still so hard, even now, more than a half hour after she'd left?
I tried to ignore my boner and just go to sleep, but it just wouldn't go away. Eventually, I succumbed to temptation, and in very short order blasted a load of my own cum all over my chest. Even though it was my second orgasm in the last hour, I still squirted more than I usually did, but not nearly as much as had Donna.
As I finally drifted off to sleep, I wondered if perhaps Anatolia had cast a spell on me to that made me more aroused at the idea of playing with other people’s cocks.
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DAY 9
SUNDAY, EARLY MORNING
I didn't get as much sleep as I had hoped for, because Donna was pounding on my door around five AM. She didn't even wait for me to answer, and just swung it open.
I sat up and opened my eyes, but couldn't see her in the dark, even though I could smell her right away. Her arousal was so much more obvious to me now that I knew what to smell for. Reflexively, I breathed in deeply through my nose and my body began to respond again immediately. I guessed that, from the intensity of the smell, Donna wasn't wearing any pants, an assumption that was proved correct when she flipped on the light in my room to reveal her naked form, with what looked like a leaking fire hose protruding out from her crotch.
"Again," she said hoarsely. "Now!"
I shivered. The tone of her voice was affecting me again much sooner than last time.
"But…" I managed to stammer even as she closed the distance between us.
She seemed to soften a bit. "The arousal … it's still soooo overwhelming, even after my orgasms last night," she admitted. "I woke up hard and humping my pillo
w. I was worried at first that I'd already cum, because the pillow was soaked, but it was just pre-cum."
At the mention of the word, I sniffed again at her musky scent, and my eyes actually rolled back in my head.
Was it getting stronger?
I could feel my own erection throbbing; feel my own pre-cum leaking out of it. My tongue snaked out to wet my lips, suddenly dry.
Fuck, why was this turning me on so much? Why was I so much more willing to "help" Donna out than I was before?
Then, she was standing beside me. Without a word, she pulled my hand up and placed it on her dick. Like yesterday, she whimpered at the contact and squirted a little.
I swallowed hard, trying not to look at what I was doing. I moved my hand up to the tip to gather some of her sticky secretion. Lathering the pre-cum over her shaft, I gripped it tightly, and immediately began stroking my wife's monster.
Like before, Donna started moaning right away, but this time, she started talking to me too. Encouraging me.
"Oh yeah baby," she said in that confident tone that had appeared as suddenly as her new appendage. "Stroke my penis… no, stroke my … cock." I actually hesitated when she said it. She had never, ever used that word before.
"Nooo," she moaned. "Don't stop. Keep stroking my cock." I obeyed. "Yeah, just like that. See how hard you make me? She how horny I am for you?" She was saying the things that I used to say to her when the positions had been reversed and, even though they were humiliating and demeaning—God help me—they were turning me on even more. I was pleasing Donna, and that made me feel even more aroused, as if that were even possible.
"Stroke my big hard cock Randy," Donna continued. "Yes, just the way you stroke your own. I've seen you do it, I know you're good at it." She giggled. "Only, I'm so much bigger than you are, aren't I Randy? My cock is huge compared to yours, and leaks so much more pre-cum doesn't it?" Even as she said that, I watched as more and more of the sticky syrup poured out from the head of her immense dick.
Her cock was bigger than mine. I was staring at it now, at arm's length from my face, fascinated by its size, mesmerized by the way it pulsed in my hand, like it was breathing. Like it was actually alive. Like it was somehow speaking to me through my wife.
"You make me soooooo horny," my wife said. "Soooo hard, and soooo long. Look at my cock Randy. It's beautiful isn't it? Tell me how beautiful it is."
Without even thinking, I whispered what she wanted me to say. "You have a beautiful penis," I muttered.
"Penis?" she countered. "Penis? This isn't a penis Randy. It's too massive to just be a penis. This thing is a COCK! Say it for me."
"It's a beautiful cock," I answered, shuddering as I did so.
"I think you're starting to enjoy this. Look at how you're staring at my cock while you stroke it. Your eyes are wide in amazement." She moaned even as she reached out to run a finger down my cheek. "Oh, this is so amazing. You couldn't look away if you wanted to."
My wife's voice continued in her special new inflection that, when combined with the intoxicating smell of her bodily fluids, made me even more compliant with every moment that passed. She was right, I couldn't look away from her beautiful cock. I could only do exactly what she told me to do.
"Use both hands," she commanded. I obeyed almost eagerly, wrapping both of my hands around her prick, one behind the other, stroking it in unison.
"Would you look at that," she said. "You've got two hands wrapped around my cock, and there's still plenty of shaft sticking out. Mmmmmmmm, I do have a gigantic cock don't I? A horse cock even."
"A horse cock," I answered reflexively, even though I hadn't been asked to comment.
Donna laughed. "A horse cock. A big, fat, horse cock, and you're jacking it off Randy. If Gary could only see you now." I flushed, but didn't stop stroking. I couldn't.
"I'm bigger than you are Randy," she taunted. "Your wife's horse cock is bigger than yours. It seems to me that that makes me the alpha male here doesn’t it?"
I didn't say anything.
"Doesn't it?" she repeated. The commanding tone stronger now, impossible to resist.
"Yes," I answered quietly.
She laughed heartily as I continued to stroke her. Her breathing was getting more ragged now, more urgent. "My cock … is bigger … than yours. That makes me … the one in charge…"
Oh no. Where was she going with this?
"You have … to do … ooooooh … whatever I tell you to … do. Right?"
I answered immediately. There was no use denying it. "Yesssssssss."
I was afraid I knew what she was about to say next, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to say no. Not the way I was feeling now. Not with her cock so close to my mouth already.
I was no fag, I kept reminding myself even as I pulled furiously on the huge cock in front of me. I stepped up my pace, and started stroking her harder and faster. Then, I took my left hand off her dick and quickly sunk two fingers into her pussy which, not surprisingly, was sopping wet. I moved them around in the way she had always liked, at least in the days before I had to reach under a couple of huge balls to do it. Some of the equipment may have changed, but I still had a pretty good idea of what to do to get her off.
If I can just make her cum before she asks me…
The effect was immediate, and exactly the one I'd hoped for. "Randy," she gasped. "What … what are you doing? Oh, that feels so nice, but wait… I want… I want you… to…"
She was almost completely lost in her own lust. Still trying to get the words out, and trying to hold herself back from cumming so that she could.
"I want … you … to…"
She was so close. I had one final trick though. Donna had always had a weak spot for dirty talk, so I seized the moment, and spoke over her. "Cum for me Donna," I urged. "Feel my fingers buried deep in your pussy. Feel how my hands are stroking you big, hard cock. Cum. NOW."
That did it.
Her orgasm wasn't quite as powerful as it had been last night and thank goodness for that, because I hadn't been paying attention to where her cock had been pointed. All of my life, I had been turned on by the image of a man covering a woman's face with his spunk, but now that it was happening to me… well, even in my lustful stupor, I didn't enjoy the sensation.
Donna had unloaded several powerful spurts all over my forehead and cheeks, and even into my open mouth before I was finally able to angle her cock to aim her orgasm away from my face. Her cum was hot, and my left eye was stinging but, I ignored it because I was just now becoming aware of something else: I was in the middle of a huge orgasm. I hadn't even noticed it building but now, without even being physically stimulated, my cock was unloading its own healthy specimen of cum into my boxers. I gasped several times, involuntarily moving against the sheets that still covered me while still trying to focus on my wife's orgasm in order to milk the last few dreks of her cum out of her cock.
When it was finally over, Donna looked at me, a shocked expression on her face. Her eyes seemed to clear a little as the dominant part of her appeared to fade away. "Oh Randy, I'm so sorry," she said as she turned and slipped out the door, dribbling a trail of cum out of the head of her cock on the floor behind her. She was back in a moment with a damp towel, tossing it from the doorway, but otherwise refusing to enter the room again. My wife looked at me quickly one last time before closing the door between us. I was sure I could see a hint of regret, perhaps even pity on her face.
Taking the towel, I began to clean off my face just around the same time that the veil of my own arousal and submission was lifting.
That was a close one. Too close.
I don't know who it was that I saw in Donna's eyes in the rut of passion earlier, but it certainly wasn't the woman I fell in love with. Although the old Donna may have returned after her orgasm, she had still been so close to losing control completely. What happens in the future if she ever does succumb completely? I clearly won't be able to control myself, not when I'm under the infl
uence of her pheromones, or whatever the hell gets into my head. No, I'd be jumping at the chance to obey every single one of my wife's perverted whims.
She could make me do things. Really gay things...
I was no faggot, and there was no way in hell that she was going to turn me into one. It was time to consider getting the hell out of here…
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The LIAR, the WITCH, and my wife’s new WARDROBE
BOOK THREE:
THE ESCAPE
by
CHARLES P. LINGHAM
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2016 by Charles P. Lingham
DAY 9
SUNDAY, MID-MORNING
I washed as much of my wife's cum off my face and neck as I could with the damp towel that she'd given me, and then stepped into the shower to take care of the rest.
Now that the heat of passion had dissipated, I was actually starting to feel a little guilty. Not more than ten minutes ago, I was wanting to leave the situation, before my wife's new dominant personality forced me to do things I didn't want to.
Gay things.
But now. Well, I still didn't want to be turned into a faggot, but I was also realizing that I had a responsibility to my wife. I mean, if I just suddenly took off, where would that leave Donna? She still had a good three weeks of her curse to endure, a curse for which I was clearly the one at fault.
She was suffering this humiliation because of me. Because I hadn't been faithful, and some kind of magical gypsy bitch had given her a huge wang with a libidinous mind of its own, one that was now driving her crazy with lust. If she could last the rest of the month without masturbating it herself, then the cock would disappear on its own but, if she couldn't…
Well, then, she'd have that extra, unwanted appendage for the rest of her life.
The Liar, the Witch, and My Wife's New Wardrobe: Books 1 to 3 Collection Page 4
