I am licking up everything that Imran has pumped into Cheryl. My wife as a gold bar with unset diamonds both end inserted through her clitty hood. It moves as I swirl my tongue upwards and around her button to ladle up every last drop of his semen. She moans softly as I minister to her sex, which by now has been pulled about so much, that her sex lips permanently pout. By flicking my tongue deftly back and forth I can make them gently flap, their flesh filling with blood and making them look even more luxurious.
As she moves against my open mouth then, Imran’s fingers move south the share the eager pleasure. There are gold rings with extravagant stones set within them, against the soft brown flesh of his skin, the paler flesh of my wife, they look exotic. Cheryl adores the man and I admire him immensely. He eases aside my tongue and slips them up her hole so that she clenches against him. Now, now his fingers are curling inside her and stroking, stroking within so that she aches all over again.
Imran and I work in unison. We have learned to. Once, he simply took my wife but as the years have rolled forward, there has been a discovery. He likes to share her with me. He likes the largesse of showing me how eager she is on his fingers, on his cock.
‘I love you’ she mews to him and seeks out his kisses. There, his deep brown eyes have found hers and they start to tease one another with their lips. It is almost a harem scene, the lord master enjoying his kept woman. Cheryl snakes her arm up about his neck, the expensive cuff bracelet catching the light of the Tiffany lamp beside the bed. Cheryl is forty, a cougar bitch under his direction. He teaches her to be arrogant, and aloof, and discerning and that my friend, that….is a whole new challenge toward me.
Pleasuring Cheryl in unison requires that I shift seamlessly to another of her delectable zones of desire. Cheryl loves this. She loves the way that we orchestrate our attentions to her. There is no contest, Imran leads and I play the music on her body. With his free hand he eases apart her right buttock and there is her arse hole. It is puckered, soft, peachy pink and exquisite. I lick it, running my moistened tongue around and around its contours until she is almost purring with pleasure. She pushes her bottom back against my mouth, Imran’s fingers travelling inside her like a corruption. He strokes within, and I stroke without pleasuring, pleasuring, pleasuring. There, now friend, she is shaking gently, her body tensing rhythmically with desire. She needs to be fucked again. She has been trained to expect a great deal of fucking. No matter what other women get, what they dream of, this is her daily expectation.
Imran smiles at her. Her eyes are begging him. The younger man, the wealthy man, the alpha man, he always cocks her cunt for her. It is his. So Imran glances my way, no more than that and I reach forward and hold his erect phallus for him. I can feel the pulse in it, the firm and forceful pulse that runs here in bed but also through his business world too. Imran fucks my wife the same way that he fucks the world. I want to lick his cock. It is so brutal, so strong, but now, this moment Cheryl needs it more. So I angle its bulbous circumcised head between this quivering lips and he starts to push it slowly, languidly inside her. She is still so full with his semen that it glides easily, like a huge submarine slipping inside its subterranean lair. One inch, two inches and then all the inches, all nine or ten of the inches inside her.
I tease Cheryl’s bottom with a moistened finger. Yes, friend, that nut brown hole opens with just a little pressure. I feel it surrender and then clamp on my finger tip, not because I have pushed too hard but because the Imran weapon is moving. She synchs with him, riding his cock, coaxing softly even more of his spunk out of those generous balls. She desperately wants him over and over and over again. Sandwiched between us, lying, facing Imran with her arms about his neck, her throat his to ravage, I take up station close behind. I kiss the tattoo of the sweet little ladybird he ordered her to have on her shoulder. I kiss it reverently and now friend, my erect cock is nudging her bottom. With a little thrust, no more, I push inside her, a couple of inches no more.
A pampered woman, a spoilt woman, an elite woman can fuck really hard. Her appetite grows exponentially once she accepts that the world isn’t equal, or nice, or fair. She has found Imran, given herself to him and he has taught her the pleasures of involving me. I am eternally grateful for it need not have been that way. The man of largesse as well as power. You could bow to the floor, respecting such a man. I move upward, inside her, an inch or two no more, to stay there, feeling the grip of her anus on the shaft of my cock. Imran has taught me. Two men thrusting together cannot easily co ornate rhythm. There is a risk that the woman could be damaged. Cheryl is his bitch, the empress in his empire. So Imran thrusts and that moves Cheryl up and down my shaft too. Meekness, discipline, submission, and the feeling of Cheryl moving on my cock is absolutely exquisite.
He starts to kiss her throat. His diamond studded choker is worn by her there, twinkling in the soft light of the room. Imran, I, we are looking at one another, feeling how she moves on his cock. We are eye close and he blinks before kissing her neck once more. He doesn’t have to speak his authority. I know that he owns her. He shares her and that makes life superb. But he directs and he controls, and she pirouettes to his music. I watch his tongue, wet now, agile but extravagant, slow moving, run across her skin. Every touch of that tongue causes a rippling tremor in her skin. She is orgasming continuously on him. She thrums against his body, panting softly. See, see how she comes to me, see how she submits and begs? His eyes speak to me. His eyes speak to me with the experience of a million boudoir years. Now, almost imperceptibly, he moves his chest a little back. I nod gratefully and slip my arms up beneath hers so that I can feel the orbs of her breasts and then the aroused, the bullet hard nipples atop each.
I hear her gasp. It is sudden and it is urgent. She has clenched her teeth in ecstasy.
‘Please darling…..please…..give it me’.
I kiss her alabaster shoulders, encouraging her to be with him, harder and harder still.
‘God Imran, please, you must….oh pleeeeease!’
He kisses her pert little nose.
‘Beg….like a bitch’ he taunts her, his cock pumping her harder now.
‘Christ….darling….I adore…..adore you. You MUST give it me…God…I’ll explode!’ Cheryl is squirming against him, feeling the thick, and arrogant shaft of his cock within her. I can feel her knotting against him, knotting in consequence on me.
‘You’re mine’ he purred like a tiger.
‘Yes!’ she gasped, bucking onto his cock. I felt Imran’s balls convulse against my thigh. I felt my balls jerk in salute, delivering my load inside her bottom. We are spraying inside her, he within her womanhood hole, I within that that dismissed behind. We are grinding and pumping so that she slides between us, unable to escape the deliveries we bring.
Friend, she is kissing him eagerly and so hard. She runs her mouth after his, begging, cajoling him for kisses as he fills her again. I too, eager and supportive run my kisses across her shoulder and up beneath her mane of auburn hair onto the back of her neck and the choker chain. I am done, my shot fired, but Imran still disgorges himself inside her. It is like a river in spate, his gift, his manhood.
Tomorrow, Cheryl my wife will don her leather pencil skirt and matching box jacket. She will wear the high heels and put back on the Rolex yachtemaster on her wrist and she will drive the Mercedes around his many properties. I will come along with my inventory on the tablet computer. I will check the next property. This next one, Imran wants them out, the place is being redeveloped for some friends of his. Cheryl will tell them calmly that they must go. They are being given the statutory notice. They will beg, they will offer to pay a lot more, but Cheryl will tell them that they will leave. They are not the right tenants, there is a woman obsessed with one of his personal friends, and this place, this place will be theirs. I am on hand to enforce the matter, there will be no lip given. Just how many properties we manage for him I am not sure. There must be hundreds. Now….now though, my wife is not hard. She is soft and quivering and supplicant in his arms. I can feel her knotted against him, on his erect cock, as she slips down from the peak of the wave she has ridden for twenty or more minutes.
I slide my cock out of Cheryl’s bottom whilst they are kissing and slip away to fix some drinks for them. I will make a light supper whilst they recover, whilst Cheryl showers, to dress and go out with him to meet their friends. I will watch her, dressed in the designer cocktail dress, the immaculate heels and stockings. But she will kiss me fondly, an unspoken thank you for our bedroom pleasures. I am just so sweet and so supportive. I thank Imran. I find myself doing this so often without reference to anything specific. I thank him for the way that Cheryl looks and she feels, the way that she acts her poise and attitude. I can’t articulate the thanks properly.
‘That’s all right Edward, ‘ he will say, ‘I wonder, can you check the schedule for tomorrow. I think that there are four or five tenants who must be warned that they are not honouring my expectations for the maintenance of the properties.’
‘Yes, of course’ I answer brightly.
Cheryl smiles, ‘we’ll see you later, OK?’
‘Yes’ I say.
Lutheran Maid
( Short story and erotic novel writer. This could be a cuckold story couldn’t it, but I venture these matters sometimes blur. Two men can coordinate to provide a blissful life for a woman. )