The Key - 17
The Key - 17
"Surprise, sweetie! I'm home! Did you miss me?"
I was astonished. Was this my Amanda? She did a slow pirouette with her hands raised to each side, smiling as though she knew how the changes would affect me. A golden tan covered her entire body except for a narrow patch of white over her shaven pussy. There was no mistaking she had been topless for weeks on the sunny beaches where Vicente flaunted my wife as his new pet. A belly ring with a row of three small diamonds dangled from her navel, sparkling against her newly tanned skin.
'I - I don't know what to say," I told her, unable to hide my concern. "I've never seen you with a tan like this. You always said your skin was too fair to spend much time in the sun."
"I guess I never had the chance to find out, sweetie. I played volleyball on the beach almost every day with Vicente and his friends. At first I was embarrassed to be topless in front of them, but Vicente insisted I only wear one of the tiny thongs he bought me. After the first day I loved all the attention the men showered on me. I think Vicente liked seeing them flirt with me just as much."
I couldn't help notice the more subtle changes in her body as she turned. Her butt was hard and round, and small bundles of muscle rose here and there along her legs and over her belly. Traces of the softness that I had loved were gone, most noticeably about her narrow waist and hips. But the most shocking change was how Vicente had her once shoulder length chocolate-brown hair cut to form a bouncing blonde sheath that followed the line of her jaw. It flared a little as she whirled, then fell exactly into place again, framing her bright eyes and wide grin. It was then I noticed the three diamond studs along the ridge of her right ear, a look she never would have chosen over her preference for the simplest of earrings in the past. Vicente had remade her as his image of a sexy plaything, announcing what she was to everyone who laid eyes on her. And, she seemed delighted with the 'new her'.
"You like?" she asked, taking a few steps toward me. It was painful being so close to her; my dick had come to life as I felt the heat of her body next to me, only to have my cage remind me of what I couldn't have.
"You look...like someone else..." I stammered. "Someone who isn't my wife. You're still beautiful, but it's something I'll have to get used to, I guess. I didn't imagine you'd let him change you like this."
Amanda put her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. "I'm not 'someone else's wife', silly. I'm still yours. Why would you say that? I came home to you, didn't I?"
"You did, and I'm glad - relieved to say the least. But what will people here think? You'll be sending a message to everyone who sees you; they'll think you're looking for sex, the kind of sex they'll suspect I can't give you."
"People change, sweetie. So what if I had a makeover. Women do it all the time. We've been married a while now - they'll think I did it to look sexier for you. Sure, other men may look, but honestly, I love that. I want them to look. Anyway, I thought you had accepted that I need something 'different' now and then. If my new look gets me what I need, I thought you might like the new me."
"It's not that I don't think your new look is sexy - it's just so, not the 'you' I'm used to. But it's also that 'he' did this to you. He's made you his in a way that's followed you home and become part of you, a part you obviously want to keep. It's what I agonized over while you were gone - that he'd take you from me and you'd belong to him."
Amanda released me and stepped back, holding me at arm's length, staring seriously into my eyes. "Sweetie, I don't 'belong' to anyone. No one 'owns' me - at least not all of me. I love you, and I'll stay married to you as long as you want me. I won't leave you; I promise. But you have to accept that other men will have my body. You may call it 'owning' me if you want, but it will always be just my body, and only for the short time I'm with them. It was Charles's at first, then Eric's, and now Vicente's. I couldn't stop if I tried, and I don't want to. You know what he is to me, don't you? A rich, commanding man with a body I've dreamed about for years, and a cock that finally shows me how exciting and fulfilling sex can be. Just because you're not 'that' man doesn't mean I don't love you. I love you because you let him have me. I love you because you accept you can't give me what certain other men can. You'll even wear 'this' for me."
She reached between my legs and closed her hand over the bulge of my cage, giving it a slight squeeze. I thrust my hips forward, urgently needing relief. She unzipped my pants, and I moaned when she pulled the cage into the light and moved her fingers over it, trailing a long fingernail where the flesh of my dick pushed into the open spaces between the bars. The key swayed between her perfectly tanned breasts, and she saw my eyes on it.
"You want me to let you out, don't you, sweetie?"
"Y-yes - fuck - yes - please?" I begged.
"You know you're not allowed to fuck me, don't you?"
"I know, I know," I pleaded. "Just let me cum - please?"
"I could tell you all about some of the things Vicente and I did together. Would you like to cum like that, hearing how he used your wife? How I didn't refuse him anything - and I mean, 'anything' at all?"
It was the way she said 'anything' that shook me, and I found I couldn't answer.
"Oh sweetie, I know that look. You poor thing. How long has it been since you've cum? I'll bet you can't even remember. And I was there having the time of my life, getting Vicente's huge cock day and night while you were here suffering. I suppose it's only fair that I let you out to play for a little while. But you have to behave. You know Charles's rules, and they include your promise not to fuck me. Can you promise me that? You have to tell me before I unlock you."
I was desperate, trying to breathe, but not quite daring to believe that what Amanda had told me would actually happen. I could see the tiny key nestled between her breasts. It was so close; I hungered for it like a man stranded in the desert with an oasis in sight but barely able to crawl to it to drink.
"I promise, Amanda!" I said urgently, as she continued to fondle my cage. "I won't fuck you; I promise! I won't even try. But can I please just look at you while I jerk off? You can cage me again after - I just really need to cum!"
"Oh, I think I can do better than just letting you look. Go upstairs, get undressed and get on the bed. But there are conditions that you have to agree to. Promise?"
I took the steps two at a time, shed my clothes, and lay on the bed waiting. Amanda stood in the doorway a few minutes later, leaning against the frame with a hand on her hip, posing. She pulled a pair of handcuffs from behind her back with the other hand and dangled them in the air in front of her.
"A present from Charles," she said, grinning. "He wants to make sure you behave if and when I let you out. You should be grateful he's letting you out at all. He trusts me now to decide when and where, but we still have to do it his way. Agree? I promise you can cum..."
"Do whatever you have to do," I told her. "I just want to cum while we're here alone together, touching each other, looking into each other's eyes."
"It's what I want too, sweetie," she assured me. "Just let me make sure you keep your hands off yourself while we play. I want to see if Charles was right - that you've lost a good inch or two after he put you in this new cage. You might be wondering if you can still cum at all if there's not much left to work with."
I let her cuff me to the headboard, then watched as she took the chain from around her neck, placed the key in the tiny lock, and opened it. The cage came off easily - there wasn't much to the small basket that imprisoned my dick. Although I had hoped Amanda would use her long, delicate fingers to stroke me, she simply stood back and watched me get hard.
"I think Charles was right," she told me as she stared carefully at my fully hardened erection. "You are smaller now. But it's been a long time, and I've been used to Eric's and Vicente's for such a long time...maybe it's the comparison that makes yours look smaller now. Let's see what we can do to make this little thing happy."
Her finger grazed the length of my erection from balls to the tip where she lingered, circling the head with a feather touch. The feeling was electric and I raised my hips off the bed, begging for a firmer touch.
"Now, now," she warned me. "This looks a lot like fucking, and you're not allowed to do that, remember? If you don't behave and let me do this my way, I'll stop. Is that what you want?"
No! No, please don't," I begged. "I'll behave. Just please let me cum... please!"
Amanda grinned and began again. My dick jerked and drooled as she resumed her feather-light touches, never applying any more pressure than was required to make my dick jump when she teased it. When she cupped my balls in her other hand, I moaned, certain my orgasm was seconds away. She sensed it, stopped her stroking, and closed her fingers around my balls until the dull ache chased my orgasm into thin air.
"You don't want this to be over so soon, do you, sweetie? We're going to make this last, right up to the very last second when you spurt all over yourself. I love seeing you do that, just like when you watched Eric fuck me. You did like that, didn't you? Seeing my lover make me cum? The young guy who grew up next door, finally doing your wife? Why don't you tell me? Tell me how you loved watching Eric fuck me."
"Oh fuck, yes - I loved it. Not at first though - you're my wife - and he was our neighbor's son, this young college guy who always flirted with you. I always suspected - worried, I guess, that eventually you couldn't resist him. Then, when I saw his cock, I knew if he wanted you I could never compete with him. He had everything I imagined you'd want, for sex I mean, and I knew I was helpless to stop it."
"But you like that, don't you? Feeling so helpless to keep other men from fucking me? Always wondering if I might decide to fuck them when they flirt? It was your dirty little secret for so long. But now - now we know, don't we? You love it when they take me from you for a little while. You love it when their cocks are bigger than yours and I can't resist submitting to them. You get hard just thinking about your wife fucking other men now, don't you, sweetie? Don't you?"
I didn't want to admit it, to say it out loud. But it did get me hard, even after I had dreaded losing my wife when she was satisfied by another man's huge cock. It meant I may never get to fuck her again. It meant she saw him as the 'better man', one of power and potency who could make her cum over and over again, so effortlessly, so often, so intensely. I wanted her body as much or more than her other men did, but yes, the feelings that stirred in me when she chose them over me, their cocks over mine, their bodies and clever seduction over my sensitive caring, crept through me and consumed me. They made me hard, those images of her perfect naked body under them. The sounds she made when they made her cum excited me and haunted me for days afterward.
"You're right, Amanda," I confessed. "It does get me hard. I know how much you love it too - the sex with all those men who give you what you've needed for so long. I admit it. But it's okay now. They can have your body. They can have you; they can fuck you. But please come back to me, every time?"
My confession was more one of desperation than one I would have offered freely. I heard the words come from my mouth in the way I'd hear an actor in a play or movie recite his lines. They were ****** up from my gut, released into the air about Amanda's sweet face, her eyes knowing she could pry them from me. She had what she had wanted from me, and she glowed with satisfaction.
"I've been practicing," she told me, still smiling with eager anticipation.
"Practicing what?" I asked. "With Vicente?"
"With other men," she said softly."
"How many other men? Who?" I begged.
"You don't know them, sweetie. You never will. Vicente wanted me to practice all the things he and Charles taught me, and he loved to watch. By the time I left he said I was better at controlling when and how men cum than anyone he had ever seen. It's something I love to do. Making men beg me to finish them and then deciding to do it my way gives me such a sense of power. But this is just to reward my husband for being so patient while his wife's body belonged to Vicente."
Amanda climbed between my legs, lowered her head, and began to suck my balls into her mouth, one at a time. Her fingers were busy fluttering over my dick, her nails dragging lightly up and down over the length of it, now and then surrounding the head like a prickly crown. She twisted and tugged at the head as though she might pluck it like a ripe, red piece of fruit. Each time I'd gasp and thrust my hips upward she'd remove her hands and close her mouth more tightly over one of my balls. The sharp spike of pain jolted me for a split second, then sent a lingering ache up into my belly, erasing my impending orgasm once again.
Amanda kept me sweating and panting for an hour there on our bed. She took me up to the final moment of orgasm over and over, skillfully pulling me back from the edge each time I was sure I would finally cum. Then she'd let me recover for a while as she began yet another story about what Vicente had done to her. The quiet, sexy voice she used was same one she had used in the past when we made love. Back then her words had been chosen to try to reassure me that she enjoyed my attempts to satisfy her. Now the tone was the same, but she used it while telling me about her time with Vicente, about his 'gorgeous cock' and perpetually hard, fulfilling erections. But this time, as she watched me, naked on our bed, I became aware of little inflections of discontentment that went unnoticed when we had made love there for so many years. I saw the disappointment in her eyes I had ignored in the past when she glanced at my erection. Sex during our marriage had kept her in a cage of hunger and frustration, just as I was held prisoner now in my own cage. It was no wonder she had fallen for the first monstrous cock that tempted her to take it inside her.
"Yes, Vicente was the fuck of my life, sweetie, but he also took care of me. He owned me in a way that I loved - I felt safe and precious in his hands, everywhere we went. At night when we were alone in his bed, he'd slide his cock into me so slowly that I thought I'd die waiting for all of it. I'd want it so badly. It filled me - my pussy, and my craving for sex. I'd cum, sometimes twice before he did, but he was hard again right away, and he'd flood me one more time. I couldn't imagine where all the semen came from, how he seemed to have so much more than other men. He'd soak the bed after just an hour, and we'd move to an open veranda just outside his bedroom to spend the night. He loved fucking me there too. The neighbors would watch us sometimes; he wanted them to know he was fucking your wife. It was a thing with him - he would tell everyone I was happily married but fucking him instead of my husband. He never bad-mouthed you, but they understood that you must have been a less than adequate lover.
"I grew to like being watched. I knew he dressed me so he could show off my body to the other men. I was excited when I heard their compliments, and I knew how much they would have loved to fuck me. He taught me to be proud of my body in public, and to flirt as though I was always hungry to fuck.
I loved showing off his body too, especially his cock. The best times were when I could get him hard in front of others with just the right words whispered in his ear, or with a few extra buttons on my blouse undone so he could watch everyone stare at my bare breasts and nipples. After a while, everywhere we went, I wanted to make sure everyone noticed his erection and knew that huge cock was mine. I imagined that it would make other women so jealous; he was MY man, and that was MY cock."
During the brief downtimes between her expert touches, Amanda seemed to take delight in sharing memories of her time with Vicente. The images she created in my head kept me hard in spite of seeing how Vicente had changed her. She had left me as my sweet, loving wife, the same woman whose former looks and demeanor attracted men but assured them she would never cheat. Even after Charles and Eric had their way with her, there were still vestiges of the innocent, demure wife everyone knew so well. Yes, she had stopped fucking me, but I still doubted Charles's influence would be permanent. Now, the angst of having other men recognize her years of neglect and newfound hunger for cock had become a confusing trigger that enhanced her tales of Vicente's 'dream cock' and his rich friends' not so innocent attentions.
"I loved playing with his balls," she continued. "They're huge, so much bigger than most men's, including yours." She lifted my dick and balls carefully with both hands while she spoke, inspecting them as if she noticed the difference for the first time. There was a little wrinkle over her forehead, one of both interest and disappointment. Her touch was soft and tentative; her fingertips inspected my dick as though it was something delicate and fragile that might break with a firmer grip. I imagined those same hands and fingers on him, gripping and milking him with all her strength as if his cock was made of unyielding, indestructible steel.
"It's just one more thing that makes him so much of a 'man'. That and the way he handles me in bed, like I weigh nothing at all when he puts his hands on me. So, you see, it wasn't only his cock I craved, sweetie. It's what he is. I suppose it's the exciting change of being with someone so different; I was so used to the careful way you made love to me, time and time again. But as far as sex goes, I've always longed to have a man who just takes me there, not one who meekly asks permission. You do understand the difference, don't you, sweetie? Ooops - I almost let you cum that time!"
I was so close that my body trembled in spasms of anticipation. My dick was about to burst, throbbing and thrusting, teetering on the edge of my first orgasm in months. I cried out, begging her to finish me after she took her hands away again. I promised I'd never fuck her again, and that she could have as many men as she wanted, as often as she wanted. I said I knew how much better Vicente was in bed than I was, how much bigger and better his cock was, and that I wanted her to fuck him, I wanted him to have her, to own her body, to own my wife's body. "Just please - please, please, please, Amanda, let me cum!"
Amanda moved away and circled the bed, looking me over as she listened to me beg. I was sure I saw a mix of concern and satisfaction on her face as she stared at my dick, frowning and smiling as though she couldn't decide how to proceed. She moved closer, her eyes peering into mine, her face inches away. Then she kissed me. It wasn't a wife's kiss - it was the hungry, searing, open mouth kiss of a woman possessed by uncontrollable passion and lust. It was the kiss of a married woman longing for her lover's thick cock inside her, the kiss of a rabid, adulterous *****.
Her actions overwhelmed me. My hips rose and fell in frustration, my erection bobbing in the air in a futile, desperate attempt for relief. She pressed her mouth harder against mine, probing with her tongue, sending shivers of anticipation through my entire body.
When the beginnings of my orgasm began to build, those impending contractions and warmth deep within my belly that spread slowly down into my dick and balls, I felt her hand on me, clenching my dick, slowly pumping it, once, twice, three times, then flicking it away just as I felt the long-held reservoir of semen begin to rise and escape. I moaned into her mouth, trying to beg her to stroke me, to milk me while I came, but she pressed her mouth against mine more tightly as though trying to silence my pleading.
Then came the inevitable surge of cum, rising and flowing, but without the forceful, jetting sensation that should have accompanied it. The pleasure of each contraction was quenched to a numbed spasm, stolen from me by the absence of her touch. I felt I was being emptied, slowly, mechanically, methodically, merely by my own body's hesitant final surrender to Amanda's practiced efforts to drain me. She had promised to let me come, and she had kept her promise, but it had left me exhausted, frustrated, and surprisingly empty and impotent.
She petted my withering dick and smiled lovingly as I lay there recovering, proud of how she had 'let me cum', emptying myself with little satisfaction.
"You made a mess," she whispered close to my ear. "You've been trapped in that cage so long, and I'm sure me being away having so much fun with Vicente must have made you a little jealous, but excited too, right? That's why, when I came back, I insisted that Charles let me unlock you for a while to reward you for your patience. It's not every husband who would wait quietly while his wife takes a long vacation with a man like Vicente, knowing she's getting a cock like his every night."
"I just wish you would have finished me, Amanda," I complained. "You stopped just a second too soon. I guess you weren't paying attention while we kissed. So, maybe next time you could..."
She was lying beside me, her delicate finger tracing little circles in the puddle of semen on my stomach. I could feel her breath on me; her tongue flicked here and there over my ear, teasing me between whispers.
"It wasn't that at all, sweetie. Charles insists that I can't have sex with you if I let you out to play. That means I can excite you, but I can't touch you when you cum. That would be too much like actual sex. He showed me something else, a way to satisfy both his demands and still get you off. As long as I don't touch you while you cum, it's not really sex. He taught me to stop at just the right moment. He even let me practice on him a few times until I got it right. It was the only way to get him to agree to unlock you now and then. I'd hoped you'd appreciate it when I got back... but if you didn't like it...I won't do it again..."
Her last words were spoken in her sexiest, halting whisper. It wasn't exactly a threat or a promise; she knew all too well I wouldn't be able to resist being free of my cage the next time. And she knew I'd gladly give in to her teasing, even knowing my "orgasms" would leave me drained and empty. She knew I'd do it all again and again, just to be close to her, to have her hands and mouth on me until the last futile moments.
"No - it's okay, Amanda," I assured her, with all the conviction I could summon. "I understand - and I won't complain ever again. Just please, if Charles allows it, let me cum with you here beside me, even if it's now and then. You've never kissed me like that. It felt real, like you wanted me. I loved that."
"I was real, sweetie. I mean it. I missed you while I was gone. I miss being close to you in bed the way we used to be. We need to do more of that, even if you can't satisfy me. I'm sure we can find other ways to be close, ones Charles won't object to. I want that - trust me, I really do, sweetie."
She ran a finger through the remaining layer of cum on my stomach, scooped a generous portion onto the tip of her finger, brought it slowly to her lips, and sucked.
"Your cum doesn't taste like his - it's just a little bitter," she said, smiling. "But I still like the idea of devouring your sperm. I never really liked it when you used to come in my mouth, but Charles said that sooner or later I'd enjoy taking men's semen in my mouth and swallowing it. He wanted me to learn to like it before I spent time with Vicente. And, well, I found out why soon enough. Vicente really, really loved blow jobs."
She ran her finger along the length of my withered dick, collecting the remains of the sticky trail that lingered there. Then she brought the tip of her finger to my lips.
"But when we're together, you have to help me. We have to make sure none of your sperm survive - it's one of Charles's demands I had to agree to every time I let you out to play. It's a small price to pay, don't you think? It's something we can do together to get rid of the little mess you make. It's not much of a mess compared to Vincente's, but there weren't any rules about what I did with him.
I opened my lips and took what she offered me, again and again. I had never tasted semen before - it was slightly bitter, as Amanda had said. Amanda and I took turns "making sure my sperm didn't survive" until every bit was gone. I knew it was just Charles's way of adding a bit more humiliation, and giving Amanda more control over me. He wanted me to know our sex life would never be the same; Amanda would reject my sperm and accept the cum she took from other men. What could be more defeating to a husband than having his wife destroy every living sperm she managed to extract from him with as little pleasure as possible?
I thought about the video Charles had sent me, the one where he had Amanda suck his partners by the pool. She had seemed unusually eager, and took their semen in her mouth as though it pleased her as much as it pleased Charles. But I knew better than to let Amanda know he had recorded her. If it angered her and she took her outrage directly to Charles, I knew I'd pay a steep price. Maybe Amanda would as well.
"And his friends?" I asked. "You mentioned Vicente's rich, good-looking friends in your emails. You sounded impressed, maybe even enough to fuck them too?"
"I didn't sweetie. He wanted me all to himself. I doubt I'd have been satisfied with anyone else's cock anyway. But did I suck them? It was part of my job there, sweetie - to keep him happy. It became something I was expected to do for him. And I'll be honest, I did enjoy it with different men. I loved the sense of power it gave me over them, handling their cocks, taking my time to get them hard, and finally getting them off at the very moment I decided they should cum. Swallowing their cum became my reward for what Vicente considered my special talent. He'd fuck me right after; knowing I'd get his cock after I finished them was the icing on my cake. I thought about it every second while I was sucking them."
~*~
Amanda began visiting Charles at work again several days a week. She'd arrive just before noon, he'd take her to lunch, and they'd spend time in his office when they returned. The men I worked with stared the first day she arrived, surprised and aroused by her new look. Now and then one of them would head for the men's room after watching her stroll by his desk, I was sure to masturbate to the fantasy of fucking her. There was a time when it would have disgusted me, especially when I didn't like the guy much. Now thinking about a coworker wanking to fantasies of my wife's body excited me.
Before long Amanda began to follow them, and I began to imagine how Amanda would suck them off in the rest room, sent by Charles to reward them for an exceptional accomplishment. Charles knew it would become an incentive to improve productivity, and to encourage them to massage his ego by kissing his ass in creative, novel ways. More than one of my coworkers received his reward when Amanda took their cocks in her warm, eager mouth. I was ambivalent about Amanda's office presence; on one hand I felt shamed and embarrassed that my wife had become the office "blow job queen", yet thoughts of the men I worked with every day finding pleasure in the wet, sultry embrace of Amanda's mouth often got me hard sitting there in my office chair.
My worst fears arose when Amanda and Juliet appeared on the same days. For weeks Juliet would simply eye Amanda's body from head to toe as they passed in the hallway. She'd pause at my door just after and give me a sly wink and a smile, making sure I recognized her predatory intentions. I remembered what she had said about Amanda, that she "could eat her alive". Each time Juliet stopped to stare at her, I didn't doubt that in her shameless, twisted way, she actually might, given the opportunity.
Amanda and I took advantage of Charles's generous new definition of what sex was and what it wasn't. I'd spend hours with my face between her legs, discovering for the first time how to keep her moaning long after she begged to come, and how to make her shriek with pleasure when her orgasm finally arrived. She left me caged much of the time, confessing that she enjoyed keeping me incapacitated while I slaved away with my tongue between her legs.
"I can't help it," she told me one night after I had finished her. "I need to feel like I own your little guy down there completely. I love how you beg me to let you out, and deciding when and how often is so deliciously kinky."
She'd let me out on special occasions, or whenever she decided to surprise me. The cuffs were no longer necessary - I had learned to take what she gave me gratefully, even though she never touched me while I dribbled the slow, interrupted streams of cum onto my belly. When she asked, I'd tell her how empty and shaken I was after she deprived me of much of the final, satisfying relief I craved. "That would be 'sex', according to Charles," she'd remind me. "He's warned you before that my pussy's not for you now, remember? He's told me having my hands on you when you come is no different. He wants you to learn to accept that sex between us is a thing of the past. You should be glad he lets you come at all now - you really should thank him sometime you guys talk."
Two weeks after Amanda came back to me, a package arrived from Spain. She had opened it by the time I arrived home from work and had left it at my place on the table. I discovered it at dinner that night; the beautiful mahogany case contained an inscription etched into the transparent, crystalline lid. It said simply, "For Amanda Always, Vicente". I didn't have to open it to see what lay inside. The phallus was immense, almost a foot long, golden brown and lifelike, filling the long, narrow case. It was nested in black velvet with a small gold heart embedded in the lower corner of the lining. An engraving on the small heart read, "A & V".
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Amanda gushed while I looked down through the glass lid. "He had it made - taken from a mold of his cock while he was hard for me. It's a perfect copy. Go on, take it out and see."
The hinged lid opened smoothly and I retrieved the intimidating cock from its case, immediately feeling the heft of it in my hand. The thing was astonishingly lifelike, the soft exterior giving just a little as I held it, but the core just as hard as I had imagined Vicente's living, throbbing cock. It was curved upward slightly, with a bulbous head that flared outward, just slightly wider than the shaft's imposing girth. As I stared at the replica of the very cock that had filled Amanda day and night, I found I was unable to close my fingers and thumb around the circumference. I couldn't help comparing the impressive girth to the disappointing size of my own. This was the cock that Amanda had fallen in love with - would Amanda ever want mine again?
As I plucked the little gold heart from the case, I found it was attached to a delicate gold chain buried beneath it.
"Does he expect you to wear this?" I asked. It dangled from the gold chain as I held it in the air between us. "How would we explain this to people we know? It would be like announcing you have a 'boyfriend'. What would you say if someone asked you about the inscription?"
She grinned at me. "Hmmm, maybe that I've found my 'dream cock' and you let me have as much of it as I want to keep me happy?" Then she giggled. "Oh sweetie, I'd never embarrass you like that. But, maybe I could wear it now and then when we're out, hidden just a little under my blouse between my boobs. Oh, sweetie - you know how I love teasing you! You should see the look on your face...it's priceless! Vicente had the necklace made for me when I was with him. He wanted me to wear it all the time, even when we fucked. He really did have this thing about 'owning' me while I was there. Honestly though, it was sexy, being seen with him in his favorite restaurants where everyone seemed to know him, and during the day in public when we shopped for my new party clothes. He really did make me feel like I belonged to him - I've told you before, he's just that kind of man."
Word after word, she reignited the mix of fear and arousal that overwhelmed me while she had been gone. Not a day had passed when I didn't imagine them together as a couple. It wasn't only thoughts of his huge cock in her, it was just as Amanda described; he would have owned her day and night, every second, everywhere they went. I could almost see her bright eyes locked on his as adoring looks passed between them. How strangers must have enjoyed watching from a distance as he fondled her when they stopped to kiss deeply in a crowded public marketplace or one of the shops where he bought her clothes that had men salivating at first glance. When the sight of her hungry gaze and perfect body made him hard in public, did she put her hand on his erection to show everyone she'd have it inside her that night, that her pussy was his because of the monster in his pants? There was a growing awareness that the constant ruminations I wove into brief vignettes of idyllic romance and sex between them had been real. He had owned Amanda, at least for the seemingly endless time she had been with him.
Amanda found a spot for the box beside the bed, and for many nights after that I fucked her with Vicente's cock. At first I was shocked at how her pussy accommodated it; her inflamed labia seemed to grasp it and suck it inside. Within seconds it was soaked with her juices; the thick shaft glistened in the dim light of our bedroom as I worked the immense thing in and out of her. Her body responded as though Vicente was there himself. She'd moan and beg for more of his cock, calling out his name, then reach down between her legs to close her hand around the wide root. Soon she'd push my hand away and work Vicente's cock in small circles, rubbing the flared base over her clit. Night after night I'd remain on my knees between her spread legs, my cage dangling and throbbing while I watched "Vicente" fuck her with his gift. "It's just like having him here with me..." she told me after her first crushing orgasm. Then she smiled at me and took my hand, pulled me on top of her, and whispered, "...only now you get to watch every time he fucks me."
It was a relief in a way, that she always wanted me there on top of her after she came. She kept Vicente's "cock" on her nightstand by our bed. She wanted it often, most nights in fact, but she never opened the exquisite mahogany box herself; she wanted me to take it in my hands, tease her with it, demanding I tell her how much I wanted him to invade and fill her perfect body. I did, time and time again. On those rare nights when she cried out my name instead of his, the massive phallus buried to the hilt as her orgasm surged through her frenzied body, fleeting hopes rose in me that although Vicente's cock may have owned her, the man himself now did not.
"Surprise, sweetie! I'm home! Did you miss me?"
I was astonished. Was this my Amanda? She did a slow pirouette with her hands raised to each side, smiling as though she knew how the changes would affect me. A golden tan covered her entire body except for a narrow patch of white over her shaven pussy. There was no mistaking she had been topless for weeks on the sunny beaches where Vicente flaunted my wife as his new pet. A belly ring with a row of three small diamonds dangled from her navel, sparkling against her newly tanned skin.
'I - I don't know what to say," I told her, unable to hide my concern. "I've never seen you with a tan like this. You always said your skin was too fair to spend much time in the sun."
"I guess I never had the chance to find out, sweetie. I played volleyball on the beach almost every day with Vicente and his friends. At first I was embarrassed to be topless in front of them, but Vicente insisted I only wear one of the tiny thongs he bought me. After the first day I loved all the attention the men showered on me. I think Vicente liked seeing them flirt with me just as much."
I couldn't help notice the more subtle changes in her body as she turned. Her butt was hard and round, and small bundles of muscle rose here and there along her legs and over her belly. Traces of the softness that I had loved were gone, most noticeably about her narrow waist and hips. But the most shocking change was how Vicente had her once shoulder length chocolate-brown hair cut to form a bouncing blonde sheath that followed the line of her jaw. It flared a little as she whirled, then fell exactly into place again, framing her bright eyes and wide grin. It was then I noticed the three diamond studs along the ridge of her right ear, a look she never would have chosen over her preference for the simplest of earrings in the past. Vicente had remade her as his image of a sexy plaything, announcing what she was to everyone who laid eyes on her. And, she seemed delighted with the 'new her'.
"You like?" she asked, taking a few steps toward me. It was painful being so close to her; my dick had come to life as I felt the heat of her body next to me, only to have my cage remind me of what I couldn't have.
"You look...like someone else..." I stammered. "Someone who isn't my wife. You're still beautiful, but it's something I'll have to get used to, I guess. I didn't imagine you'd let him change you like this."
Amanda put her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. "I'm not 'someone else's wife', silly. I'm still yours. Why would you say that? I came home to you, didn't I?"
"You did, and I'm glad - relieved to say the least. But what will people here think? You'll be sending a message to everyone who sees you; they'll think you're looking for sex, the kind of sex they'll suspect I can't give you."
"People change, sweetie. So what if I had a makeover. Women do it all the time. We've been married a while now - they'll think I did it to look sexier for you. Sure, other men may look, but honestly, I love that. I want them to look. Anyway, I thought you had accepted that I need something 'different' now and then. If my new look gets me what I need, I thought you might like the new me."
"It's not that I don't think your new look is sexy - it's just so, not the 'you' I'm used to. But it's also that 'he' did this to you. He's made you his in a way that's followed you home and become part of you, a part you obviously want to keep. It's what I agonized over while you were gone - that he'd take you from me and you'd belong to him."
Amanda released me and stepped back, holding me at arm's length, staring seriously into my eyes. "Sweetie, I don't 'belong' to anyone. No one 'owns' me - at least not all of me. I love you, and I'll stay married to you as long as you want me. I won't leave you; I promise. But you have to accept that other men will have my body. You may call it 'owning' me if you want, but it will always be just my body, and only for the short time I'm with them. It was Charles's at first, then Eric's, and now Vicente's. I couldn't stop if I tried, and I don't want to. You know what he is to me, don't you? A rich, commanding man with a body I've dreamed about for years, and a cock that finally shows me how exciting and fulfilling sex can be. Just because you're not 'that' man doesn't mean I don't love you. I love you because you let him have me. I love you because you accept you can't give me what certain other men can. You'll even wear 'this' for me."
She reached between my legs and closed her hand over the bulge of my cage, giving it a slight squeeze. I thrust my hips forward, urgently needing relief. She unzipped my pants, and I moaned when she pulled the cage into the light and moved her fingers over it, trailing a long fingernail where the flesh of my dick pushed into the open spaces between the bars. The key swayed between her perfectly tanned breasts, and she saw my eyes on it.
"You want me to let you out, don't you, sweetie?"
"Y-yes - fuck - yes - please?" I begged.
"You know you're not allowed to fuck me, don't you?"
"I know, I know," I pleaded. "Just let me cum - please?"
"I could tell you all about some of the things Vicente and I did together. Would you like to cum like that, hearing how he used your wife? How I didn't refuse him anything - and I mean, 'anything' at all?"
It was the way she said 'anything' that shook me, and I found I couldn't answer.
"Oh sweetie, I know that look. You poor thing. How long has it been since you've cum? I'll bet you can't even remember. And I was there having the time of my life, getting Vicente's huge cock day and night while you were here suffering. I suppose it's only fair that I let you out to play for a little while. But you have to behave. You know Charles's rules, and they include your promise not to fuck me. Can you promise me that? You have to tell me before I unlock you."
I was desperate, trying to breathe, but not quite daring to believe that what Amanda had told me would actually happen. I could see the tiny key nestled between her breasts. It was so close; I hungered for it like a man stranded in the desert with an oasis in sight but barely able to crawl to it to drink.
"I promise, Amanda!" I said urgently, as she continued to fondle my cage. "I won't fuck you; I promise! I won't even try. But can I please just look at you while I jerk off? You can cage me again after - I just really need to cum!"
"Oh, I think I can do better than just letting you look. Go upstairs, get undressed and get on the bed. But there are conditions that you have to agree to. Promise?"
I took the steps two at a time, shed my clothes, and lay on the bed waiting. Amanda stood in the doorway a few minutes later, leaning against the frame with a hand on her hip, posing. She pulled a pair of handcuffs from behind her back with the other hand and dangled them in the air in front of her.
"A present from Charles," she said, grinning. "He wants to make sure you behave if and when I let you out. You should be grateful he's letting you out at all. He trusts me now to decide when and where, but we still have to do it his way. Agree? I promise you can cum..."
"Do whatever you have to do," I told her. "I just want to cum while we're here alone together, touching each other, looking into each other's eyes."
"It's what I want too, sweetie," she assured me. "Just let me make sure you keep your hands off yourself while we play. I want to see if Charles was right - that you've lost a good inch or two after he put you in this new cage. You might be wondering if you can still cum at all if there's not much left to work with."
I let her cuff me to the headboard, then watched as she took the chain from around her neck, placed the key in the tiny lock, and opened it. The cage came off easily - there wasn't much to the small basket that imprisoned my dick. Although I had hoped Amanda would use her long, delicate fingers to stroke me, she simply stood back and watched me get hard.
"I think Charles was right," she told me as she stared carefully at my fully hardened erection. "You are smaller now. But it's been a long time, and I've been used to Eric's and Vicente's for such a long time...maybe it's the comparison that makes yours look smaller now. Let's see what we can do to make this little thing happy."
Her finger grazed the length of my erection from balls to the tip where she lingered, circling the head with a feather touch. The feeling was electric and I raised my hips off the bed, begging for a firmer touch.
"Now, now," she warned me. "This looks a lot like fucking, and you're not allowed to do that, remember? If you don't behave and let me do this my way, I'll stop. Is that what you want?"
No! No, please don't," I begged. "I'll behave. Just please let me cum... please!"
Amanda grinned and began again. My dick jerked and drooled as she resumed her feather-light touches, never applying any more pressure than was required to make my dick jump when she teased it. When she cupped my balls in her other hand, I moaned, certain my orgasm was seconds away. She sensed it, stopped her stroking, and closed her fingers around my balls until the dull ache chased my orgasm into thin air.
"You don't want this to be over so soon, do you, sweetie? We're going to make this last, right up to the very last second when you spurt all over yourself. I love seeing you do that, just like when you watched Eric fuck me. You did like that, didn't you? Seeing my lover make me cum? The young guy who grew up next door, finally doing your wife? Why don't you tell me? Tell me how you loved watching Eric fuck me."
"Oh fuck, yes - I loved it. Not at first though - you're my wife - and he was our neighbor's son, this young college guy who always flirted with you. I always suspected - worried, I guess, that eventually you couldn't resist him. Then, when I saw his cock, I knew if he wanted you I could never compete with him. He had everything I imagined you'd want, for sex I mean, and I knew I was helpless to stop it."
"But you like that, don't you? Feeling so helpless to keep other men from fucking me? Always wondering if I might decide to fuck them when they flirt? It was your dirty little secret for so long. But now - now we know, don't we? You love it when they take me from you for a little while. You love it when their cocks are bigger than yours and I can't resist submitting to them. You get hard just thinking about your wife fucking other men now, don't you, sweetie? Don't you?"
I didn't want to admit it, to say it out loud. But it did get me hard, even after I had dreaded losing my wife when she was satisfied by another man's huge cock. It meant I may never get to fuck her again. It meant she saw him as the 'better man', one of power and potency who could make her cum over and over again, so effortlessly, so often, so intensely. I wanted her body as much or more than her other men did, but yes, the feelings that stirred in me when she chose them over me, their cocks over mine, their bodies and clever seduction over my sensitive caring, crept through me and consumed me. They made me hard, those images of her perfect naked body under them. The sounds she made when they made her cum excited me and haunted me for days afterward.
"You're right, Amanda," I confessed. "It does get me hard. I know how much you love it too - the sex with all those men who give you what you've needed for so long. I admit it. But it's okay now. They can have your body. They can have you; they can fuck you. But please come back to me, every time?"
My confession was more one of desperation than one I would have offered freely. I heard the words come from my mouth in the way I'd hear an actor in a play or movie recite his lines. They were ****** up from my gut, released into the air about Amanda's sweet face, her eyes knowing she could pry them from me. She had what she had wanted from me, and she glowed with satisfaction.
"I've been practicing," she told me, still smiling with eager anticipation.
"Practicing what?" I asked. "With Vicente?"
"With other men," she said softly."
"How many other men? Who?" I begged.
"You don't know them, sweetie. You never will. Vicente wanted me to practice all the things he and Charles taught me, and he loved to watch. By the time I left he said I was better at controlling when and how men cum than anyone he had ever seen. It's something I love to do. Making men beg me to finish them and then deciding to do it my way gives me such a sense of power. But this is just to reward my husband for being so patient while his wife's body belonged to Vicente."
Amanda climbed between my legs, lowered her head, and began to suck my balls into her mouth, one at a time. Her fingers were busy fluttering over my dick, her nails dragging lightly up and down over the length of it, now and then surrounding the head like a prickly crown. She twisted and tugged at the head as though she might pluck it like a ripe, red piece of fruit. Each time I'd gasp and thrust my hips upward she'd remove her hands and close her mouth more tightly over one of my balls. The sharp spike of pain jolted me for a split second, then sent a lingering ache up into my belly, erasing my impending orgasm once again.
Amanda kept me sweating and panting for an hour there on our bed. She took me up to the final moment of orgasm over and over, skillfully pulling me back from the edge each time I was sure I would finally cum. Then she'd let me recover for a while as she began yet another story about what Vicente had done to her. The quiet, sexy voice she used was same one she had used in the past when we made love. Back then her words had been chosen to try to reassure me that she enjoyed my attempts to satisfy her. Now the tone was the same, but she used it while telling me about her time with Vicente, about his 'gorgeous cock' and perpetually hard, fulfilling erections. But this time, as she watched me, naked on our bed, I became aware of little inflections of discontentment that went unnoticed when we had made love there for so many years. I saw the disappointment in her eyes I had ignored in the past when she glanced at my erection. Sex during our marriage had kept her in a cage of hunger and frustration, just as I was held prisoner now in my own cage. It was no wonder she had fallen for the first monstrous cock that tempted her to take it inside her.
"Yes, Vicente was the fuck of my life, sweetie, but he also took care of me. He owned me in a way that I loved - I felt safe and precious in his hands, everywhere we went. At night when we were alone in his bed, he'd slide his cock into me so slowly that I thought I'd die waiting for all of it. I'd want it so badly. It filled me - my pussy, and my craving for sex. I'd cum, sometimes twice before he did, but he was hard again right away, and he'd flood me one more time. I couldn't imagine where all the semen came from, how he seemed to have so much more than other men. He'd soak the bed after just an hour, and we'd move to an open veranda just outside his bedroom to spend the night. He loved fucking me there too. The neighbors would watch us sometimes; he wanted them to know he was fucking your wife. It was a thing with him - he would tell everyone I was happily married but fucking him instead of my husband. He never bad-mouthed you, but they understood that you must have been a less than adequate lover.
"I grew to like being watched. I knew he dressed me so he could show off my body to the other men. I was excited when I heard their compliments, and I knew how much they would have loved to fuck me. He taught me to be proud of my body in public, and to flirt as though I was always hungry to fuck.
I loved showing off his body too, especially his cock. The best times were when I could get him hard in front of others with just the right words whispered in his ear, or with a few extra buttons on my blouse undone so he could watch everyone stare at my bare breasts and nipples. After a while, everywhere we went, I wanted to make sure everyone noticed his erection and knew that huge cock was mine. I imagined that it would make other women so jealous; he was MY man, and that was MY cock."
During the brief downtimes between her expert touches, Amanda seemed to take delight in sharing memories of her time with Vicente. The images she created in my head kept me hard in spite of seeing how Vicente had changed her. She had left me as my sweet, loving wife, the same woman whose former looks and demeanor attracted men but assured them she would never cheat. Even after Charles and Eric had their way with her, there were still vestiges of the innocent, demure wife everyone knew so well. Yes, she had stopped fucking me, but I still doubted Charles's influence would be permanent. Now, the angst of having other men recognize her years of neglect and newfound hunger for cock had become a confusing trigger that enhanced her tales of Vicente's 'dream cock' and his rich friends' not so innocent attentions.
"I loved playing with his balls," she continued. "They're huge, so much bigger than most men's, including yours." She lifted my dick and balls carefully with both hands while she spoke, inspecting them as if she noticed the difference for the first time. There was a little wrinkle over her forehead, one of both interest and disappointment. Her touch was soft and tentative; her fingertips inspected my dick as though it was something delicate and fragile that might break with a firmer grip. I imagined those same hands and fingers on him, gripping and milking him with all her strength as if his cock was made of unyielding, indestructible steel.
"It's just one more thing that makes him so much of a 'man'. That and the way he handles me in bed, like I weigh nothing at all when he puts his hands on me. So, you see, it wasn't only his cock I craved, sweetie. It's what he is. I suppose it's the exciting change of being with someone so different; I was so used to the careful way you made love to me, time and time again. But as far as sex goes, I've always longed to have a man who just takes me there, not one who meekly asks permission. You do understand the difference, don't you, sweetie? Ooops - I almost let you cum that time!"
I was so close that my body trembled in spasms of anticipation. My dick was about to burst, throbbing and thrusting, teetering on the edge of my first orgasm in months. I cried out, begging her to finish me after she took her hands away again. I promised I'd never fuck her again, and that she could have as many men as she wanted, as often as she wanted. I said I knew how much better Vicente was in bed than I was, how much bigger and better his cock was, and that I wanted her to fuck him, I wanted him to have her, to own her body, to own my wife's body. "Just please - please, please, please, Amanda, let me cum!"
Amanda moved away and circled the bed, looking me over as she listened to me beg. I was sure I saw a mix of concern and satisfaction on her face as she stared at my dick, frowning and smiling as though she couldn't decide how to proceed. She moved closer, her eyes peering into mine, her face inches away. Then she kissed me. It wasn't a wife's kiss - it was the hungry, searing, open mouth kiss of a woman possessed by uncontrollable passion and lust. It was the kiss of a married woman longing for her lover's thick cock inside her, the kiss of a rabid, adulterous *****.
Her actions overwhelmed me. My hips rose and fell in frustration, my erection bobbing in the air in a futile, desperate attempt for relief. She pressed her mouth harder against mine, probing with her tongue, sending shivers of anticipation through my entire body.
When the beginnings of my orgasm began to build, those impending contractions and warmth deep within my belly that spread slowly down into my dick and balls, I felt her hand on me, clenching my dick, slowly pumping it, once, twice, three times, then flicking it away just as I felt the long-held reservoir of semen begin to rise and escape. I moaned into her mouth, trying to beg her to stroke me, to milk me while I came, but she pressed her mouth against mine more tightly as though trying to silence my pleading.
Then came the inevitable surge of cum, rising and flowing, but without the forceful, jetting sensation that should have accompanied it. The pleasure of each contraction was quenched to a numbed spasm, stolen from me by the absence of her touch. I felt I was being emptied, slowly, mechanically, methodically, merely by my own body's hesitant final surrender to Amanda's practiced efforts to drain me. She had promised to let me come, and she had kept her promise, but it had left me exhausted, frustrated, and surprisingly empty and impotent.
She petted my withering dick and smiled lovingly as I lay there recovering, proud of how she had 'let me cum', emptying myself with little satisfaction.
"You made a mess," she whispered close to my ear. "You've been trapped in that cage so long, and I'm sure me being away having so much fun with Vicente must have made you a little jealous, but excited too, right? That's why, when I came back, I insisted that Charles let me unlock you for a while to reward you for your patience. It's not every husband who would wait quietly while his wife takes a long vacation with a man like Vicente, knowing she's getting a cock like his every night."
"I just wish you would have finished me, Amanda," I complained. "You stopped just a second too soon. I guess you weren't paying attention while we kissed. So, maybe next time you could..."
She was lying beside me, her delicate finger tracing little circles in the puddle of semen on my stomach. I could feel her breath on me; her tongue flicked here and there over my ear, teasing me between whispers.
"It wasn't that at all, sweetie. Charles insists that I can't have sex with you if I let you out to play. That means I can excite you, but I can't touch you when you cum. That would be too much like actual sex. He showed me something else, a way to satisfy both his demands and still get you off. As long as I don't touch you while you cum, it's not really sex. He taught me to stop at just the right moment. He even let me practice on him a few times until I got it right. It was the only way to get him to agree to unlock you now and then. I'd hoped you'd appreciate it when I got back... but if you didn't like it...I won't do it again..."
Her last words were spoken in her sexiest, halting whisper. It wasn't exactly a threat or a promise; she knew all too well I wouldn't be able to resist being free of my cage the next time. And she knew I'd gladly give in to her teasing, even knowing my "orgasms" would leave me drained and empty. She knew I'd do it all again and again, just to be close to her, to have her hands and mouth on me until the last futile moments.
"No - it's okay, Amanda," I assured her, with all the conviction I could summon. "I understand - and I won't complain ever again. Just please, if Charles allows it, let me cum with you here beside me, even if it's now and then. You've never kissed me like that. It felt real, like you wanted me. I loved that."
"I was real, sweetie. I mean it. I missed you while I was gone. I miss being close to you in bed the way we used to be. We need to do more of that, even if you can't satisfy me. I'm sure we can find other ways to be close, ones Charles won't object to. I want that - trust me, I really do, sweetie."
She ran a finger through the remaining layer of cum on my stomach, scooped a generous portion onto the tip of her finger, brought it slowly to her lips, and sucked.
"Your cum doesn't taste like his - it's just a little bitter," she said, smiling. "But I still like the idea of devouring your sperm. I never really liked it when you used to come in my mouth, but Charles said that sooner or later I'd enjoy taking men's semen in my mouth and swallowing it. He wanted me to learn to like it before I spent time with Vicente. And, well, I found out why soon enough. Vicente really, really loved blow jobs."
She ran her finger along the length of my withered dick, collecting the remains of the sticky trail that lingered there. Then she brought the tip of her finger to my lips.
"But when we're together, you have to help me. We have to make sure none of your sperm survive - it's one of Charles's demands I had to agree to every time I let you out to play. It's a small price to pay, don't you think? It's something we can do together to get rid of the little mess you make. It's not much of a mess compared to Vincente's, but there weren't any rules about what I did with him.
I opened my lips and took what she offered me, again and again. I had never tasted semen before - it was slightly bitter, as Amanda had said. Amanda and I took turns "making sure my sperm didn't survive" until every bit was gone. I knew it was just Charles's way of adding a bit more humiliation, and giving Amanda more control over me. He wanted me to know our sex life would never be the same; Amanda would reject my sperm and accept the cum she took from other men. What could be more defeating to a husband than having his wife destroy every living sperm she managed to extract from him with as little pleasure as possible?
I thought about the video Charles had sent me, the one where he had Amanda suck his partners by the pool. She had seemed unusually eager, and took their semen in her mouth as though it pleased her as much as it pleased Charles. But I knew better than to let Amanda know he had recorded her. If it angered her and she took her outrage directly to Charles, I knew I'd pay a steep price. Maybe Amanda would as well.
"And his friends?" I asked. "You mentioned Vicente's rich, good-looking friends in your emails. You sounded impressed, maybe even enough to fuck them too?"
"I didn't sweetie. He wanted me all to himself. I doubt I'd have been satisfied with anyone else's cock anyway. But did I suck them? It was part of my job there, sweetie - to keep him happy. It became something I was expected to do for him. And I'll be honest, I did enjoy it with different men. I loved the sense of power it gave me over them, handling their cocks, taking my time to get them hard, and finally getting them off at the very moment I decided they should cum. Swallowing their cum became my reward for what Vicente considered my special talent. He'd fuck me right after; knowing I'd get his cock after I finished them was the icing on my cake. I thought about it every second while I was sucking them."
~*~
Amanda began visiting Charles at work again several days a week. She'd arrive just before noon, he'd take her to lunch, and they'd spend time in his office when they returned. The men I worked with stared the first day she arrived, surprised and aroused by her new look. Now and then one of them would head for the men's room after watching her stroll by his desk, I was sure to masturbate to the fantasy of fucking her. There was a time when it would have disgusted me, especially when I didn't like the guy much. Now thinking about a coworker wanking to fantasies of my wife's body excited me.
Before long Amanda began to follow them, and I began to imagine how Amanda would suck them off in the rest room, sent by Charles to reward them for an exceptional accomplishment. Charles knew it would become an incentive to improve productivity, and to encourage them to massage his ego by kissing his ass in creative, novel ways. More than one of my coworkers received his reward when Amanda took their cocks in her warm, eager mouth. I was ambivalent about Amanda's office presence; on one hand I felt shamed and embarrassed that my wife had become the office "blow job queen", yet thoughts of the men I worked with every day finding pleasure in the wet, sultry embrace of Amanda's mouth often got me hard sitting there in my office chair.
My worst fears arose when Amanda and Juliet appeared on the same days. For weeks Juliet would simply eye Amanda's body from head to toe as they passed in the hallway. She'd pause at my door just after and give me a sly wink and a smile, making sure I recognized her predatory intentions. I remembered what she had said about Amanda, that she "could eat her alive". Each time Juliet stopped to stare at her, I didn't doubt that in her shameless, twisted way, she actually might, given the opportunity.
Amanda and I took advantage of Charles's generous new definition of what sex was and what it wasn't. I'd spend hours with my face between her legs, discovering for the first time how to keep her moaning long after she begged to come, and how to make her shriek with pleasure when her orgasm finally arrived. She left me caged much of the time, confessing that she enjoyed keeping me incapacitated while I slaved away with my tongue between her legs.
"I can't help it," she told me one night after I had finished her. "I need to feel like I own your little guy down there completely. I love how you beg me to let you out, and deciding when and how often is so deliciously kinky."
She'd let me out on special occasions, or whenever she decided to surprise me. The cuffs were no longer necessary - I had learned to take what she gave me gratefully, even though she never touched me while I dribbled the slow, interrupted streams of cum onto my belly. When she asked, I'd tell her how empty and shaken I was after she deprived me of much of the final, satisfying relief I craved. "That would be 'sex', according to Charles," she'd remind me. "He's warned you before that my pussy's not for you now, remember? He's told me having my hands on you when you come is no different. He wants you to learn to accept that sex between us is a thing of the past. You should be glad he lets you come at all now - you really should thank him sometime you guys talk."
Two weeks after Amanda came back to me, a package arrived from Spain. She had opened it by the time I arrived home from work and had left it at my place on the table. I discovered it at dinner that night; the beautiful mahogany case contained an inscription etched into the transparent, crystalline lid. It said simply, "For Amanda Always, Vicente". I didn't have to open it to see what lay inside. The phallus was immense, almost a foot long, golden brown and lifelike, filling the long, narrow case. It was nested in black velvet with a small gold heart embedded in the lower corner of the lining. An engraving on the small heart read, "A & V".
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Amanda gushed while I looked down through the glass lid. "He had it made - taken from a mold of his cock while he was hard for me. It's a perfect copy. Go on, take it out and see."
The hinged lid opened smoothly and I retrieved the intimidating cock from its case, immediately feeling the heft of it in my hand. The thing was astonishingly lifelike, the soft exterior giving just a little as I held it, but the core just as hard as I had imagined Vicente's living, throbbing cock. It was curved upward slightly, with a bulbous head that flared outward, just slightly wider than the shaft's imposing girth. As I stared at the replica of the very cock that had filled Amanda day and night, I found I was unable to close my fingers and thumb around the circumference. I couldn't help comparing the impressive girth to the disappointing size of my own. This was the cock that Amanda had fallen in love with - would Amanda ever want mine again?
As I plucked the little gold heart from the case, I found it was attached to a delicate gold chain buried beneath it.
"Does he expect you to wear this?" I asked. It dangled from the gold chain as I held it in the air between us. "How would we explain this to people we know? It would be like announcing you have a 'boyfriend'. What would you say if someone asked you about the inscription?"
She grinned at me. "Hmmm, maybe that I've found my 'dream cock' and you let me have as much of it as I want to keep me happy?" Then she giggled. "Oh sweetie, I'd never embarrass you like that. But, maybe I could wear it now and then when we're out, hidden just a little under my blouse between my boobs. Oh, sweetie - you know how I love teasing you! You should see the look on your face...it's priceless! Vicente had the necklace made for me when I was with him. He wanted me to wear it all the time, even when we fucked. He really did have this thing about 'owning' me while I was there. Honestly though, it was sexy, being seen with him in his favorite restaurants where everyone seemed to know him, and during the day in public when we shopped for my new party clothes. He really did make me feel like I belonged to him - I've told you before, he's just that kind of man."
Word after word, she reignited the mix of fear and arousal that overwhelmed me while she had been gone. Not a day had passed when I didn't imagine them together as a couple. It wasn't only thoughts of his huge cock in her, it was just as Amanda described; he would have owned her day and night, every second, everywhere they went. I could almost see her bright eyes locked on his as adoring looks passed between them. How strangers must have enjoyed watching from a distance as he fondled her when they stopped to kiss deeply in a crowded public marketplace or one of the shops where he bought her clothes that had men salivating at first glance. When the sight of her hungry gaze and perfect body made him hard in public, did she put her hand on his erection to show everyone she'd have it inside her that night, that her pussy was his because of the monster in his pants? There was a growing awareness that the constant ruminations I wove into brief vignettes of idyllic romance and sex between them had been real. He had owned Amanda, at least for the seemingly endless time she had been with him.
Amanda found a spot for the box beside the bed, and for many nights after that I fucked her with Vicente's cock. At first I was shocked at how her pussy accommodated it; her inflamed labia seemed to grasp it and suck it inside. Within seconds it was soaked with her juices; the thick shaft glistened in the dim light of our bedroom as I worked the immense thing in and out of her. Her body responded as though Vicente was there himself. She'd moan and beg for more of his cock, calling out his name, then reach down between her legs to close her hand around the wide root. Soon she'd push my hand away and work Vicente's cock in small circles, rubbing the flared base over her clit. Night after night I'd remain on my knees between her spread legs, my cage dangling and throbbing while I watched "Vicente" fuck her with his gift. "It's just like having him here with me..." she told me after her first crushing orgasm. Then she smiled at me and took my hand, pulled me on top of her, and whispered, "...only now you get to watch every time he fucks me."
It was a relief in a way, that she always wanted me there on top of her after she came. She kept Vicente's "cock" on her nightstand by our bed. She wanted it often, most nights in fact, but she never opened the exquisite mahogany box herself; she wanted me to take it in my hands, tease her with it, demanding I tell her how much I wanted him to invade and fill her perfect body. I did, time and time again. On those rare nights when she cried out my name instead of his, the massive phallus buried to the hilt as her orgasm surged through her frenzied body, fleeting hopes rose in me that although Vicente's cock may have owned her, the man himself now did not.
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