Paying In Full - Chapter 4
by Don Jetman
~4~
Farmer eyed Peter suspiciously from outside the front door of the couple's home. Peter tried to smile, but failed miserably. It was more of a grimace, that of a servant laced with equal amounts of pain and fear. Farmer simply marched past him and walked to the bedroom, leaving Peter questioning what his next move should be. Whatever it was, he knew he must "behave", as his wife had put it just minutes ago. He traced Farmer's steps quietly, stopping outside the bedroom door.
Barbara was on her knees, her hands working gently at Farmer's balls while she sucked the head of his cock. All was quiet, except for the obscene slurping sounds Barbara made as she serviced him. Her freshly ironed blouse lay on the bed behind her, and Peter stared as her bare breasts bobbed in rhythm to the noises she made. He got some comfort from the expression on her face, the cool, earnest look of a lovely, decent woman just doing her duty, a look he recognized all too well. But as Farmer began to grunt and thrust harder, Peter saw her supple neck arch toward Farmer, her throat pulsing as she devoured the jets of semen he must be feeding her. Suddenly the reality of their predicament crystallized again. Farmer was taking her from him. In a year, who knows what she'd be? 'It's my fault,' he thought. 'I did it to her. I gave her to him. It's what Barbara thinks too - only now she's enjoying it.'
"You're getting very good at this, Barbara," Farmer told her as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She stood quietly, awkwardly trying to swallow the rest of his semen, the thick, sticky portion that was always the last to go down. 'I'd better get good at it,' she told herself. 'Every time I blow him it's one less chance of getting pregnant. I despise what Peter did, but I couldn't put him through having another man's baby. As much as he deserves to be punished, he doesn't deserve that. And neither do I.'
She saw Peter standing at the door, and Farmer followed her eyes to him. "Peter!" Farmer bellowed. "Well, I don't remember telling you you could spy on us, but I suppose a man in your condition needs a little excitement now and then, right?" Peter nodded, unable to keep his eyes off his wife, naked except for the little pair of white summer shorts, unzipped to show the velvety skin of her lower belly. More than anything,he wanted to touch her there, to feel her twitch as he ran his fingers over her most private, sensitive spots, to go lower and slide his finger into her wetness.
"Barbara, tell me, is he still our little eunuch? Is that limp dick of his getting tinier every day?" Farmer was enjoying every second of discomfort he inflicted on Peter, and on both of them as a couple.
"He still can't get hard, Lover," she answered, using the pet name he insisted on. "I don't know if he's getting smaller - it's hard to tell now that I'm with you so much."
Her words stung Peter. He knew everything she said was true, but calling Farmer "Lover" wounded him each and every time. He wondered if she meant it, or was at least growing more comfortable using it. It seemed to roll off her tongue so easily these days.
"Well, Peter - no harm done. Have a little peek now and then. But it must seem strange to you - watching her suck cock like that. She's just so damned greedy about it these days. Tell me, has she ever been like that with you, ever, during your entire marriage? Or do you think she's discovering talents she never knew she had, now that she's with a real man? Hmmm? What do you think?"
Peter lowered his head and fought for the right words. He remembered Barbara's lecture - "behave". "S-She was never like that - with me," he confessed.
"But Peter, surely she must have given you blow jobs now and then? Right?"
"Um, I guess - now and then. But she wasn't, um, like she is with you."
"So Barbara, is that right? You did suck your dear husband's cock now and then, didn't you? At least for his birthday, or maybe when he asked you nicely?"
Barbara looked straight into Peter's eyes, feeling at once the pain he had caused her, the potential harm to her family name, and the opportunity to punish him for his thoughtless greed.
"Sometimes I did, Lover. But only because he wanted it. I never liked it - the taste of his sweaty little penis, or that little spurt of bitter come. I just did what I thought a wife should do, and I was always relieved when it was over. I did it for him - and look what he did to me..."
Peter turned and walked away. It was too much, an overload of humiliation laced with anger and derision. He felt his ego emptying, as though he had lost another sliver of who he was. But was it true? Had she been a wife who saw sex with him as her duty, and not something to be enjoyed, something to look forward to? Was he, is he, so much less than a man that an arrogant blackmailer like Farmer was able to make his wife crave what she couldn't do with him? Or was it the drugs? Or that he's forcing her? But she looked, sounded, acted, like a woman who has discovered sex with another man is infinitely better than sex with her husband. The longer he fought, the longer he ruminated, the less tangible reality became. He had lost the ability to distinguish truth from Farmer's truth, to determine whether it was hatred, or payment to Farmer, in his wife's eyes. He could have, no, should have done better - at his job, and in bed with Barbara. 'I should have fucked her like Farmer fucks her...' he decided, just before Farmer's voice intruded again.
"Oh, come on, don't be such a wuss, Peter. It's not so bad. Your wife's happy now. She loves sucking cock. And well, in your case, sex isn't everything. Some guys just aren't naturally good at it. They find other things to do in its place, and other men to keep their wives happy. I do that for you, no charge. And, if you watch me fuck Barbara often enough, maybe you can pick up some pointers. So your life isn't so bad, is it? I haven't fired you, have I? In fact, you'll find a generous raise in your next paycheck. Oh, there will be longer hours at the office, nights, weekends, and some extended travel involved, but I just know you're up to it. Because Peter, you're the guy who finds other things to do, in place of fucking your beautiful wife, Barbara. Isn't that right?"
Farmer followed him through the house as he gave his pep-talk, patting Peter on the shoulder, joking now and then, at times sounding genuinely sympathetic. And in time, even Peter began to consider that maybe Farmer wasn't all bad. Peter needed a handhold, a narrow but secure ledge where he might rest and regain his grasp on reality.
'A raise? Keep Barbara happy? Pick up some pointers? Maybe Barbara knows what's best - maybe I should just "behave"...'
It was just easier to give in.
~4~
Farmer eyed Peter suspiciously from outside the front door of the couple's home. Peter tried to smile, but failed miserably. It was more of a grimace, that of a servant laced with equal amounts of pain and fear. Farmer simply marched past him and walked to the bedroom, leaving Peter questioning what his next move should be. Whatever it was, he knew he must "behave", as his wife had put it just minutes ago. He traced Farmer's steps quietly, stopping outside the bedroom door.
Barbara was on her knees, her hands working gently at Farmer's balls while she sucked the head of his cock. All was quiet, except for the obscene slurping sounds Barbara made as she serviced him. Her freshly ironed blouse lay on the bed behind her, and Peter stared as her bare breasts bobbed in rhythm to the noises she made. He got some comfort from the expression on her face, the cool, earnest look of a lovely, decent woman just doing her duty, a look he recognized all too well. But as Farmer began to grunt and thrust harder, Peter saw her supple neck arch toward Farmer, her throat pulsing as she devoured the jets of semen he must be feeding her. Suddenly the reality of their predicament crystallized again. Farmer was taking her from him. In a year, who knows what she'd be? 'It's my fault,' he thought. 'I did it to her. I gave her to him. It's what Barbara thinks too - only now she's enjoying it.'
"You're getting very good at this, Barbara," Farmer told her as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She stood quietly, awkwardly trying to swallow the rest of his semen, the thick, sticky portion that was always the last to go down. 'I'd better get good at it,' she told herself. 'Every time I blow him it's one less chance of getting pregnant. I despise what Peter did, but I couldn't put him through having another man's baby. As much as he deserves to be punished, he doesn't deserve that. And neither do I.'
She saw Peter standing at the door, and Farmer followed her eyes to him. "Peter!" Farmer bellowed. "Well, I don't remember telling you you could spy on us, but I suppose a man in your condition needs a little excitement now and then, right?" Peter nodded, unable to keep his eyes off his wife, naked except for the little pair of white summer shorts, unzipped to show the velvety skin of her lower belly. More than anything,he wanted to touch her there, to feel her twitch as he ran his fingers over her most private, sensitive spots, to go lower and slide his finger into her wetness.
"Barbara, tell me, is he still our little eunuch? Is that limp dick of his getting tinier every day?" Farmer was enjoying every second of discomfort he inflicted on Peter, and on both of them as a couple.
"He still can't get hard, Lover," she answered, using the pet name he insisted on. "I don't know if he's getting smaller - it's hard to tell now that I'm with you so much."
Her words stung Peter. He knew everything she said was true, but calling Farmer "Lover" wounded him each and every time. He wondered if she meant it, or was at least growing more comfortable using it. It seemed to roll off her tongue so easily these days.
"Well, Peter - no harm done. Have a little peek now and then. But it must seem strange to you - watching her suck cock like that. She's just so damned greedy about it these days. Tell me, has she ever been like that with you, ever, during your entire marriage? Or do you think she's discovering talents she never knew she had, now that she's with a real man? Hmmm? What do you think?"
Peter lowered his head and fought for the right words. He remembered Barbara's lecture - "behave". "S-She was never like that - with me," he confessed.
"But Peter, surely she must have given you blow jobs now and then? Right?"
"Um, I guess - now and then. But she wasn't, um, like she is with you."
"So Barbara, is that right? You did suck your dear husband's cock now and then, didn't you? At least for his birthday, or maybe when he asked you nicely?"
Barbara looked straight into Peter's eyes, feeling at once the pain he had caused her, the potential harm to her family name, and the opportunity to punish him for his thoughtless greed.
"Sometimes I did, Lover. But only because he wanted it. I never liked it - the taste of his sweaty little penis, or that little spurt of bitter come. I just did what I thought a wife should do, and I was always relieved when it was over. I did it for him - and look what he did to me..."
Peter turned and walked away. It was too much, an overload of humiliation laced with anger and derision. He felt his ego emptying, as though he had lost another sliver of who he was. But was it true? Had she been a wife who saw sex with him as her duty, and not something to be enjoyed, something to look forward to? Was he, is he, so much less than a man that an arrogant blackmailer like Farmer was able to make his wife crave what she couldn't do with him? Or was it the drugs? Or that he's forcing her? But she looked, sounded, acted, like a woman who has discovered sex with another man is infinitely better than sex with her husband. The longer he fought, the longer he ruminated, the less tangible reality became. He had lost the ability to distinguish truth from Farmer's truth, to determine whether it was hatred, or payment to Farmer, in his wife's eyes. He could have, no, should have done better - at his job, and in bed with Barbara. 'I should have fucked her like Farmer fucks her...' he decided, just before Farmer's voice intruded again.
"Oh, come on, don't be such a wuss, Peter. It's not so bad. Your wife's happy now. She loves sucking cock. And well, in your case, sex isn't everything. Some guys just aren't naturally good at it. They find other things to do in its place, and other men to keep their wives happy. I do that for you, no charge. And, if you watch me fuck Barbara often enough, maybe you can pick up some pointers. So your life isn't so bad, is it? I haven't fired you, have I? In fact, you'll find a generous raise in your next paycheck. Oh, there will be longer hours at the office, nights, weekends, and some extended travel involved, but I just know you're up to it. Because Peter, you're the guy who finds other things to do, in place of fucking your beautiful wife, Barbara. Isn't that right?"
Farmer followed him through the house as he gave his pep-talk, patting Peter on the shoulder, joking now and then, at times sounding genuinely sympathetic. And in time, even Peter began to consider that maybe Farmer wasn't all bad. Peter needed a handhold, a narrow but secure ledge where he might rest and regain his grasp on reality.
'A raise? Keep Barbara happy? Pick up some pointers? Maybe Barbara knows what's best - maybe I should just "behave"...'
It was just easier to give in.
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