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5-STAR POSTS!!     |
24/04/2009
I met her at college, well to be exact, in the refectory. One busy lunchtime we sat next to each other; the seat next to me had been just about the only free seat in the place and so I was pleased it was a nice pretty girl that asked me if it were available. I struck up a conversation with her and after that we both started looking out for each other at lunchtimes. Gradually we seemed to gel and two weeks later she invited me to a party which 'she couldn't get out of.' I waited outside the house where the party was in full swing; there was no mistaking which house, each thud thud thud of beat made the walls shake, almost like there was an earthquake. Paula arrived dead on time; I remember looking at her, mouth agape. Yes this was Paula but instead of dowdy jumper, jeans and hair clipped back, she had a tight figure hugging black dress on, and oh what a figure. She's what you would call 'a girl of two halves:' top half and bottom half! Her ample chest of which two thirds was on display, divided by a deep enticing cleavage, separated from voluptuous hips by a narrow waist and flat stomach. All of this was perfectly presented by this dress that fitted her like black cling film. When dressed up she looks amazing: she's just under 5 foot which makes her look like a cute little Barbie doll, well except for her wavy, dark brunette hair. When she saw me, she beamed appreciation, then looked at the pounding house, rolled her eyes and shook her head.
'I'm so not looking forward to this and this dress makes me look so tarty! I bought it this afternoon with my friend Gail. It looks a lot better on the rail than on me, I should have tried it on in the shop.' Well I couldn't disagree more but I didn't like to say. That just about sums Paula up; she is so not a party animal, but then neither am I: so we have that much in common. We both stood together at the bottom of the stairs like two fish out of water. We took it in turn to try to start a conversation but against 150 decibels and constantly interrupted by a steady steam of guys leading their girl upstairs and then later coming down looking flustered and dishevelled; it was a losing battle so in the end we just stood, observed and regularly smiled at each other. By 11:00 O'clock we both just wanted to leave but because it was Paula's friend's party, I’d had to wait for her to signal our exit.
We walked the short distance back to her flat. Then conversation flowed freely because we were alone, together. We continued chatting away for an hour or more outside her flat when eventually she had to go in because she was desperate for the bathroom. We vowed to go out again together but on our terms and to a place of our choosing.
The following Saturday night I called again at Paula's flat. She was ready and waiting for me so no need for me to come in and wait. This time she was dressed smart but casual and still she managed to look like a glossy magazine cover. Her dark eyes and cute snub nose are adorable and her wide beam and dark lips ooze desire. It took several Saturday nights before I plucked up sufficient courage to kiss her. Immediately I held her close to me, I felt a bulge between my pockets so I leaned into her at an angle to avoid embarrassment.
Almost a year passed before we decided to take the plunge and 'do it.' We were both really tense and apprehensive, we were both virgins, neither of us had even come close to it before, not even a fumble. Afterwards we lay together wrapped in each other, just holding. In fact it wasn't so much the sex itself we enjoyed as the closeness and bond we both felt. I remember declaring several months after our first sexual experience:
'I don't understand how with some guys sex is all they talk and think about. Don't get me wrong, I like it but it's not the be all and end all is it?' Paula readily agreed. Sex was happening less than once a month and was over in minutes. Neither of us complained or sought to improve, we didn't even realise what a rut we had gotten into.
Five years after graduating and a year into marriage I quit my job with the local Ford franchise as their IT guy. I had had enough snide comments at the slightest snag or even if the network faltered because of connection problems with the ISP. I even got the blame for the dodgy pop ups that the MD claimed to know nothing about.
'You don't get any praise when things go well, only grief when they go wrong, even when it's not your fault. You deserve so much better. Why don't you look for somewhere else?' Paula was so supportive, she genuinely believed in me and that meant such a lot to me. I vowed to start looking immediately.
When I started at Stretton Telecom, the difference couldn't have been starker. Here was a tough go-ahead organisation where excellence was both appreciated and rewarded but the other side of the coin was considerable pressure. I arrived in reception that first morning to hear a loud aggressive voice barely muffled by sound proofing coming from down the corridor behind reception:
'This performance is shambollic! You lot are all on a probationary, if I don't see a fifty percent improvement by the end of the month, you'll all be needing career advice: now get out of my sight!' Immediately a gaggle of red faced men in suits scurried past the sign 'Meeting in Progress.'
With an awkward expression, the receptionist explained: 'it's a sales team meeting: I don't think last month's figures were very good. Mr Stretton will be with you soon.' I thanked her and smiled uncomfortably. Fifteen minutes after the receptionist phoned to announce my arrival; Henry Stretton stood outside his door, turned, looked at me and beamed, then motioned for me to come to his office. He must be well into his fifties and despite thinning silver grey hair, he looked first-class with a healthy tan, a shimmering grey suit, lemon yellow shirt, green silk tie and plenty of shiny silver bling. This man oozed confidence and charisma. I walked along the corridor, heart pounding so hard it might have ceased up with exhaustion. Stretton held out his hand and I took it to receive a bone breaking handshake.
'Glad you made it; I'm sure you're going to fit in and become a valuable member of the team. I'll show you to the IT room and then I'll get someone to show you round the building and introduce you to the team here.' 'Valuable?' I thought, as I followed uneasily Henry's confident swagger. Those poor sales guys didn't feel very valuable.
I was wrong about Henry Stretton, he made me feel completely appreciated. Two weeks after starting he stopped by the IT room and announced that the network had become completely stable and the performance was out of this world.
'You were right Mr. Stretton, the network was set up all wrong, I've had to change things round a lot.'
'I know, and I also know that most of it was done after hours to avoid disruption. Best thing I ever did was sack Gary and take you on.' He positively beamed at me. 'Your first pay packet will be a bit bigger than we agreed at the interview.' My heart almost stopped, this was totally foreign to me; praise and reward.
'Th.. th… thank you,' I stammered. He picked up the photograph on my desk and he perched on the edge and enquired;
'This is Mrs Phillips? She looks lovely but I can see what she sees in you; you are gifted.'
Several weeks later, following Mr Stretton's orders I presented a report I had compiled comparing the various industry invoicing packages on offer. The one they struggled by with to run the company was old and obsolete and well overdue for renewal. However Henry dismissed my recommendations and chose another, then the switchover began.
A week into the new system Mr. Stretton again appeared unexpectedly. 'I just wanted so say a massive big thank you for the work you've done in implementing the new system, it's absolutely fantastic! We can do so much more,' He walked round my desk, held out his hand and grasping mine shook it firmly. Then he picked up Paula's photo again and said nonchalantly: 'I'd like to say a much bigger thank you and invite you and your lovely wife round for dinner.'
'Well thank you Mr. Streeton … errr… when?' I stammered.
'How about tonight?'
Paula was delighted and really proud of me.
'That's fantastic; I'm so pleased for you!' Excitedly she threw her arms around my neck, pulled me to her and we hugged and kissed passionately. Then suddenly she broke off, and exclaimed with horror: 'I haven't got anything to wear and the shops are shut. You could've phoned me to let me know so I could go out and buy a dress or something!' Mentally, I recalled each item in her side of our wardrobe dismissing each one in turn, until I remembered:
'What about that black dress you wore to that awful party at uni?'
'No way, it's far too revealing, I hate that dress.'
'You're right but you need to find something and we both need to get ready, the taxi will be here in an hour. Really, that's all you've got'
We climbed out of the taxi and walked up the steps to the most imposing doorway I had ever seen.
'Oh 'eck, it's a bit posh isn't it?' We both stood waiting nervously for the door to answer the chimes. When the door opened Mr. Stretton beamed with a wide welcoming smile:
'Robert, come in.' We stepped inside and barely had Paula crossed the threshold when Mr. Stretton put his arms around her shoulders, gave her a hug and a peck on each cheek. 'You must be Mrs. Phillips?'
'Call me Paula if you like,’ she replied quietly.
‘You look absolutely adorable! And that dress, must have set you back a fortune, it looks lovely on you.' His stare down Paula's cleavage bordered on obvious but she either didn't notice or didn't mind.
'Thank you, glad you like it.' We were ushered into the large dining room, and after a round of red wine we all sat at the table set for three; it was clear that there was no Mrs. Stretton. The meal, linguine with cherry tomatoes & goat's cheese was absolutely delicious, all washed down with another two or three glasses of wine. The crème brule was barely touched by any of us; we were all quite stuffed! Mr. Stretton was the perfect host, he had us all laughing at some of the stories he recounted from his days when he had a small back street retail shop as well as some quite amusing jokes. He also recounted a number of stories from the first gulf war when he served as a lieutenant.
After lunch, he leaned across the table, towards us and whispered:
'I've got this little extravagance I've been dying to show you.'
'What is it? Where?' Paula asked inquisitively.
'Come this way.' He lifted himself off his chair and we all followed Mr. Stretton into the hallway, through a creaky hinged door that looked as though it were about to fall off, down a wooden staircase and into a dark void. A switch flicked and suddenly the room sprung into a dazzling lightness aided by the white wash walls of the cellar. The room was warm, almost oppressively so. We walked past a washing machine, a sofa and at the far end of the cellar stood an encased small turquoise pool with wafts of steam lingering over its surface. 'It's a Jacuzzi. Guess what happens when I touch this button?' With a glurp and a gloop the water's surface erupted into a mass of swirls and bubbles. 'Fancy a nice relaxing soak with another glass of wine?' I looked at Paula, she replied quizzically:
'But we haven't bought any swimming costumes.' By this time Stretton was starting to unbutton his shirt.
'That's OK we're all grown ups here, we got all the privacy we need, it's just us.' I again looked at Paula; she shrugged her shoulders and looked at me almost bewildered but then turned her back for me to unzip her dress. Just as she stepped out of it, Stretton dropped his boxer shorts, I caught a quick glance of a long fleshy hose dangling half-way down to his knee cap; he turned, climbed into the pool and lowered himself in. I continued to unbutton and discard my clothes; Paula started to climb the steps up to the pool still in her black bra and panties: 'Oi! Off they come,' boomed Stretton. 'It's a condition of entry, and besides you don't want to go home wearing wet underwear do you? Catch your death of cold.' Paula stepped off the steps and looked at me quizzically for guidance or support; I really didn’t want my wife to totally strip naked but I didn't dare openly defy or challenge Henry Stretton so I just scarcely shrugged my shoulders. She blushed deep red with embarrassment and reached behind to unclasp her bra releasing her bulbous boobs to burst free and dangle from her chest like ripe fruits; her complexion turned a pale off-white as the blood gushed from her face. Then, slowly, painfully, she lowered her panties like a ceremonial flag to reveal her large black untrimmed bushy triangle. She stepped out of them and looked at Stretton as though to say, there - you got what you want; so what?
She climbed the steps and gingerly lowered herself into the bubbling cauldron: I followed.
'Oh Paula, you look absolutely incredible. You looked stunning in your dress but absolutely terrific without it!' A beaming Mr. Stretton declared with gusto. Paula blushed deep red and quickly sank beneath the swirling bubbles for cover. Just as I took my seat next to my wife; Stretton stood up and announced: 'Time for a drink!' He leaned over and took a bottle of wine stood at the side of the pool and poured three glasses. 'Stand up for a toast!' Paula and I both stood and held up our glasses. 'To Stretton Ford; may the company go from strength to strength, thanks to the IT genius of our Robert here!' We all clinked glasses and took a gulp.
Henry smiled, firstly at me, then at Paula and then positively beamed and looked down at her ample chest and dark nipples before declaring my IT skills would see my career at Stretton's take off. He continued to pour praise on me but slowly that praise shifted towards Paula. He complimented her smile, her make up and hair style. Paula soaked up his flattery like a sponge but gasped when he remarked: 'You really have the most pair of exquisite boobs I've ever seen. They are so perfect they almost look like falsies. But I'm sure they're not because you can actually tell the difference.' Paula nodded her head to reassure him that they hadn't been surgically enhanced. 'You can see the difference but actually the difference is much more pronounced if you feel them.' He smiled at Paula and then entreated her: 'May I?’ She blushed again; her head swayed as she looked in different directions to avoid making eye contact with Mr. Stretton. 'It would make me very happy if I could hold them; just for a moment?' I looked at Stretton; Paula looked at me but without waiting for either of us to reply, Henry manoeuvred around the back of Paula, put his arms around her and cupped her breasts and began to massage and knead them. ‘Oh yes,’ he stated with firm agreement: ‘These are undoubtedly the real thing; they’re absolutely fantastic!’
My chest tightened like banjo strings, my stomach sank; it felt as though a large stone had dropped from the top to the pit of my stomach. I sat watching this naked man, with his arms around my naked wife, fondling her tits. I couldn't catch what he was whispering but eventually Paula seemed to relax a little bit but that made me feel even more ill at ease. He dropped his right hand and moments later her eyebrows rose. Then she took a deep breath, leaned over and whispered to me with a look of panic:
'He's trying to put his thing up me.' I looked intently at Paula and then at Stretton. He had his left arm around her chest, grasping her right tit firmly, holding her to him. He stared ahead intently avoiding eye contact with me. Paula went pale, she was panting like an asthmatic; her shoulders and chest rose and fell rapidly.
'Are you alright?' I knew immediately what a stupid question that was. A man she had only met a couple of hours ago was taking the ultimate liberty and trying to enter her; she was looking to me for support but I was glued rigid to the spot like a rabbit caught in headlights. Stretton tightened his grip across her chest, her mouth opened and her eyes bulged wide:
'It's a big one,' she whispered: 'Oh no!' He then looked at me and smiled and moments later started a rocking motion. I looked down trying to see what was happening beneath the swirling water but the bubbles completely obscured the view. I could picture Stretton's frame behind my wife with a cock connecting them. The only evidence of what was happening beneath the surface was the lapping of the water as it swished around the pool with Stretton's rocking. Paula muttered quietly: 'Oh dear; oh, oh, oh.' I was helpless, and there was nothing I could do to stop this happening or put an end to it. The best I could do was take her hand and hold it to give her some support and comfort that I'd be with her through her ordeal and there for her after it. She firmly grasped my hand and squeezed it tightly.
I wasn't sure how Paula was taking this situation, she wasn't crying as you would expect her to, she certainly didn't like it, that was clear from the pained look in her expression. She was just being incredibly brave. For what seemed like forever but in truth was ten to fifteen minutes, Stretton continued pumping his cock into my wife's pussy while I stood there and watched. She endured it valiantly; my heart went out to her; her bravery was every bit as solid as any front line soldier's.
Just as suddenly as he'd started, Stretton pulled away from Paula and announced:
'Let's get out of here and pour ourselves another drink.' He lifted himself out of the water, leaving thousands of tiny droplets falling from his frame. I gave Paula a big hug but she didn’t respond. I made my way up the steps and out of the pool; she followed. By this time Mr. Stretton had poured each of us another glass of wine; he took Paula's hand to steady her as she climbed down the side of the pool but kept his grip on her hand even when both her feet were firmly on the cellar floor. With his free hand he placed a fluffy white towel around her shoulders and then led her over to the sofa at the other side of the cellar. She sat down obediently; he sat next to her and then he leant down and started sucking on her right breast. I sat on a white plastic patio chair opposite, my head in a daze unable to comprehend what was happening. Soon his hand was making its way up her thigh and as it reached the top she dutifully opened her legs to accommodate his probing fingers.
I could see his middle finger rubbing the fleshy flap at the top of her vagina, he rubbed it with increasing intensity. Minutes later she cried out, gasped and then her whole body went into spasm as she shook violently. When the spasm died she looked drained, it took her a few seconds to get her breath and gather her composure. When she did her hand grasped hold of his fleshy rod and she began rubbing up and down the length of his cock vigorously.
Up to this point she had dutifully conformed to his advances but this marked a turning point; she was now taking an active role. His cock is monster size, probably more than double the length and girth of mine and protrudes from a white pubic thicket. She rubbed hard and fast along its length looking at it with admiration. In contrast, she rarely touched mine unless it needed some quick stimulation to achieve full erection. Then she opened her mouth and dropped onto the end of his bulbous purple head and took it in her mouth and started sucking on it, her cheeks indented as she sucked harder and harder. I was her first and only love; and she had never even broached the subject of oral sex and here she was sucking upon Stretton's stick like a pro. I sat there, not six feet away, visibly shocked and feeling queasy in my stomach; I wanted to be sick. This old man was more than double her age, even older than her dad. He hadn't asked for this, she just gave it to him freely. She had never done that for me; I'm sure that being sucked is a fantastic feeling, Stretton was obviously relishing it and even the sight of it was making my little dick grow.
Mr Stretton manoeuvred his torso round so that he could get his head between Paula's legs whilst avoiding pulling his cock from her mouth. There then followed a stream of sickening slurping noises as he sucked and licked on her pussy. Soon she was spasming again and then again. Her grunts, sighs and groans escalated in intensity and volume, just watching this mass of squirming flesh, listening to the emanating awful sounds as well as the knowledge of what was to come made me physically heave as I felt my meal lurch upwards. Fortunately I managed to swallow, regain control and send it back down to my nauseous stomach.
Stretton pulled away, laid my wife on her back, she spread her legs wide. Knowing what was about to happen, that stone in my stomach dropped again and my heart pulse raced. He positioned himself in front of her ready to mount her. She didn't even cast a glance at me, I might as well have not been there and in many ways I wished I wasn't. She looked up at her new conqueror awaiting the imminent invasion then she looked down her torso and at the large fleshy baton waving around. He wore no condom but neither bothered a jolt. He took hold of his massive tool, placed it at her entrance and started the descent. For the first time Paula turned her head to look at me but instead of looking at me, she looked straight through me, as though I wasn't there.
When the plunge was complete and they were fully fused, Stretton leant down and kissed Paula passionately and she responded reciprocating with affection, holding the back of his head pushing his face into hers. Another grim milestone had just been crossed; this was love; not just sex but actual love. I wanted to run out up the step and out of that cellar but something kept my ass glued onto that chair.
I sat there and watched Henry Stretton fuck my wife hard. Their hips slapped to a steady rhythm, his huge glistening stick slid down and back out of her wet wanton pussy like an engine piston. She shook her head until spasming orgasms momentarily took control of her body and shook her as though she were a possessed soul being exorcised. Still Stretton pounded her mercilessly. Eventually he pulled his large member out of her, switched Paula over like she were a side of lamb and re-inserted his rod back into her pussy from behind and continued to fuck her doggy fashion.
For the first time Paula looked up at me, our eyes met, though I could barely see through all the tears that had welled up.
She demanded: 'Why can't you fuck me like this?' That question really cut through me like a white hot knife. I've always loved her; my life has revolved around her. When we make love I'm as warm and affectionate as I possibly can be. I never knew that she was in the slightest bit dissatisfied with our marriage or our sex life. Why hadn't she said something before now? Stretton began to huff and groan, his pace slowed down. I knew instantly what was happening. This man was about to pump his seed deep into my wife's womb and all I could do was watch him do it.
All the way home we hardly spoke in the taxi. How do you start a conversation in a situation like that? Immediately we arrived home, we both went to bed. Paula slept soundly but I didn't sleep a wink; I just lay there staring up at the ceiling, flash backs raced through my head. Pictures of my beautiful, sweet wife sucking on my boss's cock, him sliding it into her wilful pussy, her screaming at me: 'Why can't you fuck me like this?' and his grunting and his expression of achievement as he injected my wife full of his cum.
The next morning we again barely spoke at breakfast but before I set off I mumbled to Paula:
'We gotta talk.'
'You're right,' came the reply. 'We must, but not now; tonight when we get home from work and we've got the whole evening.'
I arrived home first that following night and started cooking dinner so that it was virtually ready by the time Paula arrived. Immediately she walked through the door she threw her arms around me, weeping, she kept apologising. 'I've been thinking and I'm really sorry about last night.'
'It's all right; it's OK,' I replied whilst hugging and comforting her in a tight hug. Nevertheless dinner was unusually quiet and we neither barely touched it before putting our cutlery together. Despite the apology there was still a difficult atmosphere between us: hardly surprising really. Just as I was loading the dishwasher, the doorbell rang. 'I'll get it,' I said, striding past Paula curled up on the sofa, staring vacantly at the television.
When I opened the door my jaw dropped and I gasped with surprise. Standing, smiling, as nonchalantly as if he were a cold calling salesman or a religious crank, he coolly asked:
'Hi Robert. Are you going to ask me in?'
'Of course;' I blurted out and stepping aside to let him pass. I guessed that he had come round to apologise for what had happened the night before. 'Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?'
'Coffee, white, no sugar please.' Stretton walked into the lounge; Paula looked up and audibly gasped, she was genuinely shocked at seeing him. I went into the kitchen, dug out our best china crockery and set up the coffee filter machine, set the cups on a tray and poured cream into a jug. Then leaving the coffee filter to percolate, I opened the door to the lounge to be greeted with the sight of Paula, her arms pointing straight up in the air and Stretton lifting her top over her head.
'No!'I cried. 'No; stop it!' I pleaded with Paula: 'Please don't do this… Please?' Her head and mass of curly black hair plopped out of her top which then fell to the floor. Paula, sat bolt upright, her pert breasts covered by her white underpinned bra, stood out proudly.
Stretton glanced a steely stare at me and through gritted teeth he grimaced:
'Right! Now Robert; sit down!' Obediently I sat in the armchair, but at the same time trying to lock a pleading glare at Paula, silently begging her not to go through with this. 'You know there's a lot wrong with your marriage and I'm here to try to help you put it right.' I sat upright. 'It seems to me you've taken your wife for granted for far too long. You assume that she has no sexual needs. Well she has and you've totally ignored them. You should be ashamed of yourself.’ Paula looked at me with contempt.
Tears welled up, I pleased:
'I'm sorry babe; I didn't know. Please, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry.' Paula didn't reply or even acknowledge my apology except by reaching behind to unhook her bra and let her breasts fall loose, almost as a deliberate rebuff. Stretton continued:
'Well I can help you to put it right, I'm going to be your mentor; I want you to think of yourself as my apprentice. I'm going to train you, how to look after a good woman like Paula. It's not going to be easy; it might take a couple of years but when you graduate you'll have a really strong relationship that will be the envy of many.' He started to tug off his tie and undo his shirt buttons as he carried on lecturing. 'You need to treat Paula with more respect. From now on you'll show her respect and address her 'Ma-am', and you will call me ‘sir:’ is that understood?' I nodded:
'Yes sir,' I replied obediently. It then dawned on me, most of my colleagues called him Mr. Stretton but three always called him sir. Had they gone through this same ordeal? Racking my brains I recalled Graham, Justin and one of the sales guys each addressing him 'sir.' Unwittingly I had just joined their ghastly club. Stretton unbuttoned his trousers, he continued, almost bellowing at me:
'She's not your mum, your cook or your slave; you should be looking after her. Look at this damned place: you need to clean it! And please, do not even hint you want sex; she's not an educational toy for you to practice on! She deserves, and from now on, she will have only expert handling.' At that moment Paula quite deliberately slipped her white cotton panties down her legs and looked at me with a cold expression that said: tough shit!
Watching Mr. Stretton’s broad chest covered in a mat of white body hair, I nodded as he continued: 'It's going to be a long hard slog, but it'll be worth it. In time you will be a husband worthy of a woman like Paula, able to take proper care of her. But in the meantime, I will be stepping in for you.' By this time both parties were stark naked. Henry pulled Paula to him and kissed her, instantly her hand grasped his hard cock and started work on it. Mr. Stretton continued, by now in a gruff but slightly quieter tone: 'Look at you; you're thirty pounds overweight. How is Paula supposed to find that attractive?' It's true, I looked down at my bulging stomach, I'm 5' 6” and over 200 pounds. 'I want you to start training straight away. You need to start jogging, lots of exercise and drastic changes to your diet. Lose fifteen pounds and Paula will start playing with your dick; lose another fifteen and you can start touching her.'
Who is this guy? He can come into my house, take my wife, dish out his orders about my lifestyle and offer me her back as a reward. Unbelievable!
For a second night I sat and watched Henry Stretton thoroughly fuck my wife and her lapping up every last motion until at last he once again emptied himself deep into her womb. Afterwards he instructed me to sleep on the sofa and led Paula up to our bed. I folded up their abandoned clothes and settled down for the night. For a second night I didn't sleep a wink. For an hour I listened to the creaking and groaning of our bed and Paula's groans and screams but even after, when silence enveloped the house, I lay wide awake, thoughts running around my brain like a ball bearing bouncing around a pin ball machine. In 24 hours he had transformed my adorable sweet wife from a delightful, sincere and virtuous girl to a hardened, unfeeling, slutty bitch; almost unrecognisable. Yet still I absolutely loved and adored her.
But what she had done could hardly be called infidelity because it wasn't as though it happened secretly behind my back. I was there throughout and I just let it happen. I could have intervened or at least tried to but I didn't because I was so scared of Mr. Stretton. There's no denying it: I am such a wimp but then I always was; I hate conflict. That's why I was bullied mercilessly at school letting the other boys walk all over me. Now I had to admit it, someone more worthy of her has taken my wife, and all three of us knew it. We may think we're civilised but when it comes down to it, females will always submit to and mate with the dominant male and Stretton is the dominant male around here. I had no choice; I could only watch him take over and shag my poor beautiful wife at will. From now on she was his; all that was left for me were some sweet memories of the times before this nightmare began.
Still I tossed and turned. What did he mean when he said: 'I'm going to train you how to look after a good woman like Paula'? Would he eventually give her back to me? What did he mean 'train me'? I decided I would work hard as I possibly could to complete my training in record time. Without my Paula I was nothing, I wanted her back more than anything.
The following morning I watched the sunshine peep through the curtains as dawn broke. Thankfully it was a Saturday morning so feeling weak from not eating and tired through lack of sleep meant it would be easier to get through the day.
8:00 O'clock came and I rose to make myself a cup of tea. By the time I got back to my sofa, the thudding, creaking, groans and grunts had started again and seemed to go on for an age. I sat watching the TV. It wasn't even switched on, I just sat there with tears streaming down my cheeks. Ten minutes after eventual silence returning, it was broken by Paula's piercing scream:
'Robert; get up here, now!' I scurried upstairs, heart thumping, wondering what could be wrong to cause my normally so placid Paula to shriek like that. I opened our bedroom door to be greeted by a screech:
'Get out! Knock before you come in. You don't know what we might have been doing.'
'Sorry Ma-am,' I replied sheepishly and closed the door quickly, then knocked timidly.
'Come in.' I entered. Mr. Stretton and Paula were both sat upright in our bed, leaning against the padded headboard. Paula's tits fell over the edge of the covers which she clung onto to hide their lower halves. 'We'd like some breakfast,' she commanded. 'We both want toast with strawberry jam, I want cereal and Henry wants 2 eggs lightly boiled with bread and butter cut into soldiers, but before all that, we'll have two cups of tea.'
'OK,' I replied obediently.
'You mean 'Yes Ma-am!' She hissed menacingly.
'Yes Ma-am.' I replied meekly. I turned exited and scurried downstairs to start cooking.
Later, I was called to collect the dirty plates. Just as I lay them onto the tray, Mr. Stretton asked me to get him a warm soapy flannel. I nodded and replied:
'Yes sir.' He then enquired if we had any KY Jelly, Vaseline or baby oil. Paula answered, instructing me:
'There's baby oil in the drawers below the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.' As I walked out of the room I overheard her asking: 'Why do you want that?' When I returned with both items Paula flung back the duvet to reveal that neither had a stitch on. 'Robert, would you clean Henry's dick please?' I looked at it; it lay long but deflated, draped over his right leg but covered in a white flaky film of dried sperm. I looked at her, checking that she was serious and she was not just having a laugh at my expense. 'Now!' She barked. I knelt on the bed, leaned across and wrapped his fleshy organ in the flannel whilst trying to avoid touching it. I quickly rubbed it clean and withdrew the flannel, looking at Mr. Stretton to make sure that the test was completed satisfactorily. Paula answered my unasked question: 'It's no use like that; get it hard.'
'But.. but .. what? I exclaimed in disbelief.
'You heard, make it hard - now!'
'Yes Ma-am,' I responded sheepishly. She knows I'm not gay, she's just dong this to degrade me. I reached out and very tentatively wrapped my fingers around his warm dark wrinkled cock and slowly started to rub it. His foreskin hangs over his thick cockhead like a badly fitted coat but slides easily back. This was the first time I'd ever touched another man's dick; it made me feel quite unwell. I looked up at Mr. Stretton seeking some approval but instead he shook his head.
Paula looked at me with disappointment: 'Robert, is there anything to do with sex that you're any good at?' Whilst continuing to rub my hand up and down his flaccid dick, I shook my head in humble admission. 'You're going to have to suck on it until it goes hard.' I looked down at my handiwork; the very thought almost made me heave but obediently I put my head down, opened my mouth and took almost half his cock inside my mouth. Surprisingly it had no taste, just the feel of warm flesh inside my mouth. I started to suck, gently at first but as I got used to it my suction increased. I thought, this isn't so bad after all, as I felt the squidgy flesh inside my mouth gradually start to firm up. I sucked even harder.
Just as it became bone hard, Mr. Stretton groaned:
'Ohhh…. That's enough.'
I lifted my face up from his lap but continued gently stroking his cock, awaiting confirmation I could leave. 'Can you put some of that baby oil on it for me?'
I took the bottle and squeezed out a large blob on my hand and then rubbed it all over his engorged dick. Mr Stretton took the bottle from me, squeezed a blob onto his hand and asked Paula to open her legs wide and lift them in the air. He then rubbed the oil in between her pussy and her bum hole then around it and slid a finger inside her anus, up to his knuckles. Paula gasped. I then realised what was happening: Mr. Stretton was going to put his cock up into her ass; and looking at her face, she seemed up for it. 'Hold her hand for me, this might hurt a little.' I held Paula's hand, she grasped mine tightly. 'OK breathe in.' Paula took a sharp intake of breath and held it. I watched intently Mr. Stretton's cock start pushing against her entrance. He pushed very slowly but firmly, it made no progress at first but eventually I saw her tight little sphincter open and give way and as it did her grip on my hand almost crushed my fingers, her whole body tensed, her face scrunched up and she started screaming, begging Mr. Stretton to stop but still his large stump pressed inexorably deeper. My poor Paula was in agony; her face was beetroot red, tears streamed down her face, she screamed in agony as he advanced, gasping and crying pitiably in between, her ribcage rose and fell sharply with each pant causing her breasts to wobble like blancmange on a plate.
'Stop!' I cried: 'You're hurting her.' My pleas fell on deaf ears. I asked again, only louder. 'Please Mr. Stretton, stop. You're hurting her.' Instantly Paula pushed my hand away, flapped it around, looked up at Mr. Stretton and nodded her head to confirm consent. With one final push he completed the descent; my poor wife arched her back and screeched in anguish and distress. Stretton paused giving Paula chance to adjust and accommodate his cock in her overstretched hole and brace herself for the next stage.
'Good girl; you're doing really well,' came his reassurance: 'I'm really proud of you.' His tone was patronising, as though she were a little child undergoing a painful medical procedure. But this was no medical procedure, he was subjecting my poor wife to this ordeal simply for his own sexual gratification, there was no benefit to Paula and yet still she willingly endured it, just to please him. He slowly started to push his cruel dick up and down her tiny orifice; still she was hardly able to bear the pain she was in. Mr. Stretton began to gasp, his pace quickened: 'Oh that is so good: it's so tight!' This selfish bastard was oblivious to the pain he was inflicting on my poor wife, his only concern was maximising the sensations in his cock whilst she writhed in agony until at last he grunted: 'I'm coming: I'm coming.' Upon completion he fell upon Paula. She seemed pleased to have come through this ordeal and was still alive. They kissed passionately.
That afternoon as I was vacuuming the lounge, Paula popped her head around the door to inform me they were going to Henry's and that I could sleep upstairs in the bed because she wouldn't be back until the following day.
For a third night I lay awake, trying to make some sense of the situation we were in. My wife was in another man's bed apparently with my blessing, whilst he trains me to look after and fulfil her needs. I loved her dearly and was missing her dreadfully; this training was literally crucifying me. I hoped but couldn't see how this apprenticeship was going to work. I was also worried about how this was affecting Paula. Mr. Stretton was being very professional; he showed her no love or concern, his focus on her was purely sexual but she seemed infatuated with him, it was as though she was under his hypnotic spell. Her unquestioning loyalty meant her suffering excruciating pain and yet she did, willingly, just to give him nice feelings in his dick.
The next day, around lunchtime I heard her key in the front door, it opened and in bounced my gorgeous wife:
'Hi ya! You all right?'
'Yes,' I replied curtly. Her smile vanished immediately as she scalded me:
'Yes Ma-am. You're not very good at showing me respect are you Robert?'
'I'm sorry Ma-am.' I replied meekly. She barked out an order:
'Right, now get me a beer out of the fridge and come and sit down.' When I handed her a can she flew into a rage and threw it at me; it glanced off the side of my head; momentarily stars swirled around my head. 'Do you think I'm some beer swilling yob? Put it in a glass; you're as incompetent as you are pathetic!’ I returned as quickly as possible with a glass of cold beer.
'I'm sorry Ma-am; I'm really sorry.'
'Sit down.' She snapped back at me. 'I've got lots to tell you. Henry said I've got to come home and tell you all about what we got up to.'
'Why?' I enquired.
'It's part of your training,' came her reply. 'We've got to be honest and tell each other everything.' She continued: 'Well on the way home Henry called up his next door neighbours on his car-phone and invited them round. They are a lovely couple, Earl and Cynthia. They're black as the ace of spades and really lovely. Well we all soon ended up back in his Jacuzzi, it was lovely. Earl was a real gentleman, he kept paying me lots of lovely compliments. Something you've never done..'
I interrupted her mid-sentence: 'I'm really sorry Paula, I know I …'
'Shut up and don't interrupt!' She screamed venomously at me.
'Sorry Ma-am.'
She continued: 'I told him he's not so bad looking himself. He isn't actually; he's fantastic. He must spend lots of time working out. Well Henry suggested, ‘let's swap.’ I couldn't believe what I was hearing but Cynthia sealed it, straight away she said, 'OK let's do it!' What I didn't know was that she was already playing with Henry's cock under the water. Can you believe it? Without waiting for me to say yes or no, Earl just started on me. He loves my tits and his cock is absolutely amazing; it's even bigger than Henry's so when he fucked me it was totally mind-blowing! I've never known anyone like him. He fucked me, came inside of me. Played with my tits and five minutes later he was fucking me again, and then again. He came in me three times in two hours! I'm so sore now but still it was fantastic.' Paula positively beamed as she reflected on her adventures. 'Henry's really proud of me; that I could keep up with Earl. He thinks I'm wonderful. I’m a bit though – both holes.'
I asked myself, why is she telling me all this? Is she deliberately trying to hurt me, humiliate me, or what? That night I fell asleep, through sheer exhaustion but by 3:00 am I was wide awake again. Once again I lay there ruminating on the events of the last few days. I still couldn't make any sense of the situation. Paula seems really happy and chirpy, happier than I'd ever known her but her feelings for me had swung from dear affection to almost contempt, and in such a short time. If she was so unhappy before and she thought I was taking her for granted, she should have said. I suppose now, it's payback. I suppose I'm just going to have to get used to this new lifestyle. An arctic cold wife bringing back a string of boyfriends and watching them fuck her brains out.
I realise now, I'm dependent upon Mr. Stretton training me up to be good enough and worthy to be her husband; I just hope I can make the grade and as quick as possible because this is killing me.
FUCK MY WIFE!
CLICK BELOW TO FIND A BULL
'I'm so not looking forward to this and this dress makes me look so tarty! I bought it this afternoon with my friend Gail. It looks a lot better on the rail than on me, I should have tried it on in the shop.' Well I couldn't disagree more but I didn't like to say. That just about sums Paula up; she is so not a party animal, but then neither am I: so we have that much in common. We both stood together at the bottom of the stairs like two fish out of water. We took it in turn to try to start a conversation but against 150 decibels and constantly interrupted by a steady steam of guys leading their girl upstairs and then later coming down looking flustered and dishevelled; it was a losing battle so in the end we just stood, observed and regularly smiled at each other. By 11:00 O'clock we both just wanted to leave but because it was Paula's friend's party, I’d had to wait for her to signal our exit.
We walked the short distance back to her flat. Then conversation flowed freely because we were alone, together. We continued chatting away for an hour or more outside her flat when eventually she had to go in because she was desperate for the bathroom. We vowed to go out again together but on our terms and to a place of our choosing.
The following Saturday night I called again at Paula's flat. She was ready and waiting for me so no need for me to come in and wait. This time she was dressed smart but casual and still she managed to look like a glossy magazine cover. Her dark eyes and cute snub nose are adorable and her wide beam and dark lips ooze desire. It took several Saturday nights before I plucked up sufficient courage to kiss her. Immediately I held her close to me, I felt a bulge between my pockets so I leaned into her at an angle to avoid embarrassment.
Almost a year passed before we decided to take the plunge and 'do it.' We were both really tense and apprehensive, we were both virgins, neither of us had even come close to it before, not even a fumble. Afterwards we lay together wrapped in each other, just holding. In fact it wasn't so much the sex itself we enjoyed as the closeness and bond we both felt. I remember declaring several months after our first sexual experience:
'I don't understand how with some guys sex is all they talk and think about. Don't get me wrong, I like it but it's not the be all and end all is it?' Paula readily agreed. Sex was happening less than once a month and was over in minutes. Neither of us complained or sought to improve, we didn't even realise what a rut we had gotten into.
Five years after graduating and a year into marriage I quit my job with the local Ford franchise as their IT guy. I had had enough snide comments at the slightest snag or even if the network faltered because of connection problems with the ISP. I even got the blame for the dodgy pop ups that the MD claimed to know nothing about.
'You don't get any praise when things go well, only grief when they go wrong, even when it's not your fault. You deserve so much better. Why don't you look for somewhere else?' Paula was so supportive, she genuinely believed in me and that meant such a lot to me. I vowed to start looking immediately.
When I started at Stretton Telecom, the difference couldn't have been starker. Here was a tough go-ahead organisation where excellence was both appreciated and rewarded but the other side of the coin was considerable pressure. I arrived in reception that first morning to hear a loud aggressive voice barely muffled by sound proofing coming from down the corridor behind reception:
'This performance is shambollic! You lot are all on a probationary, if I don't see a fifty percent improvement by the end of the month, you'll all be needing career advice: now get out of my sight!' Immediately a gaggle of red faced men in suits scurried past the sign 'Meeting in Progress.'
With an awkward expression, the receptionist explained: 'it's a sales team meeting: I don't think last month's figures were very good. Mr Stretton will be with you soon.' I thanked her and smiled uncomfortably. Fifteen minutes after the receptionist phoned to announce my arrival; Henry Stretton stood outside his door, turned, looked at me and beamed, then motioned for me to come to his office. He must be well into his fifties and despite thinning silver grey hair, he looked first-class with a healthy tan, a shimmering grey suit, lemon yellow shirt, green silk tie and plenty of shiny silver bling. This man oozed confidence and charisma. I walked along the corridor, heart pounding so hard it might have ceased up with exhaustion. Stretton held out his hand and I took it to receive a bone breaking handshake.
'Glad you made it; I'm sure you're going to fit in and become a valuable member of the team. I'll show you to the IT room and then I'll get someone to show you round the building and introduce you to the team here.' 'Valuable?' I thought, as I followed uneasily Henry's confident swagger. Those poor sales guys didn't feel very valuable.
I was wrong about Henry Stretton, he made me feel completely appreciated. Two weeks after starting he stopped by the IT room and announced that the network had become completely stable and the performance was out of this world.
'You were right Mr. Stretton, the network was set up all wrong, I've had to change things round a lot.'
'I know, and I also know that most of it was done after hours to avoid disruption. Best thing I ever did was sack Gary and take you on.' He positively beamed at me. 'Your first pay packet will be a bit bigger than we agreed at the interview.' My heart almost stopped, this was totally foreign to me; praise and reward.
'Th.. th… thank you,' I stammered. He picked up the photograph on my desk and he perched on the edge and enquired;
'This is Mrs Phillips? She looks lovely but I can see what she sees in you; you are gifted.'
Several weeks later, following Mr Stretton's orders I presented a report I had compiled comparing the various industry invoicing packages on offer. The one they struggled by with to run the company was old and obsolete and well overdue for renewal. However Henry dismissed my recommendations and chose another, then the switchover began.
A week into the new system Mr. Stretton again appeared unexpectedly. 'I just wanted so say a massive big thank you for the work you've done in implementing the new system, it's absolutely fantastic! We can do so much more,' He walked round my desk, held out his hand and grasping mine shook it firmly. Then he picked up Paula's photo again and said nonchalantly: 'I'd like to say a much bigger thank you and invite you and your lovely wife round for dinner.'
'Well thank you Mr. Streeton … errr… when?' I stammered.
'How about tonight?'
Paula was delighted and really proud of me.
'That's fantastic; I'm so pleased for you!' Excitedly she threw her arms around my neck, pulled me to her and we hugged and kissed passionately. Then suddenly she broke off, and exclaimed with horror: 'I haven't got anything to wear and the shops are shut. You could've phoned me to let me know so I could go out and buy a dress or something!' Mentally, I recalled each item in her side of our wardrobe dismissing each one in turn, until I remembered:
'What about that black dress you wore to that awful party at uni?'
'No way, it's far too revealing, I hate that dress.'
'You're right but you need to find something and we both need to get ready, the taxi will be here in an hour. Really, that's all you've got'
We climbed out of the taxi and walked up the steps to the most imposing doorway I had ever seen.
'Oh 'eck, it's a bit posh isn't it?' We both stood waiting nervously for the door to answer the chimes. When the door opened Mr. Stretton beamed with a wide welcoming smile:
'Robert, come in.' We stepped inside and barely had Paula crossed the threshold when Mr. Stretton put his arms around her shoulders, gave her a hug and a peck on each cheek. 'You must be Mrs. Phillips?'
'Call me Paula if you like,’ she replied quietly.
‘You look absolutely adorable! And that dress, must have set you back a fortune, it looks lovely on you.' His stare down Paula's cleavage bordered on obvious but she either didn't notice or didn't mind.
'Thank you, glad you like it.' We were ushered into the large dining room, and after a round of red wine we all sat at the table set for three; it was clear that there was no Mrs. Stretton. The meal, linguine with cherry tomatoes & goat's cheese was absolutely delicious, all washed down with another two or three glasses of wine. The crème brule was barely touched by any of us; we were all quite stuffed! Mr. Stretton was the perfect host, he had us all laughing at some of the stories he recounted from his days when he had a small back street retail shop as well as some quite amusing jokes. He also recounted a number of stories from the first gulf war when he served as a lieutenant.
After lunch, he leaned across the table, towards us and whispered:
'I've got this little extravagance I've been dying to show you.'
'What is it? Where?' Paula asked inquisitively.
'Come this way.' He lifted himself off his chair and we all followed Mr. Stretton into the hallway, through a creaky hinged door that looked as though it were about to fall off, down a wooden staircase and into a dark void. A switch flicked and suddenly the room sprung into a dazzling lightness aided by the white wash walls of the cellar. The room was warm, almost oppressively so. We walked past a washing machine, a sofa and at the far end of the cellar stood an encased small turquoise pool with wafts of steam lingering over its surface. 'It's a Jacuzzi. Guess what happens when I touch this button?' With a glurp and a gloop the water's surface erupted into a mass of swirls and bubbles. 'Fancy a nice relaxing soak with another glass of wine?' I looked at Paula, she replied quizzically:
'But we haven't bought any swimming costumes.' By this time Stretton was starting to unbutton his shirt.
'That's OK we're all grown ups here, we got all the privacy we need, it's just us.' I again looked at Paula; she shrugged her shoulders and looked at me almost bewildered but then turned her back for me to unzip her dress. Just as she stepped out of it, Stretton dropped his boxer shorts, I caught a quick glance of a long fleshy hose dangling half-way down to his knee cap; he turned, climbed into the pool and lowered himself in. I continued to unbutton and discard my clothes; Paula started to climb the steps up to the pool still in her black bra and panties: 'Oi! Off they come,' boomed Stretton. 'It's a condition of entry, and besides you don't want to go home wearing wet underwear do you? Catch your death of cold.' Paula stepped off the steps and looked at me quizzically for guidance or support; I really didn’t want my wife to totally strip naked but I didn't dare openly defy or challenge Henry Stretton so I just scarcely shrugged my shoulders. She blushed deep red with embarrassment and reached behind to unclasp her bra releasing her bulbous boobs to burst free and dangle from her chest like ripe fruits; her complexion turned a pale off-white as the blood gushed from her face. Then, slowly, painfully, she lowered her panties like a ceremonial flag to reveal her large black untrimmed bushy triangle. She stepped out of them and looked at Stretton as though to say, there - you got what you want; so what?
She climbed the steps and gingerly lowered herself into the bubbling cauldron: I followed.
'Oh Paula, you look absolutely incredible. You looked stunning in your dress but absolutely terrific without it!' A beaming Mr. Stretton declared with gusto. Paula blushed deep red and quickly sank beneath the swirling bubbles for cover. Just as I took my seat next to my wife; Stretton stood up and announced: 'Time for a drink!' He leaned over and took a bottle of wine stood at the side of the pool and poured three glasses. 'Stand up for a toast!' Paula and I both stood and held up our glasses. 'To Stretton Ford; may the company go from strength to strength, thanks to the IT genius of our Robert here!' We all clinked glasses and took a gulp.
Henry smiled, firstly at me, then at Paula and then positively beamed and looked down at her ample chest and dark nipples before declaring my IT skills would see my career at Stretton's take off. He continued to pour praise on me but slowly that praise shifted towards Paula. He complimented her smile, her make up and hair style. Paula soaked up his flattery like a sponge but gasped when he remarked: 'You really have the most pair of exquisite boobs I've ever seen. They are so perfect they almost look like falsies. But I'm sure they're not because you can actually tell the difference.' Paula nodded her head to reassure him that they hadn't been surgically enhanced. 'You can see the difference but actually the difference is much more pronounced if you feel them.' He smiled at Paula and then entreated her: 'May I?’ She blushed again; her head swayed as she looked in different directions to avoid making eye contact with Mr. Stretton. 'It would make me very happy if I could hold them; just for a moment?' I looked at Stretton; Paula looked at me but without waiting for either of us to reply, Henry manoeuvred around the back of Paula, put his arms around her and cupped her breasts and began to massage and knead them. ‘Oh yes,’ he stated with firm agreement: ‘These are undoubtedly the real thing; they’re absolutely fantastic!’
My chest tightened like banjo strings, my stomach sank; it felt as though a large stone had dropped from the top to the pit of my stomach. I sat watching this naked man, with his arms around my naked wife, fondling her tits. I couldn't catch what he was whispering but eventually Paula seemed to relax a little bit but that made me feel even more ill at ease. He dropped his right hand and moments later her eyebrows rose. Then she took a deep breath, leaned over and whispered to me with a look of panic:
'He's trying to put his thing up me.' I looked intently at Paula and then at Stretton. He had his left arm around her chest, grasping her right tit firmly, holding her to him. He stared ahead intently avoiding eye contact with me. Paula went pale, she was panting like an asthmatic; her shoulders and chest rose and fell rapidly.
'Are you alright?' I knew immediately what a stupid question that was. A man she had only met a couple of hours ago was taking the ultimate liberty and trying to enter her; she was looking to me for support but I was glued rigid to the spot like a rabbit caught in headlights. Stretton tightened his grip across her chest, her mouth opened and her eyes bulged wide:
'It's a big one,' she whispered: 'Oh no!' He then looked at me and smiled and moments later started a rocking motion. I looked down trying to see what was happening beneath the swirling water but the bubbles completely obscured the view. I could picture Stretton's frame behind my wife with a cock connecting them. The only evidence of what was happening beneath the surface was the lapping of the water as it swished around the pool with Stretton's rocking. Paula muttered quietly: 'Oh dear; oh, oh, oh.' I was helpless, and there was nothing I could do to stop this happening or put an end to it. The best I could do was take her hand and hold it to give her some support and comfort that I'd be with her through her ordeal and there for her after it. She firmly grasped my hand and squeezed it tightly.
I wasn't sure how Paula was taking this situation, she wasn't crying as you would expect her to, she certainly didn't like it, that was clear from the pained look in her expression. She was just being incredibly brave. For what seemed like forever but in truth was ten to fifteen minutes, Stretton continued pumping his cock into my wife's pussy while I stood there and watched. She endured it valiantly; my heart went out to her; her bravery was every bit as solid as any front line soldier's.
Just as suddenly as he'd started, Stretton pulled away from Paula and announced:
'Let's get out of here and pour ourselves another drink.' He lifted himself out of the water, leaving thousands of tiny droplets falling from his frame. I gave Paula a big hug but she didn’t respond. I made my way up the steps and out of the pool; she followed. By this time Mr. Stretton had poured each of us another glass of wine; he took Paula's hand to steady her as she climbed down the side of the pool but kept his grip on her hand even when both her feet were firmly on the cellar floor. With his free hand he placed a fluffy white towel around her shoulders and then led her over to the sofa at the other side of the cellar. She sat down obediently; he sat next to her and then he leant down and started sucking on her right breast. I sat on a white plastic patio chair opposite, my head in a daze unable to comprehend what was happening. Soon his hand was making its way up her thigh and as it reached the top she dutifully opened her legs to accommodate his probing fingers.
I could see his middle finger rubbing the fleshy flap at the top of her vagina, he rubbed it with increasing intensity. Minutes later she cried out, gasped and then her whole body went into spasm as she shook violently. When the spasm died she looked drained, it took her a few seconds to get her breath and gather her composure. When she did her hand grasped hold of his fleshy rod and she began rubbing up and down the length of his cock vigorously.
Up to this point she had dutifully conformed to his advances but this marked a turning point; she was now taking an active role. His cock is monster size, probably more than double the length and girth of mine and protrudes from a white pubic thicket. She rubbed hard and fast along its length looking at it with admiration. In contrast, she rarely touched mine unless it needed some quick stimulation to achieve full erection. Then she opened her mouth and dropped onto the end of his bulbous purple head and took it in her mouth and started sucking on it, her cheeks indented as she sucked harder and harder. I was her first and only love; and she had never even broached the subject of oral sex and here she was sucking upon Stretton's stick like a pro. I sat there, not six feet away, visibly shocked and feeling queasy in my stomach; I wanted to be sick. This old man was more than double her age, even older than her dad. He hadn't asked for this, she just gave it to him freely. She had never done that for me; I'm sure that being sucked is a fantastic feeling, Stretton was obviously relishing it and even the sight of it was making my little dick grow.
Mr Stretton manoeuvred his torso round so that he could get his head between Paula's legs whilst avoiding pulling his cock from her mouth. There then followed a stream of sickening slurping noises as he sucked and licked on her pussy. Soon she was spasming again and then again. Her grunts, sighs and groans escalated in intensity and volume, just watching this mass of squirming flesh, listening to the emanating awful sounds as well as the knowledge of what was to come made me physically heave as I felt my meal lurch upwards. Fortunately I managed to swallow, regain control and send it back down to my nauseous stomach.
Stretton pulled away, laid my wife on her back, she spread her legs wide. Knowing what was about to happen, that stone in my stomach dropped again and my heart pulse raced. He positioned himself in front of her ready to mount her. She didn't even cast a glance at me, I might as well have not been there and in many ways I wished I wasn't. She looked up at her new conqueror awaiting the imminent invasion then she looked down her torso and at the large fleshy baton waving around. He wore no condom but neither bothered a jolt. He took hold of his massive tool, placed it at her entrance and started the descent. For the first time Paula turned her head to look at me but instead of looking at me, she looked straight through me, as though I wasn't there.
When the plunge was complete and they were fully fused, Stretton leant down and kissed Paula passionately and she responded reciprocating with affection, holding the back of his head pushing his face into hers. Another grim milestone had just been crossed; this was love; not just sex but actual love. I wanted to run out up the step and out of that cellar but something kept my ass glued onto that chair.
I sat there and watched Henry Stretton fuck my wife hard. Their hips slapped to a steady rhythm, his huge glistening stick slid down and back out of her wet wanton pussy like an engine piston. She shook her head until spasming orgasms momentarily took control of her body and shook her as though she were a possessed soul being exorcised. Still Stretton pounded her mercilessly. Eventually he pulled his large member out of her, switched Paula over like she were a side of lamb and re-inserted his rod back into her pussy from behind and continued to fuck her doggy fashion.
For the first time Paula looked up at me, our eyes met, though I could barely see through all the tears that had welled up.
She demanded: 'Why can't you fuck me like this?' That question really cut through me like a white hot knife. I've always loved her; my life has revolved around her. When we make love I'm as warm and affectionate as I possibly can be. I never knew that she was in the slightest bit dissatisfied with our marriage or our sex life. Why hadn't she said something before now? Stretton began to huff and groan, his pace slowed down. I knew instantly what was happening. This man was about to pump his seed deep into my wife's womb and all I could do was watch him do it.
All the way home we hardly spoke in the taxi. How do you start a conversation in a situation like that? Immediately we arrived home, we both went to bed. Paula slept soundly but I didn't sleep a wink; I just lay there staring up at the ceiling, flash backs raced through my head. Pictures of my beautiful, sweet wife sucking on my boss's cock, him sliding it into her wilful pussy, her screaming at me: 'Why can't you fuck me like this?' and his grunting and his expression of achievement as he injected my wife full of his cum.
The next morning we again barely spoke at breakfast but before I set off I mumbled to Paula:
'We gotta talk.'
'You're right,' came the reply. 'We must, but not now; tonight when we get home from work and we've got the whole evening.'
I arrived home first that following night and started cooking dinner so that it was virtually ready by the time Paula arrived. Immediately she walked through the door she threw her arms around me, weeping, she kept apologising. 'I've been thinking and I'm really sorry about last night.'
'It's all right; it's OK,' I replied whilst hugging and comforting her in a tight hug. Nevertheless dinner was unusually quiet and we neither barely touched it before putting our cutlery together. Despite the apology there was still a difficult atmosphere between us: hardly surprising really. Just as I was loading the dishwasher, the doorbell rang. 'I'll get it,' I said, striding past Paula curled up on the sofa, staring vacantly at the television.
When I opened the door my jaw dropped and I gasped with surprise. Standing, smiling, as nonchalantly as if he were a cold calling salesman or a religious crank, he coolly asked:
'Hi Robert. Are you going to ask me in?'
'Of course;' I blurted out and stepping aside to let him pass. I guessed that he had come round to apologise for what had happened the night before. 'Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?'
'Coffee, white, no sugar please.' Stretton walked into the lounge; Paula looked up and audibly gasped, she was genuinely shocked at seeing him. I went into the kitchen, dug out our best china crockery and set up the coffee filter machine, set the cups on a tray and poured cream into a jug. Then leaving the coffee filter to percolate, I opened the door to the lounge to be greeted with the sight of Paula, her arms pointing straight up in the air and Stretton lifting her top over her head.
'No!'I cried. 'No; stop it!' I pleaded with Paula: 'Please don't do this… Please?' Her head and mass of curly black hair plopped out of her top which then fell to the floor. Paula, sat bolt upright, her pert breasts covered by her white underpinned bra, stood out proudly.
Stretton glanced a steely stare at me and through gritted teeth he grimaced:
'Right! Now Robert; sit down!' Obediently I sat in the armchair, but at the same time trying to lock a pleading glare at Paula, silently begging her not to go through with this. 'You know there's a lot wrong with your marriage and I'm here to try to help you put it right.' I sat upright. 'It seems to me you've taken your wife for granted for far too long. You assume that she has no sexual needs. Well she has and you've totally ignored them. You should be ashamed of yourself.’ Paula looked at me with contempt.
Tears welled up, I pleased:
'I'm sorry babe; I didn't know. Please, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry.' Paula didn't reply or even acknowledge my apology except by reaching behind to unhook her bra and let her breasts fall loose, almost as a deliberate rebuff. Stretton continued:
'Well I can help you to put it right, I'm going to be your mentor; I want you to think of yourself as my apprentice. I'm going to train you, how to look after a good woman like Paula. It's not going to be easy; it might take a couple of years but when you graduate you'll have a really strong relationship that will be the envy of many.' He started to tug off his tie and undo his shirt buttons as he carried on lecturing. 'You need to treat Paula with more respect. From now on you'll show her respect and address her 'Ma-am', and you will call me ‘sir:’ is that understood?' I nodded:
'Yes sir,' I replied obediently. It then dawned on me, most of my colleagues called him Mr. Stretton but three always called him sir. Had they gone through this same ordeal? Racking my brains I recalled Graham, Justin and one of the sales guys each addressing him 'sir.' Unwittingly I had just joined their ghastly club. Stretton unbuttoned his trousers, he continued, almost bellowing at me:
'She's not your mum, your cook or your slave; you should be looking after her. Look at this damned place: you need to clean it! And please, do not even hint you want sex; she's not an educational toy for you to practice on! She deserves, and from now on, she will have only expert handling.' At that moment Paula quite deliberately slipped her white cotton panties down her legs and looked at me with a cold expression that said: tough shit!
Watching Mr. Stretton’s broad chest covered in a mat of white body hair, I nodded as he continued: 'It's going to be a long hard slog, but it'll be worth it. In time you will be a husband worthy of a woman like Paula, able to take proper care of her. But in the meantime, I will be stepping in for you.' By this time both parties were stark naked. Henry pulled Paula to him and kissed her, instantly her hand grasped his hard cock and started work on it. Mr. Stretton continued, by now in a gruff but slightly quieter tone: 'Look at you; you're thirty pounds overweight. How is Paula supposed to find that attractive?' It's true, I looked down at my bulging stomach, I'm 5' 6” and over 200 pounds. 'I want you to start training straight away. You need to start jogging, lots of exercise and drastic changes to your diet. Lose fifteen pounds and Paula will start playing with your dick; lose another fifteen and you can start touching her.'
Who is this guy? He can come into my house, take my wife, dish out his orders about my lifestyle and offer me her back as a reward. Unbelievable!
For a second night I sat and watched Henry Stretton thoroughly fuck my wife and her lapping up every last motion until at last he once again emptied himself deep into her womb. Afterwards he instructed me to sleep on the sofa and led Paula up to our bed. I folded up their abandoned clothes and settled down for the night. For a second night I didn't sleep a wink. For an hour I listened to the creaking and groaning of our bed and Paula's groans and screams but even after, when silence enveloped the house, I lay wide awake, thoughts running around my brain like a ball bearing bouncing around a pin ball machine. In 24 hours he had transformed my adorable sweet wife from a delightful, sincere and virtuous girl to a hardened, unfeeling, slutty bitch; almost unrecognisable. Yet still I absolutely loved and adored her.
But what she had done could hardly be called infidelity because it wasn't as though it happened secretly behind my back. I was there throughout and I just let it happen. I could have intervened or at least tried to but I didn't because I was so scared of Mr. Stretton. There's no denying it: I am such a wimp but then I always was; I hate conflict. That's why I was bullied mercilessly at school letting the other boys walk all over me. Now I had to admit it, someone more worthy of her has taken my wife, and all three of us knew it. We may think we're civilised but when it comes down to it, females will always submit to and mate with the dominant male and Stretton is the dominant male around here. I had no choice; I could only watch him take over and shag my poor beautiful wife at will. From now on she was his; all that was left for me were some sweet memories of the times before this nightmare began.
Still I tossed and turned. What did he mean when he said: 'I'm going to train you how to look after a good woman like Paula'? Would he eventually give her back to me? What did he mean 'train me'? I decided I would work hard as I possibly could to complete my training in record time. Without my Paula I was nothing, I wanted her back more than anything.
The following morning I watched the sunshine peep through the curtains as dawn broke. Thankfully it was a Saturday morning so feeling weak from not eating and tired through lack of sleep meant it would be easier to get through the day.
8:00 O'clock came and I rose to make myself a cup of tea. By the time I got back to my sofa, the thudding, creaking, groans and grunts had started again and seemed to go on for an age. I sat watching the TV. It wasn't even switched on, I just sat there with tears streaming down my cheeks. Ten minutes after eventual silence returning, it was broken by Paula's piercing scream:
'Robert; get up here, now!' I scurried upstairs, heart thumping, wondering what could be wrong to cause my normally so placid Paula to shriek like that. I opened our bedroom door to be greeted by a screech:
'Get out! Knock before you come in. You don't know what we might have been doing.'
'Sorry Ma-am,' I replied sheepishly and closed the door quickly, then knocked timidly.
'Come in.' I entered. Mr. Stretton and Paula were both sat upright in our bed, leaning against the padded headboard. Paula's tits fell over the edge of the covers which she clung onto to hide their lower halves. 'We'd like some breakfast,' she commanded. 'We both want toast with strawberry jam, I want cereal and Henry wants 2 eggs lightly boiled with bread and butter cut into soldiers, but before all that, we'll have two cups of tea.'
'OK,' I replied obediently.
'You mean 'Yes Ma-am!' She hissed menacingly.
'Yes Ma-am.' I replied meekly. I turned exited and scurried downstairs to start cooking.
Later, I was called to collect the dirty plates. Just as I lay them onto the tray, Mr. Stretton asked me to get him a warm soapy flannel. I nodded and replied:
'Yes sir.' He then enquired if we had any KY Jelly, Vaseline or baby oil. Paula answered, instructing me:
'There's baby oil in the drawers below the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.' As I walked out of the room I overheard her asking: 'Why do you want that?' When I returned with both items Paula flung back the duvet to reveal that neither had a stitch on. 'Robert, would you clean Henry's dick please?' I looked at it; it lay long but deflated, draped over his right leg but covered in a white flaky film of dried sperm. I looked at her, checking that she was serious and she was not just having a laugh at my expense. 'Now!' She barked. I knelt on the bed, leaned across and wrapped his fleshy organ in the flannel whilst trying to avoid touching it. I quickly rubbed it clean and withdrew the flannel, looking at Mr. Stretton to make sure that the test was completed satisfactorily. Paula answered my unasked question: 'It's no use like that; get it hard.'
'But.. but .. what? I exclaimed in disbelief.
'You heard, make it hard - now!'
'Yes Ma-am,' I responded sheepishly. She knows I'm not gay, she's just dong this to degrade me. I reached out and very tentatively wrapped my fingers around his warm dark wrinkled cock and slowly started to rub it. His foreskin hangs over his thick cockhead like a badly fitted coat but slides easily back. This was the first time I'd ever touched another man's dick; it made me feel quite unwell. I looked up at Mr. Stretton seeking some approval but instead he shook his head.
Paula looked at me with disappointment: 'Robert, is there anything to do with sex that you're any good at?' Whilst continuing to rub my hand up and down his flaccid dick, I shook my head in humble admission. 'You're going to have to suck on it until it goes hard.' I looked down at my handiwork; the very thought almost made me heave but obediently I put my head down, opened my mouth and took almost half his cock inside my mouth. Surprisingly it had no taste, just the feel of warm flesh inside my mouth. I started to suck, gently at first but as I got used to it my suction increased. I thought, this isn't so bad after all, as I felt the squidgy flesh inside my mouth gradually start to firm up. I sucked even harder.
Just as it became bone hard, Mr. Stretton groaned:
'Ohhh…. That's enough.'
I lifted my face up from his lap but continued gently stroking his cock, awaiting confirmation I could leave. 'Can you put some of that baby oil on it for me?'
I took the bottle and squeezed out a large blob on my hand and then rubbed it all over his engorged dick. Mr Stretton took the bottle from me, squeezed a blob onto his hand and asked Paula to open her legs wide and lift them in the air. He then rubbed the oil in between her pussy and her bum hole then around it and slid a finger inside her anus, up to his knuckles. Paula gasped. I then realised what was happening: Mr. Stretton was going to put his cock up into her ass; and looking at her face, she seemed up for it. 'Hold her hand for me, this might hurt a little.' I held Paula's hand, she grasped mine tightly. 'OK breathe in.' Paula took a sharp intake of breath and held it. I watched intently Mr. Stretton's cock start pushing against her entrance. He pushed very slowly but firmly, it made no progress at first but eventually I saw her tight little sphincter open and give way and as it did her grip on my hand almost crushed my fingers, her whole body tensed, her face scrunched up and she started screaming, begging Mr. Stretton to stop but still his large stump pressed inexorably deeper. My poor Paula was in agony; her face was beetroot red, tears streamed down her face, she screamed in agony as he advanced, gasping and crying pitiably in between, her ribcage rose and fell sharply with each pant causing her breasts to wobble like blancmange on a plate.
'Stop!' I cried: 'You're hurting her.' My pleas fell on deaf ears. I asked again, only louder. 'Please Mr. Stretton, stop. You're hurting her.' Instantly Paula pushed my hand away, flapped it around, looked up at Mr. Stretton and nodded her head to confirm consent. With one final push he completed the descent; my poor wife arched her back and screeched in anguish and distress. Stretton paused giving Paula chance to adjust and accommodate his cock in her overstretched hole and brace herself for the next stage.
'Good girl; you're doing really well,' came his reassurance: 'I'm really proud of you.' His tone was patronising, as though she were a little child undergoing a painful medical procedure. But this was no medical procedure, he was subjecting my poor wife to this ordeal simply for his own sexual gratification, there was no benefit to Paula and yet still she willingly endured it, just to please him. He slowly started to push his cruel dick up and down her tiny orifice; still she was hardly able to bear the pain she was in. Mr. Stretton began to gasp, his pace quickened: 'Oh that is so good: it's so tight!' This selfish bastard was oblivious to the pain he was inflicting on my poor wife, his only concern was maximising the sensations in his cock whilst she writhed in agony until at last he grunted: 'I'm coming: I'm coming.' Upon completion he fell upon Paula. She seemed pleased to have come through this ordeal and was still alive. They kissed passionately.
That afternoon as I was vacuuming the lounge, Paula popped her head around the door to inform me they were going to Henry's and that I could sleep upstairs in the bed because she wouldn't be back until the following day.
For a third night I lay awake, trying to make some sense of the situation we were in. My wife was in another man's bed apparently with my blessing, whilst he trains me to look after and fulfil her needs. I loved her dearly and was missing her dreadfully; this training was literally crucifying me. I hoped but couldn't see how this apprenticeship was going to work. I was also worried about how this was affecting Paula. Mr. Stretton was being very professional; he showed her no love or concern, his focus on her was purely sexual but she seemed infatuated with him, it was as though she was under his hypnotic spell. Her unquestioning loyalty meant her suffering excruciating pain and yet she did, willingly, just to give him nice feelings in his dick.
The next day, around lunchtime I heard her key in the front door, it opened and in bounced my gorgeous wife:
'Hi ya! You all right?'
'Yes,' I replied curtly. Her smile vanished immediately as she scalded me:
'Yes Ma-am. You're not very good at showing me respect are you Robert?'
'I'm sorry Ma-am.' I replied meekly. She barked out an order:
'Right, now get me a beer out of the fridge and come and sit down.' When I handed her a can she flew into a rage and threw it at me; it glanced off the side of my head; momentarily stars swirled around my head. 'Do you think I'm some beer swilling yob? Put it in a glass; you're as incompetent as you are pathetic!’ I returned as quickly as possible with a glass of cold beer.
'I'm sorry Ma-am; I'm really sorry.'
'Sit down.' She snapped back at me. 'I've got lots to tell you. Henry said I've got to come home and tell you all about what we got up to.'
'Why?' I enquired.
'It's part of your training,' came her reply. 'We've got to be honest and tell each other everything.' She continued: 'Well on the way home Henry called up his next door neighbours on his car-phone and invited them round. They are a lovely couple, Earl and Cynthia. They're black as the ace of spades and really lovely. Well we all soon ended up back in his Jacuzzi, it was lovely. Earl was a real gentleman, he kept paying me lots of lovely compliments. Something you've never done..'
I interrupted her mid-sentence: 'I'm really sorry Paula, I know I …'
'Shut up and don't interrupt!' She screamed venomously at me.
'Sorry Ma-am.'
She continued: 'I told him he's not so bad looking himself. He isn't actually; he's fantastic. He must spend lots of time working out. Well Henry suggested, ‘let's swap.’ I couldn't believe what I was hearing but Cynthia sealed it, straight away she said, 'OK let's do it!' What I didn't know was that she was already playing with Henry's cock under the water. Can you believe it? Without waiting for me to say yes or no, Earl just started on me. He loves my tits and his cock is absolutely amazing; it's even bigger than Henry's so when he fucked me it was totally mind-blowing! I've never known anyone like him. He fucked me, came inside of me. Played with my tits and five minutes later he was fucking me again, and then again. He came in me three times in two hours! I'm so sore now but still it was fantastic.' Paula positively beamed as she reflected on her adventures. 'Henry's really proud of me; that I could keep up with Earl. He thinks I'm wonderful. I’m a bit though – both holes.'
I asked myself, why is she telling me all this? Is she deliberately trying to hurt me, humiliate me, or what? That night I fell asleep, through sheer exhaustion but by 3:00 am I was wide awake again. Once again I lay there ruminating on the events of the last few days. I still couldn't make any sense of the situation. Paula seems really happy and chirpy, happier than I'd ever known her but her feelings for me had swung from dear affection to almost contempt, and in such a short time. If she was so unhappy before and she thought I was taking her for granted, she should have said. I suppose now, it's payback. I suppose I'm just going to have to get used to this new lifestyle. An arctic cold wife bringing back a string of boyfriends and watching them fuck her brains out.
I realise now, I'm dependent upon Mr. Stretton training me up to be good enough and worthy to be her husband; I just hope I can make the grade and as quick as possible because this is killing me.
 TAKE MY WIFE |
 FUCK ME |
Poster:
andy harrison