Saturday , January 29 2022

How I started my slut wife life

Two hours ago, I knelt on the floor of my owner’s office, sucking his cock and his shiny balls. I wore only a tiny pair of panties and a collar around my neck. My bra lay balled up in the corner. I hadn’t been wearing any other clothes when I entered the room. My owner was looking at porn pictures and videos on the computer. I was scrunched up under his desk, my face in his crotch, his cock in my mouth. I’d been ordered not to use my hands, I had to manipulate him completely with my lips and throat and tongue. Occasionally, and without warning, he would begin thrusting his hips against my head, fucking my face. As his thick cock found the back of my throat, I’d concentrate on making my mouth feel just like a hot pussy, warm and wet and welcoming. When it was my turn to suck on him, I’d rub my tits all over his legs, letting him feel as much of my soft flesh as possible.

I kept my otherwise unoccupied hands stuck inside my panties, busy slowly rubbing my engorged pussy. Despite his complete lack of interest in my cunt, I was still wet and desperate to have the feel of him inside me. Inspiration hit me, and I pulled aside the crotch of my panties to reveal my pussy. Continuing to suck his cock, I pulled his bare foot towards me, pressing his big toe against my pussy lips, and then finally inside me. When he didn’t pull away, I moved to straddle him, careful not to lose the rhythm on his cock. My main assignment was to suck him off. Everything else was secondary.

I slowly bounced up and down on his toes while treating his cock and balls to the best tongue lashing I could give. Sometimes his big toe plopped inside me. More often it just pressed against my clit and slit. No matter which happened, I shuddered with pleasure, both physical and mental. He turned up the sound and while I couldn’t see the dirty movie, I could imagine what was happening. It sounded like an anal fuck, maybe a dp. My favorite kind, both to watch and to be a part of. The girl’s gasps and yelps sounded real to me, and I wondered when the next time would come when I would be rewarded with a dirty, nasty ass fuck. Maybe if I did a good job on this blowjob. Maybe.

The unseen girl’s cries rose to a crescendo and the man’s grunts followed. Had he blown his wad inside her ass, coating her bowels with his delicious jizz? Had he shot himself all over her anus and pussy, branding her as a fuck whore good for only one thing? Or had he turned her around and plastered her face with his cum, giving her the honor of wearing it and scooping it up so she could eat it? I wanted to see so badly, see which way the man on the screen had used his fuck whore, and hoped that my owner had the same in mind for me.

He swiveled out away from the desk and I crawled along after him, my mouth never leaving his powerful staff of fuck meat. “You may clean my feet,” he said calmly, his eyes sweeping past mine to focus intently on my bare breasts. I expected nothing more. My mouth, tits, cunt and ass are all he cares about, as he’s told me over and over again. I bent down, onto my forearms, and raised my ass in the air in the proper position. As my tongue washed over his toes I can taste my acrid pussy juices all over his feet. There was grit between his toes. I swept that into my mouth just as quickly as anything else; I’m not allowed to stop this task for any reason, not even to remove sand from my mouth. I diligently licked in between each toe, pausing to kiss each one as it is completed. I slowly licked the bottom of each foot, gently blowing on the skin to dry it before transferring my attention to the top. After I finished my task, I remained in position, gently kissing the top of one, then the other, bobbing up and down like a hungry hen.

“You may hump my leg, bitch,” he ordered, a slight rasp of aggression in his voice. When I hesitated before beginning to rise to take my position, he grabbed my right tit and roughly pulled me to my feet. I didn’t bother to conceal the twinge of pain in my face; he wants it and expects it. And it’s far from the worst I’ve ever felt. As I stood before him, still completely submissive, he pulled scissors from the desk and deliberately cut the waistband of my panties in two spots. I spread my legs slightly and watched as they dropped silently to the floor. It’s not the first pair he’s cut off. And it won’t be the last.

I crouched down and positioned my pussy over his shin, then began humping his leg, like the bitch in heat that I am. My mind was focused on nothing but the feel of his shin rubbing against my pussy, his hairs aggravating my most sensitive spots. It’s not so much painful as it is irritating, the coarse hair sometimes getting caught in the folds of my cunt. He took the camera off the desk and began filming me, and I wondered where the footage is going to be seen. Shown to his friends? Or posted online at an adult-oriented amateur site. Either way I have no say in the matter. My job is to do as he orders. Faster! Harder! Louder! He orders me by grabbing my hair and shaking it. I slammed my cunt up against his leg and shinnied up and down it, his rough skin and hair rubbing raw against my pussy walls. I mewl though I want to weep; the friction left me in pain.

I continued for minutes that seemed like hours, clamped around his leg, humping, humping, humping him.

Some Background

My name is Karen. And I’m a real life slut wife. You probably find that hard to believe. Three years ago, I would’ve felt the same. But whether you believe me or not doesn’t change the fact that I am a slut wife. And I’m not talking about the kind of woman who simply allows her husband to call her a slut when he’s giving her a particularly hard fuck in the dark of their bedroom, but won’t let him fondle her in the daylight. Nor am I the slut wife that will try a few minor adventures, flash her tits at Mardi Gras or let her husband post nude pictures of her, and then call herself a slut, as if she’s really sacrificed anything. And I’m not the product of some guy’s imagination, sitting alone at night with his laptop and making up tales of how he wishes his wife would act, if only he could get the balls to make her do things his way.

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