Author's note: This is a sequel to "Kindling a Fire." I didn't know then how cruelly dominant the young man was, or how submissive the narrator. Those things become clear in this story.
On Sunday morning I was washing dishes when the doorbell rang. John stood on the porch, wearing little running shorts, but no shirt. He'd clearly been running. His muscular torso gleamed with sweat. Beads of it stood on his lean washboard abs. I guess he went shirtless a lot; his tan was even.
"Hi John. I'm sorry, Mary's not here right now, but would you like to come in?"
"Nah, Friday's soon enough for her. I need to piss, and I thought you might want it."
"What! Oh, um. Thanks for thinking of me. Yes. Come on inside."
"Nah. How about right here?"
I looked up and down the street. No neighbors visible, but...
His thin lips curved in a smirk. "If you don't want it," He reached into the flimsy shorts and hoisted out his massive member. As it uncoiled and sagged out, I marveled that it fit in those shorts. Without hesitation, he unleashed a stream of urine toward the doormat, splashing onto my feet.
"Wait, wait!" I fell to my knees. The piss splattered on the apron I was wearing for dishwashing, and hit me in the face before I could capture the meaty head of his cock with my lips. I sucked at it thirstily. Hot, acrid, salty, delicious. The stream died down. I raised my hand to milk the shaft and urethra, emptying the final drops onto my tongue.
It began to swell, thickening, lengthening, growing firmer. John withdrew it, not ungently, from my mouth and hand. He used his own hand to rub it over my face.
"You've never sucked cock before, have you?' He asked.
"No."
"I'd love to fuck your face until you gag and choke and your drool runs down over my balls." He set it on top of my head and rolled it side-to-side in my hair.
"That sounds nice," I answered. (sounds nice? I'd never considered it before, but I wanted it more than anything. How pathetic!)
"But I gotta go. I have a date with a little blonde bitch who's learning to take it down her throat. She's such an idiot she thinks when my balls hit her chin, we'll be 'going all the way.'
"Listen, on Friday, I'm coming over to fuck ass. You better get Mary as ready as you can. One of you is going to take the monster," he slapped my face with it, then corralled it back in the running shorts, "up the ass, and the other is going to lick and suck it clean afterward. Good fun for everyone." He smirked again, then turned and walked off the porch.
When Mary came home I told her he'd stopped by. It gave me a sick thrill to see her eyes light up at his name, then sink in disappointment that he wasn't there. I told her what he'd said. "Mary, have you ever put anything in your butthole? Ever done anything with it? Have you even seen your own butthole? Mary, he's going to tear you wide open if you don't do some stuff this week to get ready."
She put me off. It was all too "yucky" for her to think about.
I tried again, "Mary, do you think you're going to talk him out of it? He's a sadistic kid. He wants to hurt you."
She wouldn't hear it. "You got what you wanted. You got to drink his piss and eat his cum from me, but now you're jealous because he satisfies me in a way you never did. You're sick, and you don't want me to be happy."
I gave up.
I'd put things in my butt before. I had some idea what was involved. I spent the week stretching my asshole out more every day, using a dildo I kept hidden in my basement tool bench. I had visions of his huge cock disappearing between Mary's butt cheeks, of him pinning her to the bed while his battering ram pounded at her back door, of it slipping out of her, smeared and sloppy, of her gaped and bleeding hole, and of him pressing it to my lips.
I worked the dildo aggressively into my rectum, imagining John's erection straining and pulsing inside me, his hot seed spewing far up my back passage, then leaking from my loose hole as Mary licked delicately at his dirty dick.
The dildo found my prostate. With my other hand I pumped my cock. When I spurted, I caught the ejaculate in my palm, then licked it up while I withdrew the dildo.
On Wednesday I prepared the first meal in a high-fiber diet planned to help both of us be as empty as possible on Friday night. I showed Mary the bulb syringe and explained its use. "Mary you'll want to clean yourself out on Friday before John comes over." She didn't want to see it. I said, "Honey, I know you just want him to stuff your pussy full with his huge cock and make you cum for an hour like he did last week. I'm not jealous of that," (Not jealous? I'm still not sure if I wished I was him or her) "but he's determined to sodomize you - or me. I want to help you be ready so you don't get hurt." I showed her the lube. "You're going to want a lot of this." Talking to her was useless, but I left the lube on the bedside table, and the syringe visible in the bathroom.
On Friday, I used the syringe to prepare myself, "just in case." Ahead of his arrival, I made a light dinner for Mary and John and left it in the oven to keep warm. I helped Mary get dressed in a matching black lace shelf bra and tap short panties, and a sheer white peignoir. She wouldn't talk about it, but I knew she expected to seduce John into choosing her pussy.
I poured two glasses of wine, turned on some soft jazz music and retreated to the bathroom. On the way, I took a generous portion of the anal lube. I removed all my clothes with one hand, then used the other to smear lube on and in my anus. Leaving my clothes on a hook and the door ajar, I sat in the shower to wait.
With the bathroom and bedroom doors open, I could hear the vague sounds of John's arrival and their dining and drinking.
Perhaps an hour later, the noises, now consistent with romantic passion, got louder: footsteps in the hall, moaning, rhythmic thumping against a wall. The light in the bedroom came on and I caught a glimpse of Mary. The peignoir was gone and the shelf bra dangled haphazardly around her waist. Her breasts stood pale in the overhead light, contrasting with the swollen redness of her erect and clearly well-sucked and bitten nipples.
Then John blocked the bathroom door. His dress shirt was unbuttoned and hung outside his pants. His nipples also appeared wet and erect. His pants were unzipped, and his enormous cock protruded from his boxer's fly. Its head also gleamed wetly.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," I said.
"I am going to rip your wife's asshole wide open, piss mop. How do you like that?"
"Don't hurt her."
