Not so Tough

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Not So Tough

"Fuck me like I'm your slut."

That's what she said; that's what Roxanne, his wife of eleven years said while her sweating, grunting lover passionately thrust into her, one hand at her throat, the other gripping her thigh. Logan could see his wife's eyes roll back in her skull, her head slipping back in delight. Her toes were curled, her back arched, pushing her upper body off the desk and letting her silken black hair cascade down like a waterfall. She held one arm around her lover, while the other was gripping the edge of the desk for support, holding onto it for dear life -- her knuckles were white, her grip so tight the tendons in her hand threatened to burst. She looked a very picture of ecstasy.

But it wasn't Logan fucking her. He watched in silence from the doorway, as another man fucked her. The lovers were oblivious to him; blissfully unaware of any voyeur. Logan felt frozen, he didn't know what to do. He felt surprise, shock, anger -- but it was all overcome by an urge to just watch. The door was barely open, he doubted they would notice him if he just stayed quiet. When they were finishing, he could sneak back and pretend like he just arrived home, or he could catch them in the act. But for now, he would watch. What's the harm? Logan thought to himself.

Damn it. He cursed himself, why was he just watching? What's the harm? What's the

harm

? How could he have even thought that? It was his office they were making love in. His fucking office! In his own

home

! Roxanne had her own fucking office, but no; here she was lying on

his

desk getting fucked by some stranger. His wife on his desk limbs entwined with her lover like some kind of rutting tree. From his vantage at the door, Logan a perfect view of proceedings, a perfect view of his wonderful, cheating wife.

Logan sighed. His wife looked beautiful, orgasmic even. It might have been sunlight from the window behind her, but she seemed to have an ethereal glow to her, a halo. Logan had often thought his wife to be the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe it was the lust he noticed between her and her lover, but she seemed even more beautiful in this moment. Her breasts, huge and heavy, seemed to bounce in slow motion. Sweat made her glisten; her skin shone with a rich golden color.

Logan found his gaze drawn to her lover. For the first time he realized who it was. He recognized the man; they'd met. It was Oliver, the twenty-two-year-old intern at the firm where Roxanne worked. He'd met the guy at Christmas. Oliver? A twenty-two-year-old kid was... was...

fucking his wife

? And Logan was just

watching

? No,

no

! What was

wrong

with him? Anger suddenly burst into his veins, pulsing like liquid rage. This had to stop! Why had he stood and watched for so long?

But still he didn't move. Thoughts tumbled around Logan's head as if it were a washing machine. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He didn't know how to react. First of all, his wife was cheating on him! He'd never really considered that as something that would happen.

Logan wasn't the kind of man who got cheated on. Women loved him and men were intimidated by him. Logan had seen the lust die in men's eyes at his very appearance. He'd seen men who sought after Roxane with misplaced confidence scamper away with their tail between their legs at the mere glimpse of him. It's in the way he carried himself -- the broad shoulders, upturned square jaw, scowling eyes that've stared down more trouble than most people can imagine. Tough? Logan wasn't just tough; he was unbreakable. That was, until he heard his wife's moans with another man inside her.

It wasn't that Logan was scary, or wasn't friendly, it was just that he was a big man. A big, bulky, tattooed man. All they saw was his size and the ink. Six-foot-four of illustrated skin and muscle, rounded out with the fat of age. Sure, he'd put on a few pounds round the belly, but it only made him seem bigger, made him loom larger. Ain't nobody gonna try anything around him!

There was one lanky guy named Tyler. He'd been the barista at her usual café a couple years back; early-twenties -- must have been paying his way through college. Logan remembered the way Tyler stared at Roxanne; drinking her in as if she were a glass of bourbon. Tyler had come over with their coffees and was in the process of mentally undressing Roxanne when Logan returned from the bathroom. He could have sworn the kid gulped in surprise like a cartoon! He instantly forgot he was even interested in Roxanne.

Then there was the Hispanic guy who worked with Roxanne; what was his name; Diego? Matias? No, it was Diego. Definitely Diego. He'd been hitting on Roxanne for quite some time. She thought it was flattering. She'd often tell Logan stories about how he brought her flowers and a coffee or complimented her on a haircut. Little things like that, but after Diego met Logan at a work function, he never hit on her again, or so Roxanne said. She thought it was odd, but she didn't feel the need in pressing the matter.

Especially because anyone who knew Logan personally knew he could box. He'd been a junior champion in his youth, but he'd been forced to give it up when he spent a year in prison. He'd dabbled in his passion since, but nothing serious a few amateur matches here and there. He even owned a gym on the side, where he taught boxing occasionally. He was getting older, but he still had it. He could still knock a man six ways from Sunday. Men just saw him and were scared off. Honestly, he secretly felt a little pride in that. That was until now.

Logan took a step towards the door and froze when the floorboards creaked. Nothing. The lovers didn't stop; if anything, they seemed to increase. Logan's gaze lingered on Ollie's ass, the round, creamy, whiteness of it. He felt lured to it. Ollie sure had a nice ass, that's for sure. Lean and fit, yet still round. He admired the way it bounced with each thrust, every time Ollie thrust into his wife...

"Oh god, oh god, yes! Yes Ollie! Fuck me like the filthy fucking cunt whore I am! Fuck me like the cheating bitch I am!" Logan heard his wife groan, drawing him from his thoughts. He felt his cheeks redden. Was it shame, or...or anger? That wasn't how she should act. That wasn't how his

wife

, his woman, should act. He felt like he didn't know the woman on the desk. She certainly didn't let him fuck her like that.

"You like that?" Ollie grunted. His hand was no longer gripping Roxanne's throat, it was at her breast, squeezing and groping with wild abandon. "You like that you slut?"

"Yes Sir I love it! I fucking...oh god...don't stop!" Roxanne growled. "Please don't stop Ollie, I'm gonna cum! You're gonna make me c-cum!"

Logan swallowed. Sir? She called him

sir

? Roxanne was never one for authority - save her own. It was part of what attracted him to her. Logan was brash in his own right, but Roxanne was fierce. She wasn't just confident, she owned every room she entered, radiating a magnetism that demanded attention. He'd never loved a woman before he'd met her, her thought love was all a fairytale. He'd always been in the one in control, but she'd careened into his life like a whipcrack, eleven years ago.

Now here she was, getting ploughed on his desk, calling herself all kinds of things. A slut? Logan was taken aback by how easily the word slipped from her lips. She said it like it was nothing. She called a boy sir. Her! Thirty-eight years of age! Calling a twenty-two-year-old college kid, barely a man, sir?

"Can I cum sir? Please?

Please

can I come? I'm a good slut...oh I'm a good slut, oh god, I'm...I'm a good slut sir, I'm

your

good slut!"

And then she came; a great, bubbling wave that washed over her body. Her feet quivered, her toes curled and her head fell back. She let out a great moan, and tried to speak, but all that came out was silence. Logan could see her fingers digging into Ollie's back as she tried to hold on as tightly as she could. Waves of pleasure kept crashing over her, her body shook. She looked possessed; she must be cumming hard. Logan swallowed. She never looked like that when she had sex with him.

She came back to the world shaking and giggling, breathing heavily, wrapping her arms around Ollie. She bit her lip and gazed deeply into Ollie's eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered sexily.

"Thankyou Sir," she gasped. "Thankyou!"

She held Ollie tightly, closing her eyes with a happy, contented look on her face, nuzzling into his chest. It was so intimate, so private. Logan felt like he was intruding. Slowly, Ollie began thrusting again, and Roxanne opened her eyes and moaned. She leaned back, breasts flopping. Ollie grabbed her by the hair and began to pick up the pace, the room filling the sound of their bodies slapping together. Roxanne had that look in her eyes again.

"Fuck you've got stamina sir!" she laughed. Ollie didn't reply; he was fucking harder and faster now. He was standing on the balls of his feet, in an effort to thrust deeper and harder. Logan could hear how wet his wife's pussy was with every thrust. He could smell the sex from the other side of the room.

Flashes of jealousy rippled in Logan's mind. Doubt crept in. He knew he could do something, but he...he was just watching. Logan felt a twinge in his crotch and swallowed - his throat was dry. All those men he'd scared off with his mere presence, and yet here was this young man, balls deep in his wife! The nerve! The absolute fucking nerve!

She...she did seem to be enjoying it though. Logan felt another twinge in his crotch and looked down to see his cock pushing against his trousers. He was rock hard! Oh god, how had he not noticed? His wife moaned again, and Logan felt the blood as it pulsed through his member. His fingers curled, and he looked back over at the scene in front of him -- his wife being railed by a fit, young man. His cock pulsed again, and instinctively he unzipped his fly. Slowly, so as to minimize the noise. Not that he needed to, really, not when his wife was moaning at the top of her longs, calling herself a --

"Slut! I'm your filthy slut, Ollie, oh yes! Oh yes! Please don't stop! Please... just...just keep going! Do it for me! Do it for your whore!"

Logan could feel the blood rushing to his head. Both his heads. He'd slipped his cock out of his pants and was gripping it tightly, stroking it. His breathing became low and fast, and he couldn't take his eyes off the scene before him.

"You wanna cum baby? You wanna cum? Cum for me, cum for your slut! Your whore! Yeah, yeah you like that baby?" Roxanne cooed as Ollie reached closer to climax, but to Logan it felt like she was talking to him.

"Yes I wanna cum," Logan whispered under his breath, as if she was speaking to him. "I wanna cum..."

Roxanne continued. "Don't you dare fucking stop until you've blown that load baby, I want that load, I want it all over me! I want it in me sir! I'm your fucking

whore

baby!"

"On your knees," Ollie said quickly, pulling out of Roxanne and helping her off the desk.

"Mmmm yes sir!" she said, barely on her knees when he came; thick, white ribbons of cum shooting out his cock all over Roxanne's chest. At the same time Logan felt a shockwave curse through his body. He gasped, and every muscle in his body seemed to tense, from his toes to his scalp.

Logan could barely breathe. He stepped back, pausing to run his hand over his head. His hand was slimy. Holding it in front of his eyes he saw it was covered in cum. Thick, viscous cum that dripped off his fingers. Shit. He looked down at the floor, and noticed a few drops. Shit. They'd know...fuck. No, he couldn't let them know. He threw a glance towards his wife, who was currently passionately kissing her young lover.

"Was I a good slut, sir?" she said between kisses.

"Mmmmm yes you were Roxy," came the reply. Roxy? Roxanne never let him call her Roxy. Logan knelt down and used his shirt to wipe his cum off the floorboards. He had to be quick; surely they'd be done soon...

"Do I deserve that spanking you promised?" He heard his wife say. Oh come

on

! Logan thought. Spanking, really? The cum was almost all gone now. He stood up. His shirt was no longer neatly tucked into his trousers, and had wet spots where he'd used it to wipe up his cum. His hand was still caked with semen, and his cock was hanging out, limp and flaccid.

He heard Ollie postpone a spanking until next time, and felt a jab of fear slice up his spine. Roxanne saw the time and swore, that was all Logan needed to be out of there.

He'd go to the garage, back to his car. He always had a spare shirt at work, he'd drive back; get changed and then arrive back without being seen. He'd have to be quick if he didn't want them to see his car. Or...or he could just back out a little, and then drive in like he was just arriving home. Maybe he spilled something on his shirt? Yes, that'd do it.

Logan dashed out down the hall, away from his study. Luckily, he'd left the garage door open. It'd be easy to slip by. Just when he thought he was in the clear, he heard a sing-song voice.

"Oh Logan!" Roxanne hollered, cackling.

Logan felt his blood run cold, even as it made its way back to his rapidly re-hardening cock. He turned around. Roxane, his wife of eleven years, was standing naked in the doorway, grinning ear to ear and beckoning him with a finger. She still had her lover's cum dripping down her breasts. She'd never looked better, standing there naked, shining with sweat, red from exertion and splattered with another man's cum.

"You're always so loud walking down the hall," Roxanne said. "Why don't you come back? I know you enjoyed watching. I'm sure Ollie can stay for round two if you ask nicely."

Logan swallowed nervously. Something had awakened inside him. He wasn't sure how to describe the million emotions flooding through him. Embarrassment, humiliation, anger, betrayal - but most of all arousal, so,

so

much lust and desire, burning hot inside him. He was on the precipice, he just needed to let go. He felt tears stinging the backs of his eyes. He was a tough guy, but for the first time in Logan's life, he didn't feel so tough. Sighing in acceptance, he followed his wife into his study.