Lab Partners 4

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Lab Partners Ch. 1

"Aw yeah...this is hot..." he said, as I was faking an orgasm for the second time tonight.

Considering it took him forever to get hard, I have a difficult time believing that. My new lacy underwear didn't even help. When he saw them, all he said was "Wow!", then continued to yank on his semi-hard penis, willing it into an erection. And now he's been sawing away at me for the past 10 minutes. He usually doesn't, um, finish, so I thought my flailing around and moaning would do the trick.

When we first got married, we had sex often enough. A lot of that excitement was because we were trying to get pregnant. A year or two of that and we started to wonder if it was possible if we could. We finally went to the doctor and found out that Dylan had a low sperm count. Testosterone injections and vitamin supplements haven't helped. Ever since the diagnosis, we have not been very sexually compatible. 

"Oh God! Babe... your dick is so big!" That's one of Dylan's favorite things I say. And it's not a total lie. I met him when I was 19, so I hadn't experienced a lot of dick. His was five inches long but kinda thick. It was the biggest I'd ever had, and I happened to end up marrying him. Now, I've seen bigger ones, but only on very short, guilt-ridden searches on the internet. As far as I knew, that's really the only place they existed. I always tried to stay off those sites because they crowded my brain with too many erotic images.

I looked up at him and saw he was getting tired and needed a nudge over the edge. "Come with me" I whispered in his ear.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit" he repeated as he swelled inside me and exhaled into the pillow. It was over, and now I can go back to scrolling on my phone.

As he pulled out, he hit me with the same line he always does, "That was good, right?"

I force an exhausted tone of voice and squeak out, "Always babe."

-----

"All right honey I've got to go. I'm at the coffee place. Yeah. Yup, love you too." I dropped my phone into my purse as I walked in and scanned the room for my bestie Lisa. We've been friends forever, and I look forward to these sit-downs so we can unload all of our frustrations onto each other. She's been married as long as I have, so she "gets me". The other girls at work are way younger and complain about petty crap, like their boyfriend's video game addiction or their roommate's lack of cleaning habits.

"Hey bitch! Over here!" Yes, Lisa is that loud kind of friend who doesn't care what she says or how loud she says it. She's also that friend where you are completely jealous of her body. Tall and thin, perfect boobs, great butt. Now she's earned that body because she runs, but she loves to run! That's not fair. I would look like that if I loved running...

"So... how are things with the Bot?  Any changes with his man bits?" The Bot is Lisa's nickname for my husband. She sees him as this soulless, utilitarian kind of thing that only does what it's told. Doesn't take charge, can't think on its own. She's not wrong.

"Yeah, no. Same old, same old."

"Still nothing going on in the bedroom? Did you try that lingerie website I use?" Lisa is convinced that sex is the only way to fix a pointless marriage. I hope she's wrong.

"Yeah, I ordered a couple of things. Wore one last night, a lacy bra and panties. It made no difference. I shaved everything off, you know, down there. He didn't even mention it. Did I tell you I got his initials tattooed on my ass? When I showed him, he said 'That's cool.'"

I must've looked drained saying that because Lisa got instantly sad.

"Oh, sweetie...I know I've said this before, but you deserve better! You're so beautiful and sexy. You're 5 foot nothing with huge tits and a peach of an ass! You could get any guy in here! And I bet they'd be happy to fulfill all your disgusting fantasies."

"Wh-what fantasies?" I asked, a little afraid of what she might say. We have never really discussed anything too risque, and she's not one to shy away from saying what's on her mind.

"Ha! You know you have a few. We all do. Luckily Jon and I live them out every once in a while so our sex life stays spicy. Come on, let me hear one."

"I... I um... I don't know..."

"Seriously?! Ok, I'll go first. My newest one is pretending Jon is a felon who just got released from prison and hasn't been with a woman in years. I can't wait to see what he does with that!" As she said all that, my mind started darting around, looking for one I could tell her that would end the conversation, but not be too embarrassing.

"Well, it would be nice if he took charge in the bedroom. You know, tell me to do things." Lisa looked unimpressed.

"Things. Things? Like what things?" I knew she wasn't going to give up until I got more specific, more nasty.

"Um, you know...stuff."

"Nope! No idea. What stuff?"

"Maybe not do stuff but...call me names? Like, um, slut?" I whispered.

"SLUT!? That it!? Shit, Jon called me that on our second date!" she bellowed.

"Jesus! Keep your voice down!"

"Honey, you need to start being honest with yourself! I don't believe that's your only fantasy. Also, if that IS all you've got, that's your innermost dream, it's not the Bot's fault you two are having issues. If you aren't thinking about or planning perverted things, why should he? Face your fantasies, and live them out! How about 2 guys at once? 3 guys? Anal? Breeding? Bukka-"

"SSHHH! All right! All right! I guess, um, I would like to see what a, um, bigger, um, bigger di- um penis w-would be like..."

"Now we're talking! I knew you had more. Well, now it's time to go home and tell him that." I blinked hard at that sentence. Tell him that? What the fuck does that mean?

"What, um, sorry, what the fuck does that mean?"

"Tell him! Go home, find your man, and tell him you want to get dicked down by a stranger's huge cock!" I have now sunk into the booth so no one can see me, face beet red, and started grabbing my purse.

"I got, um, yeah I gotta go."

"Sara, wait, we can talk about some...thing else..." She stopped talking because she saw I was staring into my purse with a horrified look on my face. I reached in, picked up my phone, and...

"H-hello?"

*Boop*

"What's wrong?"

"I was talking to the Bot, uh Dylan, on the way in and and and I g-guess I didn't hang up?"

"Fuuuuuuck. You think he heard, um, all that?"

I slowly nodded.

"Fuuuuuck."

Yeah, that's all I can think to say. Fuck.

-----

As I pulled into my driveway, my stomach started to feel queasy. Oh my god, he's home. He should be at work! I turned the car off and stared out of the windshield at...nothing. Now what? How do I look my husband in the eye?

I gathered up some courage and slid out of the car. Walking into my house I felt like an unwelcome guest trying not to wake a sleeping baby. What was I avoiding? I know Dylan is home, and I have to be prepared for a super awkward conversation.

As I made my way upstairs, I could hear what sounded like Dylan talking to someone. He was in our bedroom, and when I walked in he quickly finished the phone call he was on.

With tears starting to roll down my face, I said "Hon, I am so sorry..." He held up his hand and shook his head. He got up and slithered past me standing in the doorway, doing his best not to touch me. I took a couple of stumbling steps forward, then fell on the bed, sobbing. He won't even speak to me? How do we move past this? Can we move past this?

After a good 20 minutes of ugly crying, my chest hurt and my eyes were raw. Knowing I couldn't stay in bed and sob all day, I rolled onto my feet and walked into the bathroom. After washing my face, I gathered myself to head downstairs.

The house was completely silent. My footsteps were the only sound I heard as I searched for Dylan everywhere. His car is still here, maybe in the backyard? I made my way to our back patio and could see the silhouette of his head sitting up in his favorite chair facing the backyard. He looks like he needs to be alone, I thought to myself. As I started to turn away, I stopped myself. No, you have to go talk to him. My head, my heart, and my feet were all arguing with each other, unable to decide as to what to do. Just then Dylan raised his arm and I saw he was drinking out of the rocks glass he uses to drink bourbon. 

The slider squeaked as it opened, making him sit up a bit. He quickly took another slug out of his glass.

"So. Lemme guess. You didn't mean it? You were kidding? You were showing off for your friend?" He was definitely drunk. I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, but no words came out. It hadn't even occurred to me to make up a lie.

"No." It was the only thing that I could come up with.

"No? Well, I appreciate you telling me exactly how it is." He stood up, swaying slightly and looking very defeated. "I'm going to... Go." 

"Go? Where?"

"I don't know yet. But this doesn't feel like the kind of thing that sleeping on the couch is going to fix. You know what I mean?"

Instead of walking toward me, he walked down the patio stairs and around the side of the house. Is he serious? Is he really going to drive drunk and not tell me where he's going? I ran to the garage to confront him, hoping I could convince him to stay home and sleep it off. He was already climbing into his car.

"Dylan! Dylan stop!" With a clunk of the door, a whir of the engine, and a squealing of the tires, he was gone.

-----

Crying must take a lot out of you because I didn't remember falling asleep, and I slept in til almost 10 in the morning. While I was in the shower, I looked down at the prickly hairs around my pussy and figured I'd better clean up down there. For who? I don't know. Dylan didn't care, maybe my next husband would care. I shuddered at the thought of having to go find another guy. My friends tell me I'm beautiful, but I have a hard time seeing it.

I hopped out of the shower, toweled off, threw my hair back in a pony, put on my makeup, and proceeded to stare into my closet. What am I going to wear? Am I going out? Am I waiting for Dylan to come home?

Yes. I'm going to wait for Dylan to come home. And when he gets here, we are going to have sex! That thought made me feel weird. That's HIS job to initiate sex.

No. No! Maybe he needs ME to take charge! Like Lisa said, maybe it's my fault. I headed over to my dresser to find the other thing I ordered from Lisa's favorite website- a pair of crotchless panties. Because they were crotchless, I thought I should probably wear a softer outfit. I went with my favorite pair of silk pajamas. They're light pink, flowy pants with a button-up, long-sleeve top.

On instinct, I started to look for a bra but decided that's not happening today. I've always been ashamed...no...embarrassed of my big boobs. They attracted attention from all the wrong people: Either men, or honestly teen boys, were constantly staring at them, or women were judging my outfit, shocked I was showing so much cleavage.

Fuck that. No bra.

*Bam! Bam! Bam!*

The sound made me jump out of my skin. I headed out to the hall to figure out what was going on. Was that somebody at my front door? I cautiously walked down the stairs and reached for the front door knob.

*Bam! Bam! Bam!*

Startled, I flung open the door to yell at whoever was standing there. My word's caught in my throat. I looked up at would could only be described as a wall of a man.

"Hi! Sorry for the knocking, but I think your doorbell is broken."

"Um, I um..." 

He continued. "I have an appointment with Dylan Musgrave. Is he here? Can we come in?"

Looking past the well-dressed man I saw two other huge guys who looked more like construction workers. 

"No. I mean yes. Dylan isn't here, but come in." 

"Thanks! It was getting cold out there."

As I moved away from the door, I realized the cold air had made my nipples rock hard. These men walking into my house didn't hurt either. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and followed them into my kitchen.

The well-dressed one tossed some kind of tool bag onto my kitchen table. It said "Gestatex Labs" on the side. He turned around to find me.

"Hi, I'm Jake. And you are..." He had his arm outstretched, looking for a handshake.

"I'm Sara." I kept my arms folded in front of me.

"Ah." Withdrawing his hand, "Well, Mr. Musgrave set up this appointment with me to get a quote for a third-car garage."

Oh geez, that's right. He had mentioned something about that a couple of months ago but I ignored it. She didn't seem too sure of the idea, so I assumed he dropped it.

"OK," I said. I've never felt so exposed standing in my own house. Three massive guys all staring at me and all three knew exactly what my hard nipples looked like! Wait, why is this exciting me? I shift my weight from one foot to the other and I can feel the wetness between my legs. I have got to get these guys out of here!

"Well, like I said, Dylan isn't here..."

"Oh, that's OK Sara. We don't need him. We would love some coffee though!"

I find myself nodding and moving toward the coffee machine in the corner of the kitchen. As I bend over to take one of the coffee pods out of the cabinet, I could sense all three of them were looking at my ass. Despite being embarrassed by my boobs, I've always been proud of my butt. A little bigger than most, but round and sits up high at the top of my thighs. This, however, was not the time to be proud of it. I stood up quickly, shoved the coffee pod into the machine, hit start, and just kind of stared at the machine as it was brewing.

"Where should we start?" said one of the guys.

The well-dressed guy replied, "I say, we start right here".

Start here? That's a strange answer. I turn around and almost run into the two construction workers, standing side-by-side, pinning me into the corner. What the fuck? I'm starting to panic, but I try to play it cool.

"Guys, the coffee cups are over there." I put one front foot in front of the other, but they don't budge.

The heavier set one, with a little bit of a beer belly, leaned in and growled "We are not interested in your coffee, slut."

I instantly start trembling. My mind has gone blank, and my entire body is frozen. The third guy, with the neck tattoo and the massive tattooed forearms, leans over to my other ear and whispers, "We're here to fuck your brains out, Baby Girl."

That sentence snapped me back into reality. My first reaction is to push them out of the way. That didn't work. Jesus, these guys are big.

"What the FUCK is going-" The tattooed one grabbed my ponytail and snapped my head back, making my mouth gape open, and stopping my tongue from forming words. With his other hand, he started unbuttoning my top.

"I told you, we're going to FUCK you. First, you need to get us hard. Oh, never mind."

The heavy-set guy had his dick out of his fly and it was ready for action. It was a little thicker than Dylan's, and way longer. His balls were, well, BIG. Tattoo guy had stopped unbuttoning my top and used both hands to push me down onto my knees. Heavyset guy now had his mighty big hand on the back of my head, firmly pushing it toward his swollen member. A stream of precum had started to flow out of the tip already. Despite me fighting it, my mouth was getting closer and closer.

"Open up. Now." His voice was steady, calm. He was patiently spreading his precum all over my face, but I refused to give in. Frustrated, he yanked on my ponytail and when I opened my mouth to scream, he shoved that thing in.

"Aahhhh that's better. Yeah, use your tongue."

I was using my tongue to PUSH IT OUT, not to make it feel better! He held both sides of my head and started pushing more of his super hard dick into my mouth, now making its way into my throat. I couldn't breathe, and I started to gag. They all laughed. Dylan had never liked blowjobs, and his small dick wouldn't reach that far even if he did.

"Oh, the slut is out of practice! Here, let me pull it out a little bit for ya!"

He pulled out an inch or two and then shoved it in another four. This continued for a while. I could breathe for a second, and then I was gagging, my eyes watering, and spit flying everywhere as he used my mouth as a fuck hole.

The noises he was making echoed around the kitchen. His grunts were loud, and unlike anything I'd ever heard. For some reason, it was making me feel like I was doing a good job.

Why did I care!? He was force fucking my mouth! But, it was the first time a man had ever sounded like that around me. I became aware of how wet I was getting, and it disgusted me. I prayed they couldn't see the wet spot growing between my legs.

After what seemed like forever, he pulled out and laid his slippery meat on my face.

"Damn! This slut is getting drool all over her tits! What a sight. Fuck that felt good. You hear that slut? I told you you did a good job! What do you say?"

"Hah...huh...huh..." I was trying to catch my breath, not expecting a question.

He knelt down and put his face in front of mine. In a very stern, menacing voice he sputtered "You say 'Thank you, Sir.'"

"Th-thank y-you Sir." I couldn't believe I heard myself say it!

"Good Slut. That's my name from now on. Understand?"

"Yes S-sir"

"Now, take my cock into your throat."

He stood back up and glared down at me. I reached up to touch it and he slapped my hand away.

"I told you to use your throat, not your hand."

As I opened my mouth to swallow his thing again, I looked over at tattoo guy and he was pulling HIS dick out. Holy shit, it was MASSIVE! It was WAY thicker than Sir's, and a good bit longer. And again, all the way hard. The size of his swollen balls were...like...lemons!

My eyes must have gotten big because Sir chuckled. "Yeah, my man is ready for you too. I want to shoot a load down your throat, but I'm going to save all this cum for later."

Oh, thank you God! I was relieved to hear that. The one and only time I had a man's...juice...in my mouth, it was gross.

Wait...later? What's happening later? I kept bobbing my head on his shaft as he continued.

"I doubt my man here is going to be able to hold back though. He's been away a while. Felony assault. He was in prison for...how long?"

"Eight years, three months, twelve days. Just got out yesterday."

My head stopped bobbing. Tattoo guy is a felon!? Assault!? I started shaking again.

"Keep sucking slut!" Dutifully I went back to sucking, but I couldn't keep my eyes off the giant dick that was to my left.

Sir finally pulled away, slowly, leaving a trail of my spittle connected to his balls.

Tattoo guy stepped in front of me. "My turn, Baby Girl"

"Yes sir"

"He's Sir. I'm your Daddy."

Fuuuuuck. That sentence made my pussy and abs contract, making me lose my balance. I reached out and placed my hands around the base of his tremendous member to steady myself, noticing I couldn't wrap my fingers all the way around. As I opened my jaws to try to fit the girth of Daddy's dick, my cunt was still contracting.

"Unh! Ah! AwuuMMMff! MMMMMMFfff!"

With my mouth full of penis, all I could do was moan around his hard shaft as my whole lower half humped nothing but air. My juices were collecting around my knees.

"Baby Girl, are you cumming? Wow, Daddy is so proud of you! 20 minutes on your knees, worshiping cock, and you showed us how much you love it."

He's proud of me! I sucked harder, faster. Daddy turned to talk over his shoulder. "This one will be easier than we thought."