Sunlight was already flooding the room by the time I woke up. I checked the clock on the nightstand and was shocked to see it was almost noon. I sat up, groggily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I didn't have the heart to wake John up; he needed his rest after the sexcapades marathon we'd had until the wee hours of the morning. My eyes traveled down his beloved, familiar, naked body. He was still turned away from me, asleep on his side, his arm flung over Marnie's waist, his knees tucked behind hers. I recalled the name of the position: spooning. I caressed his smooth buttocks, then slid my hand over his hip and downward toward his cock. His wiry pubic hair was warm between their bodies. And sticky. My fingers quested even further downward. As I'd suspected, his cock, although soft, was still buried inside Marnie's pussy. With a sigh, I left the sleeping couple to their dreams, slid on my shorts and sleeveless blouse and headed downstairs to make coffee.
The doorbell rang. Once, twice, three times. Reluctantly, I opened the door for Tom, Chris, Russ and Sidney. I let them know that John should be up soon, and made small talk with them to pass the time.
The living room was directly beneath our bedroom. Within ten minutes of their arrival, we could hear a faint, slow thumping from upstairs. Then, the sounds of low moaning was added to the thumping. John was fucking his bitch right above our heads. His friends caught on to the sounds. They looked embarrassed, at first, and kept glancing at me sideways to see if I'd noticed. I watched them back just as discreetly. As Marnie's moans got louder, and the banging increased in speed and force, I was turned on beyond belief. And, based on their glazed eyes, open mouths and hardening crotches, so were they. I closed my eyes, finally, in order to focus on the sounds of my man's fucking. The headboard slammed harder and faster, the bitch was moaning and begging loudly, desperately. Even John's grunts of pleasure penetrated the floor above us. A keen, crying scream accompanied what was Marnie's unmistakable climax. I opened my eyes to check on John's friends: Tom and Russ were rubbing their hard-ons beneath their jeans, the other two, Chris and Sidney, were wriggling uncomfortably, their pants choking their erections.
Tom, I noticed, was intently observing my reaction to the sounds of my man fucking another woman in our bed. I was visibly turned on, discretion thrown out the window, not bothering to hide my hand moving between my thighs, pressing desperately against my clit. Tom's eyes took in the sight of my hips gyrating against my hand. I looked directly at Tom and flashed a smile of complete feminine gratification. Tom did not smile back.
The adulterous symphony continued; its intensity rising to a crescendo and culminating in a fierce, vibrating roar . My cunt throbbed as I drank in the sound of John's climax, his growl drowning out the mewling of the moaning female beneath him.The headboard gave one final, decisive thud. I closed my eyes to better imagine the sight of the muscles of John's ass tense as he thrust himself as deeply as possible into his new pussy. I envisioned my man's cock buried inside this new, tight, cunt -- his balls and his cock pulsing, his cum exploding into her cunt. I waited a few moments and was rewarded by the sound of the bed springs again squeaking. I knew what he was doing: thrusting his softening cock in and out of her, smearing their fuck juices on every inch of his cock and her pussy, forming the ring of thick, white cream around the base of his cock.
The image brought on my own climax, my hand pressing and grinding, my mouth open to release my own silent scream as I surrendered to the waves of pleasure. I felt the intensity of the four pair of eyes watching me masturbate to my husband's adultery; it only made my climax more exquisite. I loved that his friends were witness to John's masculinity, his dominance over me, his entitlement to enjoy the pleasures of being a man by fucking other women in front of his wife. I felt, like I usually did when John exerted his power of me by fucking other women, completely humbled, ultimately female, his cunt to be used at whim. Then, I came again....
As the sensations receded, I came back to earth, my heart pounding, my breathing ragged, my pussy soaked and pulsing. As expected, I opened my eyes to his friends staring at me intently. Sidney had pulled his cock out, and was stroking himself, his eyes on me. Russ, too, was unabashedly masturbating. Tom and Chris were not masturbating; Tom had his hands over his crotch, concealing the evidence of his arousal. Chris was not masturbating -- he had already ejaculated and was using his Y&T tshirt to wipe the white droplets from his jeans. He looked satiated.
I looked back at Tom, baffled by his reaction. I watched the play of expressions travel over his face -- the expression of lust and arousal at my humiliation was fading; it was replaced by a look I could only interpret to be a sort of self-righteous disapproval and indignation.
I felt my hackles rise at the judgment clearly written in his expression. I prepared myself for what I knew was coming. And it did:
"Mila, how can you let him do this to you?" he asked, trying to look sympathetic and ashamed for me.
Tom didn't give a shit if I was hurt or humiliated; he wanted me to shame me into forcing John stop fucking other women. And why? Because John made Tom feel inadequate and insecure on all fronts. Fucking other women with my knowledge and with other men as witnesses, however, was more than Tom could take -- he knew his own wife, Shelly, would not find him deserving of the pleasure of other women....
I couldn't help myself. I wanted to rub John's superiority in his face, I wanted to build up John's masculinity for his friends, I wanted to degrade myself, to show Tom how low I'd sink to please John. I spoke softly, my expression revealing love, devotion and submission:
"Actually, Tom, I don't LET him do anything to me. John does whatever he wants with me," I explained, patiently, as if to a small child. "And, TO me," I continued, "Wanna see?" I asked.
Without waiting for a reply, I twisted around on the couch and pulled my blouse up. Proudly, I displayed the fading red lines crisscrossing the flesh on my back. One of them gasped. I turned back around, my shirt still bunched up above my breasts. Sidney whistled, softly, as I used my hands to raise my breasts up to their gaze. Abruptly, he stopped whistling. He had noticed the welts covering my tender flesh. The shiny metal jewelry cruelly clamped on my brown nipples. I had not shown any of this to anyone before, I was surprised at how turned on I was to reveal the depths of my submission to John, of how intensely I wanted them to understand the control John wielded over me.
I stood up and sat on the coffee table in front of Tom and Sidney. They scooted to the edge of the couch to examine me. Chris dragged his chair closer, as well. Russ sat on the table next to me.
"John did this to you?" Russ asked, idiotically.
I nodded.
"And you like it?" Chris broke in.
"He enjoys it," I answered. "Therefore, I am grateful."
"Grateful?" he echoed. "Why grateful?"
I did not answer, just watched him mull over what he'd heard. I could see when understanding dawned in his mind, his head nodded once, almost imperceptibly, then he murmured, "Nice...."
"Isn't it?" I confirmed, stroking the shiny metal clamps lovingly. "He's indescribably good to me....I love ev—"
