Sisterhood Of Humiliation Ch 01

"Can you come in here, John? I want to talk to you about something."

Liz sat in the family room, her face radiant from recently applied makeup. The slit in her elegant sapphire dress -- a favourite of his -- had fallen open, revealing a slender leg and an athletic thigh.

"Something on tonight?" he asked. Never above perving on his wife, John's eyes wandered over her, undressing her. Perhaps they could spend some time in the bedroom before she left.

"I'll get to that in a minute," she said.

His eyes lingered on her, admiring her beauty.

"Like what you see?" she asked, pulling her dress aside and exposing her freshly shaved pussy.

He took a deep breath. "Fuck yes. You're so hot, Liz."

"Hotter than Emily?" Liz snapped. She whipped her dress closed, covering herself. "At Mia's party last week, I saw you staring at her."

"What? No, you're mistaken." Her change in mood stunned him, and he lowered himself onto the chair opposite her.

"Don't play dumb with me. I saw the way your eyes followed her around and how you craned your head to glance up her dress."

It was true; of course, he had watched Emily that night as she mingled at the party, and also any other time she was near. And Emily had known his attention was on her, as well as the attention of others. She had a way about her, a presence not solely due to her stunning looks or graceful gait. She enjoyed the attention, he was sure. It was, perhaps, a validation of the great expense at which she spent her time and money on makeup, clothing, and accessories. Not to mention her regimented dedication to the gym. Aware of his desire for her, she had taken to teasing him with a particularly tight and lasting embrace or a touch of tongue with a goodbye kiss. When touching himself, he would often think of their trip to the beach. She had sat next to him in the car that morning, secretly placing her hand on his thigh and rubbing him ever so tenderly. She had worn a bikini, and he had memorised every curve and crease that fabric had made as it hugged her curves. Her bikini bottom had ridden up her slit in the most captivating display of camel toe that he had ever seen. Yes, he was guilty of watching and desiring Emily.

"No, I..."

"Look at you. You're so guilty that you're blushing. Fucking unbelievable. Do you think about her when you wank?"

"No, baby, I don't," he said, but, of course, he did.

"Bullshit. Look, I get it. You're a man, you have needs. But I feel so humiliated. Am I not enough for you that you have to openly lust after my best friend? I shouldn't have to feel like this and I hate you for it. I hate you so much. I didn't know what to do, so I ended up talking to Emily. I told her how you were trying to get a glimpses of her snatch. She wasn't even mad. She reminded me that I have needs too, needs that you are unwilling and seemingly incapable of meeting. Why shouldn't I get what I want and why shouldn't you? It's just sex, right? So if you want her, you can have her."

"No, Liz, I only want--"

The door opened and Emily walked in. He stammered, lost this train of thought, and abandoned any attempt to argue, for Emily stood in front of him stark naked. Overwhelming lust surged through him. It sparked a hunger that set his heart fluttering, and sent blood rushing to his cock. Breathless, he gazed at her naked figure. Her long, blond hair hung, ungathered, stopping just shy of her nipples. Her eyelids were dusted with a subtle dash of carmine red, and her lips shone in a vivid plum. She looked as if she had just walked off the set of a million-dollar photoshoot. His eyes followed her curves, from her powerful, broad shoulders to her pert breasts. Her large alveoli and erect nipples were perfect: young, unspoilt, and succulent. At that moment he wanted to kneed them softly with his hands, to kiss and suck lovingly on them. Her hips curved generously, framing the shaved mound of her pussy which hung slightly open at the peak of her long sexy legs. There was no denying that Emily had the form of a goddess.

It was one of those few moments where he was lost for words and thoughts. The usual chaos inside his mind had been quelled, and every fibre of his being focused on her nakedness. Arousal dragged him downward into the chair, leaving him giddy with vertigo. So intoxicating was Emily, that he could no longer hide his desire to worship her. Though, he loved his wife and couldn't bare to see her hurt.

Emily went to him, swinging her hips as she walked. With a playful finger under his chin, she raised his head and kissed him passionately. Then turning like a runway model, she strutted toward the couch, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and glancing back at him with a smile. She nodded knowingly, content that his eyes were fixated on her ass and that he was utterly captivated by her. Reclining on the couch, she spread her legs wide, placing her vulva on display. Its lips slowly parted, revealing, in exquisite detail, everything he had fantasised about.

"Is this what you wanted to see?" Emily asked, gesturing at her pussy.

Snapping himself out of the trance, he turned to Liz.

"Go ahead," Liz said. "Take it all in. This is what you're about to sell your soul for."

"Liz tells me you're amazing with your tongue. That you can go for hours. Come over here and lick my pussy, John. Show me how badly you desire me. Make me cum so hard that I scream your name."

It was undeniably a trap. Unable to discern what either woman was thinking, he looked back to Liz in the hopes of finding some semblance of guidance -- that there was a way out of this mess. No matter his choice he knew he would forever live to regret it.

"Don't look at me. Look at her pussy. Tell me you don't want it."

Emily's enlarged clitoris was visible, peeking ever so slightly below her clitoral hood. It seemed to pulse as he watched, and he thought how nice it would be to wrap his tongue around it.

"This is the deal," Liz said. "You can lick her, right now, and for as long as it takes to finish her. I have three rules: your clothes stay on, you can't touch yourself, and you're confined to the floor -- kneeling and crawling only. If you do this, I won't be mad, but I'm going out with the girls tonight and with a free pass to do whatever I want. We're going to find a man to fuck me, John. If that's what you're willing to trade, then crawl to her like the pathetic cunt worshipper you are."

Liz was right, he was a cunt worshipper, and even if she did sleep with somebody, it was just sex -- an act merely concerning the flesh. Love and devotion were above that. Surely he could allow Liz to take a man to bed in exchange for an hour in service of this goddess? Her pussy looked so lush, so inviting. Yes, he could live with a small lapse in their marriage, and it seemed Liz felt likewise.

He lowered himself to the ground, his eyes never leaving Emily's pussy. A moment later he was kneeling in front of her, salivating, and inhaling the musky scent which permeated the air between her legs. He willed himself to remember this moment, and tentatively ran his tongue along her slit, parting the folds of her labia.

Emily gasped. "Good boy. Lick my wet pussy in front of your wife. Oh, John, I'm going to make you a cuck tonight, a stupid little cuck."

He lapped at her wetness, savouring every drop of the thick discharge that oozed from her. In response, she wrapped her legs around him and drew him in tight.

"Liz wasn't exaggerating, you are good with that tongue of yours. Not too fast, now. We've got plenty of time. I want this orgasm to be memorable -- for both of us. Then, tonight I'm going to find a man to come here, to your home, and make love to your wife. And the next time the two of you fuck, when you look deep into her eyes, you'll know how desperately she wants him and that he is the better man. But look at you down there. You don't care; you're perfectly happy between my legs."

He continued for some time, learning what she liked, and what she best responded to. Emily began undulating and her breathing quickened. Her moans directed him, and gave him confidence that he had found the positions and techniques that best suited his pursuit of pleasuring her. He focused on her needs, only pausing for an occasional slurp of the milky discharge that pooled by her vagina. She started bucking, slowly at first, then grabbing his head, she pulled him hard into her vulva. Locked in tight, she ground her pelvic bones against him, using his face to forcefully push her over the edge. She shuddering in a screaming climax, sending her fluids gushing into his mouth. Obediently, he swallowed it all. Then as her orgasm subsided he slowed his licks and sucks until, finally, she released him. Yet he chose to remain there, between her legs, saturating himself in her wetness and warmth.

"That was fucking amazing," she said. "Well done, you."

There was a round of applause, and he realised that he had had an audience. Liz's girlfriends had arrived, and dressed for a night on the town. They lounged around the room and looking like they had been there for some time. Some raised their glasses in toast and others clapped and giggled. As he receded from Emily and sank to the floor, he could feel Liz's gaze upon him, but he couldn't bear to look.

Emily guided him back to her with a firm hand. She kissed him on the forehead. "Don't wash," she whispered. "Sleep here on the couch and wait for us. I want my scent to be everything you smell and taste. When we get back, I'm going to want another orgasm - maybe more than one. So rest that precious tongue of yours. And don't you dare touch yourself."

"You better get ready, Ems," Liz said. She crouched beside him. "You're a disgusting perverted sack of shit, and you make me sick. Now it's my turn to get what I want, and it's going to be better than anything you've ever managed to give me."