Snatch 22

WARNING: This story contains a cheating wife and creampie eating. If that isn't your thing, please move on now. Please don't send me messages telling me what the husband should have done or what is going to happen to their marriage in 5 years. This is pure fiction. Please remember that. None of these characters are real.

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Sleeping in on Saturday mornings always feels nice—a little bit decadent, a little bit necessary after a long week. Today was no exception. After a nice hot shower, I dressed, had breakfast, and was just beginning to contemplate plans for the day when I heard Nicki walk into the kitchen behind me.

Calling over my shoulder, I asked, "Well, what should we do today? We've got a late start, but I don't want to waste away the whole day."

"I've got our day all spelled out. You... are going to clean the house."

There was an air of finality to the way she said it. It wasn't a suggestion; it was an order. I spun around, prepared to object and offer a counter-proposal, but was stopped in my tracks before I could speak up. Nicki was wearing my favorite sundress: a short, floral-patterned dress that was slightly transparent in the right light. She usually wore a silk slip under it—first, because with the deep V-neck it was needed to maintain some degree of decency, and second, it was so thin that it was all too easy to read through it.

This morning, however, she was completely bare underneath. There wasn't much shape to the dress, just a loose, angled-cut that flowed and moved as she did. The cut of the neckline dropped so low that it completely exposed the inner sides of her breasts, top-to-bottom. Her nipples were crinkled and hard, lightly poking the fabric that loosely covered her breasts. With the morning light streaming in through the window, I could perfectly make out the rest of her full breasts, delicate waist, full hips, and the tiny gap between her thighs. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I also thought I could just make out the outline of her pubic hair and the lips of her pussy.

Clearly, this was not house-cleaning attire. My throat cracked a bit as I said, "Oh... it doesn't look like you're dressed for cleaning around the house?"

"Nope. And neither are you. Up... up!" She motioned for me to stand up. "I need you out of those clothes. You are going to clean the house for me today... Naked."

She definitely had my full attention now, in more ways than one. I opened my mouth to object, to comment, to ask for an explanation; but none came out. There was something in her tone that was different—something I'd never heard before—a note that said she was in charge and in no mood to be questioned.

So, after a brief, pregnant pause, I began stripping off my fresh clothes. She motioned to the table with her eyes. Understanding her meaning, I folded them neatly and stacked them on the chair where I'd been sitting. My cock was twitching slightly, swollen and probably three-quarters hard. I couldn't take my eyes off my sexy wife, ordering me around in a way I'd never known would excite me so much.

"You can get started in here, but after you make me some breakfast. I'll start with a mimosa and have some bacon and eggs, no toast." I didn't need to be told twice, so it was off to the wine chiller to grab some champagne. Deciding that today was off to a good start, I picked some of the special occasion bubbly that was probably way too nice to waste on mimosas, but what the hell.

As I rummaged around in the fridge for eggs, bacon, and orange juice, she stopped me short. "Oh no... not that bottled crap. Fresh squeezed." It bothered her to no end that we usually drank bottled juices when the northern California weather afforded us three citrus trees in the back yard. I dutifully trotted out to the yard, naked and partially erect, to see what fruit we had on the trees. Our Valencia oranges weren't ready yet, but the blood oranges were probably just about perfect. Once she had a perfect pink blood orange mimosa in hand, I got to work on breakfast and began doing a deep cleaning of stove, counters, dishes, etc. A quick nod to the floor and I was soon on hands and knees, cock dangling between my legs, scrubbing the floor like a twisted, gender-bent Cinderella.

"The kitchen is all done." I stood naked in front of her and her freshly topped off flute and waited for my instructions. She leaned forward giving me a wicked view of her breasts and casually began running her manicured nails across my balls as she glanced around the room. Satisfied with her brief inspection, she began leisurely stroking my cock with her other hand until I was beginning to leak and wonder whether my knees would hold me when I came. My breathing became more rapid and her hand sped up to keep pace as she looked up at me getting closer to my orgasm. When I was just about to the point of no return she withdrew both hands, leaving me panting, disappointed, and desperate for release.

"I think we'll move upstairs next." I now saw how the day was going to pass: she intended to keep me busy with housework and always one step away from my reward until the house was completely clean. I decided it was worth it and might suddenly be my preferred way of doing housework from here on out.

I vacuumed the hallway, moved into the guest bedroom, and made sure it was dusted and spotless—remembering to keep Nicki's mimosa from running dry as she supervised from the doorway. Her inspection was more thorough this time, moving about the room to check surfaces for any trace of dust. Again I received my reward after passing muster. She pressed herself into my back, the thin fabric doing little to separate her nearly naked body from my own. She tickled my ass with a fingernail as she pumped my cock. I moaned openly, knowing that as heavenly as her hands felt, there would be no release at the end of it.

As predicted, after taking me right to the edge, she moved away and ushered me into the master bathroom. I hurried through the room, the urgency of my cock making me speedier with each task. When finished I reported to her and requested my inspection. Her eyes remained impassive as she scanned the room and simply told me to move into the bedroom and stand by the bench at the foot of the bed. I heard a drawer open and close in the vanity as I stood next to the bench.

I couldn't see what was in her hand as she motioned me onto my hands and knees on the bench. My cock was rising in anticipation of another handjob, perhaps with some lotion she fetched from the vanity. Instead, I heard a rush of air and felt a fiery jolt of pain rush through my ass. I looked back to catch a glimpse of a wooden hairbrush arcing through the air to make a second contact with my ass. She ignored my shrieks of pain. "Face forward. That's ten swats for missing the dust around the base of the toilet."

I held back tears as she alternated between my cheeks, the pain increasing with each stroke as my ass took on a cherry-red glow. Suddenly there was a pause.

"How many was that?"

"Nine?"

"Starting over then." Apparently I'd guessed wrong, so rather than take a chance, I counted them out loud as she turned my ass into a searing source of heat.

"One... two. THREE! Four. Five. SIX!" And so on.

When she was finished, she moved back over to her plush reading chair in the corner and sat down. I jumped down and rushed to the backyard for more blood oranges to refresh her now empty glass. Seeing that she'd now polished off almost half the bottle of champagne, I also returned upstairs with a tray of water, fruit, and crackers and placed them on the side table.

Once I had touched up my error in the bathroom, I moved back to our bedroom and launched back into my duties. I wasn't terribly surprised when she requested the red, silk sheets as I changed the linens on our bed. Once I was done, I took a second pass through the whole room; careful this time to make sure nothing was overlooked. Nicki sat in the plump reading chair in the corner smirking silently at my own pre-inspection, keeping a watchful eye and providing delightful eye candy throughout the process.

When I finally stood before her, she said nothing, but lifted her loose dress up around her waist and brought one leg up to rest next to her ass. Her pussy was finally revealed to me in all its glory and I gasped as I saw that she had been freshly waxed and was bare, save for a small, decorative tuft above her pussy. She used two fingers to tease apart her lips, showing off her shiny hole, wet with her juices. A brief nod and I was on my knees kissing across her thighs, almost dizzy with desire and the inundation of her scent. I stopped to kiss her foot, marveling at the sexiness of her perfectly painted toes.

I loved her barefoot in sundresses and had often encouraged her—to no avail—to go out completely bare underneath them. Never in my imagination had I ever entertained this particular dress as an option for those discussions. She'd often entertain me on walks, though, by slipping off her sandals and dancing lightly through the grass, skirts twirling up around her waist to show off the more conservative, but still sexy panties she'd wear on those occasions. After sucking her toes, she used the leg still between us to gently push me away and present her other foot for similar treatment. I cradled her delicate foot in my hands to hold its weight and kissed her all over—sucking her toes, tonguing the sensitive arch of her foot, and rubbing her soft skin against the side of my face.

She let her knees fall open again and it was clear that my attention was needed on her glistening sex. I worked slowly up her leg from ankle to ass and finally rewarded us both with a long, slow lick from the base of her pussy to the top of her clit. I buried my mouth in her sex and stabbed at her hole with my tongue, letting her moans guide me. As I reached her clit, I felt her soft foot reach out between my legs and begin gently rubbing the head of my cock. I moaned into her button, causing her to gasp and press my head harder into her. I could feel her beginning the run up to a large orgasm, but as I tried to redouble my efforts on her hard button she pushed me away at the last moment, breaking contact with my cock as well.

I rested my head against her thigh as we both caught our breath. "Not yet. You still have work to do." I groaned in disappointment and got back to work.

The rest of the house went more or less the same way, with the inspection becoming more critical in each room, resulting in a few more spankings. I was openly sobbing by the last one. My ass felt like it was on fire and the pain no longer stopped when the spankings did. In between, I was able to ignore the dull ache in my ass as she edged me and vice versa several more times, denying us both the release of an orgasm. She delivered one particularly severe spanking when the pre-cum now leaking heavily from my cock and aching balls streaked the picture window in our living room as I cleaned the upper panes. At least two passing women on the sidewalk were treated to a view of my naked form as I cleaned it thoroughly—twice, then three times—after that episode.

When the final room was finished, there was no punishment or reward. Instead, she instructed me to wait kneeling on the floor in the living room as she disappeared upstairs. After about fifteen minutes, I was summoned back up to the guest bedroom. She met me outside the closed door and covered my eyes with a blindfold, blanking out everything before maneuvering me into the room and onto the bed. I smelled a combination of her perfume and her pussy as she crawled over me fastening leather bands around my wrists and ankles. My cock was back at attention as I felt the soft fabric of her dress brush across my cock while she busied herself with my restraints, leaving me to wonder whether I'd be punished for smearing pre-cum on it in the process.

Satisfied with my predicament, she moved off the bed and removed my blindfold. Silently she slipped her dress up over her head, treating me to a view of her naked form and one of my favorite treats—her breasts upturned and pert as her arms pulled the dress up over her head. She took a seat nude at the guest dressing table and began to do her makeup in the mirror. Even though it was still mid-afternoon, she applied dark, smoky tones appropriate for a romantic, late night affair. I took the opportunity to study her intensely as she transformed from the airy, free spirit who had tortured me all day into a sensual starlet who might—I hoped—finally make love to me and share release.

Satisfied with her makeup and perfectly styled long, jet-black hair, she spun around to face me. From the dressing table she produced a pair of nude stockings with a seam running up the back. Extending one leg and then the other, she ran the stockings sensuously up each leg and smoothed them by running her hands the entire length. A delicate, black garter belt with tiny embroidered red roses then was fastened around her trim waist and she bent forward to attach the clips treating me to a fantastic view of her hairless pussy peaking from between the globes of her ass. A similarly adorned sheer lace bra soon cradled and lifted her amazing breasts providing a view of her hard, purple nipples through the sheerest parts of the lace. Last to join the ensemble was a sheer black thong that had a single larger embroidered rose directly over the tiny tuft of hair adorning her pussy.

Nicki stood up and slipped on her favorite pair of shoes: a pointy pair of 4" black Louboutins with a dangerously spiky heel. She shimmied into a stretchy, long, black pencil skirt that came just below her knee which, when combined with the heels, gave the illusion that her legs went on forever. Finally, to complete the outfit she fastened only barely enough buttons on a crème-colored, silk top to cover the majority of her bra.

I couldn't believe how sexy my wife looked in this amazing outfit as she did a few slow twirls to check herself out from very angle in the mirror. She took a quick glance at the clock and whispered, "Perfect." I couldn't agree more, although it quickly became apparent that she was referring to the time. She reached into a small box on the dressing table and retrieved a ball on a strap that she proceeded to fasten around my face, effectively gagging me, and then sat back on the bench at the dressing table. Slowly and deliberately, she crossed her legs, revealing a deep slit up one side of the skirt that now showed off a fabulous amount of thigh and even the tops of her stockings. I still had no idea what she had planned, but I was putty in her hands.

"So? What shall we do now? Hmm? I can tell by the wide eyes and bouncing cock that you approve of my new outfit. A special purchase for a special evening, don't you think?"

"You've been quite the house husband all day, cooperating beautifully with my instructions, bearing my cock-teasing, and even taking your punishment without a single complaint. I'm actually quite impressed. I didn't think you'd go along quite so easily, but I'm pleased you did."

"I'm sure you're wondering what else I have up my sleeve, and you're right to be curious. I'm sure you remember our previous attempts to have you eat a creampie from my pussy."

She paused for effect and I couldn't help but swallow hard, heart suddenly pounding nervously. Several months earlier, I had confessed to her that I wanted to try eating her used pussy after we made love and, after some initial reluctance, she agreed to it. On several occasions we had exchanged hot talk about the idea during foreplay, getting us both worked into a frenzy, but every time I lost the nerve immediately after I came. I chickened out, made excuses, and generally made a fool of myself each time. She seemed increasingly frustrated with my inability to carry through and so we finally gave up the idea. I had thought it forgotten. Apparently not. Now she'd been working me up all day, edging me repeatedly until my level of desire was so off the charts I thought I'd agree to anything. I tested my bonds and realized that I could barely move and was clearly in no position to stop her if she decided to go through with it tonight.

"Well, one way or another, we are going to fulfill your fantasy tonight. There'll be no weaseling out of what you've promised me this time. Your arms are quite secure and I should have no problem overpowering you to finish the deed, regardless of how reluctant you become. But I've decided to make this more interesting for the both of us. I'm raising the stakes."

"You have two choices. The first option is this: I will do a sexy strip tease for you, reversing the process you just watched. I'll rub my body all over yours to drive you back into a total frenzy of lust. I'll suck your cock until you're ready to burst and then lay back and bring myself almost to orgasm with my fingers. I'll make you suck my juices off my fingers before slipping your aching cock into my pussy and riding you hard until you fill me with load after load of cum. When I'm satisfied that you're completely drained I'll raise up and kneel over your head letting you get a good look at my freshly-fucked pussy before lowering it to your face. I'll hold your head, and even pinch your nose if I have to, in order to get you to open wide and take your cum back from my pussy. You've been on edge all day so you're going to dump a gallon of cum into my warm, soft insides. And then I'm going to make you lick and suck it all back out until I'm completely clean and satisfied. I may want to come several times. After all, I've been edging myself, too."

My brain was in overload and despite how awesome that sounded, I couldn't help being incredibly nervous at the prospect of being forced to eat my cum out of her pussy after such a colossal orgasm.

"I get that whatever your deepest desire may be before you cum, that immediately following you sober up to the reality of the situation. I'm like that, too, which is why I haven't let myself cum all day either. It would have been so easy to let you take me over the edge several times today, but then I would have lost my nerve, too."

"Option two. In about twenty minutes, the grad school intern from my office is going to stop by to deliver some 'important' paperwork that I 'must' have finished tomorrow. He's about 25, incredibly handsome, and from the ladies' gossip around the water cooler, packing quite a punch if you get my drift. I will invite him in, seduce him, and fuck him on the red, silk sheets of our marital bed. I'll make an excuse why he needs to leave immediately after filling me full of his hot cum and then I'll hurry back in here. Your orgasm will still have been denied, your arousal still at its peak, and you'll still be eager to please me. I'll crawl up onto the bed, sweaty and used, careful not to spill his cum from my messy pussy, and I'll plop down on your face. I'll feed you his young seed while you soothe my tender pussy with your gentle tongue. Once you've serviced me to my liking, I'll untie you and you may have your way with me—any way you like—until you've reclaimed me and soiled me yet again with your cum. Then, your fantasy fulfilled, I'll never ask you to eat your cum again."

I couldn't believe my ears. My pulse was now pounding so loud in my ears I thought I might be losing my hearing. I felt flush all over and a little bit sick. My wife had presented me with the ultimate catch-22—no matter what, I was going to put my money where my mouth was and end up with a face full of cum. Either I was going to have it done unwillingly at a time when I least wanted it or my perfect wife was going to briefly belong to another man for the first time since we'd been married.

"If you choose option one, I'll thank Daniel profusely for dropping the files by and explain that I am meeting you for a date. He'll get to ogle my sexy outfit for a moment or two and then I'll be back up here to make a fresh creampie with you. The choice is yours. When the doorbell rings, you need to have made up your mind. Either way, you're going to have a massive orgasm. Either way, I'm going to really enjoy myself. Either way, you're going to eat some cum tonight. The choice is yours. I've always been faithful to you and I always will be. I won't have sex with another man unless you permit it. You have fifteen minutes."