Sarah and I had met Stuart online. He was 42, 10 years older than us. In the sixth months that we had been together, Sarah and I had enjoyed a MMF threesome with a mutual friend twice before, but it been a more conventional affair, both of us giving Sarah all of our attention, careful to avoid crossing swords. Sarah and I were both curious about trying something a little more kinky with a man who would dominate both of us, and cuckold me. We were both bi, but I hadn't done anything with a guy since college. I had let a gay friend of mine suck my cock, and taken his in my mouth too, though I had not sucked him to completion.
Stuart lived in a condo in a residential neighborhood about twenty minutes from the neighborhood were we both lived. I had coordinated the meet up online, and I have to admit that I liked how from the get go he put me down, calling me "cuck," and "wimp-dick," bragging about his big dick and superior sexual prowess. We set up a scene where he would have us over and "put both of us through our paces." as he said. He instructed me to make sure my "back door was clean." The order had made my heart flutter and my cheeks redden with embarrassment.
After the short drive in Sarah's car, we parked and Stuart invited us in. He had all the lights low and some music playing, wine out on the coffee table. He was not a remarkable looking guy, his balding hair trimmed into a buzz cut, glasses, pock-marked features, and a visible beer gut. In my head I thought how I was far more conventionally handsome than him, and in better shape. Though we were the same height he definitely outweighed me, with much wider hips, broad shoulders, and a sizable beer belly. Still, I could sense that we were both a little disappointed, or at least underwhelmed. He looked like a beefier version of the IT guy at my office.
He grasped Sarah in a forceful and assertive embrace, feeling her up and boldly kissing her, all while looking at me in the eye. I just stood their and let it happen- I knew this was what he expected of me. After releasing her, he grabbed my hand into a crushing handshake, imprisoning my smaller hand in his for an unnecessarily long amount of time, again drilling his dark eyes into mine. His hand was much larger than mine and very strong. He called me "Billy," a diminutive version of my name which I had not volunteered.
"Please to meet you, Sir." He chuckled wolfishly, pleased by my submission, and Sarah looked at me with surprise. Stuart noticed this and smirked at me. I stepped inside his home. It was sparsely decorated. I took my shoes off and put them beside a few pair of his- I noticed they were much larger than mine.
He had us sit beside him on the couch and poured us two glasses of wine. The couch sat opposite a large mirror, and I sized him up discreetly. I never would have guessed that a guy like him would be a "bull," the sexually powerful men who join cuckold couples in the bedroom. He was out-of-shape, kind of dumpy, and he looked almost like a nerd, but he had a cruel look of confidence on his face as he kept his arm around my girlfriend's shoulder. He winked at me cockily as he copped a feel of her breast with his big hand, making her giggle.
After our second glass he produced a large joint. Sarah took it eagerly, I initially refused it, but he gave me such a look of reproach that I caved immediately and accepted it. He watched intently as I took a hesitant puff. I coughed a big. I tried to hand it back to him but he forced my hand back to my face.
"No, no, no. Again, boy. Longer this time." He barked at me like a coach, staring me down. Sarah watched with fascination as he forced me to inhale. He clasped his left hand onto the back of my neck possessively, collaring me as he made me smoke. It made me think of hanging out with my older brother's friends as a teenager, when they'd force me to smoke or drink with them.
"Hold it, hold it, keep it in, that's it." I felt-lightheaded and kept it in as long as I could. Finally I erupted into a fit of coughing, sputtering out a huge cloud of pot smoke. They both laughed at me.
"There we go. Let's get you nice and dumb so I can have my way with your girl, little pussy." I felt woozy as I sat there, and he kept his strong hand clasped to the back of my neck. With his right hand he continued to fondle my girlfriend. After the joint got passed a few more times, each time making sure that I smoked to his satisfaction, he held my glass to my lips and forced me to down half of glass of wine. He then filled it up for me again and barked at me to drink as he turned his attentions to Sarah, pulling her to him. As they made out, his left hand never loosened its grip on the back of my neck.
He had her sit on his lap and with his right arm he took her top off. His hand attacked her bra and she removed it, unleashing her pert size B's. He grabbed the back of her head and brought her mouth to his for another round of furious french kissing. Stuart slapped the back of my head roughly and brought his left arm in front of my face, snapping insistently and pointing at the wine glass I had left on the coffee table. Trembling from the smack, I took my glass and took a reluctant sip. He was forcing me to get drunk- the humiliation of meekly complying, obeying him, made my dick achingly hard.
Moving her around on his lap, he chewed on her breasts and then growled at me.
"Finish it you dumb faggot, then get us another bottle." He slapped my head again and pointed down the hall, then turned his face back to my girlfriend's belly. I obeyed, downing my glass then slowly standing from the couch and walking through the dark path to his kitchen. I found another bottle and opened it, my hands shaking. I felt like I was on another planet, and I noticed my whole body was flush, beet red. I had a hard-on in my jeans that felt like it would burst.
I nervously came returned to the living room. Stuart threw Sarah on to her back and kissed her some more, then stood up over her, yanking her skirt off.
"Get the fuck over here, sissyboy." I placed the wine on the table and walked over to him sheepishly. He grabbed my shirt by the collar, and in one violent motion stripped the shirt right off my back. I felt doubly vulnerable being bare-chested in front of him. He grinned at me evilly and stepped in closer, invading my personal space. It felt strange, his shirt pressed against my exposed skin.
"What a little fucking wimp. Little faggot prettyboy." He grabbed my sides and felt me up roughly. I quivered from being fondled, his hands squeezing my midsection so tight they almost touched.
"Skinny little gym body. Don't you know your girl wants a real man." He slapped his belly for emphasis.
His large hand grabbed my waist, and then ran up my stomach to my chest. He grabbed my sides again and I heard him snort sharply. With a low, growling sound he unleashed a thick loogie of green snot right on my bare chest. It hit me in the little cleft right between my pectoral muscles, it felt cold and sickeningly wet as it clung there. He laughed cruelly and grabbed my hands, taking them in his, he forced me to rub his phlegm into the little thicket of light colored hair that adorned my chest.
"What do you say, boy?" He demanded with a wolfish grin on his face.
"Thank you, Sir." I looked to the couch and Sarah was staring at me dumb-founded.
