Entertaining Emma

My wasted husband is asleep on the lounge chair. In front of him, his sexy colleague Pete has me in his arms, his own cock nestled in my mouth, growing harder by the moment.

"So, sweetheart, are you going to take me up to your marital bed like the sexy little wife you are?"

I nod through the tears his deep-throating already have brought to my eyes. He rakes his hands through my hair, and pulls us both to our feet. He shoves me roughly to the stairs, "Show me."

I need time to think. I need to think. I never wanted to get close to Pete. I know he just wants me to hold it over Andre. Andre will be a raging bull towards his slut-of-a-wife when he wakes in that chair in the morning. No blame to his friend. Think, Emma, think!!

"Water," I whimper, gesturing to the kitchen. Regaining some composure I add, "You need some too." Pete "hmmphed" and let go of my hair. He turned back to the dining room and I heard the familiar click of the drinks cabinet, followed by a tinkle of ice into a glass as he poured himself another whisky.

Quickly I open the medicine cabinet next to the water station. I had no sleeping pills, but there's a bottle of melatonin Andre and I use on long-haul flights. I pour two glasses of water and dump all the melatonin in the green glass. I take a long swig out of the blue glass and hiccup. Pete re-enters the kitchen.

"Now, my teasing slut," he leers at me, "Time to show me what Andre doesn't take care of. I can't wait to tell the boys what I got hold of last night..."

I hiccup again and hand him the green glass of water. He laughs and takes a long slug. "Ever the perfect hostess, aren't you?" he grins, "And now, with that wooden husband of yours snoring like a pig, I'm going to nail you on his bed."

I'm shaky. "Oh no, please," I say weakly, feeling my puss get hot. The thought of being forced by this charming brute is really starting to turn me on. As he picks me up easily and swings me over his shoulder I know he can smell my damp womanhood, my juices starting to flow. Can he smell my fear, too? Of Andre waking up, which would be seriously easier to deal with than Andre entering our bedroom in the morning to find his wife full of fresh semen, rightly, royally fucked by his work colleague? My own gin-soaked brain can't fathom either situation.

"Which way, Wifey?" he mimics my husband, whispering in my ear at the top of the stairs. "Right," I said feebly, gesturing towards the guest bedroom. It has enough pictures and my clothes strewn about to look lived in, and my insides smile. Good choice, Emma.

With a grunt he hefts me over his shoulder and onto the bed. He kneels beside the bed and easily parts my knees, his well-toned hands opening my gym-fit thighs, and he leans his elbows on my calves, pinning me like a butterfly to the bed.

"Well, well, Mrs," he croons, taking a long whiff of my sex, "you sure don't disappoint downstairs, either". He reaches for a nipple through my soft blouse and gives it a hard tweak. I yelp in agony- and ecstasy.

I can feel his breath, hot and sticky, smelling my puss like a sniffer dog. With one swift moment his tongue plunges into me, deep as any cock, and all I can do is moan and open my legs wider. His elbows pin me down, his hands hold mine to the mattress, and his tongue is hot and deep, halfway inside my body. I feel a gush and know I am filling his mouth with my warm, lemony-sweet juice. He comes up for air.

"That's it baby," he smiles," I knew you'd prefer to be my sexy little wifey than that pathetic snoring pig downstairs. Whose pussy is this, darlin'?"

I shook my head. He can take my body, but I'll not tell him I like it.

He starts to nibble my pussy lips. "Whose pussy is this, darlin'?"

" It's Andre's," I whisper.

He bites harder, causing me to yelp. It's a beautiful pain, but I'm worried, I don't like it. He bites again, harder this time. I go quiet. Maybe if I play dead he will give up?

"Whose pussy is this?" Pete demands.

I am quiet. Stay quiet, Emma.

And all of a sudden he has jumped on the bed, dragging me on top of him, and clamped his mouth on my neck, sucking hard. He is sucking and biting in one spot, and I am dragging to get away. I can feel his massive penis straining through his cargo shorts, there is a wet patch of pre-cum on them between my legs where his crotch is, and I can smell his animal lust, after me, after owning me. I break away, and he falls back on the bed. Sparked out- asleep. The melatonin worked.

I stumble to the mirror; it is not a reflection of me. This girl is wide-eyed, with wild, matted hair from the saliva-filled blowjobs, and there is an ominous deep purple-ish green bruise with white and red teeth marks on the left hand side of my throat. Pete is out for the count and I can still hear Andre snoring downstairs. It is 1am. The guys need to be up for work at 5am. The morning will come soon enough, I figure. I fold my soft blouse and cheeky little skirt and put on a soft silk nightie. What the morning will bring, I know not. But for now- I curl into my marital bed on the other side of the hallway- time for sleep, precious sleep.