She Maes Two Poor Choices

She makes a poor choice

I was fighting my way out of the darkness. I could feel the bed rocking. My head felt like it was splitting in two. I could hear murmuring in the distance.

Then it hit me -- a stinging, burning pain from the head of my prick. A STINGING, BURNING PAIN -- FROM THE HEAD OF MY PRICK!

From the darkness, I started to reach for my member, but something stopped me. My hands were stuck above my head. I yanked them, to no avail. I had to clear my head and get to the light, but between the pain in my head and the pain in my prick, this was not going to be easy.

"Easy sport. You don't want to hurt yourself."

"Sport?" I thought to myself as I immediately recognized the voice of my wife of 30 years, Traci. While I probably should have been comforted by hearing her, Traci's tone seemed anything but comforting. I finally got my eyes open, and then the real pain hit: I was handcuffed above my head in my own bed, lying on my back, right next to my wife, who was being fucked by her boss, John Carmichael.

"What the fuck?!!" I screamed, setting off huge waves of pain in my head, before my thrashing about set off more huge waves of pain in my dick. At that point, I finally looked down to see what the pain was about, and found that I had a small hoop pierced to the head of my cock.

"Aaarrrggghhh!" I screamed some more, using my extensive vocabulary.

With various body parts hurting badly, seeing as how I couldn't move, and seeing that my wife was willingly getting fucked right next to me, I suppose I had several good reasons not to be thinking clearly at that moment. For the life of me, I had no idea how I had gotten into this predicament. The last thing I remembered was crawling into bed and getting on top of my wife for what I believed was going to be a rousing sex session. Then I remember feeling what seemed like a giant bee sting in my right butt muscle ... before waking up to this alternate universe.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, you piece of shit!" I next shouted, at Carmichael. "Get the fuck off my wife!"

My wife's boss just chucked, and continued plowing my wife. Traci, for her part, reached down with her left hand and just gently tapped on my prick, sending even more painful waves of pain through me.

"I need you to calm down, Jeff," Traci said quietly to me while continuing to pump in rhythm with her boss. "I'll explain when John and I are done. Or you can continue to be an idiot, and I'll continue to use your dick for Morse code."

I didn't want that to happen anymore, so I just laid there looking away from Traci and her boss while they continued to go at it. At least they kept it fairly low-key, except for when she climaxed and then he came right after her. He snickered in my direction several times, and if I could have gotten out of the handcuffs I would have gotten my gun and shot both of them.

I must have drifted back to nowhere land, because I came to sometime later to find the two of them, plus my wife's close friend, Alana, examining my dick piercing.

"What's she doing here? Can you make this any worse?" I inquired of my wife.

"You have Alana to thank for your piercing. I can't do stuff like that, and I don't think you'd have wanted John to do it."

"Hurts like hell. Is it always going to be like this?"

"It will stop hurting in a few days. I promise," said Alana. "Dick heads are always sensitive. But you're not going to want to fuck anyone any time real soon ... if you are allowed at all."

"Which brings us back to the main topic," I said, trying to sound civil in the hope that I could get some answers to my predicament.

"John, sweetie, why don't you go on home now? Twice is enough for tonight, and I have Alana here with me if there are any problems, which I don't anticipate. I've taken away Jeff's gun, and I think he realizes that taking a kick to his penis would just about finish him off right now."

John nodded in agreement and stepped in for a deep, passionate kiss before leaving. All I could do was watch and wait.

After all the pleasantries were done, John left and Traci put on her short robe and came back into the bedroom. Alana was already planted in the only chair in the room, and Traci came and sat on the edge of the bed next to me.

"I know you're confused and hurt," she started in a soft voice. "I probably should have done this in a different way, but I can't tell you how hot it was to watch you wake up next to me while John was doing me."

"How long has that been going on?" I asked. "You guys were either really good about hiding it, or I am a total fucking, trusting idiot."

"I've been with John for about a year and a half. And, while we were pretty good at hiding it, to be honest, you being a total fucking, trusting idiot really helped."

Alana chuckled over in the chair, and Traci gave her a quick smile.

"I thought we were good, Babe," I said. "Above average sex, I thought, lots of real love, I thought. I figured we were going to grow old together."

"We were good, Babe, just not great, and I decided that after all this time, I deserved great. John was a good addition. He's bigger than you are, and a little more forceful by nature, and we just sort of clicked sexually. I still love you, but the sex with John is so much better, and he's a pretty good guy to be around, as well. I don't want to divorce you, but I NEED John."

By this point I was in tears. The woman of my dreams told me that she NEEDED another man, although she still loved me and wanted to keep our marriage intact. Thirty years, two grown children raised. And she NEEDED another man.

I'll admit I'm just an average six inches, and I guess I don't know any fucking tricks, but Traci never really gave me any indication that I was lousy in bed. She only came on my cock on rare occasions, but I'm incredibly attentive, and I made sure she got more than her fair share of orgasms from my hands and my mouth. Screaming, shaking orgasms, or was she that good of an actress?

Only one thing stopped me for getting up and walking out at that moment -- the fucking handcuffs. I yanked on them with real rage, but they held fast.

"So what the fuck is this?" I asked, shaking the cuffs.

"And what is with that?" I asked, motioning with my chin toward my piercing.

Traci took a quick look toward Alana, then turned back to me.

"I kind of felt that you might be getting close, you've been kind of distant lately, and if I had to tell you, I wanted to get my money's worth out of the reveal, so to speak. And John absolutely loved fucking me with you laying next to me handcuffed to the headboard. He does have a bit of a dominant thing going."

"And that?" I asked motioning again toward the piercing.

"Apparently I have a bit of a dominant thing going, too. I really didn't know about that until I started to plan this out, and then I got Alana involved. That was really hot, and I think we're both going to like that when you get healed up."

"And you actually think I'm going to put up with all this?"

"Yes, I do, because you're smart enough to know that it's mostly sex with John, and you're my number one man. You're the one I love and want to spend the rest of my life with, and you know that.

"And, by the way, the piercing has been sealed closed, so the only way that's coming off is if you get somebody to clip it off. And good luck with that."

"So the piercing might have to stay, but you're smart enough to know that I won't share my wife with another man; yet here we are, so maybe neither of us is very smart."

Traci gave me kind of a sad look before reaching up to unlock the handcuffs. It felt good to have my hands free, but I still felt slightly off from whatever is was she used to knock me out and I didn't feel like I could walk very well. I just curled up on my side and drifted off back to sleep.

When I next woke up it was morning -- Saturday morning, to be exact -- and while my head felt much better, my dick still hurt from the piercing -- and from Traci laying up against my dick facing away while I spooned her. She must have showered before coming to bed because she didn't smell of sex nor Carmichael. If it weren't for the pain of my piercing, I would have thought that last night was just a bad dream.

I was halfway through with my shower when Traci pulled the curtain aside and stepped in with me. I honestly had no clue as to what I should do at that point: just continue as if she didn't exist, get out of the shower, or kiss her good morning and continue on as if nothing happened last night. Actually, the third option was out, and I did need the shower, so I just continued on as if she didn't exist.

When I finally put the soap down to start washing my hair, Traci picked up the bar and started lathering herself. She knows damn good and well that soaping up her big boobs always turns me on, and this time was no different. I started to get hard immediately, which further made the piercing pull tighter and hurt more. I winced, which brought what I thought was a somewhat sadistic smile to her lips.

"Care to help?" she asked as she flipped me the soap.

I'm not too proud to admit that I couldn't help myself. I snatched the bar out of the air and soaped the hell out of her body. I made sure she was especially clean inside her pussy, bringing her to a pair of pretty good orgasms. My dick stayed hard and painful.

Traci looks at least 15 years younger than her 53 years of age. She works out on a regular basis and watches her weight. Even after two kids, she can, and does, turn heads, especially when she is dressed up to show off her big boobs and flat stomach. And the walkaway is not bad, either.

Traci and I met in college at a small midwestern university. I was a year ahead of her, but we were both business majors, so we had several classes together. We didn't start dating until my junior year, but we were inseparable from that point on. I'm not a bad-looking guy, and I've kept myself up halfway decent, but she's still above my pay grade, so to speak. Although I've always been somewhat paranoid about that, she's never given me cause to really worry, until a few months ago when she stayed late several evenings at the insurance company she works at, ostensibly because she was behind on a project. She seemed kind of distant when she got home from those work sessions, and she made sure to keep her distance from me literally until she jumped in the shower to clean off "the work grunge," as she called it. Neither one of us usually showered at night. So yeah, I was starting to have some doubts when she wasn't at home at other times, despite her claims of being out shopping or whatever. Even when she came home with groceries, there were still some times where she just didn't want to be near me physically.

And, yes, sex on those nights when I suspected she was out wasn't happening, which made me all the more suspicious. Usually we were good for two or three times a week -- we weren't kids anymore, but in the last few months I was lucky to get it once a week.

I suppose if it was 20 years ago, I would probably have just divorced her without a second thought. But after 30 years, I couldn't just kick her to the curb without at least trying to win her back. But that's not to say I wasn't incredibly pissed. How could she just do this to me, and when it looked like I might be catching on, how could she do what she did last night? And she did that as part of a plan for her enjoyment and his. Damn good thing she handcuffed me and hid the gun. I'd probably be in jail right now if she hadn't.

But I was nowhere closer to any kind of solution. We needed to talk, although right now she seemed to have the upper hand on me when it came to answers. She seemed to know what SHE wanted.

"You're killing me; you know that," I said to her as I walked into the kitchen to find her making lunch sandwiches for the two of us.

"Oh, Jeff, man up. Don't be such a wuss," she fired back at me. "I told you I still love you. I meant that. And we can still keep our marriage alive, with some changes, of course, now that you know. Or would you have preferred not to know, and be cuckolded behind your back. We can go back to that scenario, you know, if you want."

Listen to her. She was so calm, almost rational about this. I'm the one spitting up blood about this. For a split second, I almost gave in.

"How could you do this to me? How many other guys have you been sleeping with?" I asked, my voice more harsh than my first comment.

"Since we've been married, I've never cheated on you until John. And it wasn't just a meet and fall into the sack thing. We've worked together for 12 years, which means we didn't start to have sex for more than 10 years.

"I know his ex-wife, their two children. We had a good working relationship first; then a good friendship. It was almost natural that our relationship would go further. And when it did, I found out what I had apparently been missing all these years. It was, and is, magical.

"You're very talented in bed with those hands and mouth, Jeff, but John is a magician with his dick. He takes me places I've never been before. Places I want to continue to visit, and now that you know and we don't have to sneak around anymore, places I can visit more often.

"And this doesn't have to change the love we have for each other, Jeff. I don't love you any less. It can be like it always was, except that I will be getting extra on the side to keep me the happiest woman in the world. We can work it out that you will hardly know I'm having an affair, unless you want to know, of course."

"I know where you're going with that, and I have no desire for that. But, honestly, I have no desire for any of this. Do I mean that little to you, after all these years? I love you, and don't want to share you. What would you have said if I would have come home five years ago and said I want to keep a big-boobed mistress on the side, just for sex, of course. You'd have said I was nuts and walked out, probably after setting our bed on fire while I was asleep!"

Traci got quiet at that. I had touched a nerve. Then she sighed and said, "That was then. This is now."

"Wait a minute. So you're saying it would be okay with you if I found a mistress?"

Traci looked shocked and hurt. She hadn't considered it from my standpoint. Maybe I had a shot at stopping this after all.

"I've got to hit the grocery store, and you need to mow," she said as she quickly got up, cleared the table, grabbed her car keys and headed for the door.

I didn't think much about it at first as I watched her leave, but then I realized she was braless in a thin blouse, not something she would ever wear to the grocery store. I had made her think about what she was doing, and she was headed over to discuss things with John, and probably have sex with him.

"Aaarrrggghhh!" I screamed at the four walls.

I was done with the mowing and watching TV in the den when Traci got back to the house. She didn't bring in any groceries, her hair was slightly askew and she was flushed from the top of her forehead to her fingertips.

"Real subtle, Babe," was all I could say.

We didn't talk much the rest of the weekend. On Monday, I told my boss at the bank I worked at I was having some marital problems, and I needed to see a lawyer about possibly getting a divorce. He offered me the business card of his divorce attorney, and told me just to keep track of the personal time I would be using. He knew I was good for making that up.

Apparently Traci felt really comfortable now that the cat was out of the bag about she and John. She "worked late" on Tuesday night, had a "date" with John on Friday night and then a quick "get-together" with him on Saturday afternoon, like last week. There was no discussion of this and no apologies. If anything, she seemed to be walking around with a little more confidence, a little more sway in her step.

The following week she "worked late" again on Tuesday, as did I because I made up my time for spending three hours with my new divorce attorney. I actually get home at about the same time as she did, and at least I could see the wheels turning in her head as we walked in together, although I didn't smell of sex.

This Friday night was a little different, though, because Traci told me that morning that she didn't have a date. She asked me how the piercing felt, and when I said OK, she quickly growled that she wanted to test drive the new and improved me. I have to admit I was hard just thinking about sex; it had been about three weeks since the last time we made love. While I was pissed about what was happening in our marriage, I was completely horny, and I figured, fuck it -- literally.

We both did the usual Friday work and stuff we used to do before this whole mess started, and Traci fixed a nice supper before we settled in two watch a movie on DVD. We sat on the sofa together and cuddled, and about halfway through the movie she started to tap on my dick. While the piercing no longer hurt, the head of my dick was still more sensitive than it used to be, and the simple tapping had me rock hard in no time.

We stayed on the sofa until the movie was over, then I practically ran up the stairs to the bedroom ahead of Traci. I was naked when she got up to the room, and I had her naked within minutes. She removed the bedspread and then I pushed her down on the bed before putting my face between her beautiful thighs. I was over the top by this point, not taking my time, fucking her pussy with my tongue while she writhed to three hard orgasms. And then it happened -- again. Just as I started to disengage my face from her pussy, I felt that sharp sticking pain ... and then the lights went out.

At least this time when I started regaining consciousness I had a clue as to what was happening. Despite the pain in my head, I fought my way back to the point where I could hear voices when I felt the pain in my chest -- my nipples to be exact. But this time I didn't make a grab for the pain. I slowly opened my eyes and looked at my chest, seeing a small round hoop attached to each nipple. Geez that hurt!

"Welcome back, hubby! Glad you could join us again," Traci said brightly as I looked up to see Carmichael again on top of her, fucking away.

I shook my handcuffs. Checked quickly to see if it was the same set-up as last time. Yep.

"Son of a bitch! What the fuck do you two think you're doing?" I shouted.

"I don't know about John, but I think I'm having great sex with my boss, while my loving husband is lying next to me being a good boy, hoping that if he's really good I'll take him out of his cage and let him have sex with me as well.

At that she moved the sheet that was covering my lower body off of me, revealing to me that my dick was scrunched down to about 2 inches and was inside of a wire cage of some sort.

"Holy shit, she's got me in a cock cage!" I realized as I came fully to my senses.

It wasn't painful at least, but it was damned uncomfortable.

While Traci and John were fucking, I looked around the room and spotted a dish with ice cubes and a washcloth lying by the chair. That explained the how, not the why, however.

"I thought you said you love me. How could you do this to me if you love me?"

"Stop for a second, will you, Lover?" Traci asked John. John complied, but he shot me a look of death.

"Don't you follow anything?" Traci queried of me. "Since you're no longer in charge sexually, it's my responsibility to keep you charged up, so to speak. And the cage allows me to keep your sexual tension level high, which should keep you happier. Then when we do have sex, it will be everything you can do to control yourself and perform at your best, especially since you'll want to please me so I won't wait so long to let you out again."