[Please read earlier parts of this series. I hope they add up. Thank you for your encouragement and comments and impatience for more and occasional abuse -- it's all a key part of the fun of writing these stories. Don't hesitate to get in touch. At least one more instalment to come.]
I watched it all from the floor our bed; Uncle Jack taking, ravishing my beautiful wife Anna. Now as I write this down, certain things come back to me clearly, some are a blur, like a dream.
The feeling of panic - I remember that clearly when I think about kneeling there, separate but so close, watching, watching, watching. Panic, for me, is a deep, gorgeous sinking feeling - a confusion of nausea, dread, fear, humiliation, anticipation and excitement, all fluctuating quickly and vying to dominate. Imagine you are at school, you're late for a hugely important exam, you find yourself in the wrong room, looking at a Spanish exam paper when you don't speak a word of the language and are expecting a French paper, you've wet your pants, a huge stain is obvious to all around you, and the sweetest and sexiest girl in the school, your heart's desire, is sniggering at your predicament, and you are erect, tenting your trousers, and your little penis is on a hair trigger, and then, in all the excitement, humiliation and wet friction, you cum into your favourite, lucky, gauzy pink panties. Something like that.
What was I panicking about? Above all I worried about losing Anna to Jack. I feared that he would make me redundant, entirely useless to her as a lover. Would she abandon me, dismiss me from her life?
Would she fall in love with Jack? Would I become the neutered husband, uxorious to a fault, providing a good and comfortable life for my wife, a home where she can entertain her lover in style, but banished from her bed? And then, what was expected of me. Jack was clear that I was going to "join in". I'd joined in already, a little. Was there to be more? Was I really going to let myself go, to really taste what Jack had?
But with this panic and dread came a huge joy, at finding myself, my true place, at seeing my beloved Anna truly, deeply pleasured, at seeing her so deliriously in lust and in love with Jack. Part of the joy was relief at having touched Uncle Jack's wondrous cock, at kissing it, at inhaling his scent. I had finally broken through that barrier to touch another man sexually. This is what I am, I told myself -- the boy, the wimp, the queer little cuckold, the emasculated husband. In my heart I felt so grateful that I was allowed to be there watching it all.
Anna, in Uncle Jack's hands, became pure sex. My wife, the mother of my daughter, my lovely companion... became a hungry slut, able to take the monstrous cock of another man, and loving it. While she was with my uncle, she shed all that was wifely and maternal in her.
She was not the person I knew and loved. Anna was in a swoon for Jack, giving herself up for him entirely, and it was a beautiful transformation.
Uncle jack, of course, was regal, powerful, arrogant and completely dominating. He didn't need to say a word, Anna threw herself at him.
At first she slowly rose and fell on him, grinding and twisting. She would pause every few minutes to bring her beautiful lips to his ugly worn face, to kiss and lick his features, the creased and loose skin on his chest and neck and his steely dark nipples, to knead the huge misshapen pectoral muscles, she lifted his arms to lick his armpits, she slavered at his ears, and she tenderly kissed and stroked his bald, scaly scalp. It was animal worship, devotion. I stared, taking in every detail, as Anna, absolutely oblivious to me, sucked on his tongue and nibbled on his lips and whispered words of love. I caught only the odd word: "Deeper... fuck me.... So big, darling... love you... fill me... always... I could die... please, please, please."
Jack became urgent again. He pushed her away so that she sat up on him, and he began to thrust up into her hard. He wanted to fuck not kiss, wanted sex not love. Anna was like a rag doll, beaten by his huge, deep trusts, her head lolling and her arms flapping uselessly. He pounded her violently. As the pace built up, so did her reaction. She started to groan, then whimper and then let out a yelp with each thrust. Uncle Jack had to hold her up as he pummelled her again and again. Then Anna seemed to enter a trance, a daze, became quiet, just breathing deeply and whimpering. Her head fell forward a little and her hair curtained over her eyes. Jack didn't like this. His right hand went to her neck grabbing her throat roughly. He tilted her head up and slapped Anna's face firmly with the open palm of his left hand, four or five times.
