Just The Right Push

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story includes scenes of extramarital and unprotected sex. If that's not for you, please move on.

Phil felt his balls begin to boil and pulse, and knew that his cum was getting very close. In the back of his hearing he could sense the noise from the party downstairs, but his attention was devoted to what Janet was doing with her mouth. Pretty, sexy Janet had been flirting with him since they arrived, and he had drifted away from his wife, and returned her advances; and now she was on her knees in an upstairs bedroom of his friend's house, getting his dick sucked REALLY well by his wife's friend. His legs started to tremble and his chest tightened, and he put his hand on her head. She looked up, her mouth wrapped lovingly around his shaft.

"I'm close," he warned.

"I want it," she told him, "just tap me when you're about to cum." She put her head down and returned to bobbing on his shaft, her hand and mouth working in unison, and the delicious thrills resumed in his groin. The pressure built for another twenty seconds before he tapped her head. She pulled her mouth off and stroked him, looking up like a sexy porn star, stroking his wet shaft.

"Give it to me, Phil, cum for me, cum in my mouth," she hissed, and took the head back inside her sweet mouth as he felt the first spasm shoot his cum jet up his shaft. He groaned, felt the explosion, and his head leaned back and he groaned. He looked down at her, seeing her cheeks puff as she took his hot load in her sweet, pretty mouth, and then the door opened and all hell broke loose.

His wife Connie was standing in the doorway, bug-eyed and mouth open, as he finished emptying his balls into Janet's mouth. His eyes went from his horrified wife's face to Janet's eager swallowing, and back again. He stood there, his cock in another girl's mouth while his wife watched him cum. Halfway through she shrieked his name and Janet whirled, and the last weak spurts landed on her shoulder. Janet struggled to her feet, and Connie pushed her out of the way as she stormed in. From the corner of his eye he saw Janet turn and give a 'sorry' look as she slipped out, closing the door behind her. Distracted, he didn't see his wife's hand until it struck him.

Staggered by the slap, he stumbled backwards, his withering cock flopping comically from his open pants. He stepped back to the bed and sat, tucking himself away. "Connie, come on, you-"

"You fucking bastard!" she shrieked. "You let that slut blow you?" Her face was as red as his felt, and he rubbed his cheek where she'd struck him. "You son of a bitch!" Spit spray was flying from her mouth as she screamed at him, arms flailing. "I'm looking all over for you, and you're up here getting your dick sucked?! By that fucking ... whore?! Fucking Janet?!"

Suddenly Phil's confusion and disorientation vanished and he stood, his pants closed and equipment tucked away. "She is NOT a whore!"

"Are you kidding? She's up here sucking your dick, she my goddamn FRIEND, for chrissake!"

He bellowed back at her. "She's your friend, she's MY friend too, and you just called her a slut and a whore! Do you hear yourself?"

He saw stars again, and found himself sitting on the bed, his face throbbing where she'd slapped him a second time. He looked up and she had a shocked look on her face, as though she were more surprised than him.

"How- How could you do this to me?" she gasped.

He stood back up and reached for her, but she pulled away, turned her back. "You're angry," he started and she whirled to face him.

"Of COURSE I'm angry! Why shouldn't I be angry?" She stammered, her mouth moving, nothing coming out, then tears came to her eyes and she managed, "How could you do this to me?"

He sat back down and thought for a minute as she stood there, tears trickling down her cheeks. He gathered his thoughts and looked her in the eye.

"Is that really the question you want to ask? Is it?" A look of confusion crossed her face. "Before you answer, ask yourself: do you really want the answer to that question?"

"Yes!" she sobbed. "Yes, I want to know! How could you do this to me?" She took a deep breath, composed herself. "How could you leave your wife, your WIFE, at a party and let Janet suck your dick? Yes, I want to know."

He nodded, silently, looking at the floor. "Fine," he started. He looked back up at her. "You're angry; good. Maybe that will help. Maybe this time you won't run away." He stood, approached her, and this time she didn't run, and he took her by the arms and led her to the bed, sitting her at the edge. He began to pace, and then spoke.

"Tell me, Connie, can you remember the last time YOU sucked my dick?" He looked at her. "Because I can't. I can remember asking you to, a while back. In fact, the last time I asked, I BEGGED you to."

"I don't like that; you know that."

"I'll tell you what I know. I know that you don't like the IDEA of it. And I know that you are afraid that if you DID it, you MIGHT like it."

"Don't you make this about me," she interrupted angrily.

"Connie," he said, pausing and shaking his head. "Don't you see? This IS about you. You have this thing about liking sex, and it-"

"I like sex." she defended.

"No, Connie, you don't. You don't. Occasionally you NEED sex, when your body tells you so. And on those rare occasions, you seem to almost enjoy it. But after it's over, it's over, and it's out of your mind until the next time you need to shame yourself." He turned to face her. "You think it's dirty, and it embarrasses you, even when you enjoy it." He paused. "And that's not very often."

"You don't seem to mind."

"I don't seem to ASK anymore, if that's what you mean. I got tired of being turned down."

"You always ask for perverted things."

"Oh, here it comes," he said dramatically. He mimicked a woman's voice. "I don't like that. I don't do that. You always ask me to do those things, they're sick. You're sick. You're a pervert." He returned to normal voice, angry now as his frustration poured out. "And what do I ask? Maybe you could use your mouth on me? Or maybe you'd let me lick you?"

"That's disgusting. Only sluts do that."

"Or maybe we could try a position OTHER than you lying on your back."

"I'm not a whore," she insisted.

"No, not you. You consider everything except for occasional straight sex to be slutty and whorish. Including normal healthy activities that your friends engage in. You think sex is dirty and bad, and you think that women who do those things are all whores and sluts." He took a breath. "You want to feel better about yourself, so you deny your human desires and look down on other women, including your own friends. Shame on you; they don't deserve your judgment. No one does. It's not appropriate. "

He stood still then, watching her face, waiting for a reaction, but none came immediately, and they stood in silence. She had stopped crying, but still looked angry, defiant. Finally she gathered herself and spoke.

"So that gives you permission to get your dick sucked by Janet?" she asked, still belligerent. "You want that kind of thing and I won't do it, so that gives you permission to go get it elsewhere?"

"No, it doesn't," he answered. "You should be angry. You have every right to be angry."

"Well, I am," she assured him defiantly.

"Are you really angry?" he asked insistently, stepping closer. "Are you angry enough to get back at me? To get revenge?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, what do you mean, revenge?" She squirmed, still seated.

"I dare you to take revenge. In fact, I promise that if you don't, I will continue doing things like this."

"What, lecturing me? Please!"

"No, Connie. I will continue seeking sexual pleasure elsewhere. You refuse to satisfy me. You refuse to admit that deep down inside, you have sexual urges like everyone else. You have it in your head that it's wrong, so you don't allow yourself to think about it. If you did, your body would follow. But you don't. You're too chicken to let go, to enjoy yourself. So you create this idea that you are better than everyone else, and you look down on them to prop up your opinion of yourself." He was bitter, and angry, and it came out in his words. "My needs and wants are normal, not sick. And I will get them fulfilled."

"I can't believe you're saying that to me, you bastard!"

He leaned into her, his face inches from hers. "Then do something about. Get angry. Get furious! Get back at me! I fucking dare you! But you're too damn scared to do anything, and so you'll force me to enjoy other women!"

"What do you expect me to do?" she screamed at him.

"Get your revenge," he snarled. "Go downstairs, right now, if you have the guts, and blow somebody."

She sprang from her seat. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" This time he saw her hand, and blocked the slap. He held her arm, pulling her close to him.

"Are you angry, Connie?" he hissed. "Are you really pissed? Are you angry enough to do something about it? To do more than hold back sex? Because you do THAT pretty good now!"

"You fucking bastard. It would serve you right." She wrestled herself away from him, and stood glaring at him. "You think I won't do something?"

"I think you can't," he sneered, goading her. "I think you can't allow yourself." He laughed, a short derisive bark. "You couldn't FORCE yourself!"

She stood there, trembling, hesitant and defiant. "You sick, demented pervert. You watch me, you cheating bastard. I'm going downstairs and find the biggest cock here and I'm going to blow him in front of you."

"I doubt it," he told her, his excitement beginning to grow. "You're all talk. You don't have the balls." He stepped closer. "I had the balls, and the need, and I did it. You'll do nothing. You'll stamp and shout and slap me, but you'll take it like a wimp. And I'll keep on doing it. Because you won't stop me."

She moved in closer, her hand pulled back, but she stopped herself from slapping him. She gasped her anger and turned and left the room. "Go ahead, run," he called to her as she left. "I knew it! Run away home!" As she left, he grinned, elated that he'd finally said all the things he'd been holding back for so long. He sat back on the bed, pleased with himself. Maybe now she'd get the picture, and start loosening up. He lay back on the bed, allowing the adrenaline of his anger to subside, and as it did his brain switched back into gear.

He'd give it a few minutes, then go downstairs. Despite the argument and her threat, he knew the chances that she'd follow through were pretty slim. Likely she'd go home, and then he'd have to go home and have the rest of this argument. For days. Still, there was a slim chance she might be angry enough to go through with it. He sat up, figuring that was enough time for her to either talk herself into it or leave the house. If she stayed, he didn't want to miss it.

As he descended the stairs he heard hoots and cheers from his friends, guys and girls alike. When he got to the bottom and turned the corner, he saw a large group assembled in the den, with his wife in the middle. She had her hand on Joe's crotch, and was feeling him up as everyone cheered. He watched her make a face of consolation at Joe, then step away and move to Roger, and grab his package. She made a semi-satisfied face, and told him she might be back, to everyone's laughter. Then someone pushed Paul from the back of the crowd, and Phil heard Paul's girlfriend yell for Connie to check him out. Paul stood there, sheepish and uncertain as Connie stepped up to him and cupped his crotch. Her eyes opened wide and she made a surprised face just as Paul turned to see Phil standing there. Slowly the crowd calmed down and eventually Connie turned to face him, her hand still fondling the crotch of Paul's jeans.

"Oh, you came to see?" she asked him across the crowded but silent room.

"You won't," Phil replied.

"You fucking watch," she answered defiantly, anger still in her voice.

"Uh, Connie," Paul started, trying to back away from her, "I don't think that you should-"

"Shut up, Paul," she said, grabbing him by the waistband and pulling him back. "Your girlfriend sent you up here, so she's okay with it. Right, Debbie?" she called out.

"Go for it Connie," came a laugh, "if you know how!" Debbie's jibe made the other girls laugh out uproariously, and Connie scowled at them, then turned back to Phil, sneering.

"What about you, Phil? You think I don't know how?"

"Maybe you DO know how," he chided, "but I know you don't know WHY!" The room, now a captive audience, and all aware of Connie's views towards sex, broke into gales of laughter and jeers. Phil watched as Connie scowled bitterly at him. Moment of truth, he thought. She could still chicken out. Did I push too hard?

"Go fuck yourself, Phil," she spat, and turned to face Paul with a determined grimace. "It's your lucky day, Paul," she said loudly, and dropped to her knees in front of him as the crowd expressed shock and amused surprise. "Help me out here, would you?" she asked, fumbling at his belt and waistband, struggling to open his pants. Paul glanced desperately around the room for his girlfriend. She moved to the front of the crowd, shouldering her way to the front, and grabbed Paul's pants from Connie.

"For Chrissake, Connie," she muttered, "you can't even get a guys pants off?"

Connie's face reddened in shame. The crowd jeered as Paul's girlfriend opened his pants, pushed them to his knees, and kissed him. "Make me proud, sweetie," she said, and stepped back. Convinced his girl was okay with what seemed about to happen, he relaxed and stood with his hands on his hips. He looked down at Connie.

"Well?" he asked. "It ain't going to take itself out!" He reached down, grabbed her hands and put them on his boxer briefs waistband. "Go ahead. This was your play. Make it."

Phil watched Connie's face tighten with determination, and she pulled the briefs down as Paul stepped out of his pants. His half hard member dangled in her face, every bit as large as her fondling had promised. Slightly longer than Phil, but fatter, meatier; she watched in fascination as it throbbed and pulsed, growing as it filed with blood.

"Well?" he asked. "Are you just going to look at it?"

Phil watched as Connie turned to him, looked him in the eye, and sneered. Then she turned back to Paul, and opened her mouth, taking the fat swollen head into her mouth. The room broke into cheers. Phil felt a satisfied grin break out on his face. She was doing it out of anger, yearning for revenge, but she was doing it, and he watched as she reached for the base of Paul's shaft, and licked up and down the sides, wetting it, bringing him to a full erection as the crowd oohed and aahed. Then she angled him toward her mouth, and took him back into her mouth, sucking on the head. He saw her cheeks draw in, sucking on him, and she toyed with the head.

Paul groaned, grinning to the crowd. "I hope that's not all she does," he quipped, "It's a nice start, but it's not going to get me anywhere!" Connie's face flashed in anger, and she pushed her mouth down, taking about a third of the shaft inside, to cheers and encouragement from the party. Inspired by the reaction, she began bobbing her head, clearly inexperienced; sucking his dick teasingly, but not blowing him.

"Come on, Connie," one of the girls called, "you can do it! Put some heart in it!" Phil saw her eyes flash to the side, looking for the voice, and pumped her head faster. "Come on, use your hands, stroke him!" and "Deeper! Gag on it!" came from the crowd. Phil put his hands on her head.

"Need some help, Connie?" he asked, and she looked up. Phil held her head on his cock and slowly pulsed his hips forward, sinking about three quarters of his length into her mouth. Phil watched her mouth stretch around his friend's girth, until she gagged and pulled back. Tears formed in her hostile eyes, and she took a deep breath. "You okay?" Phil asked, and she swallowed and nodded, and opened her mouth, and he guided her head back to his swollen head. She stretched open again, and he slid slowly in, the crowd goading him, until she gagged, but he held her there, coughing around his shaft, and pushed further, and her eyes opened wide with surprise and shock. He released her and she pulled back, but after a few breaths went right back, pushing herself this time, as deep as she could handle, and began bobbing her head, and stroking his shaft as she sucked.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as Phil watched his uptight, narrow-minded wife blowing his friend's fat cock. Her nerves had settled; she was really applying herself now, working the shaft with her mouth and tongue, blowing him the way it should be done. She was putting a lot of effort into proving him wrong, and he was excited to see her so motivated, regardless of the source of her motivation or the manner in which she was expressing it. After all the months of disappointment and arguing, she was proving she could fellate a man. Granted, it was his friend, and she was doing it in front of the rest of his friends. But it wasn't like they didn't know she was a restrictive prude; she often let her opinions be known in front of others. He watched her pick up the pace, and Paul was responding enthusiastically, grunting and groaning his delight at the attention she was paying to his excitement. He wondered if she would finish him, and if so, how?

He didn't concern himself long, as Paul's grunts increased in volume, and was matched by Connie's own murmurings, audible through her muffled mouthful. She looked like she was really getting into it, he thought. She started out angry and mean, but she's staring to look like she's liking it. But no, he thought, that would be too much to ask, too much to dream. But still. She was stroking the base of his cock, following her mouth up and down with her fist, pumping him, fucking his cock with her hands and head. Like she was enjoying it.

Paul announced he was close, and she pulled her head away. Moment of truth, Phil thought; he was disappointed, but not surprised that she pulled off. At least not until Connie looked up into Paul's face and told him to cum in her mouth. Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Connie took a second to glance at Phil. Her expression had changed; still determined, but the anger had left, leaving a look he had never really seen. Was that lust? She smiled at him, and turned back, taking Phil deep into her mouth, stroking his shaft, and slobbering spit down her chin. The crowd started chanting "Go, Go, Go," and then changed to "Cum, Cum, Cum!" amidst chuckles and cheers. Phil found himself silently urging his wife to keep going, to do a good job, to finish, to take his hot load in her mouth, to suck him after he came, torture his cock. He didn't care if she swallowed or let it drool from her mouth, frankly, so long as she showed him that she was willing. And now, it seemed, eager.

Connie worked harder, broadcasting her efforts with long, throaty moans, and then Phil tensed, and barked a short expletive, and Connie locked her lips on the head, stroking the base, and the room exploded in cheers as her cheeks puffed out, filling with Paul's seed. Phil felt his dick getting hard, seeing his wife take a hot load of cum in her mouth, and as he watched she pulled back slightly, allowing her lips to loosen around Phil's shaft, and the cum dribbled out, spilling down her chin, dripping onto her shirt and between her breasts. With a wet pop she pulled off, one hand still wrapped around Phil's shaft, and turned to the crowd to accept the cheers they offered.

Phil began stepping forward when Connie called out loudly, "Who's next?" Cum glistened on her chin and stained the front of her shirt. He didn't see it for long as two other guys stepped in front her, blocking her view. He saw their backs as their pants loosened and fell, and heard cheers and hoots from the crowd. Phil worked his way around the room, bumping and excusing himself, trying to hide the bulge growing in the front of his pants. He passed Janet who threw him a sidelong smile as he passed. He returned a sheepish grin, and managed to get around to the back of the room.