It was a heck of a night. My wife and I had gotten home from the party a couple of hours ago after a long, silent ride home. It was an office party, the first one since I transferred to my new office, and it did not go well. Even though I've been with the company for years, my coworkers still see me as the new guy, and the lowest in the management pecking order. I thought bringing my lovely wife to the social event would let me rub elbows, gain a few points with the boys, but it did not go that way. Instead I was pulled away to attend to some menial task that had to be done right that moment, and when I returned to the festivities, I found my wife receiving the attention of two of my colleagues.
I went to intervene on her behalf, but found myself cut off yet again by a coworker needing something from me right that moment. I finished a few minutes later and went to see how my wife was doing. She was now surrounded by three of my management colleagues, one refilling her cup with alcoholic punch, another had his arm on her shoulder. They were way too friendly, and I had to put a stop to it.
I approached them, ready to fend off my coworkers from my wife. That was my intent, at least. In trying to wedge myself in between them, I had accidentally knocked the drink over my wife's dress. The guys laughed, calling me a klutz, as I hastily tried to clean things up, but my wife was already fuming. One of the guys was helping her off to the kitchenette to clean up while the others had me clean up what I had spilled on the floor.
It was embarrassing overall, but the worst was when she came back. I was on my knees, wiping punch off my coworker's shoe, and I looked up at my wife, and she was looking down at me. She had scorn written all over her, looking down at me like I was dirt on her shoe.
"Get up, we're leaving," she said, terse and cold.
We walked to the car, she a few paces in front of me, always keeping that distance like she refused to be seen as being with me. When we got in, she said the last thing she'd say to me that night:
"You're hardly man of the house at home, I thought at least at work you were good for something. Now I know better; you're not a man anywhere."
We got home and my wife went directly upstairs, while I kept my distance and went to the kitchen for some water. When I entered the living room, my wife had come halfway down the stairs and tossed a small heap of cloth onto the couch before going back upstairs and shutting the bedroom door. It was then that I noticed that the cloth was a sheet and a blanket. I was sleeping on the couch tonight.
I undressed and lied down, ready for a rough night's sleep, when I heard the garage door open and shut. Our son Nate had come home, late but still earlier than usual. He was a student at the local college, and mostly came home for free food and laundry. I heard him walk past the living room, and I noticed him pause as he did. I heard him chuckle as he continued on up the stairs. Must be having a laugh at his old man sleeping on the couch. Some guys have a wife that doesn't respect them, some have a son that doesn't, but I have both.
I tried to get comfortable as I drifted into a restless sleep. I had no idea how long I had been asleep, being in that state of drifting consciousness where nothing is real. I kept thinking about the evening, the look on my wife's face as I was cleaning my colleague's shoe, utter disgust and disdain for me. I was lower than low in her eyes, not even a man.
My dreams all involved the events of the night, being used by the men of my office, my wife looking down on me all the while. Once I dreamt I was cleaning the shoe by licking it clean. In another I was stark naked while everyone laughed at me. All the while, my wife looked down at me as though I was nothing. It was the last one, though, that really pushed it.
In this dream, I came back to the party, but instead of flirting with my wife, the guys were aggressively groping her, lifting her dress, squeezing her butt and breasts, and even kissing her outright. Before I could say anything, their dicks were out and they were stroking them for her, which she soon took over. I watched as my wife in this twisted dreamspace began jerking off my coworkers, her mouth choosing the biggest one for its attention as she started on a blowjob the likes of which I never got.
As seamlessly as it began, my wife was now being spitroasted by my coworkers, bent over and dress hiked up to show her ass being plowed by one dick as her mouth was pleasuring the two others, her tongue licking over them as she jerked them off.
Without knowing why, I found myself beside my wife, the sound of her slurping and sucking on dick that wasn't mine filling my ears. She moaned in pleasure in a way I had never heard; it was genuine hunger for man-cock.
In this strange dream, my wife turned to me, her hand still grasping the firm, meaty cock, and said, "I think you're a better fit for this end of a cock. Have a taste." Before I knew it, she was directing the cock at me and it was pushing against my lips.
My conscious mind would never have even thought about sucking dick, but in this dream, it seemed to fit right along with everything else, so I didn't even think twice about it. I opened my mouth and the warm, fleshy rod filled it.
At first it wasn't as big as I imagined it would be, but that's because it hadn't entered as quickly as I thought, and the tapered head pushed my lips back as it slid in. I felt it glide over my tongue, the soft warmth of it feeling better than I had ever expected. It slowed its entry and then stopped, beginning to withdraw until I felt the head between my lips again, and then it pushed its way in again. The sensation was so satisfying, I couldn't help but moan.
"Look at that," my wife said, "I knew he wasn't a real man, it's only fitting that he fit the role of cock-sucking bitch." Her words were meant to sting, but I didn't really care. This was too good to not enjoy. I started to move my head back and forth slightly in rhythm with the cock pistoning in and out of my mouth, and I was moaning more and more.
The dream took an even stranger turn when the man whose dick I was sucking spoke, but it wasn't the voice of any of my coworkers.
"You're totally right about him. Not much of a man at all, but at least he gives good head." The unmistakable voice of our son Nate sounded in my ears. This should have horrified me, but instead it turned me on. The thought of my wife feeding me my own son's dick actually made me hard, and my hands went to my own dick to jerk myself off.
"Well, I guess he's really enjoying himself," came my wife's mocking voice, "I was going to ask you to feed him your cum, Nate, but it looks like the faggot cock-sucker would just enjoy that, doesn't it?"
