DITW 13-2: Grand Disproportion

With his pants unzipped, Josh’s bulge pushed through the fly, a humped belly straining against white cotton briefs, stained damp grey with his excitement. She exhaled, long and breathy, the sound of a woman glad to see it. “Fuck, Josh,” she said, “you’re so hard right now. Look how hard you are.”

Devlin sounded disappointed, saying behind her, “You didn’t wear them. You said you would.”

Josh answered with venom. “No, I didn’t.”

She said, “Wear what?”

Devlin and Josh answered at the same time, Josh saying, “Never mind,” and Devlin saying, “He loves your satin panties.”

She rose to stand above Josh, leaning forward, showing him her naked body, caressing his face and kissing his hairline. “I know he does.”

“I don’t think you know how much he does,” Devlin said.

And she said, “I don’t think you know how much.”

Josh stood up, one hand on his waistband to stop his pants from falling around his ankles. At first, she was frightened he would try to leave, but he stayed with her, leering at Devlin behind her. She put her arms around his waist. Josh said to Devlin, “Are we done here?”

Devlin said, “You tell me.”

Josh narrowed his eyes. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“What are you going to do now, Devlin? What do you have left? There’s nothing else you can do.” Now Josh gestured toward the bed. “This, what I watched today, was my pleasure—my pleasure more than yours, even.”

“Stop, stop,” she said in a calm and quiet voice. Josh still snarled and Devlin looked back at him, smug. “Josh, we’re not done. You’re not done. I know you’re not done.”

“I’m done,” he said.

“No, baby,” she said, her hands slipping from his back and down the seat of his trousers. She caressed his ass, ran her nails over his underwear-covered cheeks. “Touch me.”

Josh’s features calmed, but he still eyed Devlin. She said, “Look at me. Don’t look at him, look at me.”

Slowly, Josh’s face turned to hers. “Touch me,” she said, and waited.

No smile, no warmth, but Josh’s hands went to the small of her bare back and stayed a long moment. Then his right hand went over her ass and between her legs from behind. She moaned and gasped quick air at his touch. His two fingers squelched through her soaking sex, riffling her eager labia. Her hand traveled as well, from his ass to his front, her palm going over the lovely cotton prominence between his legs. Josh grunted and held his breath, his eyes on hers.

Her other hand swept up to the back of his neck and guided his mouth to her mouth for a long and enduring kiss. Josh was stiff at first, unaccommodating, but he relaxed and his cock flexed under her palm and his lips trembled under hers.

“Sit back,” she said, waltzing with him, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. As he obeyed, she kneeled between his legs and tugged his pants until they came down. “And your underwear,” she said.

Josh looked askew at Devlin, who stood silent and patient, watching and waiting.

She said, “Let me see it, Josh.”

Devlin said, “Come on, Josh. Show it to us.”

She was on the verge of scolding Devlin, telling him to back the fuck off before he ruined the whole thing, but Devlin’s provocation didn’t deter Josh like she’d thought it would. Josh’s hands moved to his hips, and his thumbs tucked into the waistband of his briefs. He paused for a moment, then continued, revealing to her, and to his lifetime bully, his own much smaller manhood. He lifted the front of the briefs, then rolled them down the belly of his erection, stopping at his scrotum. His eyes were wide and frightened, his mouth a slim, tense line.

“That’s mine,” she said, running her hands up his thighs, taking hold of the waistband and doing the rest of the labor, struggling his underwear down his thighs, his upright dick wagging back and forth in stiff jags. His shaft and head shone with wet, and a stream of pre-cum fell from the tip to his pubic hair. His cock looked like it might burst; the first two inches were red and shining, his whole shaft scribbled with angry veins. Josh might complain, but in the last two months of their sex lives, her husband had shown performance and hardness like no other time in their life together.

Devlin said, “He likes showing it. He couldn’t wait to parade that little thing around in Cayman.”

“It’s not little,” she said.

Josh showed no fear, no timidity, his smaller cock sticking up where his wife and his bully could see it. It wasn’t a thing to be ashamed of, anyway. But Josh’s eyes weren’t regarding her. Josh looked at Devlin.

Josh said, “You planted those panties on the couch, under the pillow where I would find them.”

She said, “Of course he did. He’s a fucking asshole.”

Devlin laughed in the tune of exasperation. “Your wife was taking forever with this.”

Josh asked, “With what?”

“This. What we’re doing today. What all three of us have wanted from the beginning.”

Josh still stared at Devlin, and she could tell his mind searched for a retort, but he could find none. Josh resisted this so much that even when he’d got what he wanted, he told himself he’d never wanted it to begin with.

“I’m happy,” Devlin said, presenting a hand her way. “Kimmy’s satisfied, and you’re on your back with your little dick up in the air like it’s ready to pop.”

Josh sneered, but his cock flexed, raising up, straining, flexing, slumping back down, a stream of new pre-cum pouring into his pubic hair.

She squeezed Josh’s thighs. “Everybody calm down. Devlin, relax, we’re taking this slow—”

Josh looked at her. “Slow, but you know where you want it to go, don’t you? You’re just like him. You want what he wants.”

With no hesitation, she said, “I don’t want what he wants, Josh. I’m on your side. I’m not on his side—”

“There’s no side to take,” Devlin said. “We’re all in this together.”

Josh reached to pull his pants up, but she held his wrists. “We’re not in this together, Josh, not the three of us. It’s only you and me. Don’t listen to him.”

#

Josh’s eyes traveled from his wife to Devlin and back to Kimmy again. Trying to read them. Trying to decipher their words and their hidden motivations. Devlin was malevolent. And Kimmy was wicked. Selfish, ingratiating, pandering. But she didn’t want his suffering—unless it was his own desire to suffer. And—he could see it clearly now—she enjoyed twisting the knife, enjoyed his suffering when it was by her own hand.

Devlin’s cock gleamed like a shimmering marine mammal, a bloated sexual porpoise shining with his wife’s pleasure on its skin. It sagged under its own mighty weight, wagging side to side with his movements. Two tone. Crooked. Like his wife had described to him in words he’d convinced himself were remediable.

Devlin’s demand today, in trade for his appearance in this hotel room, was for his unlucky pawn to arrive wearing Kimmy’s panties; the vestment of the humiliated. The subjugated. It was dumb. It was bully language, a blunt prompt from brutish ignorance. And this time it had sounded different from when he’d been coaxed to wear them as an investment into Devlin’s photographic evidence of his wife’s betrayal.

Kimmy’s gaze sought to enjoin him; to fold him over and over like pastry dough. To make her sin indistinguishable from his. But there was more than that in her eyes. Solace. Peace. Charity.

Like folding their sins into one would make them whole. Not apart.

“I don’t listen to him,” he said.

“Obviously,” Devlin said. “Wearing those tighty-whities when I texted you explicit instructions.”

Kimmy ignored him, like she had no idea of the reference. His detachment from her barker’s pitch, her encouragement to join the sexual funfair she’d been enjoying this whole summer—laid out in secret rendezvous, legs up, getting the fuckings of a lifetime, squirting all over his bully’s giant dick—unnerved her, tensed his wife like a pulled elastic.

If he deflected Kimmy’s charity, would he lose her? Did her benevolence come with a catch? If he wasn’t her subject, was he anything to her?

“Come on, Josh,” Kimmy said, nodding her chin down at a dominant angle that leveled her black and commanding eyes on his. “We’re having fun. We’re having the fun you and I always talked about.”

“Not always,” he said. “Only since the summer. Only since Devlin showed up in our lives again.” He looked at Devlin and Devlin smiled to one side, not arrogant, only amused.

Kimmy didn’t smile. Her eyes stayed on his, steadfast. She spoke in careful and grave words of warning. “Baby, opportunities come to pass. Not to pause. This moment will never come again.”

A flicker of regret flashed in his eyes; the idea that she was right, that this moment was fleeting, and he had wanted it. Wanted it bad. But only in theory. Only behind closed doors in the safe confine of his wife’s loving embrace; only with his wife constructing forbidden fantasy with dirty words that played out behind his closed eyes.

“Do it,” he said to her. “Compare them. You want to see them together.”

Kimmy faltered a moment, disturbed by his commitment not seeming to exceed a hundred percent—which was where she expected him to be; where she wanted him to be. He submitted—not to Devlin, but to Kimmy. Naked, exposed, vulnerable. His cock out, shameless, erect. It didn’t deter him. This scenario aroused him. It aroused Kimmy. But the path to this moment had been too twisted and too challenging to appreciate the bounty that had launched the journey. Betrayal had deflated the impetus; dumped the ballast that had kept the voyage straight and stable.

If Kimmy wanted it, she could have it. He would donate it to her. She deserved his humiliation. If she could find it.

Kimmy smiled, a sly sort of twisted thing, a compromise between luring and dominating. She said, “You’re not too good for this, Josh. I know you want to play.”

“He started it,” Devlin said, standing beside her now with his fat cock in his hand. “Now he’s thinks he’s above it all.”

Josh raised his eyebrows and tilted up his chin. Let them do their worst.

Devlin stroked his dick, making sure Josh was watching. “Don’t you wish you could fuck her with a cock like this? Do you ever dream about it, making Kimmy come the way you just watched?”

Kimmy said, “Are you going to lie there on your back or are you going to stand up?”

Devlin didn’t let him answer, stepping past Kimmy, saying, “Josh wants to be on his back. He wants to be the girl.” Then he dropped down to the bed, right over Josh, hovering above him with his dick flopping onto Josh’s, batting it twice before resting its heavy weight on Josh’s throbbing erection, before dropping to rest on Josh’s stomach. Devlin’s manhood had never looked huger than lying in direct comparison next to his own. “Isn’t that right, Josh?—satin panties and all.”

It all seemed so familiar; exactly like the dream he’d had where Devlin had come into the tent at Tiffany’s sleepover party at the beginning of the summer; vestigial whispers full of menace. The heat of Devlin’s body, his mass, the talc of his aftershave, his spiritual vibrations.

Two cosmic moments in time touched together like a folded piece of paper.