DITW 12-18: Opprobrium

What she hadn’t counted on was the arousal her revealed betrayal would provide. She’d always pictured it differently. Pictured it like how terrified she’d been when Josh had jetted away to Rome and had left her wallowing in a morass of conjured thoughts that slashed at her with sharp blades of her own horrific imagination. Guilt. Dishonor. Shame. Betrayal. And the worst: abandonment. But now Josh bore witness, and his witness bore submission. Submission to her ills, to her desires, to darkling gifts that only the anointed could endure. This was theirs, and she was in command. Submission to Devlin granted her command. In this role, she could proffer to her husband the things he would return for, again and again, like the incessant lure of crocodile-infested drinking water to thirsty gazelles. Water was life; but illicit pleasure was a benefaction that no one else had the ascendancy to provide to Josh.

So she whimpered and moaned and obeyed Devlin’s demands, leaving the blindfold on, rolling to her back, letting Devlin guide her into a comfortable position, resting a pillow under her head. Then one under her lower back. Devlin sought to reveal to Josh her deepest of secrets.

She would perform for Josh during this ceremony. Provide a show like no other, perform an unholy theater he would never forget, that he would hide in his deepest, darkest file folder where no one would think to look. And on those horny, sleepless nights when he needed something to send him into a sexual stratosphere, he could open this file, replay it, and hit an ecstasy like nothing else. And he would equate the power of that experience to her. Done at his request. The two of them working together.

She lay with the soles of her feet on the bed, knees up, legs spread to allow Devlin into the space between her thighs. Devlin’s hands crested the points of her knees, caressed them. He got into place, and she waited, feeling his warmth, feeling the weight of his body on the bed with her. He tweaked her nipples, and she mewled the most girlish sound she could muster. Writhing and moaning now, eager for him to keep doing what he was doing. Then the weight of his cock fell on her tummy, and what had been an act began to turn, became no more a performance than an actual reaction. She craved his cock. Wanted it. Wanted to feel the amazing sex he gave her—and couldn’t wait for Josh to watch something he could never do to her.

And her hands were free now. Free to roam and explore. Her eyes were shielded, hiding in the dark, but her hands communicated, read the world around her, translated touch to thought. Devlin was muscular. Bulky, powerful. Yet trim and toned, too. Wide, hard shoulders, narrow waist. Her hands roamed his arms and shoulders, caressed them; played the act of timidity, too. Because while her hands read Devlin’s body, Josh would be reading them as well. They should tell a story. Tell a story of familiarity but regret; a story of apology and of helpless feminine lust. Which was true. She’d been somehow helpless in all of this at the beginning. It didn’t even seem like she was the same woman who’d gone after Devlin at Tiffany’s party. Who’d rolled around on the ground with him—knowing it wasn’t a fight, knowing she didn’t want combat with him. What had she even wanted? Amy had sparked it. That snide reminder of her worst night’s humiliation. Of the sorrow she’d felt afterward, at the emotional wounding of it all. Devlin and Amy. Amy, her friend. Devlin the hottest, richest guy at Dalton High. And she hated Devlin. Hated him, but wanted him. Wanted his dominance. Wanted his assurance. Wanted Devlin to want her, rolling in the grass with him, a married woman. That was really it. Grant me worthiness. Set my shame upright. Remove the burden of my teenage indignity.

Devlin’s huge hand spread on her naked chest, thumb pad and pinky tip abusing her nipples. He got into place, the front of his strong thighs bracing against the backs of her thighs. She put her feet over the other side, getting them nice and close. The weight of his cock rested on her belly and over her mound. And she really couldn’t wait for his return. Her pussy throbbed in his massive absence.

With her hands free, she was able to explore, show Josh her familiarity with the totem between Devlin’s legs; the one thing that frightened her husband most in this world. She ran finger pads up and down the topside, feeling the bulky swollen ripple of the flared lip of his enormous cock head. Lifted it from her stomach, stroked it upright, holding it out where she knew Josh would see it. Josh would forever remember the sight of his wife’s hand on his bully’s huge cock. Every time he would see her hands in the future, he would remember this day. She stroked Devlin now, her fingers curling his enormous girth, her thumb riding upright, the cushion slipping up and down, easing in and out of the channel of his frenulum, swirling the cup of Devlin’s urethra. Then she used two hands. And found something surprising. “Oh, you’re so fucking hard,” she whispered. “You’ve never been harder.” Devlin loved Josh watching. Devlin loved how Josh witnessed his supreme sexual power over his wife, how Josh’s wife worshipped his much bigger cock. “You’re so big. You’re so thick,” she said, one hand dropping to cup his scrotum. Devlin was so large, so aroused to extreme hardness today, it was like his scrotum had pulled up tight to offer his shaft the extra skin needed to support this increased size. The curve in his shaft was more pronounced at this hardness. She even suspected he might not last very long with Josh watching. There were the soft plops of excess seminal fluid spilling from Devlin’s slit onto her pubic pad. Her grip went slipperier with his added lubrication. Their connection was as wet as if they’d used half a jar of lube. Both of them loved Josh watching.

But it was she who was in control. Without her, these two men would be alone and wanting. Empty, their desires unfulfilled. She was the conduit that afforded them each their kinkiest, most forbidden desires. She’d used both of them to shape the other, and was the one who reaped the rewards in the end. As did they. They were a strange symbiotic identity that fed and ate from one another; but without her, they were both nothing.

She top-handed Devlin’s massive cock and guided him lower, easing him between her thighs and nestling the huge end into her opening. He pushed inside her, and she aided his entry, then let his cock go, biting her own lip and putting her hands up onto the pillow on either side of her face; another act of submission; a guileful portrayal of innocence.

Devlin pushed in with a grunt, spreading her in a delicious swell that tickled the top of her brain. They were slippery, and the stretch was amazing. So much better than laying on her side. On her back she was open and passive, and his weapon did the work it was intended for without mercy. He was so fucking big. So fucking hard.

She gasped and sighed and rose her eyebrows high above the blindfold; honest but amplified. Whispering oh-my-god and moaning and whimpering. Could Josh even stand this?

#

Kimmy was tall but petite. Skinny, flat bellied, a tiny waist. Josh’s eyes remained glued to a ripple in his wife’s stomach, like the crown of a beaver’s skull sliding silently above a pond’s smooth and still surface. Kimmy had told him once Devlin’s cock was two-toned, like a horse’s. Told him it had a crook. No lies. She’d been honest with him, but had withheld so much.

The beaver’s skull was the oscillating node of Devlin’s cock head inside his wife. Devlin was rock hard. Kimmy had even sounded wowed and impressed handling that massive pipe. Like Devlin had never been this hard before. His brow furrowed deeper, thinking of Kimmy with Devlin, maybe in Cayman, while her dopey husband waited for her return, and Devlin was fucking her, and Kimmy was in awe, watching the effect his outsized organ had on her body. She was too small to take him. Devlin was too big. His cock pushed her body to obvious limits. The beaver swam back, then forward; back a little again, then forward. Getting deeper. Maybe ten inches inside his wife. Into parts of Kimmy’s body he could never touch. And if those spots could promote pleasure, then he would never satisfy her that way. Never give her the contact of his glans against her furthest interior.

Devlin saw it, too. Devlin watched Kimmy’s taut tummy ripple with his passage. He even growled a sound of masculine appreciation. Loving that he could do this to another man’s wife. Do it while her meek husband watched.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned. “Look at that tummy. You’re so fucking sexy.”

Kimmy barely responded, her body still and accepting, afraid to move like she was receiving an administration in the hospital. Subjected and submitted; accommodating despite the discomfort.

“Look how deep she takes it, Josh. And she grips it the whole way like it’s her hand. And she loves it deep. She gets off on it. Watch...”

Josh waited, his breath short on the inhale, hot and heavy on the exhale. Eyes glued. Heart hammering. Stomach slithering with erotic disgust.

“Kimmy, your body is so fucking incredible,” Devlin said now, putting his hand down on her stomach, resting his fingertips on her waist and caressing the raised hump of his cock head as it pushed up her tummy. “Fucking balls deep, Josh. Balls deep. Mm, Kimmy. Holy fuck.”

But now he withdrew a few inches, the cock head disappearing, Devlin’s hand moving to Kimmy’s neck, cupping the nape. “Come up a little,” he said to her, guiding her chin down, making her tummy wrinkle in lines as she performed an abbreviated stomach crunch, rocking his hips and pushing Kimmy’s rump against the pillow bunched under the small of her back. He pushed in again and Kimmy cried out a sound Josh would never forget. It was incredible. She sounded like she’d orgasmed. Her head thrusted back and broke free from Devlin’s grip. The end of Devlin’s cock couldn’t be detected anymore in the flat of her stomach. But Kimmy whimpered and whined and brought both her hands to cover her face. Her breath snorted against her palms.

“Deep secrets, Kimmy,” Devlin said, smiling. “That’s it. Fuck, you feel good. Rock with me...”

Devlin rolled his hips, his cock buried balls-deep inside Kimmy. And Kimmy trembled and shook, her breath roaring through her palms, shuddering every other heartbeat. Then she panted, “Oh, god, oh, fuck,” over and over, pausing, holding her breath, letting it all out. After an endless heart shattering moment, she began to undulate her hips too, humping against Devlin’s deep burial. Her hands came away and Josh watched her beautiful mouth hang open, her white teeth showing. She would pant and then she would hiss with clenched teeth.

“Kimmy’s got a G-spot up here, Joshy. You ever hit it?”

Of all Devlin’s taunts, none hit him harder. No, he hadn’t. Was this what they did together? Every lunch, did Kimmy need this big dick treatment like some sort of sexual therapy? Did she start to sweat when it was eleven-thirty and she’d be hitting the sexual lunch room in half an hour and a man with the biggest dick she’d ever seen was going to do things her husband couldn’t? Was this the release of hysterics? Devlin was like some big dick doctor with Kimmy’s cure at the end of his massive cock, that engorged head nestled in her deepest cavity and stretching it out.

“She’s going to come, Joshy. You ever seen your wife squirt? I bet you didn’t know Kimmy’s a squirter.”