My Alpha Male Neighbor Turns my Domineering Wife into a Submissive Slut — Part 5
The neighbor comes back for a second round… while my husband is passed out underneath me!
All parts of this series:
Lydia
Mitchell led me out to the backyard, a big shit-eating grin on his face. He was proud of having fucked me in the kitchen. The rage or lust or whatever it was had been washed away by our mutual orgasms.
The problem was, it was all a lie.
Sorry, Mitchell, I said silently to myself as he pulled out a chair for me, then went back into the kitchen to grab the wine and salad. So sorry.
John gave me a smile and raised an eyebrow as if to say, ‘what’s going on?’ His smile made a hot throb run through my pussy.
I shook my head, then looked down at my lap when John came out of the kitchen.
“Here you go!” Mitchell gallantly filled my glass with wine, took a seat next to me, and put a possessive hand on my thigh.
The truth was, sex in the kitchen had paled compared to John’s masterful fucking. Mitchell’s pawing and grinding at my body seemed childish next to John’s strong, confident hands and his thorough plumbing of my body’s depths.
I had known what Mitchell needed from me the moment he ordered me to cum. I was nowhere close to the edge, my pussy still stretched and my body tired from being fucked by our neighbor. So, I did what I had always done when Mitchell came too quick.
I faked it.
Luckily, my body remembered what it felt to have a real, mind-blowing orgasm. My imitation seemed over the top to me, but it worked for my poor husband, who shot his nut as soon as I began to moan and thrash against the sink.
I was still leaking a little of Mitchell’s seed, but that only made the little domestic scene almost laughable.
His tension gone, Mitchell chatted amiably with John, oblivious to the glances I would cast at my neighbor when my husband wasn’t looking at me. John looked back, fucking me with those eyes, promising me he would come for me. All I had to do was give in to him.
Well, I certainly would not give in tonight, not while Mitchell was here. I shouldn’t want to give in again, but after Mitchell’s disappointing performance in the kitchen, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“What about that redhead?” Mitchell was asking, snapping me back to the conversation. “What happened to her?”
John smiled and poured Mitchell more wine.
“Marian? Oh, you know! She wanted the whole deal, you know? Ring, big wedding, kids.”
“And what?” I snapped, annoyed by John’s answer. “You just weren’t ready?”
“No.” John said and reached over to fill my glass, but I placed a hand over the top. I was already too dangerously drunk to be around John. “She wasn’t ready. Not really. She was just way too immature.”
John gave me a knowing smile.
“And I wasn’t kidding earlier. I need a more mature woman.”
I looked over at Mitchell to see if he had caught the innuendo in John’s voice. Unfortunately, my husband was still celebrating his ‘victory’ of having sex under John’s nose, and he was too busy refilling his glass.
If he only knew what had really happened!
“Babe?” I asked him. “ Are you sure you should have more wine?”
“Yeah, Mitchell!” John laughed. “You should really listen to your wife. I don’t think you can handle it.”
My husband smiled sloppily at the glass and I knew what he was thinking in his inebriated mind. Of course, he could handle it. He was the man of the house!
He knocked back the wine and that bastard John egged him on.
“That’s right, bro!” he chuckled. “You show her who’s boss!”
I gave John a dirty look, and he just winked at me in front of Mitchell, but I doubt my husband could see much with his drunken eyes.
A half hour later, those same drunken eyes closed, and I watched in shock as Mitchell pitched face down into his salad.
“Oh, Jesus Christ!”
I reached over to pull Mitchell’s face out of the salad. He moaned, lettuce stuck to his cheek.
“Can’t hold his liquor, huh?” John chuckled and stood up. “Should we leave him here, or?”
“No,” I said. I got up too quickly and the alcohol shot through my brain. I gripped the back of the chair to steady myself. “Can you… can you get him to the bedroom?”
I didn’t need to worry. John hauled Micthell up from the chair, my poor husband hanging bonelessly from John’s powerful arms. He followed me to the bedroom, dragging Micthell the entire way.
He plopped Mitchell on the bed. I pulled off my husband’s shoes, then turned him onto his side so he didn’t swallow his vomit if he got sick. He moaned incoherently, a long stream of drool dripping out of his mouth and on to the pillow.
I looked up at John, who was smiling down at the pathetic sight of my husband passed out in bed.
“Well, I guess that’s the end of the night,” I said lightly, trying to ignore John’s hard body and his even harder gaze.
The spark that Mitchell had only tickled with his quick fuck flared into a full-blown fire between my thighs. John stepped forward and ran a hand through my hair.
“It’s early,” John grinned and nodded at my husband. “Mitchell won’t be waking up soon.”
“I can’t,” I said, trying to rise, but John pushed me down onto the bed next to my husband. I moaned, looking over at Mitchell. He didn’t move as John pushed down his pants and revealed his magnificent cock which was once again hard and ready to fuck. “Please! Not here!”
John ignored my pleas and pushed the head of his cock against my lips. I let an anguished groan, but my mouth opened, unable to resist the overwhelming urge to taste the cock that had fucked me so well.
“You fucking perverted whore!” John murmured as he shoved the fat head of his cock into my throat. I gagged. I raised my hands and gripped his shaft and sucked on his hard flesh, working the throbbing pole with my fingers. “Such a fucking cheating whore, sucking cock while your husband’s asleep!”
Tears sung my eyes as my mouth worked on John’s cock. God! I was a horrible wife! What kind of wife would suck another man’s cock while her husband was on passed out? Thinking of Mitchell sleeping next to me only made the lust throb harder in my cunt. The conflicting emotions did nothing to stop my frantic sucking of John’s cock and soon I was drooling spit down my chin as I fought to please my powerful neighbor.
This was true bliss, pleasing a powerful man who had fucked me so well. Poor Mitchell could never come close to getting me this excited. Even when he had been rage-fucking me in the kitchen, I could sense the weakness with each desperate thrust.
There was no weakness in John. He truly didn’t care if Mitchell woke up. If he woke up, John could easily beat him down if he started anything. That was a real man.
John let me worship his cock for a few long moments, giving mean a teasing taste of the cock that I wanted. Finally, he pulled my hungry mouth off his cock, gripped me by the hair and, with a strength that Mitchell could only dream about, he pulled me to my feet. I gasped as he whirled me around and bent me over my husband.
“No!” I hissed. “What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” John laughed, not even bothering to whisper. “I’m going to fuck you on top of your worthless husband.”
“Oh, God!”
I slapped a hand over my mouth as John thrust his thick cock into my tight pussy. God! Having sex with Mitchell just a couple of hours ago forced me to make that comparison again. Mitchell’s cock was thinner and shorter, serviceable tool. John’s cock, hell his whole fucking body, was a weapon created to force women to submit to his power, and he wielded it like a master.
He pulled off my dress and ripped my sticky panties over my bottom. I was naked, lying on top of my comatose husband, and my neighbor was pounding deep into my pussy. I didn’t fight, I couldn’t fight as John stabbed inward and upward. Powerful fingers dug deep into the pliable flesh of my hips and pulled me back to meet each soul shattering thrust.
I couldn’t fight. The only thing I could do was hold my hands over my mouth as my body responded to John’s savage attack, the pressure of my orgasm building like a ticking bomb inside my belly.
John reached forward and forced my hands away from my face. Gripping me by the elbows, her held me up, my heavy tits bouncing against my ribcage as he hammered my pussy.
“I want your husband to hear you cum, bitch!” John growled. “I want him to heat the love his life come on a real man’s cock.”
“Oh, God!” I moaned as his lewd words stabbed my brain. My shoulders hurt as he pulled me back, using my arms as leverage to force himself deep into my belly.
The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure of being taken. That I was hovering over my husband’s limp body made was even more exciting. Why? Why did it feel so good?
“Come for me, whore! Come for me!”
His words were a harsh echo of the words Mitchell had growled to me in the kitchen. This time, however, there was no faking the pleasure I was feeling. The bomb in my belly explodes, rocking my entire body with pure bliss.
John held me up, my quivering tits inches from Mitchell’s body. He let the orgasm have its way with my body, then finally let me fall on top of Mitchell.
How could my husband sleep? The question was forced from my head a moment later as John renewed his attack on my pussy, slamming me into Mitchell’s body like my husband was an overstuffed pussy. I didn’t care if he woke up. I didn’t care about anything. Once again, all logical thought was burned from my brain as John fucked me into oblivion.
I came again, this time burying my face in the blanket covering my husband’s hips. My body rocked, Mitchell’s body rocked. Hell, the entire bed rocked as John fucked me, his thrusts more savage, more devastating, than before.
He gripped my hair and yanked back on my head.
“I’m going to come in your pussy now, slut,” John hissed. “I’m going to come inside you so you can feel me when you lay next to your husband.”
“Oh, God! You can’t!”
It was one thing to let Mitchell come inside me. He was my husband. John had taken everything from my husband, now he wanted to take my pussy too.
John pulled even harder on my hair.
“I told you I was going to make you my slut and I am,” he growled, pulled out his cock until just the head was in my pussy, then slammed the full length deep into my belly. “You’re my slut and I’m going to cum in that slut pussy!”
I whimpered but didn’t tell him to stop as he punished me with long, hard thrusts of his cock. I was shocked when I felt another orgasm blossom inside my belly. It felt like I was being fucked right out of my body, my soul rising to the ceiling. I lost track of time, my mind going blessedly blank, and I pushed my ass backward, my body moving of its own accord, searching for that amazing bliss.
I screamed as I came, gripping my husband’s leg, no longer caring about my husband. As I toppled over the edge of my bliss, John slammed his cock to the hilt in my cunt and I felt his hot, wet lust filling me up. The flood of jizz washed away my poor husband’s seed as John claimed my pussy once and for all.
I fell forward, exhausted, my body twitching on top of my husband. John pulled out of me. The dam gone, his cum spilled out of my used cunt and dripped down my thighs. I lay there, trying to catch my breath, when John gripped my hair, pulled me off my husband, and onto the floor.
I knelt in front of John, and the powerful man pushed his sticky cock into my mouth. Without being told, I sucked the last of his precious seed out of his cock, then licked him clean of our juices. John murmured appreciatively, petting my hair like a favored pet. For some reason, this only made me work harder to please him, a warm feeling rising like love in my chest. I didn’t know why, but it felt wonderful to make this man happy.
He deserved it.
When John was clean and glistening with my spit, he bent down and gave me a deep, passionate kiss. I eagerly shared our juices with him, gripping his beautiful hard biceps, and sucking his tongue into my mouth.
“That’s my good little cheating slut,” he murmured against my lips. The power of my multiple orgasms smothered any feelings of guilt or shame. Maybe I was a slut.
Or, more importantly, maybe I was John’s slut.
John finally stood and nodded towards Mitchell.
“Looks like your husband made a mess.”
I glanced over at Mitchell and my nose wrinkled in disgust. Sometime during John’s powerful fucking, Mitchell had vomited on his pillow. The sight and smell of it made the gorge rise in my throat.
“I guess his wife’s not the only thing Mitchell can’t handle,” John chuckled. “Come here.”
John held out his hand and helped me to my feet. I fell against him, the alcohol and fantastic sex had made my legs rubber.
“You have another bedroom?” John asked.
I nodded weakly and leaned on John’s hard body as he half carried, half drug me to the guest room. The bed wasn’t made, but John saw a comforter on a chair by the bed. He set me down on the edge of the mattress, then spread out the blanket. Finally, he helped me onto the comforter.
“Do you have another blanket?” he asked.
I nodded and pointed towards a closet. John opened it and found a quilt on the top shelf. He pulled it down and spread that over me too. Then, he sat down next to me on the bed and stroked my hair.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Tired,” I said, soothed by his gentle touch. This was a different side to him than the brash bastard who had just fucked me on top of my husband, but it was exactly what I needed.
“I know,” he said. “You were a very good girl.”
“No,” I said, a tear trickling down my cheek. “I wasn’t. I cheated on Mitchell.”
“If Mitchell was doing his job,” John leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. “You wouldn’t have done it.”
I moaned, the words only partly true. Sex wasn’t everything. What about loyalty? What about marriage?
What about love?
“Instead, poor Mitchell is puking all over himself in bed right now, while you’ve experienced real pleasure.”
That was true. I sniffed back my tears.
“That doesn’t make it any better.”
“It doesn’t?” John asked, and laid down beside me, cradling his large body next to mine so I could absorb his comforting warmth. “Tell me. Are you angry?”
“Angry?” I asked. “No.”
“Tense?”
I thought about it. All of my tension had been released by with my orgasms.
“No.”
“Don’t you deserve pleasure?”
I tried thinking about that, but the heat of John’s body was lulling me to sleep.
“Yes,” I said drowsily.
“Then, my advice is to enjoy it,” John lifted my head onto his powerful, comforting shoulder and stroked my hair. “And I’ll give you all the pleasure you want.”
I was almost asleep, John’s voice still whispering in my ear.
“All I want is one thing from you.”
What? What more could he possibly take? The questions were on the tip of my tongue, but I was too tired to speak.
John answered me anyway.
“All of you,” he said as I descended into darkness. “I want all of you.”
Just when you thought her husband had reclaimed her, the horny neighbor comes back for a second round!
This is the final part of this series. However, if you want to see the further adventures of Mitchell, John, and Lydia, please leave a comment.
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