My Wife Fucked the Creature From The Black Lagoon And Made Me Watch!

I watched breathlessly as my cuckolding wife climbed into the turgid waters of the Black Lagoon with the Gillman.

“Just watch me, Matthew,” My wife, Candace commanded me. “I’m going in. I want to feel that fish-faced fucker’s cock inside of my own fuzzy, damp, lagoon.”

I watched spellbound as Candace unbuttoned her blouse and slid out of her tight-fitting pants.

I lustfully licked my lips and stared out laser beams of pure desire as my darling wife wriggled out of her panties, stripping herself naked like a professionally-trained exotic dancer.

She never wore a bra.

Not ever.

Thirty-five years old and she had the breasts of a twenty-year-old cheerleader.

“Just keep on watching,” she told me. “I want you to watch the whole thing. You can play with yourself if you want to, and I know that you do.”

She lewdly licked her luscious, cock-lapping lips.

“This is going to be fucking legendary,” she assured me.

And then she turned and walked into the waters of the Black Lagoon.

All I could do was watch that fine, ripe, firm, round ass of hers, walking away.

Watching helplessly as she waded out into the deeper water,

Why was she doing this?

Wasn’t I enough of a man for her?

When had she grown this unholy passion for thick scaly fish cock?

Sweet Jesus, it looked like that creature had grown a moray eel between its monstrously sturdy legs.

She wrapped her hands around the creature’s thick horny shaft like it was a lifeline. I watched as she kissed that brute’s bacon bazooka from tip to balls.

That fucking fish-man gave a whole new meaning to the word “codpiece”.

How in the hell was she getting it all down her throat?

Why hadn’t she ever sucked me off like that?

My own cock stood up in my pants like a goddamn tentpole, like it actually wanted to show its penile pride and admiration by saluting that goddamned amphibious stud-god.

Now my darling Candace was treading water while that big goddamn fish-man reversed his position, diving down into the murky, dark lagoon.

I knew what was happening.

He was returning the oral favor.

I watched as she threw her head back and moaned while that cold-blooded lapped her cunt like it was a bowl full of molten ice cream. I’m pretty sure she came at least once while he was doing it.

I mean the fucking fish-man must have been breathing out of his ears, he was into her cunt so goddamn deep.

That’s when he did it.

That’s when he did something that was so fucking impossible that I wished for a camera to take a picture while I speed-dialed the Guinness Book of Sexual World Records.

That gill-man raised his legs up out of the water in a kind of reverse jack-knife, literally standing on his head with grace and ease that a Yoga master would have truly envied.

The whole time the creature was raising those legs of his he still kept eating my wife out. I mean, I couldn’t see it, but he must have been going at it with a fiendish fierceness, judging from the way that she was screaming and creaming all at the same time.

I mean this scaly goddamn cunt-sucking bastard must have been dancing a triple-tongue tango on her clitoris.

Not only that, he must do sit-ups for a job with abs as obviously strong as he had.

I mean this fucker has never skipped leg day.

He raised his legs straight up into the air while he kept his head buried into my wife’s seething crotch, and the whole damn time his cock stood at perfect attention, presenting his finny, majestic cock at a precision-perfect lip-level.

Forget about codpieces.

Forget about moray eels.

This goddamn fish-bastard had a goddamn nuclear torpedo hung between his legs, and my wife was gobbling at it like it was her last fucking meal on this planet.

She lapped at that ichthyologic-thick cock like it was the world’s largest lollipop, impossibly managing to get her lips around it.

When that big bastard finally came it was like watching a fucking monsoon of thick, milky, man-spunk.

It splashed on her face, on her lips, on her chest and she kept on swallowing as much of his cum as she could manage to gulp down, drinking it up like it was a goddamn Five Guys milkshake!

Hey.

There’s an idea.

Forget about speed-dialing the Guinness Book of Sexual Records. I need to be phoning up Five Guys to find out if they’ve got a fish-spunk milkshake on their menu and if not, how much would they fucking pay for the recipe?

Of course, I was splashing my own brand of milkshake around the shoreline as well, but I didn’t have anything like the fucking cum-barrel that this fish-bastard’s love hose was screwed onto.

Fuck, he must have shot out at least a gallon’s worth of guppy-juice down her gullet.

Surely to god she must be fucking satiated.

Only the two of them weren’t done for a long shot.

He turned over in the water and while she dog-paddled as best as she could manage, the Creature took her doggy-style.

Or would that be dogfish style?

Whatever you call it, those two were going at it for at least two more hours. I’m sure there had to be some ginseng plants growing up on the shores of this lagoon, not too mention a huge oyster bed.

I mean, this bastard’s sexual stamina was goddamn phenomenal.

I mean, as near as I could tell this fish-scaled bastard was prepared to fuck my wife until the cows came home, and threw themselves into the belly of an industrial-sized meat grinder, afterward pouring themselves onto a freshly-baked sesame seed bun and calling out for ketchup.

And trust me, I know about cows.

I’ve been wearing a cuckold’s horns for more years than a stray dog’s got fleas to scratch.