Erotica, Short Story

Oversharing

I said he had a perfect cock; I never said he was smart.

We had a traditional wedding: Ray endowed me with all his worldly goods, and I vowed to obey. That worked for us. Obedience took me to places I might not have chosen to explore, but if I didn’t enjoy myself he never gave me that command again. We were happy.

Eventually our careers conflicted, and we drifted apart. When the end came, it was amicable: no petty squabbles over who got which of our shared belongings. I did remind him of his vow though, because there was one worldly good of his I wanted to keep : the most good, the one that transcended worldly to approach spiritual. His cock.

It’s nothing special: it’s on the small side of average, and it’s got neither a G-spot hitting curve nor veiny ridges ‘for my pleasure’. When I buy a dildo, I don’t choose one resembling Ray’s cock. It’s a decidedly ordinary cock. But I knew from the first time we hooked up, from the first slow thrust of that first fuck, that it belonged inside me. I told him to stop. He panicked and pulled out, gushing apologies: he thought he’d misread my signals, like “Fuck me!” was ambiguous. I had to explain I wanted him to stop inside me, to just hold himself there, to let me savour how well we fitted together.

I can’t say why, but his cock felt right. I was Goldilocks after she’d fucked half the forest and found the perfect bear… ew, bestiality. Okay, scratch that analogy. A post-modern Cinderella, maybe? A princess hawking her furry slipper around the realm, finding Cock Charming after trying all its ugly step-brothers. Whatever, it was like some kind of fairy tale.

So when our ‘happy ever after’ became ‘happier apart’ we worked out a mature, adult arrangement: joint custody of his cock. Once a month, I’d go to Ray’s new place and for an hour of supervised visitation I did what I was told, and I got what I wanted. That worked, for a while. I was happy being single, getting unpredictable dick occasionally and perfect dick on the regular.

He wasn’t happy being single. He didn’t need perfect pussy — and I don’t suppose mine is — but he valued frequency over regularity. So he got a girlfriend… and I do mean ‘girl’. Even perfect cocks want a compensatory sports car and a coltish co-ed when they can see forty in the rear-view mirror. His mid-life crisis was a nymphet called Khloe With a Kay, and she was nineteen — literally half my age. We cheated on her, and if she’d ever looked up from her phone longer than it took to blow him, she might have noticed.

Then he married her. I said he had a perfect cock; I never said he was smart.

Two weeks after their wedding, Ray called to ask where I was; I hadn’t shown for our monthly session. I assumed his new wife would be there, because she’d quit work the second she didn’t have to pay her own rent. He said he’d made arrangements, and I should turn up next time.

It turns out I’m not smart either, and I don’t even have the excuse of a perfect pussy. So a month later I went to his place, as usual.

Ray buzzes me up, as usual, and I knock on his door, as usual, and Khloe opens it, as a stripper.

She’s wearing thigh highs, a black micro-skirt, a grey cardigan over a white shirt that’s knotted beneath braless boobs, and a wicked grin. Her bottle blonde hair is in pigtails. She wasn’t even born when Britney perfected ‘sexy schoolgirl’, and now she’s making it sleazy… okay, it was always a little sleazy, but I want to hate her and that’s a good place to start.

Her voice couldn’t be more sickly sweet if she was sucking a lollipop. “Hiya! Are you here for cock, you filthy slut?”

She’s dressed like that, and I’m the slut? Fair play, I came to fuck her man, but still… “You can’t talk to me like — ”

“I’ll talk to you however I want, whore. That’s how your arrangement works, right? You belong to my husband for an hour. My husband. What’s his is mine, so your ancient ass belongs to me too. I assume you know where the bed is. I want you on it, naked. Now!”

I look at Ray; he shrugs. It seems if I want his cock I’ll have to put up with his cunt.

I head through to the bedroom and strip. This is going somewhere I never explored with him. We tried a threesome once: I got spit-roasted by him and his mate. His cock isn’t so perfect from behind, and a strange dick in my mouth while I got pounded was awkward, but I enjoyed myself. We never included another woman, though. This… this will be different.

Khloe’s been watching me undress. When I’m naked she looks me up and down, then offers her sincere sympathy. “Oh, that’s a shame. But it explains why you need to beg your ex for dick. Maybe you should go to the gym more? Or ever.”

She lies back on the bed and puts her heels behind her head, because of course she can do that. Her slutty schoolgirl outfit doesn’t include panties, so I’m treated to the sight of a perfectly waxed pussy and a bleached asshole’s bleached asshole.

“It’s not going to eat itself, slut. Get to work!”

I’m not sure even perfect cock is worth Khloe’s attitude, but this is a novel experience for me and it might be fun, so I plant a hesitant kiss on her moist lips.

That’s not good enough for my new mistress. She grabs a fistful of my hair, yanks me forward, and growls, “Lick it, bitch!”

With my mouth buried in her folds I really don’t know what to do except struggle for breath. I don’t think Khloe cares, she just wants to humiliate me. So I stick my tongue out and lap, while she rocks her pelvis to grind on my face.

Ray always liked seeing me humiliate myself, so at least someone’s enjoying this. Our show’s got him hard, I guess, because Khloe barks, “Fuck her…”

I hope he uses lube, because I am nowhere near ready.

“…in the ass!”

Oh. He’ll definitely need lube, then.

His cock never felt perfect in my ass, but everything that makes it so ordinary — straight, smooth, small — makes it ideal for anal. His is the only cock to ever give me an orgasm that way, and he knows how I like it: loads of lube, then more lube, then slide in gently and fuck me slowly.

Khloe doesn’t like that. She snaps, “Chrissake, Ray! Fuck her like you hate her!”

He stops, his hips rammed up against my butt, his cock throbbing inside me as he tells her off. “I don’t hate her, Khloe, that’s why she still sees me. You hate her if you need to, if you think she’ll obey someone who treats her with contempt. But if you give me any more orders I will put you over my knee, and I’ll let her watch.”

I can’t see much except her belly, but I can hear the pout in her voice when she says, “Sorry, Daddy.”

I cringe at that word. I’ve always loathed it, and it feels worse given their respective ages, but while I’m not sorry I never agreed to call him Daddy, I am happy he’s found someone who will. I’m even happier she’ll let him fuck me.

She wants revenge for being embarrassed by him, though. She lifts my head, looks me in the eye, and snarls, “Lick my butt, bitch.”

Whatever. At least I know how to do that.

My tongue circles and jabs her asshole, and her fingers mimic it, one hand tending to her clit while the other probes her pussy.

I’m not sure I how much I contribute, but Ray and Khloe orgasm simultaneously, her asshole twitching around my tongue as his heat spurts and spreads inside me. I don’t come, but I don’t care: there is nothing more shamefully, sordidly, gloriously dirty than spunk dribbling out of my ass and dripping on my legs.

Khloe finally puts her legs down, resting her feet on my back. “Enjoy that, slut? I hope so, ‘cause I’m going to make you do even nastier stuff next time.”

There was no way I’d submit to that bitch once a month, not if it didn’t even earn me Ray’s perfect cock in its proper place. So we came to a mature, adult arrangement: they get joint custody of me. She bullies me for half an hour, then he kisses me better, fucks me right, and sends me home. As relationships go, it’s neither ordinary nor perfect, but I’m happy.

Linked to the meme Wicked Wednesday

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