Chapter 2

At dinner she coyly explained that when I made additions to her story she felt obliged to keep the revisions: to honor the craft of writing. But all her preparations were obsolete and she needed more time.

Frustrated, I rolled her words over in my mind just like Heathcliff had rolled her over to expose her virgin asshole. If we ‘honored’ the story then Heathcliff’s intent to ravage her backside was still in play.

She continued, lifting my spirits, “Remember that one time you begged me for a threesome. I do, I remember your wheedling words: telling me I could pick any guy and then we would pick a woman later.”

It was true. In a moment of weakness I had. And apparently we were now heading towards a threesome. I reviewed our text messages in my mind and saw mention of a policeman entering our bedroom. I guess I unintentionally pushed the story in that direction. Roleplay had proven to be lots of fun so far

I took her hands in mine, “I’m in! Let’s do it.”

She squeezed my hands back, “I told you you would love my tricks.” My heart gave an ominous thump at that last word. The sex was great, the tricks not so much.

Saturday I was at the hardware store when I got her text: “Back at the Moors there was trouble afoot! Even now as Heathcliff attended to his responsibilities the damsel lay unconscious and exposed. He knew he must make haste – even as help had been summoned.”

I abandoned my cart to make haste as the story indicated. Anticipating an adventure it was necessary to hide my rebellious hard on as I walked to my truck.

The house was quiet when I got home. I stripped just inside the door, it had become my standard way of entering this past week.

I discovered Debbie on our bed. She was indeed naked, not posed peacefully like Sleeping Beauty, but lying there with her arms and legs strewn about in awkward positions.

The covers were bunched up here and there covering one foot and the other knee. Additionally, scarves were arranged artistically to cover her sexy bits as well as random bits of provocative skin. Her head was turned to the side but with her hair swept over her face.

The effect of her exhibit was such that there appeared to have been some foul play which left her so alluringly displayed.

Here she was – laid out for me as our story had described. I had been reading and rereading the story the whole way home and the key points were that I planned to knead her buns, that I wanted to plow her butthole, that she viewed it as rape, and that the police would arrive.

I couldn’t resist rolling her over. At the very least to enjoy the view. She was just as tempting nude as she had been in her sexy lingerie. I ran my fingers over her refined body.

Arriving back at her buns I pressed, spreading her cheeks to reveal the shadowy prize therein.

Did I dare? Should I tie her with the scarves? Why else were they there? But had she not warned me?

In the end I tied her loosely for dramatic effect alone. In no way would the binds restrict her escape if she desired it. I did, however, fasten one scarf over her eyes securely.

Gazing at her brown winker I whispered to myself under my breath, “Unggh, it’s a beauty!”

I’d forgotten she would be listening and in response she giggled before stifling herself.

Taking that as a green light I placed my thumbs as near her bumhole as I had courage for without actually touching it. Then kneading her buns I stretched the untouched hole admiring its inviting circle. I placed a little dab of spit on my finger… She’d already proven that she had no aversion to spit.

Just then my phone chimed. It was the telltale sound of a text – FROM HER. Sighing, and confused I checked my messages. Hers simply said, “Who will save Catherine from her abuser?” Obviously it was a timed message; a warning that she needed saving. Knowing Deb she would want me to be the one to rescue her. She HAD cast me as Heathcliff after all. So would I rescue her from myself or from the mystery man who had not yet arrived?

On a whim I typed a response to the text, speaking out loud so she could hear me as I sent it, “Heathcliff arrived in time to bring Catherine to safety. Shall he have his way?”

I scooped her naked body up in my arms, scarves hung majestically from her form and trailed behind me as I carried her to the couch. The couch would be the only place I could lay her to symbolize safety.

I was a few steps to the living room when I ran into my real life nemesis wearing a tin star and a cops hat – John! Instantly I considered that this was to be a threesome. Why, oh why had she chosen HIM?

“Stop thief!” He yelled, “I’ve caught you red-handed kidnapping the maiden.”

Using his fingers to pantomime a gun he ordered me to lay her down gently on the bed. As I did, I noticed that her groin ended up being hidden by the scarves, but her magnificent breasts were in full presentation in all their splendor.

The arrangement of scarves, hair, and pillows was much more revealing than when she had presented herself to me alone. It was truly pin up worthy.

Simultaneously I felt quite proud, knowing that Deb’s full firm and round breasts were better than Dora’s small, though pretty perky ones as I imagined them. I was jealous too, that John would leave here with a clandestine memory of my wife. He will have seen her nakedness in the flesh, while I only imagined Dora’s. And this probably wouldn’t end with him just seeing her.

By now I knew the ‘craft of writing’ must be obeyed. Moving the regrettable threesome along I played into my role, but objecting, “Officer, it’s not what you think. Just ask her.” It might not be too late to limit John’s part in our theatrical event.

Then I switched to address the blinded Deb, “Catharine, wake up. Wake up!”

Groggily she stirred.

John pointed the gun at me saying, “You be quiet!”

To the awakened Catherine he announced, “I found this outlaw stealing away your senseless body when I entered. I saved you just in time.”

Sitting up without covering herself she pretended to be the victim, “Oh constable. Whatever would I have done without you? Whatever shall I do?” She threw the back of her hand to her forehead, emphasizing how helpless she had been.

John approached Deb, “I’m here to help. If you really want to know what you should do, I have some great ideas.” Saying that he dropped his pants to his ankles, revealing his cock to me, which I had hoped to be smaller than mine, but at least wasn’t bigger. I was thankful she couldn’t appreciate it.

When I compared our cocks it forced me to recognize that I had never lost my erection. I’d skirted with the idea of a threesome for ages and now that it was happening, seeing Deb in all her sexual glory, seeing her about to be with another man – it was every bit the fantastic turn on I thought it would be.

Seeing John excited by my wife was hot too. If it were any other man I would ardently desire to see him give her great passionate pleasure and for her to gratify him too.

But what I hoped for with John was that he would fail to excite her, or better yet that she would scorn and reject him at the last second.

Waving the gun he ordered me to stand aside.

Then as he was hobbling forward she brazenly reached out, flailing, but eventually taking him by the cock, and pulling him close. “Constable, I owe you my life.”

I wanted to stop it but I was frozen in my troublesome lust.

Would she take his handsome cock into her pouty lips? Deb would be hotter than any pornstar and I would have a first row seat. I longed to see her acting lasciviously, and sucking John’s cock would do the trick.

Leaning back against the pillows she brought his cock to her cleavage and sandwiched it between them. He knelt on the bed trying not to get tangled up in his pants, but obviously enjoying the tight feeling of her boobs on his organ. My resentment abated slightly, knowing that this was an act he could never accomplish with the tiny titted Dora. In a contest of wives mine was the winner.

I watched helplessly as he began to thrust. She held her breasts together encasing what I was sure was an evil sweaty dick. The head poked out, getting closer and closer to her alluring mouth. Did she know it’s size from the feeling of it gliding between her boobs?

She never looked better and there was no sign that she would turn him away. Wanting both to watch and wanting John to lose, my last hope was that when he came he would give her a tiny impotent dribble, or maybe that it would taste bad and she would spit it out. She never spits out mine.

With frantic thrusting he jammed forward five or six times, then grunted and splattered audibly on her chest.

I was quite surprised he hadn’t gone for the blowjob – pleasantly surprised.

Even now he might have turned it around and gone for a prolonged event. Or stayed for round two. But his next action was to step away.

Deb beckoned me to her. “Baby, will you kiss me?” She spread her legs widely.

I crawled between her creamy thighs. She grabbed my hair impatiently, “Get to work. I need it now.”

Just before starting I checked on John only to discover him watching – judging. She pulled my head back saying, “I can’t be left high and dry, can I?” I couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear while licking her cunt.

I knelt there on hands and knees servicing her puss devotedly. John put his lips next to my ear. So close only I could hear saying, “You and your wife Debbie are made for each other.” Then he reached back, grasping my balls and squeezing just hard enough to exert his dominance – like a homoerotic competitive handshake. “You’re a cuckold and she’s a whore.”

Next he tried to stuff his cock into my ass. Blindfolded, she would have no idea what he was doing and with Debbie holding my head fast I tried to dodge his efforts. But being deflated and spent he couldn’t.

He had tried to humiliate me but for the second time tonight it was only him who was humiliated. I heard the front door slam as he retreated.

She skimmed over her orgasm – so close. Then pulled on my arms, her signal that she was ready for the main event. With Deb, no matter what else we did, the fucking was the most important part. She had the most certain and strongest orgasms from penetration.

I slid into her wet gash in one motion. It was mine alone. Her body responded subtly but I knew the understated arch of her back, the little tilt of her head, and the widening of her legs. She was no whore.

Instantly her first contraction seized her. I pistoned unceasingly lest I spoil it. For the time being I was merely an observer, at best a helper. My one task was to change nothing, only following along the crests and troughs of the waves. Anything else and it could squelch her climax

Her fingers played over one nipple while she cupped the other breast, offering the rubbery erect flesh to me, “Suck it!” I knew that desperate plea. My sucking would throw her over the edge into rolling sexual paroxysms.

No sooner had my lips surrounded the pink knob than her next convulsion captured all her thoughts and feelings.

Grinding her mons against me she clutched at my head in frenzied intensity. She forced my mouth hard against the one breast then moved me to the other one, as she often does, finally ending up with me kissing the cleavage between for her gradual let down.

I’d forgotten, but was suddenly aware of a pool of sticky-slick cum. The thick goo was instantly all over my face and in my mouth before I knew it was there. I was being compulsorily reacquainted with cum and it wasn’t mine this time.

John must have left three times the normal amount, to be squished and smeared over my lover’s chest with my face as the instrument to spread it.

I don’t think she realized what was happening. At least not at first. But with her petit mort in the recent past she regained a connection to reality.

At this point our normal practice would be for us to kiss while my plowing of her pussy would build to a lightning crescendo to bring about my own orgasm.

Instead she held my head in place, refusing to let me near her lips. Whether her goal was to avoid tasting John’s ejaculate or to make me keep tasting it – I didn’t know.

The culmination of my efforts was near and I couldn’t stop now. I was ramming her gash with my more turgid than ever cock, when unthinking, I did the unthinkable. With my slimy face held to her bosom I licked the copious puddles.

With what can only be described as cum mania I lapped at the abhorrent mess. I reveled in the nastiness, shooting my own nasty discharge far into Deb’s cunt whilst simultaneously swallowing John’s. There would be no mistaking the concurrence for sheer coincidence.

With a groan I lifted my head, pumping and holding my spurting cock stock still and buried deep. It was a most intense orgasm, lasting the full breadth of at least twelve pulsing shots of streaming goo.

Meanwhile, cum dripped from my soaked lips back onto Deb’s chest. Strings of his gunk wavered, connecting her and I.

I looked in her eyes as she stared scrupulously at my glossy face. Her expression shone as a manifest intoxicated glee. Strikingly, she was high at the sight of me.

I dashed to the bathroom, washing my face, then showering to persuade myself that it was all gone. Reflecting in the shower I speculated that she had unwittingly trained me to enjoy nastiness. That this was not a latent surge of homosexuality.

When I returned she lay undisturbed, still a beautiful pin up, still with scarves artfully arranged, and still with now drying cum painted across her chest.