Her Hung Ex-Husband [SPH][Humiliation]

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HER HUNG EX-HUSBAND

“What’s in this shoebox?” I asked.

Megan slammed the top shut and ripped the box out of my hands.

“ . . . It’s nothing,” she said.

I stared at her. My pulse quickened. What was in that shoebox?

“I totally forgot about this box,” she said, her eyes cast down.

“. . . What is it?” I asked.

She let out a sigh.

“Just . . . promise you won’t be mad.”

“Okay. I guess.”

“. . . It has a bunch of dirty pictures. From when Tom and I were married,” she said.

“Oh. Hunh.”

She winced as she tried to gauge my reaction.

“Pictures of the two of you?” I asked.

She nodded.

“I had totally forgot,” she said. “You believe me, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Of course I trust you. Plus, that box has been buried in the garage since I moved in five years ago.”

“But, I mean, I wasn’t secretly saving them or anything.”

“I know.” I said.

“I’ll throw them out right now.” She took the shoebox and carried it out to the trash.

I slept fitfully that night. I couldn’t put the shoebox out of my mind. Buried in our trashcan was a glimpse into my wife’s secret, sexual past.

The next morning, after she left for work and I got the kids fed and off to school, I went straight to the garbage can. I dug through it and quickly found the shoebox and brought it inside.

I sat on the couch in my robe with the shoebox on my lap. I desperately wanted to see the contents, but I wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea. Did I really want to see pictures of my wife getting fucked by her ex-husband? Once I looked, I wouldn’t be able to unsee it.

After a few minutes of deliberation, I took the box back out to the trash.

I was an author who worked from home, so I had the house to myself while the kids were at school. I got dressed and made myself a cup of coffee and then sat down to try and crank out a few pages.

I didn’t even finish a paragraph before I caved and went back out to the trashcan. I rushed back inside and poured the photos out on the living room floor, before I could lose my nerve.

I grabbed one at random.

It was a picture of Megan. A Polaroid. She was lying naked on a bed. Her blonde hair was in a pixie cut, much shorter than she had ever worn it since I had known her. She looked young. Maybe just out of college.

I grabbed another pic. It was nearly the same as the first only in this one she had her hand between her legs. She had two fingers buried in her pussy.

I was hard as a rock. This was like finding a sexual time machine. I rubbed my erection through my jeans.

The next picture made my jaw drop. She was still naked, but the cameraman was visible in this one. At least his cock was. It laid across her pussy. And her stomach. AND her navel.

My heart was racing. My mouth felt dry. I had entertained the idea that her first husband might be a little bigger than me, but this was absurd.

I quickly put all the photos back in the box. My hand trembled as I took a sip of coffee . . . it had to be a foot long. It felt hard to breathe.

I decided to take a shower. I hurried to the bathroom and turned the water on. Then I quickly shed my clothes and climbed in.

I stood there for a long time. The hot water cascaded over me.

I hated myself.

I hated myself for opening that shoebox. I hated Tom for having such a freakishly large cock. I hated my erection for refusing to subside.

The water rained down on my stubborn, hard, five-inch cock. Never before had it seemed so puny.

I rubbed at my temples and tried to slow my breathing. She had picked me. She didn’t care about penis size. She didn’t care about Tom’s big, thick cock.

“Ah, fuck it.”

I grabbed the shampoo bottle and squirted some into the palm of my hand. I stroked myself furiously. I quickly gave up trying to not imagine Tom pounding Megan’s young pussy with his massive dick.

After a couple of minutes I groaned and erupted all over the bathtub.

I spent a few more minutes trying to wash all the semen off my hand and then got out and toweled off.

It wasn’t ten minutes before my erection returned. I went to the shoebox and started going through the pictures again.

I found one of Megan on her knees with her lips stretched over the massive head of her first husband’s cock. In the next one his cock was buried in her pussy. Her mouth was wide open, caught in the middle of a moan.

I pulled my cock out and started to jerk off again.

As soon as I came I felt horrible. I felt guilty for looking at the pictures that Megan clearly hadn’t wanted me to see. I felt guilty for being so aroused by the pictures. And I felt guilty for not having a bigger dick.

I cycled between shame and extreme arousal all day. I beat off another half dozen times before I had to hide the pictures away and the kids came home.

When Megan got home, she could tell I was acting weird. She asked me a couple of times if everything was okay, and I assured her it was.

As soon as the kids were in bed, she cornered me in the bedroom.

“Where are they?” she asked, sharply.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t get the shoebox out of the trash?”

I was quiet for a moment.

“ . . . I did.”

“Good answer,” she said, “cause I already checked the garbage can. Now where are they?”

I nodded toward the dresser.

“In the back of my sock drawer.”

She pulled the drawer open and fished out the shoebox.

“I can’t believe you, Adam!” she said.

“I’m sorry. I was just . . . curious.”

“Oh my god!” she said. “Are you hard right now?”

My hand drifted in front of my crotch in an effort to hide my erection.

She batted my hand away and grabbed my erection through my jeans.

“You are!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you jerk off to these?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Oh my god.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

Her hand slipped inside my waistband and gripped my cock.

I winced. My dick was sore from a long day of abuse.

“How many times did you jerk off?” she asked.

“. . . Um. Like eight.”

“Jesus.”

She stroked me roughly inside my pants.

“Why?” she asked.

“Hnnh . . . I don’t know. The pictures just made me so horny.”

She stroked me faster, squeezing my cock tightly.

“Tell me why.” she said.

“I don’t know,” I groaned. “You were so young.”

“What else?”

I panted as she jerked me.

“He was . . . he was so big.”

“Oh. You like seeing me take a big cock?” she asked.

I nodded weakly.

“You like seeing my pussy stretched? You like seeing me take a bigger, thicker cock?”

“Unh-hunh,” I groaned. My cock spasmed and started to drench the inside of my boxers.

She slid her sticky hand out of my pants and wiped it on my shirt.

“That’s the last time you’re allowed to cum until I say so.”

“Wha?” I panted.

“Until I decide, you’re not allowed to masturbate.”

She took the shoebox and left the room.

I didn’t sleep a wink. My cock ached all night long. Where did all that come from? Was she really serious about a masturbation ban?

We didn’t talk much the next morning but, before she left for work, she gave me a long slow kiss.

The kids were eating breakfast at the table across the room. She leaned close to me.

“I’m still pissed at you for sneaking around behind my back,” she whispered. “And don’t even think about touching your cock today.”

I nodded.

All day I was miserably horny. I thought about jerking off but Megan could always tell if I was lying.

I spent the whole day with an aching erection. I wondered where she had hid the pictures, but I didn’t dare look for them.

The rest of the week was no easier. By the time Tom came to pick up Derek and Casey on Friday, I had spent nearly four full days without release. My balls felt heavy and tight.

I couldn’t look at Tom without imagining the enormous cock hidden in his pants. Or him spearing my wife with it.

Finally he left with the kids.

“Do you wanna cum?” Megan asked me.

“Uh-huh,” I nodded, eagerly.

“How bad do you wanna cum?” she asked.

“You have no idea,” I said. “It feels like my tubes are tied in knots down there.”

She laughed.

“Are you sorry for what you did?”

I nodded.

“You can masturbate.”

A huge wave of relief washed over me.

“But,” she added, “only in my presence. And you have to ask my permission first.”

My heart was racing and my neglected cock throbbed.

“Okay?” she asked.

“. . . Okay.”

“Well,” she said, “do you wanna cum?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then ask me.”

“. . . Can I masturbate?”

She just stared at me with a smirk.

“. . . Please?” I added.

She nodded.

“Should I go to the bedroom?” I asked.

“No. Get naked.”

I slowly removed all my clothes until I stood entirely nude in the center of the living room.

“Now sit on the couch,” she said,

I nodded and sat down in the middle of the couch. I carefully wrapped my hand around my aching erection.

Megan loomed over me, watching.

“Do you want to look at the pictures?” she asked.

I just stared up at her, dumbly. This felt like some sort of trap.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You can tell me.”

I nodded slowly.

“Ask me,” she said.

“Can I look at the pictures?” I asked, very quietly.

“You can look at this one.” She pulled a single photo from her back pocket and handed it to me. It was the first picture I had looked at. Of her lying naked on a bed.

“Disappointed?” she asked. “Do you wish it was a picture of me taking Tom’s huge cock?”

I swallowed nervously.

“Tell me,” she snapped.

I nodded.

“Well, go ahead. Jerk off.”

I stroked my cock. In seconds I was breathing heavy. It took less than a dozen strokes. I groaned and erupted. Cum sprayed up into the air and splattered all over my chest and my lap.

When we got into bed that night, I asked her if I could masturbate, but she told me no. She didn’t let me cum at all the next day either.

Finally, on Sunday afternoon, she let me masturbate again. She gave me another picture. It was just her again. In this one she was wearing a matching black bra and panties and a pair of heels.

She watched as I eagerly stroked myself.

Megan let me masturbate on Tuesday and Wednesday night. Each time she gave me one more picture. Each time I hoped the picture would show her with Tom’s huge cock, but each time I was disappointed.

Friday after work I noticed that Megan had unbuttoned a couple of buttons on her blouse, displaying more than a hint of cleavage. She seemed a bit flirtier when Tom arrived to pick up Derek and Casey. They had split up amicably and were still on good terms.

As soon as Tom and the kids were gone she grabbed me by the belt and dragged me into the bedroom.

“Get undressed,” Megan said.

I quickly pulled my clothes off and tossed them aside. My cock was stiff and swollen. I hadn’t came since Wednesday. Megan took a step closer to me and gingerly wrapped her hand around my twitching cock.

“Mmmrh,” I moaned. It had been almost two weeks since she had touched me.

“Lie down on the bed,” she instructed.

I climbed onto the bed, my cock humming with excitement.

Megan reached under her skirt and peeled her panties off. Then she climbed onto the bed and straddled my face, positioned so she was facing my feet. Her pussy lowered to my lips and my tongue dove into action. I licked her up and down eagerly. She was already soaking wet.

After a couple of minutes, I felt her fingers brush against my cock. It jumped in response. Her fingertips brushed up and down the length of my shaft as my tongue flicked back and forth over her clit. I could hear her breathing heavy.

Her grip tightened around my cock. I started to pant into her wet pussy.

“You want a picture of Tom’s big cock stretching my pussy?” she asked.

“Uhm-huh!” I mumbled, excitedly.

She was quiet for several seconds, but I kept licking and she kept slowly stroking me.

“Well you’ve got a decision to make,” she said. “You can have the picture OR you can cum tonight. But you can’t have both.”

“. . . Ohhn!” I groaned. My tongue slowed as I tried to process the choice I had to make. My hips bucked against her hand involuntarily.

“Which is it gonna be?”

“Unh-nnh,” I panted. My heart pounded and my cock felt like it was moments away from bursting.

“ . . . the picture,” I squeaked finally. I was afraid I might not get another chance.

Megan let go of my cock but didn’t move from her position directly above my face. After a few seconds I realized she wanted me to keep licking.

My cock twitched and flexed in vain as I brought her to a loud orgasm. When it was finally over she collapsed onto the bed next to me.

After a few deep breaths she reached under her pillow and pulled out a polaroid.

It was a picture of Megan. Her blonde hair was shoulder length. She had the matching black bra and panties and heels. She was on her back. She had a hand behind each knee and she was pulling her legs up and spreading them wide. Her panties were pulled to one side and Tom’s massive cock was buried inside her.

I stared at the picture even though it felt like torture because I couldn’t do anything about it.

But, the next day, she did let me masturbate. Twice!

On Sunday Megan put on a pair of short shorts and the tightest, lowest-cut tank top that she owned. The thought of her big-dicked ex-husband ogling her made me drunk with jealousy and lust.

When Tom dropped off Derek and Casey I could see his eyes wandering over my wife’s body.

Then Megan stunned me.

“Kids,” she said, “Adam is gonna take you guys out for ice cream. Your dad and I need to chat about a couple of things.”

My head swam.

“Yay!” the kids said.

What was happening? I looked over at Megan. She wore a smirk and she nodded.

“Can I have two scoops?” Casey asked.

“. . . Sure,” I said weakly. Slowly I got my keys and my coat.

It took every inch of my will to keep focused on driving. I felt like I was going to throw up.

My head was in a fog as the kids ordered.

“Huh?” I said.

“Anything for you, sir?” the girl behind the counter asked again.

“Oh . . . vanilla, I guess.”

I handed her a twenty. I numbly collected my cone and the change.

I sat down with the kids. They were laughing and pestering each other and devouring their ice cream cones.

What was happening at my home? Was Tom pushing his massive cock into my wife at that very moment? And what kind of man was I that I was sitting there licking an ice cream cone while my wife might be fucking some other man? I felt queasy. And horny.

Before I knew it, the kids had finished their ice cream and were starting to get rowdy. My cone had melted all over my hand. I tossed it in the trash, grabbed a handful of napkins, and herded the kids out to the car.

I drove a little faster than I probably should have. When we got home Tom’s car was gone. I hurried the kids inside. Then I found Megan, she was waiting in our room.

She sat on the edge of the bed, with a slight smirk.

[. . . continued below]