Evangeline woke with a start, the insistent buzz of her phone vibrating against her thigh. Sunlight, sharper now, knifed through the blinds, painting more defined stripes across Chuck’s still-slumbering form. She fumbled for the device, her heart doing a frantic tango in her chest.
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Azazel: Morning, sleepyhead. Hope you’re having sweet dreams of me ringing your bell. [devil emoji]
A fresh wave of heat flooded her. She glanced at Chuck, his face peaceful in sleep. Too peaceful. A sliver of unease, a prickle of guilt, mixed with her anticipation.
Evangeline: Morning. You’re incorrigible.
Azazel: You like that about me.
Evangeline: Touche. Did you look at that link I sent?
Azazel: Yes… the etsy silversmith you sent at 2am. I sent her an email inquiring about a custom commission. She seems to be a true artist. Obsessed with her craft. The reviews all say the bells are surprisingly loud for their tiny size, with clear and dulcet tone. And of course they are visually stunning, which is the minimum requirement for adorning a great beauty.
Evangeline: [blushing emoji]
Azazel: Off to the salt mine… have a delicious day!
Evangeline scrolled through some of their previous sexts, stopping on her favorite selfies and a gif of him jizzing on his deeply chiseled cum gutters. She remembered being in her office at work when he had sent it, and she had been too afraid to act out the way she had painfully wanted to. She had squirmed and swiveled in her chair a lot that day, her panties dampening with each stolen glance.
Her low level teasing of her bear trap had intensified into a more serious finger assault on her desperate hole without her conscious notice. Her breath was coming in erratic panting now. She looked over at the sleeping form of her beloved husband. He was damn sexy, too. Very different, for sure. He had put on some weight over the years, so his abs were no longer defined, but he was bigger than Azazel, and had a lot more muscle than fat. Where Azazel was pretty and gym shredded, Chuck was rugged, a man's man. The thought of the contrast, the sheer variety of masculine power available to her, sent a delicious shiver down her spine.
She reluctantly locked her phone and set in down. She turned her complete attention to the man she had sworn to forsake all others for. She felt like a savage predator – a black mamba – a highly venomous and fast snake, known for its aggressive behavior and ability to subdue large prey. Chuck was big and strong and well trained. Physically she was no match for him. But she had a sexual venom that rendered all that strength irrelevant. She knew he would never hurt her. Which made her guilt so much more intense, a dark spice adding to the forbidden thrill.
She crawled under the covers between his legs as he snored lightly, the warm, musky scent of his sleeping body filling her nostrils. She found his cock was fully tumescent with morning wood, a thick, hard pillar straining against his pajama bottoms. She lightly scratched it, her nails just grazing the sensitive skin, and enjoyed how it twitched and stiffened further, a primal response to her touch. She started licking with just the tip of her tongue, lightly, slowly, from the base of his shaft up to the velvety head, again and again, arousing him in his unconscious state, each slow stroke a deliberate act of betrayal and burgeoning desire. She approached the spongy head of his circumcised cock, comparing it in her mind to Azazel's smooth turtleneck. Chuck's was circumcised, his wasn't. Chuck's was an average size, his was decidedly not.
She kissed the tip, parted her lips, and ever so slowly took Chuck's cock into her warm, wet, stinky mouth. She hadn't yet brushed her teeth, the lingering taste of sleep and her own arousal a potent aphrodisiac. She was filthy in so many ways, and the knowledge only intensified her craving. She paused on her descent to ensure Chuck was still deeply asleep before sinking his shaft deeper into her traitorous maw, relishing the thick feel of him filling her. She reached the base, something she had yet to accomplish with Azazel – not for lack of effort, his impressive length and girth proving a challenge. She warmed his cock in her beautiful, sensual, lying mouth, her tongue swirling around the thick vein that pulsed beneath the skin. She waited, the trap set for her prey, the anticipation building with each deliberate lick and suck.
After a few minutes, Chuck stirred, a low groan escaping his lips. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he pulled back the covers, his gaze hazy with sleep. He found Evangeline's eyes locked on his, a predatory gleam in their depths.
“Oh, hey Eve. Isn't this a nice surprise? God damn that feels good…”
Evangeline rapidly pulled up his shaft with her lips tightly suctioned all the way up, milking every inch of his engorged flesh. When she passed the sensitive frenulum beneath the tip, she made a loud popping sound with her mouth, the sudden vacuum amplifying the sensation.
“Good sugar, I want to make sure you feel damn good.”
She dove back down on his cock, slamming her mouth all the way to the root fast and hard, her cheeks hollowing with the force of her suction. She rapidly sucked up and down, making a piston of his shaft, making a wet “gluck, gluck, gluck” sound as she devoured his throbbing cock. She again pulled off with a sharp pop, leaving him slick and glistening.
“Tell me about your dreams baby, before you forget,” she said, her voice husky with arousal, just before diving back into her eager effort, her wet lips enveloping him once more.
“Well,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep, “I don't know, love. I think it might upset you.”
Pop! “Oooh! This sounds juicy! Now you totally have to tell. Spill!” Gluck! Gluck! Her teeth grazed the underside of his shaft, a playful threat that sent a shiver through him.
“Well, alright,” said Chuck, “but don't say I didn't warn you. To tell the truth, I was dreaming about another woman… doing what you're doing.”
Evangeline went into overdrive, throating his stiff prick like a pumpjack, her gag reflex expertly controlled as she took him deeper and deeper, the wet sounds echoing in the quiet room.
“Oooooohhhhh fuuuck Evie… that's sooo good…” he groaned, his hands instinctively reaching for her hair.
Pop! “Who? Which bitch do I kill?” Slurp! Gluck! Her tongue danced around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive opening.
Chucks moans turned to laughter, a surprised sound. “Shit, honey, I think you'll have trouble with her security. It was Alexandra Daddario!”
Evangeline popped her mouth off Chuck's yeoman's tool and crouched over him, crawling up his chest until her slick, swollen pussy was lined up with his still-hard dick. She lowered herself down onto him, her tits flattening against his chest, her wet cunt squirming over him, squeezing his prick between their stomachs and smearing it with her own slick juices.
“Do you wish she were here now, getting ready to fuck you? Mashing those fat tits into your chest? Those crazy eyes sucking your soul out?” she whispered, her breath hot against his lips.
“Wow,” said Chuck, his eyes wide, “well, Evie, since you put it that way…” He looked at her like he expected her to get mad, but instead, she swiveled her hips and took the tip of his dick into her wet, eager folds, a tight, delicious squeeze.
She stopped there, her eyes half-closed in sensual anticipation, and said, “I want to pretend I'm her. Call me Alex, ok?”
“What has gotten into you?” he asked, a mixture of confusion and burgeoning excitement in his voice.
She closed her eyes in bliss, hit like a Mack truck by the best terrible idea she could remember. Of course, her brain was an oyster scramble of lust, so maybe she couldn't recall much of anything beyond the burning need between her legs.
“Alex! Alex has gotten into me! I'm possessed! And she's desperate for your hot hard boner, baby!” Evangeline rode him hard, bouncing on him like a pogo stick, her wetness squelching with each upward and downward thrust. Her orgasm was sudden and sharp, a violent clenching that wracked her with spasms as she fell off his prick and landed beside him, panting and slick. She splayed on her back, her thighs still trembling, and through half slurred words she begged Chuck, “Please, baby, keep going. Fuck me.”
Chuck swiftly obeyed, mounting her like a good missionary, his gaze intense. “As you wish… Alex,” he said with a wicked wink, his hard cock nudging against her wet entrance.
She wailed like a cat in heat, her hips already lifting to meet his. “Yes baby! Yes! Please, fuck the shit out of me! I need you to make me cum a lot before I have to go back on set! Get your phone baby! Get that gif from True Detective!”
He did as instructed, fumbling for his phone on the nightstand, and they both looked at Alex Daddario pulling her shirt off as she straddled Woody Harrelson and handcuffing him, on a loop. The raw sexuality of the scene mirrored the heat between them.
“Fuck that's hot baby. I love being your Alex… baby… oh fuck me… you asked what got into me that cause this estrus. If I tell you, will you promise not to be mad?”
“Of course, princess,” he said, his movements becoming more urgent, methodically ploughing her, “I won't be mad. What is it?” He stopped with his balls deep, as far as it could reach, the sudden stillness amplifying the tension.
Her jaw tightened. This was playing with fire. But the thrill, the sheer audacity of it, was undeniably intoxicating. “Well, when I woke up I ended up looking at porn, and I found this gif that really… moved me. Can I show you?”
Chuck's dick twitched inside her. “Of course, Evie. I'd love to see what got you so worked up. We looked at Alex, after all.”
Trembling with fear and lust, she squirmed out from under him, her thighs still slick with their combined juices, reaching across the bed for her phone. She fumbled and dropped it on the bed, picking it back up with shaky hands. She unlocked the phone, her heart hammering against her ribs, and made sure she could display the gif without revealing the incriminating texts just above it. The black and white gif showed Azazel's muscular thighs and shredded abs, glistening with sweat. His massive fire hydrant was spewing rope after rope of his hot load over all of him, hands free, his cock bobbing up and down as pulse after pulse of the thick streams arcing through the air splatted before cascading down his sculpted physique. The jizz ran in rivulets over the topography of his flesh and pooled in little puddles in the hollows of his abdomen, catching the light. It was an erotic masterpiece, a blatant display of raw male virility.
Evangeline sighed, a mixture of shame and intense arousal churning within her. She clutched the phone to her chest, slightly afraid that somehoe Chuck might figure things out by seeing this and she'd never be able to indulge in the memory again. She turned her phone toward him and waited tensely, her breath held captive in her lungs.
“Wow! You sure picked a doozy, Eve! Damn! Would you look at that! Well, hun, I get the estrus, now. And just so you know, I'm not even mad. How could I be? Look at that thing! It's amazing!” He laughed heartily, a genuine, unburdened sound.
“Pheew!” said Evangeline in intense relief, her body still humming with residual arousal. “Good, because I'm nowhere near done with you, Chuckie boy!” She got into doggie position, her ass presented high, where she could easily reach the headboard. She sat her phone on a pillow right in front of her face, the image of Azazel’s overflowing cock a blatant focal point.
“Now I don't know this rando's name, so I'll call you Angel, because this guy looks like one. And you keep calling me Alexandra. Mrs. Daddario if you're nasty. You put your phone on my back and we'll pretend we're these sex gods. Yeah?”
“Sounds hot as balls to me, Evie. I love you baby. I'm so damn lucky.”
“Yeah you are,” said Evangeline cheekily, throwing a smirk over her shoulder at him, her wet pussy glistening invitingly. “Now don't let this dripping mess get cold… Angel.”
“Yes ma'am,” said Chuck, wasting no time walking on his knees up to the temple of his wife's holiest of holies. He ran his hands up her thighs, over her plump ass cheeks and back, then lined his rock hard dick up with her slick opening. He swung it upward, slapping her swollen pussy lips from below, spattering droplets of her juices onto his fingers. Then he slowly ran his cock back and forth in a teasing sawing motion on the outside of her wet slit, the friction building unbearable anticipation.
She groaned and whimpered, her hands gripping the headboard tightly. “Noooo… you're killing me, Angel… I need that massive motherfucking cock, baby. I need you to mash that mac n' cheese, baby, rearrange my guts, like, yesterday!” She pouted and whined, her ass twitching. “Please give it to me, lover.”
“Alexandra,” said Chuck, his voice thick with lust, “I will, sweetness. I'm just teasing you a little bit to warm you back up. I want to make sure this monster will fit.” He chuckled, his eyes locked on her needy hole. “Here, take the tip.” He slipped the smooth, wet tip of his dick into her grasping cunt, and teased her by slipping it just in and popping out of the tight opening, each shallow thrust sending shivers down her spine.
“Nooo…” said Evangeline, her voice a desperate plea, “not enough! More! Deeper!”
“OK baby, you asked for it, here comes the freight train!” He slammed as hard and as deep as he could, burying his entire length inside her, pulling her back onto him by her hips, their bodies slapping together with wet thuds.
“Yes, Angel, yes stud! Fuck my… ch… cheating pussy!”
Time stopped. Evangeline held her breath, a sliver of fear piercing through the haze of lust, worried that she had just burned her life down. But her pussy betrayed her, clenching down hard on Chuck's stiff prick, milking him with greedy contractions. How the fuck had she let that slip out? She had been to grippy sock jails, but was she really that insane?
“Uhh… what?” said Chuck, with a confused but undeniably aroused sound. “Um, hun… what the fuck?”
Her mind raced, trying to backtrack, to salvage the situation. This was madness. Daft, unhinged madness. But a part of her, the newly awakened bad girl, the one who hummed Cardi B in the shower, was morbidly curious to see what direction this would go, how much she could confess without shattering everything.
“Eve, have you been taking your meds?” asked Chuck, with a look of serious concern on his face.
“Yeah! I have! Don't worry! Let me explain, baby,” she stammered, stalling for time. “Whoever Angel is… uh… he isn't Alexandra Daddario's husband! That's some Hollywood producer! Maybe… her personal trainer… um, just, you know, judging from his body.” She stopped suddenly, a wave of anxiety washing over her, worried she had gone too far, especially considering she met Azazel at the gym. Worried that a tsunami of her own lies, slip ups, sneaking around, and bullshit was about to come crashing down on her and squash her like a terrified little mouse.
“Oh, OK,” said Chuck, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I get it… Cool. You're on fire this morning, Evie!”
“Alex!” she corrected him sharply, her own arousal spiking on the razor's edge she was walking.
“Right! Sorry, sorry. Mrs. Daddario the cheating slut! My mistake.” He resumed rogering her, his thrusts deep and powerful, and they both got into the swing of the roleplay, the forbidden fantasy adding a potent layer to their lovemaking.
“Deeper! Harder! Yes! Yes!” Evangeline looked over her shoulder at her husband with an evil grin and locked eyes with his for a moment, a silent acknowledgment of their shared transgression, however fictionalized.
“Take it you hot slut! Take that fucking monolith! I'll make you the sorest bitch in Tinseltown!”
“I'm breaking my vows for you! Oh it is so worth it! Dig me out! Fuck! Dig deep!” Evangeline was drooling into the sheets, babbling incoherently, her body writhing with pleasure, as she confessed what she was doing to her husband, couched in the terms of their shared fantasy. When he was as deep as he could go, she would demand he fuck her deeper, her nails digging into his ass cheeks. When he was exhausted and collapsed, she would petulantly cry, “No no no! More! I want it now!”
After a water break, Chuck, deep inside her in missionary, braced his hands on either side of her head. Evangeline wrapped her legs high around his waist, digging her heels into his lower back, pulling him even further into her slick depths. "Deeper, you bastard!" she gasped, raking her fingernails down his shoulders, leaving thin red trails in their wake. "Fill me up like my husband can't!"
“Take it you epic slut! Training you is my favorite… better than leg day! Your hubby is the luckiest chump in Hollywood! Half the men on Earth want to fuck you, and he gets you any time he wants. And now I get you too! And he's paying me!”
She abruptly stopped bucking. “Half!? Only half?!” she shouted in mock outrage, momentarily breaking the intensity of her bucking hips .
Chuck broke out laughing, the sound rumbling against her chest. “Babe, I think I was being generous… I don't think half the men on Earth even know who she is. Sorry, who you are, Alex.”
Laughing, she slapped him, hard, in the face, the sharp crack echoing in the room, before immediately grabbing his head and making out with him furiously, her tongue tangling with his, tasting the salt of their sweat. “That's for insulting my demographic reach! You can call me a gutter whore, but you do not insult my residuals!”
He pounded into her, his breath coming in ragged gasps, matching the frantic rhythm of her hips bucking against his. She met each thrust with a guttural cry, her head thrashing against the pillows, her titties bouncing wildly. Despite the intense pleasure flooding her senses, a primal frustration simmered within her, a phantom sensation of a thicker, longer cock teasing her memory. Like an itch she couldn't reach… the little scratch on the roof of her mouth that would heal if only she could stop tonguing it, but she can't.
She clenched her inner muscles, milking him fiercely, her nails digging into his back, drawing thin lines of blood, and then suddenly grabbed his hips, pulling him down with a desperate strength that surprised them both. "God damn it, Angel!" she cried out, her voice thick with a mixture of ecstasy and annoyance, the remembered sensation of Azazel's impressive length flashing through her. "Don't hold back! Why aren't you ruining my cunt like last time? Make me forget my hubby."
The unexpected vehemence hung in the air for a bit, as the intensity slowly dissipated. Chuck's movements faltered, a flicker of confusion and perhaps a hint of hurt in his eyes. But Evangeline didn't give him too much time to dwell on it. She surged upwards, her wetness squelching loudly against his shaft, her teeth nipping at his neck. "Don't stop!" she snarled, her body a taut bowstring of desire, her inner thighs trembling uncontrollably. "Fuck me like you hate me! Like you can't get enough! Wreck my sloppy, slutty fuck void! Pound out my black hole!"
She twisted beneath him, her hands finding purchase on his ass cheeks, squeezing and kneading the firm muscle, her thumbs digging into the sensitive flesh near his perineum. She urged him faster, harder, her own orgasms ripping through her in rapid succession, each one a violent shudder that threatened to tear her apart, yet leaving her craving more. Even in the throes of such intense pleasure, the nagging thought persisted, the unfillable void. Never deep enough. Never fat enough. The Maenad within her, unleashed and insatiable, craved a fullness that Chuck's somewhat above average size couldn't satisfy, fueling her aggressive grip and frustrated cries. She clawed at his back, her cries turning into primal screams, lost in the delicious, frustrating chaos of her own desire, a wild animal caught in the throes of its rut.
They called in sick and fucked all day, lost in their roles as cheating Alexandra Daddario and Angel, her hyper-sexual trainer. They both had more, and more intense, orgasms than they had ever had in any other day of their marriage, even on their honeymoon and their Caribbean, Norwegian, and Mediterranean cruises… the taboo fantasy fueled their desperate need for each other. They collapsed into dazed breaks for snacks and to use the toilet, their bodies slick with sweat and each other’s juices, the air thick with the scent of sex. They cuddled and gazed into each others eyes and giggled like schoolkids, the shared transgression an unorthodox new intimacy.
At some point Chuck sat on the couch and turned on the TV, thinking he was spent for a while, but she pushed him to the floor, her need a palpable force, demanding he go down on her. She was peripherally conscious of the nature footage on screen providing a suitable rolling background of detonating volcanoes, calving ice sheets, category six hurricanes, massive waterfalls, and the waves of Nazare, Portugal. “Spoil me, Angel!” she cried as her husband brought her to yet another shattering orgasm, her legs trembling uncontrollably.
Looking up and locking eyes with her, his gaze intense and possessive, his beard dripping with her pussy juices, he waited a beat until her fuck haze cleared enough that he felt he had her full attention. “Alexandra,” he growled, his voice thick with lust, I'm going to make it my life's mission to spoil you worse than any starlet in the history of cinematic parvenus. You're going to be a bigger terror than Daesh when I'm done with you!” When he dove back into her sopping, red, abused fuck cavern, she let out a banshee scream that set dogs barking throughout their neighborhood, a sound that was equal parts pleasure and a desperate, unspoken confession.
Later that week, Azazel asked her to meet him at a park, the anonymity of the public space a necessary precaution. When she walked up to him, smiling a triumphant smile that hinted at her recent exploits, he pulled a mason jar out of his backpack. She didn't lean in to hug and kiss him the way she desperately wanted, the longing a sharp ache in her chest, because she couldn't risk being seen. But it was hard, the magnetic pull between them almost tangible. He handed her the jar, and she saw it was filled with tiny silver objects, each one glinting in the afternoon sun. He took one out, held it by the delicate clip that would attach it to a belly button or ear ring, and shook it. It rang with a surprisingly loud, clear, dulcet tone for its size, a delicate chime that held a promise of future encounters.
Azazel said, “I want you to wear this from now on, on your tummy ring. It will remind you of me. Next time I get to have you again, I'll slap it with my cock head to make it ring, then when I fuck you I'll hit it from the inside and ring it with that cute bulge your flat tummy makes when I'm deep inside you. What do you think?” His eyes held a predatory gleam, a possessive hunger that mirrored her own.
Her knees were weak. Evangeline said, “I can't wait. Why are there so many?”
Azazel said, “Because each time you orgasm using my energy, I want you to unclip the one you're wearing, whether its in person, from sexting, or like that day you fucked your husband all day, pretending he was me. I want you to leave one of those in each physical area where you climax, and get a fresh one out of the jar to put on. Each orgasm charges a talisman. This way, we will spread our lust magic everywhere. A regular Joan Appleseed, strewing little motes of sexual potential across the land. Whenever you notice one, you'll think of that experience. The gift that keeps on giving… Look closer.”
She examined the little bell. Etched in tiny, almost indecipherable filigree was the word…
Mine.
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