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Get comfortable again, my poor cuckold. Find that dark corner where no one can see you, where you can surrender completely to this humiliation that excites you so much. Take out that little cock of yours, that insignificant thing that barely deserves attention, and wrap your hand around it. Start moving it slowly, with a slowness that grazes only the tip, barely a whisper of contact that makes you throb with frustration. Don’t speed up. Don’t even think about it. Wait for my orders, like the obedient one you are.
This time, let me take you to a place you’re going to love. Imagine a suite high up in a skyscraper, a penthouse that he booked with his card, not yours. The room is bathed in a dim, warm, almost intimate light. In the center, a king-size bed covered in black sheets, impossibly smooth. There’s a subtle scent in the air… his expensive cologne mixed with the leather of the furniture, with the champagne they drank downstairs, with something more primal that’s already beginning to stir.
Your wife walks in on his arm. They laugh softly, still sharing that intimacy that started in the elevator, where he whispered something in her ear that made her blush and press herself against him. She’s wearing that red dress that hugs her ass perfectly, so tight it traces every curve, so short it barely covers the roundness of her backside. No bra, her nipples hard and visible through the fabric, as if they’re already demanding attention. The black lace stockings rise to mid-thigh, held up by delicate garters that peek out when she walks. The high, thin heels make her legs look endless, every step a hypnotic sway. She’s radiant, alive, as if she’s waited her whole life for this moment.
You’re hidden behind a half-open curtain in the adjoining walk-in closet, a spacious area with floor-to-ceiling mirrors that multiply the scene like an endless punishment. She ordered you to stay there: just watch, stay silent, don’t touch yourself beyond what she allows now. She knows you’re there. She knows and it turns her on. Every so often, her eyes seek the slit in the curtain, as if she wants to make sure you’re suffering enough.
Are you still keeping that slow, humiliating rhythm? Perfect. Hold it while the scene unfolds. The moment the door closes, he pushes her against the wall with restrained urgency, as if he can’t wait any longer. They kiss violently, tongues tangled, bites that leave faint marks on their lips. His hands slide up her thighs, lift the dress, and discover she’s not wearing panties. His fingers part her slowly, exploring the wetness that already betrays her. She gasps against his mouth, grinding against his hand as if she can’t help herself. “Look how wet she is for me,” he says loudly, deliberately, knowing you hear every word. And she moans, arches, surrenders to those fingers that know her better in minutes than you ever did in years.
Now speed up a little, just a little. Let the pulse grow stronger while she drops to her knees on the thick carpet, soft as skin. She lowers his zipper with her teeth, slow and teasing, and pulls out his heavy, thick, veined cock, standing proud with an arrogance yours never had. It’s longer, thicker, the swollen head already glistening with anticipation. She looks at it like it’s something sacred, something worthy of worship. She licks from base to tip, savoring every vein, every inch. “God, it tastes so good,” she sighs before opening her mouth and taking it all in. She sucks with a hunger she never showed you, with wet, obscene sounds, saliva dripping down her chin as she forces it deeper into her throat. She gags a little, coughs, but doesn’t stop. She wants more. He grabs her hair firmly and starts fucking her mouth, thrusting without mercy. Her cheeks hollow, her eyes water from the effort and pure pleasure.
Do you remember the last time your wife looked at you like that while she sucked you? Never. With you it was routine, a quick favor, almost an obligation. With him it’s absolute devotion, as if that cock were the only thing that matters in the world.
Keep stroking, faster now, but control yourself. Don’t you dare come yet. Watch how he lifts her from the floor as if she weighs nothing, with an ease that reminds you of what you never were. He throws her onto the bed, the black sheets rumpling beneath her body. He rips the dress off in one impatient tug; her perfect breasts bounce free, nipples hard. He removes his shirt, revealing a defined torso, real, tense muscles, not the forced gym kind but those of someone who lives with confidence. He positions himself between her open legs, rubs his cock against her swollen pussy, coating it in the juices that already give her away. She begs in a broken voice: “Put it in me, please… I need to feel you inside.” He smiles, teases her, only the tip sliding in and out, making her beg louder, more desperate.
And then he impales her with one brutal thrust, all the way to the base. Your wife screams, arches her back, digs her nails into his shoulders as if she wants to melt into him. He fucks her with animal force from the very first second, deep, rapid thrusts that make the bed frame creak. Each stroke makes her breasts bounce violently, her pussy making wet, dripping, obscene sounds. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulls him deeper, moaning words she never said to you: “Harder… break me… yes, like that, fuck.”
Stroke furiously now, but hold on. Not yet. Watch how he flips her onto her stomach, lifts her ass and penetrates her again from behind, gripping her hips with firm hands. He fucks her like an expensive whore, spanking her ass until it’s red and marked. She buries her face in the pillow, screams with pleasure, comes once, then again, trembling all over, squirting juices that soak the sheets. He doesn’t stop, uses her without mercy, marking her as his with every thrust.
Then he sees you. He knows you’re there, hidden. He turns her onto her side, facing the curtain, so you can see every detail: his cock sliding in and out of her stretched pussy, glistening with her fluids, his balls slapping her swollen clit. She opens her eyes, looks straight at you through the gap and smiles between gasps: “Look how he really fucks me… this is what I needed.” Her words cut through you like a hot knife, burn inside you.
He growls that he’s going to come. She begs him to fill her, to give her everything, not to pull out. He buries himself to the hilt and explodes inside, pulse after pulse, flooding her with hot cum while she comes again, screaming his name like a prayer.
Come thinking about her pussy overflowing with another man’s cum, knowing she’ll never let you touch her the same way again. That from today on she’ll only be for real cocks, for men who know what to do with her.
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