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Becca: Why don’t you come stay with us? We’d love to have you.
I stared at that text for a while, considering Becca’s offer. While it would save me some time, Sag Harbor was at one side of the island. And the temptation to slack off would be a constant battle. But you couldn’t beat the convenience. And on days when the weather turned, I’d have easy access to my favorite pastime: fucking a married woman.
Again, Becca and David were getting ahead on themselves. They barely knew me. Either they were excellent judges of character or reckless and they didn’t strike me as reckless. The third option was dangerous fuel for my already healthy ego: I was just so damn good, they couldn’t control themselves. They were carried away by their deepest fantasy coming true: A Bull moving into their home and taking over.
For as extreme as that scenario was, it was fairly common in the cuckolding kink. But the intense amount of commitment made it more a hot fantasy than a practical reality. However, my situation was perfect for a couple looking to indulge. I only in town until work dried up. I didn’t have to move out of anywhere. If things went bad, Becca and David weren’t making me homeless. Everything I had fit in my vehicle.
In the end, the offer was too compelling to resist. Since I wouldn’t have to pay lodging at Becca and David’s, I would just continue to rent my room in Islip. That nice old lady was really cutting me a deal as it was. A month’s rent only ran be a half-day’s average pay. And I wrote that off anyway.
See you tomorrow night, I texted Becca.
I went downstairs to inform my landlady I was shifting territories but wanted to continue to rent my room, a prospect which overjoyed her: getting paid without having a tenant. I worked my files, then packed up my room. The next morning, I loaded up my vehicle, spent the day meeting with clients, then drove out to Becca and David’s place.
Let’s talk about nerves. For whatever reason, I don’t really get nervous. I guess because I’m stoic by nature. My lows aren’t that low. I shrug things off and almost never get depressed. Conversely, my highs are not so high. Even when big things happen to me, like landing a literary agent or getting a book deal, I never really celebrate. I guess that factors into why I’m not a big smiler, though I find life generally amusing.
What I’m saying is I wasn’t a big bundle of stress at the prospect of moving in with a married couple I barely knew before I fucked the wife. I pulled up in the spot next to the garage they had asked me to use last time, grabbed a few things, and walked right in the open front door.
“Honey, I’m home.”
Becca practically came running. She was in a sports bra and yoga pants, her tit bouncing as much as the plastic surgeon allowed. “Hiii Jay. Let me show you to your room…”
Becca walked me down the hall, past a room used as a home office, the stairs, and bathroom. One room in the back of the house was a decent gym space, another a guest room. She turned to me, twisting slowly back and forth.
“Our house is your house. Make yourself at home.”
“Oh, I will. Where’s David?”
“On his way home. I had him pick up dinner. Don’t worry, I know you eat healthy. I do too.”
“I can tell.”
Pleased, Becca beamed up at me.
“I need to get set up. Let me know when David is close.”
She understood what I was getting at right away. “I will text him immediately.”
I kicked off my boots, unpacked, and got my own home office set up. I was organizing my photos for the day when Becca came in.
“He just picked up dinner. He’ll here in ten minutes.”
Already play was getting in the way of work. I kicked off my pants and boxer briefs, marched over to Becca and threw her over my shoulder.
“Eeep!”
I carried her down the hall, one arm hooked around her legs, the other groping between them. Her yoga pants were already soaked. Becca moaned softly as I rubbed roughly at her slit through the material. The thought of what I was about to do had me iron hard and messy by the time we hit the Kitchen.
I took Becca to the Dining Room table and bent her over it so both of us were facing the door into the Garage. I grabbed her by the pony tail and pulled her top up, exposing her tits. Her nipples were hard enough to cut glass. I pinched them until she cried out, then tugged her pants down.
Keeping hold of her hair, I rubbed the head into her dripping folds, mixing our juices, then sunk into her in one long, slow stroke.
Becca gave a slight cry of pain, followed by a long, low moan of relief. I twisted my grip on her hair to make her arch, my other hand digging into her hip. I thrusted into roughly, pulling her in as my hips slammed forward. That girl could really take a fucking. She cried out sharply every time I buried my cock in her, my balls slapping into her hood.
“Ahhnh! Uhhn…Ahhnh!”
I saw David’s lights as he pulled around into their driveway, heard the garage door going up, then back down. Seconds later, the door opened as David stepped into the Kitchen. I tugged Becca’s hair, forcing her to arch, her chin high to ensure they made eye contact.
David came in, his suit jacket in one hand and a brown paper bag of takeout in the other. He froze at seeing his wife bent over the kitchen table, me standing behind her, pounding away.
“Hey Davey-boy. We’ll be done with the table in a minute.”
I doubled down, our bodies clapping together wetly as I slammed into Becca.
“Be a good wife and greet your husband, Becca.”
PLAP! “Ahhn!” PLAP! “Huhiii honey…” PLAP! “Ahhhn!”
Unsure what to do, David stood there, waiting, while I drilled into his wife over and over. I couldn’t wipe the smug, superior smirk off my face. The table was slowly sliding towards the wall from the force of my thrusts, the chairs tipping over. Having gotten everything I wanted out of the encounter, I started pushing towards climax.
I grunted in time with my thrusts as my balls churned. I stared David down as I buried myself balls deep in his wife. My cock expanded, pulsing hard as I fired rope after rope of gooey, rich seed into Becca’s cervix. Becca moaned as David watched her climax.
“Ahhuhhhnng…”
Once every drop of my semen was out of me and deep inside Becca, I slid free and walked over to David, my dripping, cream-covered cock bouncing with every step.
“What’s for dinner, Davey-boy?” I said, taking the bag out of his hands. I started setting containers on the table as Becca pulled up her yoga pants and pulled down her top. “Salad with grilled chicken, dressing on the side. Very nice. Thank you, Becca.”
“You’re…uh…welcome Jay…” Becca wobbled over to give her husband a kiss before grabbing dishes and silverware.
I sat down, bare-assed, and ate my food with the happy couple. Becca started in on the wine, asking David about his day. Normally, I clean up after myself right away. But leaving it for them made a better statement.
“Nice meal. Time to work.”
I went back to my room and got to work, leaving Becca and David to discuss. I heard them watching television. After the Daily Show, they went up to the second floor master suite and went to bed.
Thus went the rest of my stay in New York. I’d head out every day, be back at sunset, have dinner with Rebecca and David, then work my cases. Along with that, I’d use Rebecca however I wanted, whenever I wanted. I’d walk while they watched television, plop down, and shove Becca’s head in my lap. Or burst into their room as they slept, roll Becca over, and pound her senseless. Pump her full of cum, then walk out without a word. One day when it rained, David came home to Becca bouncing on my lap.
No matter how far I pushed it, Becca ate it up. And David never said a word. Their response spurred me on. I can’t help but push. Test the limits. So, two weeks before Christmas, I kicked David out of his bedroom.
Around the time John Stewart was wrapping it up, I strolled into their bedroom and said to David, “You’re in my spot. Get out.”
David froze in shock.
“You heard me, bitch. Out. Or I’ll throw you out.”
That got him moving. David grabbed his glasses and got up.
“You’re on the couch,” I said to his back, as I spread his wife’s legs. “Stay out of my room.”
For the next two weeks, I slept in their marital bed, unloading deep inside Rebecca from every angle. She could really take a pounding. Most women can’t handle the mating press position from me. The forceful hammering of her cervix, being pinned down and treated like a rag doll. But when I empty my balls into the end of her, Becca’s eyes rolled back like a women in a trance.
But all things must come to an end. I had gotten lucky. It went without snowing for nearly two months. But when it finally did, my cases were on hold until the show cleared. While David and Rebecca weren’t Christmas people, it was only a matter of time before someone noticed they had a house guest.
After the day I left their house for my home, we never spoke again.
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