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Messy Marriage

When I think about it, I realize that what’s happened to me is really my fault. I married Vanna just over a year ago. She made a gorgeous bride. Only five-foot-four, she boasted sexy curves, reddish-blond hair that fell to her shoulders, and a soft, full-lipped face. I, on the other hand, was an unimpressive groom. At only an inch taller than her, with my slim build and limp brown hair, I’m nobody’s idea of a stud.

Even so, she loved me and was great in bed. Vanna even put up with my undersized dick and overly quick ejaculations. The single thing that bothered her was my obsession with cleanliness. I always insisted that she thoroughly clean herself before sex, even after she told me that it got her out of the mood. Worst of all for her, I refused to provide oral sex. Just the thought of putting my tongue down there made me want to run for the mouthwash.

We went along like that for several months, until she started to grow indifferent to intercourse. I still wanted it all the time. Seeing her in tight jeans, a sweater, or one of her sexy teddies sent my libido soaring. If I went more than a day without a bedroom encounter, it made me nervous and tense.

Then Vanna changed. She came home from her secretarial job one day with a smile on her pretty face, humming a tune.

Somehow I took it to mean that she was eager for sex but when I dropped a few unsubtle hints she turned me away. That night my wife wore her most revealling babydoll nightie to bed and didn’t even bother to include the matching panties. She gifted me with a passionate kiss in bed, then turned away and pushed her desirable bottom against me. I got a straining erection and nudged her with it.

She responded with a wiggle but went no further. I spent a restless night and woke up feeling edgy and still very horny.

Vanna put on a short skirt and low-cut top I’d never seen before. She produced a pair of flashy heels and sat down to put them on. Was it my imagination or did she put on a show, letting her skirt ride up, stroking her stockings to remove imaginary wrinkles in the nylon, and wagging her feet teasingly?

“Dear,” she said in a seductive voice.

“Would you help me with these ankles straps? The buckles are so tiny. “

As I knelt in front of her she let her thighs drift apart to show off her pink panties. My hands trembled as I fumbled with the buckles. She made me adjust each one several times.

“I may be a little late tonight,” she announced. “My new supervisor, Mr. Kirk, has some special duties for me to learn.

What could I say? Wasn’t it me who discouraged her when she suggested that she cut back to part time? I finally got the ankle straps fastened to her satisfaction and watched her rise and swish out of the room, her bottom swinging enticingly.

That evening she was over two hours late. I was getting irritable, as I liked to have my dinner waiting when I got home from my job.

When Vanna finally appeared she seemed a bit giddy and her hair was mussed. I tried to make her feel guilty by acting sullen but she didn’t even notice. On top of that, she neglected to start dinner. Would I have to be hungry as well as horny?

“Vanna,” I said rather coldly. “It’s past dinnertime. “

“Oh, that’s okay. Mr. Kirk and I had a late lunch. I’m not hungry. “

“Well I certainly am,” I huffed.

“Then make yourself a sandwich,” she told me curtly. “My boss is stopping over soon for a drink and I have to get ready for him. He’s going to give me my new schedule. “

“New schedule? Don’t you think you should have talked to me first?” I sputtered.

“Well, dear, Mr. Kirk said HE would speak to you. Personally. “

I didn’t like the sound of that.

Before I could form a response, however, my wife left the room. I could hear her fussing about in the bathroom. I went to the kitchen to fix myself a meal but when I went to get some lunchmeat I accidently opened a package of some sort of foul smelling cheese she had bought. The stench so sickened me that I lost my appetite. About a half hour later, when I was finally feeling better and thinking about starting dinner again, the doorbell rang.

Vanna called out to me to answer it.

In a huff I went to the door and flung it open. On our front step, towering over me, was a broad-shouldered black man. He smiled down with perfect white teeth and extended a hand about twice the size of mine.

“Hello,” he said, seeming amused by something. “I’m Earl Kirk, Vanna’s supervisor. “

When we shook it felt as if he would crush my fingers, though it was evident he was making no special effort.

As he released my smarting hand I took three steps in retreat and he stepped into our home as if he lived there. I was still trying to regain my compusure when, from behind me, Vanna spoke.

“Earl,” she said cheerily. “I’m so glad you could come. Isn’t my husband exactly like I described him?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Earl. “And then some. “

He went to her and they shared a hug that was more than friendly.

I stood there mutely, intimidated by the man’s size and confidence. We went into the den and Vanna snapped at me to bring two glasses of wine. Without thinking, I obeyed. I returned to find them sitting close to each other on the couch. As I handed them their glasses I realized that I was left without a drink.

“Sit down,” Earl told me firmly, and nodded to a straightbacked wooden chair across the room.

I still couldn’t muster any courage As I sat he stared at me appraisingly.

Earl said, “I’m promoting Vanna to my personal secretary. That will mean a substantial raise for her and I want you to promise that you won’t touch her money. “

Flabbergasted, I sat there with my mouth open. At last I managed to speak. “Well, uh, Mr. Kirk, you have to understand that my wife and I already have our own financial arrangements.

“Oh, I understand,” he said. “I understand you take her pay and only give her back a few dollars to get by on. That’s why I’ve had to buy her some of her new work clothes. Like those pretty shoes she’s wearing. “

I gaped at the ankle-strapped heels. “Well, I mean, thank you but Vanna likes to pick her own wardrobe. “

“Actually,” my wife said, “I like Earl to buy pretty things for me.

” She took a sip of her wine while that sank in. When I didn’t protest she went on. “He also bought me this outfit. Including the panties. “

“But, I mean, that’s not appropriate. “

Vanna chuckled. “Of course it is, dearest. Earl and I have been having sex. Fantastic sex, I should say. ” She laid her small white hand on his thigh with casual familiarity.

As I sat there choking on shock, Earl told me, “Look, little man, a woman this sexy needs more than you can give her.

She explained all about your pipsqueak dick and how it shoots off as soon as you get it halfway into her. Now I’ve got alot more to offer in that department and I can keep it up for a long long time. So here’s the deal. From now on, Vanna is my woman You won’t be getting any sex unless it’s with your own hand, and then only if she tells you it’s okay.

Understand?”

I got up shakily and started to stammer out an objection. Earl rose in one smooth movement, crossed the room in three long strides, and grabbed me by the shoulders.

He gave me one violent shake and said, “Do you understand!?”

“I won’t. That is, you can’t..”

He changed his grip and tore my shirtfront open. I stood there with my pale hairless chest exposed and shut my mouth.

He ordered me to strip so he could see what my wife he been stuck with for a bed partner. Too frightened to disobey, I undid my pants and dropped them. Then I realized I had to take off my shoes and did a comic dance, trying to untie them while standing, with my fallen pants in the way. My wife and her new lover laughed openly at the ridiculous sight I made. I got out of my pants, removed the remains of my shirt, and stood there in just my jockey shorts.

The snug fit of my single garment made it clear that I came up short in the manhood department. Earl commanded me to get out of my shorts and, blushing hotly, I complied. My poor excuse for a penis was revealled. To my horror, Vanna got up and came near to rub her body against mine. I immediatly got an erection and that set off a fresh round of amusement.

“No wonder she’s not satisfied,” Earl said.

“It was small to start with and it didn’t hardly get any bigger. “

“It’s pitiful,” Vanna agreed. “And remember what else I told you. “

“Right. ” He nodded. “This little wimp won’t even eat your pussy. He don’t like the smell. I say it’s time he learned. Especially because I’m going to take you to your bedroom and screw you till you can’t walk straight. We’re gonna need that snug little pussy juiced up before I can slip everything I’ve got into it.

Vanna, honey, take off your panties and sit on the edge of the couch. “

I watched her desperatly as she did what she was told. My wife sprawled wantonly on the couch with her knees apart. Earl clamped his massive hand on the back of my neck and fucked me to kneel. Then he barked at me to crawl to her. As I got down and started to move he kicked me squarely in the center of my bottom.

It hurt terribly but I kept moving. And I didn’t lose my stiff little erection.

With my nose wrinkling and my stomach turning, I brought my mouth close to Vanna’s exposed femininity. In spite of myself I gagged. Earl laughed, put his hand on the back of my head, and pressed my face against her. He held me there and smeared my features with her dampness. Vanna responded with a moan of pleasure and a roll of her hips.

I had to extend my tongue and begin licking. Then I had to penetrate her, use my lips, and even rub with my nose. By the time they let me stop she was secreting plenty of her juices, much to my discomfort.

I was allowed to stop but not to wipe off my face. I had to crawl behind them to the bedroom. My wife slowly undressed herself and her stud. When she uncovered his manhood I was stunned.

What he had made me look like a barely pubescent boy in comparison. I knew then that my wife would have no trouble denying me sex forever after. I remained kneeling while they laid on the bed and enjoyed prolonged foreplay. Vanna thrilled to using her mouth on his massive tool, something she had never done for me.

When he mounted her and I had to watch his fullness slide into the passage I had prepared for it, my eyes filled with tears.

My lower lip trembled. I knelt there snivelling as he proved himself to be a sexual dynamo, bringing her to multiple climaxes, making her groan and beg for more, biting her shoulders and breasts, and pleasing her for over an hour. The whole time she raved about his prowess and swore she would do anything for him and never let me touch her again. Before they were done he sped up twice to reward himself with powerful climaxes.

When at last he eased out and rolled over alongside her I had lost all will to defend my husbandly rights. I was broken and they both knew it.

“Now for the final act,” Vanna said, sated but still feeling wicked. “Husband dearest, get your face between my legs and lick me clean. Earl left two huge loads of his wonderful cum and you’re going to lap up every drop of it.

“That’s right,” he seconded. “After that, if you EVER, even for a second, feel like giving this beautiful woman any backtalk, first you’ll have to remember that you let another man screw her, in YOUR marriage bed, and then you had to lick and suck up all of his cum. Now get your face in there and do it, boy. “

Utterly beaten, I went to work. It was horrible but I continued while they kissed and stroked each other.

Even after I was sure the disturbing job was done they let me go on.

“Okay,” Earl said. “You’re going to be our clean-up boy everytime we screw. If I have your wife at my place or the office, she won’t wash up. She’ll save it all for your hungry wimpy mouth. That’ll be the perfect punishment for a little snot who wouldn’t even go down on a beauty like her to make up for his tiny dick.

You’re going to taste so much pussy and so much of my cum and go so long without sex, that getting used that way is going to get to be a turn-on for you. It’ll be the only kind of sex you know from now on. Except when Vanna here lets you wank your little willy. ” He turned to her. “How often’ll that be, Baby? Maybe like once a week or every ten days?”

“If it’s okay with you, Earl, let’s start him at once a month Maybe we can even get him one of those chastity tubes we saw at that sex shop you took me to.

“They probably don’t make ’em that small, but I got a friend with a machine shop who’ll be able to turn out a miniature version. There’ll even be a little padlock and I’ll put the key on a gold chain around your neck, Baby. That way, everytime he stares at your sweet tits, not only will he get all horny, but he’ll see that key and be reminded that he won’t be getting any for a loooong time.

They broke out in fresh laughter.

I’ve heard them laughing at me quite alot in the six months since then. True to her word, Vanna has only let me cum a half dozen times. I have to use my hand on myself, usually while licking her bottom, sucking her dirty toes, or doing something else that both reduces my limited pleasure and at the same time helps to get me addicted to being humiliated while I gain release.

I always have some repugnant taste in my mouth and smell in my nose. She relishes how much that bothers me.

Worst of all, my wife has come to take ever greater pleasure in abusing me. The more I suffer, the greater her arousal. When she’s been extra cruel to me, Earl knows he’ll gets wild and imaginative sex, so he encourages her to do her worst.

What lies ahead I can only imagine and dread.

Right now I have their mingled juices dried on my face and a whiff of her bottom linger in my nostrils from when she made me be her ‘brown-noser’. There’s a tiny bell hanging from my chastity device which, since I’m usually naked at home, always rings to remind me of my pathetic status. Vanna is talking about extending my periods of no satisfaction to five or six weeks at at time. My balls ache constantly and I can’t stop thinking about sex.

When I’m at my job all the girls in the office seem to be teasing me with their bodies. I can’t stop staring and I think I’m being given a foot fetish by my wife.

And every day I have to remind myself that it’s all my own fault. As I sit naked with pussy juice on my lips, tongue and fingers, at the side of our bed, watching them have unbridled sex, knowing that I’ll be sleeping alone on a sheet soiled from their juices, curled up in the corner of the room, I’ll always be aware that I could be the man with Vanna, if only I hadn’t been so selfish.

the end?.


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