Category Archives: wife

Replacement Lover

It was as if she didn’t need him anymore, James thought. They were still married, he was still her submissive, but nothing was the same. Nothing had been, since she brought him home.

Alex was his name, and he was a big man. Tall, muscled, huge. Even his cock was a monster — two inches wide and ten inches long (James remembered how she made him measure it.)

Their lovemaking — at least his part in it — had become routine. She’d lock him up as soon as he got home from work. Alex would arrive soon after and they’d adjourn immediately to their bedroom. Then she’d call for him, and he’d crawl to the bedroom.

She’d left him no choice. James’ hands and ankles bound together, so he could only shuffle into the bedroom. Once there, Alex and his wife would already be naked. His wife, his Mistress, would have her legs splayed wide. Alex’s gigantic member would be bouncing, ready.

“Get me wet,” she would command. James occasionally wondered why she wasn’t already wet — she’d never had a problem with that before, but most of the time he was too quickly thrust against her cunt. He’d lick her until her juices were flowing and she was covered in spit. Then Alex would grab him and shove him out of the way.

Alex’s huge cock would pierce her slit, stretching it obscenely wide. James had not choice but to watch it slide, inexorably in and out of his Mistress’ cunt. She would moan in ever increasing pitch and tempo crying out in loud orgasm. Alex would fill her cunt soon after with an apelike grunt.

Then she’d demand his attention again. “Clean me out James.” She would usually come as his tongue sought out Alex’s offensive cum, swallowing it down as he did so. Lately, Alex had been demanding similar services, and James was forced to suck and lick the giant thing that had fucked his wife.

After he was clean, and newly hard, Alex would push him off the bed onto the wooden floor. He’d climb into the bed, spooning with his wife, running his cock between her asscheeks, sometimes fucking her again, sometimes drifting off to pleasant sleep.

Their loud lovemaking was his new alarm clock, and he was called again to cleaning service. After he was done the dominating couple would release him with only enough time to shower and dress before he had to return to work.

After he got to work, he’d find a bathroom. Any one would do, but he preferred ones that weren’t on his regular floor. He’d find a stall, drop his pants, and free his continuously hard cock. He’d masturbate, thinking of the morning and the night before, and the way they had used him.

James dreaded getting caught. By work, or worse, by his wife. But she hadn’t let him touch himself when she was around since she brought Alex home.

And James found he couldn’t resist.

Choices

(MF Mdom wife)

Choices. So many choices, so many ways things could have worked out. But we make our choices, and we try to make good ones. And we take responsibility for our choices, too. Did my choices lead me inexorably to this point? Or was there an uncontrollable, unchosen outside force that got me here? Not that it really matters, because I choose, every day — every minute of every day — to live like this. Wasn’t it Sartre who said that every day we make the choice to go on living, so we are responsible for the state of our lives — after all we chose it, right?

Right now, even as I type these words, there is a woman under my desk. It’s a big desk. I chose it because it was big. Not so I could get a woman underneath it, but for the desktop surface area. It just so happens that I can fit a woman underneath it. She’s on her knees, of course. I gave her a pillow. Her mouth is around my cock, slowly sucking and nibbling to her heart’s content. She’s really good at it. Better than I ever knew in our twenty-two years together. The woman is my wife.

There have been lots of changes lately. I wasn’t sure when it started. No, I do know – I just didn’t know it at the time. The real changes started at least a year ago. I don’t know how I missed it, but I did. I started noticing things when my sex life picked up six months ago, but didn’t examine it too closely. I was too busy reveling in my good fortune to question its origins.

Of course, I didn’t select her for her sexual prowess. She didn’t choose me for that either. Believe it or not, we were both virgins when we met in college and our sex life was never what you’d call imaginative. The first time I saw her, I was attracted to her: a cute pert nose, long straight red hair, and long legs that went all the way up to her ass. She was wearing a pink tennis skirt which showed them off, and a white sleeveless shirt which clung to her breasts.

Unlike so many other college women who wore pants or jeans, Mary liked to dress well. Imagine my surprise when I discovered she was actually intelligent. We were in a philosophy class together — she was actually a philosophy major, of all things. I wound up taking a lot of philosophy classes for my remaining two years of college.

After graduation, I asked her to marry me. She said yes and dropped out of school. A year later, Jenny was born. Two years later, Tom followed her. Tom started college last fall.. I think that’s why I didn’t notice the change in our sex life: I figured it was just an outgrowth of finally being alone in the house again, a hearken back to the old days when we did it more than once a week, or once every two. Or maybe that the exercise program she’d started several months earlier was finally paying of in other dividends.

It still wasn’t anything special. Missionary position, or, ironically, the female superior position. The thing about sex for us was the connection. At least for me anyway, then. The connection with the woman I loved. Looking into her eyes, touching her, caressing her. That two- way exchange of caring that expressed our love. It didn’t have to be ‘hot and sweaty sex’. We made love.

Things are slightly different, now. I have to wonder if I was the only one who saw our sex lives that way. Why did she wait so long to tell me? Or, did I, happy with the status quo, choose to ignore her signals? I’ll probably never know.

She’s sucking really hard now. It’s almost hard to concentrate. She’s holding herself up with one hand, and the other is fondling my balls as her head bobs up and down on my shaft. It’s fucking amazing. He taught her well.

Yes, HIM, that uncontrollable outside force that has, like a tornado, blown through my life, turning everything upside down and inside out. Only it wasn’t a tornado. It wasn’t fast and sudden. It was more like the ocean breeze that molds the sand into dunes: inexorable, insistent, but so gradual you don’t even see the changes.

It was him that started the exercise program. It was him that urged her to increase her sexual activity with me. It was him doing all of that, behind the scenes, until that fateful day a few weeks ago when it was all presented to me, the deal all closed, with only one loose end. I had only one choice left to make, and I keep making it every minute of every hour of every day since.

I had just gotten back from helping Jenny move out of the school dorms into her own apartment. She would be spending the summer in Raleigh — finally really moving out — and she needed her dad’s SUV to move all her stuff. I gladly volunteered, and spent the weekend helping her move, and meeting her friends and roommates. Tom was still in school for a few more weeks, so we’d have to do it all over again then, only he’d be moving home.

I drove back Sunday afternoon, taking my time. I had slept well that night, and had almost slept over the hotel’s checkout time I was so tired. But I was well rested, and looking forward to getting back to Charlotte, and my wife. I still had no clue what was going on.

I should have had some sort of clue when Mary met me at the door, wearing only a sheet wrapped loosely around her body. I asked her, “What?” but she stopped me with a finger on my lips and slight smile on her face. She dropped to her knees in front of me, still holding the sheet around her, and pulled my cock out of my pants. It was only the second blowjob she’d ever given me.

The first was while we were still in college. She thought she’d try it as an alternative to using condoms. We were cheap college students and these were the days before college campuses were giving them away. We wanted sex, but we wanted neither the consequences of sex nor the cost of birth control. But after that first attempt, Mary found the money for condoms. It was always nice inside her pussy anyway, warm, inviting, wet. Even after 22 years I never got enough of it. Now I satisfy myself with the other options.

And one can really become a connoisseur of the “other options” You can be sucked by the mouth, and then there’s the tongue. And her ass…tight all the time in a way her cunt hadn’t been since Jenny was born. Not that I have much choice in the matter.

But I’m rambling. Where was I? Oh yes, Mary on her knees in front of me, naked as the day she was born, her mouth hot and wet around my cock. My first blowjob in 23 years, and it was a damn fine one, too. I wanted to talk to her, but she motioned for me to be quiet, and kept sucking. Eventually I came in her mouth, and she swallowed it all, and then cleaned my cock off with her mouth.

That just got me hard again.

So she led me upstairs into our bedroom, stripped my clothes off. I was hot and I wanted to be inside her, even though I had just come. I reached for the sheet, to take it off, but she shook her head. “What?” I asked incredulous. “Honey, take off the sheet, I want to make love to you.” She shuddered then, and let the sheet drop. And I saw.

“You pierced your nipples?” I exclaimed. That was something the youngsters did. But still, I could feel the blood flow down to my twitching penis. It was hot. I reached for them, and her hands came up.

“No,” she said. “They are too tender to touch right now.”

“OK,” I said. “But damn, they are hot. I need you now, lie down so we can make love.”

She looked down at my feet. then back up at me. “I…I want you to fuck me in the ass,” she said. I stared at her incredulously. She wanted me to fuck her where? Then she turned and got on her knees on the bed in front of me, and I saw the reason why.

Six, no seven new piercings. One just over her clit, the other six down her labia, three on each side. And a bar running through it. And it was locked on! Locked! There was no way I could get inside her pussy. “What is going on here?” I said, backing up, confused.

“Please John, just fuck me in the ass, and I’ll explain it. There’s lube by the bed.” I looked, and there was lube on the nightstand. I took it, lubed
up my cock, now hard and straining as it hadn’t since I was in college. I needed to know what was going on, but I needed to fuck her more. Then I lubed up her asshole, and slid into her ass, something I had never done before.

And God she was tight. Tight like I’d never felt her before. I slid in and out of her, slowly, then faster and faster as the lube spread up and down my cock and the inside of her ass. My mind was lost to the lust of my wife, my sweet gentle wife who was now practically a pincushion. Not that I thought about it then, of course. I was too tied up in my cock and what it was doing, feeling my balls slap against her ass as she moaned and sighed beneath me. So, despite all the signs, I still allowed myself to think that my wife had done all of this for me, for our sex life.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

After I came in her, and pulled out, my cock covered with lube and her goo, Mary got up, went to the bathroom, and then came back out with a towel, and washed me off. She curled up next to me, and I looked at her. “That was amazing.”

“Yes,” she said, quietly. “It is amazing.” Almost whispering. She was quiet for a moment. “Now comes the hard part. You need to watch this.” I saw that she had our bedroom remote, and she clicked the TV on. Then she slid down my legs and once again engulfed my cock with her mouth. It was limp, but her tongue began it’s magic, slowly getting me hard again.

Then the tape in the VCR started to play.

On the screen I saw a man’s face, covered by a domino mask. The camera pulled back, revealing a man with brown hair, a little gray at the temples, but otherwise in good shape. Without a shirt on. In one hand he held the remote for the camera, and was thumbing it. As he zoomed the camera back, I saw his other hand, wrapped in my wife’s hair, moving her head up and down his cock. She was moaning.

He stopped for a moment, and Mary kept moving of her own accord. He looked into the screen. “Hello John,” he said. I looked down at Mary, her head moving up and down my cock, and then back up at the TV, and saw the same thing, only she was with a different man.

What the hell was going on?

The voice continued. “I made this tape out of fairness to you, since you are greatly wronged by this. I only recently discovered that my pet had never explicitly asked you for this, although she seemed certain you knew how she felt.”

“No,” I muttered, “I never knew..” Hearing that, Mary whimpered around my cock.

“I had been making tapes — for my own collection — but I thought you should know the full depth of your wife’s depravity and betrayal. And betrayal it was. We met online over a year ago, and I put her off, not meeting for six months. Then three more months before we had sex. Then still three more months before I made her mine.

“But not fully mine. There is another man she owed her allegiance to.” His eyes, a deep blue, looked straight into the camera, straight into my soul. “I took her anyway. But not completely. You still have a choice.”

The video faded away, and was replaced by an image of the same man, still in a mask, beating my wife with a flogger. “I had to be careful,” he said. “I left no marks on her skin, except for an occasional, accidental bruise. No piercings, no tattoos, no scars. I wouldn’t do that until she was fully mine.”

Again the screen faded, and was replaced by him sliding in and out of my wife’s ass. The video camera moved — there had to be someone there, filming it — until I could see my wife’s face as she begged and pleaded for him to fuck her harder. “I took her every way I could, and she begged for more. I took her anal virginity.” The camera faded, and she was giving him head. “I taught her how to give a good blowjob.” The camera faded again, and he was fucking her pussy, while she was tied spread- eagled on the bed. “I taught her how to squeeze a man’s cock with her pussy. How to please him even if she is tied tight.”

The camera returned to the original shot.. “You are the benefactor of that knowledge. Well, you’ll never use her pussy again. I hold the key.” He brought the key up, and dangled it in front of the camera. “But her oral and anal skills are excellent. And she enjoys it.”

“Tell him, pet, tell him how much you enjoy being degraded like this.”

Mary on camera and live, both stopped, and said the same thing. “I love it. Fuck me, treat my like the whore I am. Take me in the ass, fuck my mouth. Do whatever you want to me and I’ll do it.”

“And…” the man on the screen said.

“And I’ll come.”

He laughed. Mary returned her mouth to my cock. I felt a tear fall and hit my thigh.

“She’s such a slut, isn’t she? And she’s mine. I’m not even there, and she still did what I said, didn’t she?” He laughed again, and then leaned into the camera. He spoke again, conspiratorially, “When I’m not using her, you can have her mouth and ass. I couldn’t bring myself to take her completely away from you. Or you can use this tape to get a complete no- strings-attached divorce from your wife. She won’t even get the house, because she’ll come to be with me. It’s your choice.”

The screen went dead. I sat there, as my wife, his pet, kept sucking on my cock. The VCR played out and rewound, and still I sat there. My wife was a slut, and a whore, and some other man’s pet. She had cheated on me for months, and never said a damn thing. Then she had allowed this– this other person– to alter her body and mind, how could she do such a thing?

My rage built. I grabbed her hair and fucked her mouth, holding her head as I did it, so that she couldn’t move. I could hear her gag as my third orgasm of the day shot down her mouth. I pushed her off my cock, and got onto the bed. She was audibly sobbing now. “What did you expect Mary? Hell, you even like it.”

She sobbed louder, and collapsed on the floor. I curled up in the bed, and went to sleep.

I awoke the next morning, not to my alarm, but to her mouth on my cock. It was a really nice way to wake up, but when I realized what was going on, the memories from the previous night flooded back into me. I pulled away. “What are you doing?” I asked her.

“Master likes me to wake him up this way,” she said. “I thought you might as well.”

“Who is this guy who has done this to you? What have you become?”

“He’s Master.” she said, as if that explained everything. “I am his slut, his slave, his pet. Everything I do, I do for him.”

“Including what you do for me?”

She was silent, and then looked down at the floor.

I put my hands around her face, lifting her eyes to mine. “Mary, Mary, where are you? Where is my wife of these many years? Come back to me.”

“She..she can’t,” came the whispered reply.

“Why not?”

“She’s gone.” I let my hands fall, and her face looked back down at the floor.

“Dammit, Mary. Give up on this. You’re still alive, you still have choices. We can work on this!”

“No, I don’t have any choices.”

“Of course you do, everyone has choices!”

“Not for me. I didn’t choose this. He made me like this. I can’t choose to stop unless he releases me.”

“Nothing is holding, except your own choice.” I railed at her. She just sat there looking at the ground, denying that it was ever any different.

I gave up, showered, and went to work. I tried to shut it out of my mind, but I couldn’t. Finally I decided on a course of action. I had to push her. To force her to back out of this plan. I wasn’t going to let her go, to lose her in body as well as in spirit. Eventually this would pass, and she’d come back to me. She had to.

So I began my program of abuse. I used her, as much as I could. I slapped her face with my cock, fresh from fucking her ass. I took her whenever I felt like. I beat her, I pushed her. I treated her like the object she said she was.

He takes her most weekends, and occasionally for a week at a time, but most of the time, she is with me. And every moment when she is with me, she is
my servant. She cooks, she cleans, she is my sexual slave. And never a word of complaint.

And my secret shame is that I enjoy it.

Had she really asked me many months, years ago to do this for her? Had I ignored it? Or had I just not heard it? Even so, could I have stood what it would have made out of me? What it is making out of me now?

I should let her go. Let her go to him. My wife is long gone, and what remains is someone, something much less. And it lessens me.

But there’s always the hope that she’ll finally come back.

And so I make my choice, every minute of every day.

And, God help me, the sex really is good.