We had a deal. A compromise, to be more accurate.

A condom. That was the compromise. The condom goes on before the cock goes in. And a deal is a deal, right? It’s like a vow. A promise to do what you said you would do.

The condom was stretched tautly around the thick, veiny shaft. The open end curled up on itself, closer to the root than to the crown, about two-thirds of the way down. The receptacle at the other end was distended, bloated with cum. The breathing coming from above me was ragged, labored, as it should have been given that I’d just sucked the cum from those heavy balls.

I kept working. My soft lips, slightly bruised from our earlier make-out session in the family room downstairs and from the battering they’d taken over the last ten or fifteen minutes, inched their way down the stalk, pausing briefly every few seconds to allow me to catch my breath. The tips of my bright red nails tickled lightly at the flesh of the obscene sac that hung beneath the stalk.

I didn’t realize it at the moment, but my lips were suctioned so fiercely to the invading phallus that I was tugging the condom further down the girthy stalk. When I pulled back, panting softly, a few strings of my own saliva clung to the end of the rubber and stretched off to my lips before snapping and falling to the tops of my breasts. My eyes crossed slightly and I noticed the swirls of sperm beneath the translucent condom, forced back along the shaft as my mouth managed to pull the prophylactic downward.

I moaned softly and placed my hands, palms open and slender fingers splayed, on the strong thighs of the man standing before my kneeling form. The diamonds of my engagement ring and wedding band flashed in the soft light coming from a nearby lamp. “Such an obedient bitch,” he’d said when I first took to my knees.

I reversed the action of my plush lips, drawing that forbidden sperm back toward the receptacle where it belonged. My chest heaved, breasts wobbling and nipples swollen like fat grapes. My slick labia were flowered open, seeping my wetness down my inner thighs. I kept sucking, pausing here and there and pulling all the way off him so that I could check my progress. The receptacle swelled and bulged as the cum found its place again.

I looked up as I swirled my tongue around the pronounced crown. I couldn’t see myself, but I knew what he saw. A suburban housewife paying homage. Taking her place. He surely saw the hunger and the fire in my bright blue eyes. The swell of my breasts. The protrusion of my nipples.

I dropped a hand from a thigh and curled my delicate fingers around the stalk, holding it steady. It was a heavy thing. Not absurdly long, though longer than my husband’s. But it was thick. My lips had struggled with it at first, the battle leaving my lip gloss streaked down the length of it. Thick, God was he thick. Which is what I preferred. Length is nice, the sinful jostling near my cervix. But I’ll take girth any day. Like today.

The shaft held steady, I suckled the head. The cum-swollen receptacle of the condom rolled along my tongue. The heat was intense. Scalding. I played my tongue over it. Then pulled away a little further. I teased the thin rubber with my teeth.

If he was still watching, he saw the fire combust. It was an inferno now.

My teeth sunk into the condom. I bit into it firmly, gaining purchase. I twisted my head a little, dirty blond hair brushing over my shoulders, keeping the rubber in my teeth. Like a dog with a bone. And I wasn’t letting go.

“Sorry ... not sorry,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

I bit harder and snapped my head to the left.

The condom tore. A torrent of scalding cum exploded from its confines. It splattered my lips and my cheeks. It dripped from my chin and splashed down on my breasts, clinging to my engorged nipples.