I first saw this story on Literotica.com. I was intrigued with it and tried to email the author. It appeared as"
Your Wife is Now Our Whore
I told him I liked his story and would like to revise some of it for my own amusement. I told him that he could use it however he wished. I never heard from him; one way or the other. I am tentatively posting this under my own pen name. I hope it is okay.
Since I am not gaining any monetary advantage by posting this, I hope I am doing nothing wrong. If he sees it and asks me to remove it, I will.
If you are interested, please go to Literotica.com and look up the story under his name and title. I do believe they are different and this is not plagiarism. In any event, I am acknowledging that the idea was his.
Conrad would do anything to get invited to the game with the guys he worked with. It wasn't just a matter of the game. Dave, Joe and Danny were the three founding owners of the company. The three had all met during their years playing for the Dallas Cowboys. Joe and Danny were tight ends. Dave had been a nose Guard.
Once they left playing football, they decided to start a company making applications for cell phones. Since their degrees were all in business, they had hired Conrad to write them.
Conrad knew he was in line for a good promotion and stood a chance to be promoted from Associate Partner to Full Partner. He had worked days, nights, and weekends for months on end to meet deadlines and develop new programs. He knew he had made them lots of profit over the last few years.
They had been hinting that they had an extra ticket from one of their good suppliers. They were dugout seats. Conrad knew vaguely what that meant. The dugout was a row of seats right next to the home team dugout just to the outfield side. Access to the seats was through a private suite of party rooms that had their own kitchen, bars, and restraints. The ticketholders could watch the game from just past first base. They could go to the rest rooms or get food and still watch everything on flat screen television.
They had been hinting about going to the big game Saturday, but he didn't have a ticket, and his friends knew it. They gave him a hard time all week, and Friday Conrad just begged them to let him have the one extra ticket they had.
"Alright, we'll give it to you and you can go with us," Dave told him. "But, we've all talked, and if we give you this ticket, you have to do something for us in exchange," Dave demanded.
"I'll do anything," Conrad insisted; knowing that it was much more than just a game involved. It was a chance to hang out with the owners of the company. This was a bonding experience he needed to let them know him better. He was desperate to get to know them on a more personal level. They knew it too.
They were reluctant to admit him into the partnership because it was a lot of money for him, and less for them. On the other hand, he had brought a lot of business into the company. The three men had talked about this situation many times at the bars they went to during "Happy Hour," on Friday afternoons.
"Yes, you will," Dave answered. "There are three of us and you'll have to do three things we ask. No backing out. It's more than just the tickets involved. We are evaluating your performance the last year. This could be part of your annual review."
Conrad agreed and quickly snatched the ticket from Dave.
"That's a contract then and you will honor it?" Dave asked. Joe and Danny smiled big and laughed.
"You don't know what you're in for," they told him with a confident smile.
On Saturday morning, Dave, Joe, and Danny pulled up in Conrad's driveway. Conrad ran out to get in their car. "Not so fast," Dave said. "First I need you to go get the title and the keys to that new shiny black SUV you've been bragging about."
"Why?" Conrad yelled, "I'm not giving you that!"
"Relax," Dave said. "I'm just going to hold the title until you honor your promise to give us the three things we ask for. When you do, you get the title back and keep the car. But if you try to back out, I keep the title, keys, and the car." Dave was firm. He looked straight into Conrad's eyes.
"I'll keep my promise. I'll do whatever you ask me," Conrad went into the house and brought back the title and the keys.
"Sign it!" Dave insisted. Reluctantly, Conrad signed the title and Dave locked it in his glove box.
As they drove to the game, they began to talk about Sandy, Conrad's wife.
"Sandy sure is hot!" Joe said. "How did you get her?"
Conrad smiled, "She loves me and I love her."
"Sandy is beautiful," Danny replied. "I've noticed how her blonde hair bounces as she walks, it bounces just like her big perky tits!"
Conrad was getting a little uncomfortable.
"You're right," Dave responded. "Sandy's perfect hair bounces just above her shoulders, so as to not hide any of the bounce of her perfect tits! And her so smooth, creamy skin, her pouty lips and pretty face, its all great! But I've got to tell you guys, my favorite part of Sandy is her heart shaped, bubble ass!"
Conrad had had enough. "Stop talking about my wife that way!" he spoke out.
"We're not going to do that," Dave replied. "You see the first thing I'm asking you to do for us is to tell us all about Sandy. Undress her for us. Tell us the details of her body, any distinguishing marks, how stiff her nipples get, how good a fuck she is, and what she really likes sexually. Does she suck your cock real good? Does she like it up her ass? Tell us all, big boy, or do I keep the title, keys, and the car?"
Conrad swallowed hard, but began to tell the three men all about Sandy, the first time they had sex, how she quivered when his tongue lapped her pussy lips, how she flooded when he licked her clit without stopping. He told how she only very rarely sucked his cock, and no, she had never taken it up her ass.
Conrad described the light brown almost indistinguishable tattoo. He had taunted her into it. He had made her feel antiquated. He said she was an old fuddy-duddy because he believed most women shaved their vaginas. He had taunted her into it. She was struggling on how far she needed to go to please her husband.
Silently, inwardly he was mystified. She had shaven her pubic hair; it had been done at a very expensive salon. From her slit on down, she was bare. Above the cleft, it had been shaven into a "landing strip" configuration. The middle of it was a bushier curly dark brown. From the center out to the sides, the thickness and length tapered. The edges went from the brown to reddish brown to almost a clear blonde. The hairs on the edges were sparse. On close inspection, there was a tattoo. It was almost the same color as the darker strands of hair. It was the female sign ♀. It could be shown if she were completely shaven, or it could be concealed as it was. But it was more than just the shave and the tattoo. The freshly manicured bush had the smell of fresh lilacs. It was an intoxicating sight.
At first he was embarrassed to start the description. Maybe because of a couple of beers, He was now on the brink of bragging. He wouldn't have volunteered the information on his own. Now, upon being ordered to divulge something, he was intoxicatingly proud of what she had done. "Too bad they would never see such beauty." He thought to himself.
By the time they arrived at the game, all the men were extremely aroused. Dave, Joe, and Danny were smirking; thinking how their plan was falling in place. They all would be fucking Sandy before the day was over; of that they were certain.
All the men enjoyed the game. Dave bought beers and barbeque for everybody. Conrad was living it up, oblivious to the plan his friends had hatched.
At half-time, Joe spoke to Conrad. "Now for our second request," Joe looked Conrad straight in the eye. "Call Sandy and tell her to bathe, do her hair, makeup, and to put on the clothes you had sent to her, what you sent, and nothing more. Tell her that she has a big surprise tonight. Call her now and tell her exactly what I've said." Joe stared at Conrad.
Conrad started to protest but remembered the car title, keys, and possible employee evaluation which could make him a partner. He hadn't sent her anything, and he wondered what Dave had sent her. He knew his friends were up to something, but surely it wouldn't hurt for Sandy to dress up for them.
"You really want me to wear this," Sandy asked Conrad when he called. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am. I sent it to you so please put it on and add nothing to it. Wear just what was sent it. Please, do it for me. I'll explain when I get home." Conrad wanted to be sure he got the title and keys back. "And be ready by seven," he added as Joe whispered to him.
Confident that he had two of the requests already out of the way, Conrad watched the second half of the game a little uneasily.
On the way home, Danny spoke to Conrad. "Now it's time for our last request," Danny told Conrad as they pulled into his driveway. "We are all going inside together and you are going to instruct Sandy that she has a date with the three of us for the rest of tonight. You are also going to tell her that she should show us a very good time. It is a part of your job evaluation; not to mention part of getting your car back. Make sure that she understands to do what we ask of her. Do you understand?" Danny was nervous and tried grinning from ear to ear to hide his anxiety and nervousness. He wasn't sure she would cooperate.
"I can't do that!" Conrad insisted. "She's my wife!"
"I knew he couldn't do it; the little wimp. Open up the garage I'm getting my damn car!" Dave walked toward the garage.
"No! Wait!" Conrad cried out. "I'll tell her. It's only one date," he tried to convince himself. Perhaps psychologically he hadn't faced up to the reality of what those words really meant.
The men all walked in together. Sandy was standing in front of the couch. She had been excited when she picked up the first item. It was a long strand of peals. She put it on and wrapped it around her neck twice. It still hung down half way to her navel. The diamond pendant earrings were magnificent. She had a couple of jade butterfly clips to hold her hair back.
She was a little un-nerved when she saw the clothes, but "what the hell," she thought. If he is going to buy jewelry like this, I can dress up a little risqué for him. Nobody else will know.
She was filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension as she came down the stairs in the gray button-front form-fitting silk dress. The hem came to mid-thigh. There was no way she would have left the house in it or let anybody but her husband see it. It wasn't "tacky," short. If it was, her grace and natural dignity would have made it look like a Vogue Cover Picture. There were no "horizontal" stretch wrinkles. It looked like it had been tailored for her. It was perfect; all except for the last two buttons above the hem. The eyelets were there, but the last two buttons had been cut off. "I can do this once for him." She said as she steeled herself to meet him.
Her matching high-heeled suede boots, which ended just below her knees, were zippered up the side. Her long hours of jogging in the morning enhanced the fit of the dress. Her golden tan seemed to frame the expanse of bare leg between the top of the boots and the end of the dress. When she moved, the dress would part where the buttons were missing; to hint of the treasure above.
It was such a tantalizing dress because the men knew she had no panties underneath. Even if they couldn't see anything the idea that she was naked underneath was electrifying.
It wasn't apparent from looking; but the men knew. They knew that the dark ribbed stockings had a decorative band of elastic that kept them tight on her legs just below her crotch. It was maddening that they knew but couldn't see.
Nobody had said how to do her hair. Sandy fingered the loose curly red hair that dangled down her right side below the fishtail braid that kept it pulled tight against the back of her head. It was unusual for a redhead to have such a tantalizing tan with a sprinkling of freckles.
The top of her sleeveless dress had a low scoop to it. It was just high enough to keep her coral pink nipples from spring out. She had been mortified to wear the thing without a bra. "It's okay," she told herself. "The men will drop Conrad off and they will leave. This dress is just for us."
"Oops; I didn't realize we were going to have company this late." She said; somewhat embarrassed. She kept her hands wrapped around the loose hair down over her right breast. It was a coy way to cover her breasts. She was barely comfortable with the idea of wearing it for her husband. The guests presented an awkward twist. Were they just bringing Conrad home and then leaving? She wondered.
Embarrassed, she turned to go upstairs to change. "No; Sandy; don't leave," Conrad said before she could start up the stairs. He was nervous. "How is this going to play out?" he wondered as he stepped quickly over to stop her from going upstairs.
"Would you men like to have some coffee before you go home?" Conrad asked over his shoulder as he guided his wife into the kitchen. He needed some time to find out how to break things to her.
As Conrad took her to the stove and filled the coffee maker, he whispered: "Sandy, honey, it is very important for you to stay here. Please don't leave. You need to be ... be ... be nice to them. You know they are my bosses. I am sure I am up for a raise. Also, I have foolishly let them talk me into signing over my car if I don't do what they ask. I know I'm an idiot, but I don't think I can back out now."
"They ... they ... they have said that you ... you ... you have to be on a date with them. You ... you ... you have to do what they say or ... or ... I lose the car. Not only that, but I suspect that I may lose my job."
"You asshole. What the fuck do you think I am? Am I your whore? Do you expect me to fuck anybody that give you a chance to look good?" She was ready to pour the hot water on him; pull on his belt, open his pants and pour the hot water down into them. She was furious.
She tried to overlook what she knew. Her husband was probably a genius, but he struggled to hold a job. He had floundered around for a number of years; going from job to job. Everybody was stupid. He always had a better way. For the last few years she had convinced him not to think and to just shut his mouth. "Just do the fucking work and keep your opinions to yourself." She told him. So far it had worked. He had kept this job for several years.
They had saved enough money to get a nice house. Their daughters were now in a private school. Things were pretty good, but he was on thin ice. He needed to keep this job. This was ludicrous; but she needed time to think as she set the coffee and porcelain cups on a silver serving tray. Her mind was spinning as she clip-clopped back to the living room.
She tried to blot out her situation. She tried to blot out of her mind that as her hands held the silver platter, she could not shield what the men were looking at. Her snug dress did nothing to hide the jiggling of her long pink nipples as they jiggled like manometers up and down as she walked. They were clearly marked as they pushed against the thin fabric.
Sandy couldn't help but see what was happening. She could see her nipples flip up and down and she could also see the reflections on the top of the silver tray. She might as well have been televised on the flat screen mounted in the living room. They were not discreet when she came into the room. She was aware of their wanton stare at her outfit as she struggled with her emotions while she placed the cups on the coffee table.
"Here's the coffee." She was not rude, but she was hardly hospitable either. She was hoping they would drink the coffee and leave; the sooner the better.
Conrad looked up at the three men. Dave was tapping his pocket where he held the title and keys. Conrad remembered the lines he had nervously rehearsed before he had walked inside the house.
Finally, in a voice loud enough for everybody to hear he said: "Sandy, I want you to go out on a date with my friends. Show them a good time. Do whatever they ask of you. Please,"
There it was. The words were out. It had not been a dream. It had not been a nightmare that would be over when she woke up. Sandy was red faced. Her hands trembled. Joe took her by one hand as Danny took her other and helped her stand up. As Dave walked past Conrad he handed him the title and keys. "I believe this is yours," he said.
Dave turned to watch as the three men walked Sandy out of the house, "And, I believe this is mine," he said with his hand on Sandy's ass. "Get in and drive; you pussy." Dave said over his shoulder to Conrad.
"Please, Dave; can't you leave him here? You're getting to do what you want. Can't you allow me the dignity of submitting to the three of you without my husband watching? It will kill him." She almost chocked on the words. Dave glared at her. He had the cold stare of an African Servile.
With her husband trailing submissively, the three men walked Sandy to Dave's black 1964 Mustang Convertible. It had been somewhat customized. Although it had originally been a hardtop, the middle section of the top had been cut out; leaving the configuration more like a Porsche Targa, with a hard glass rear window and supporting rear pillars all steel. The paint had also been altered. It was a three-tone scheme. The lower part was a flat, matt black. The colors had been separated in a diagonal pattern; with the main body of it being a urethane black candy; starting just behind the front wheel; going up diagonally to the top of the trunk. The hood, top and trunk were a black/purple (burple) candy. The hood had realistic flames in the same direction as one would have painted stripes. The back trunk had realistic flames running laterally. They were able to write off the entire cost of the car and all custom work as a business expense because they took a number of investors around in it.
Dave opened the driver's door for Conrad to let him drive. He got in. Without bothering with the door, someone lifted her into the back seat. Sandy was trembling, refusing to understand why her husband had told her to go out on a date with these three men and "show them a good time." Sandy preferred to be naive and was somewhat submissive. Dave had suspected as much when she had been at company function. She would be his perfect prey, and her husband was such a wimp. He wouldn't do anything about it.
Dave rode "shotgun." Joe sat behind the driver with Sandy in the middle. Danny jumped into the back next to Sandy. She tried desperately to keep the too-short-dress pulled down as far as she could for her own dignity. Somebody slapped her hands. "Quit that." She heard; probably from Dave. Humiliated, she lowered her hands to her sides and let the dress gap. Once the car started, the cool night wind whipped what little dress she had so that she was pretty uncovered almost to her crotch.
"Unbutton the top a little; hon." The evil leader in the front seat whispered. Sandy refused to acknowledge him. There were cars alongside them. "You can fucking unbutton it yourself or we'll fucking rip it off of you and you can go into the hotel with a whole lot more showing than if you do it yourself."
Sandy was ready to jump, but focused her mind on what might happen to her children's schooling if she and her husband didn't cooperate. Sandy's eyes began to tear up as her trembling hands went to the top of her dress. She pushed the top button through the eyelet. She looked in terror to the men on each side of her to see if that was enough. It wasn't. Both men wagged their heads slowly indicating she wasn't done.
She was shaking so badly, she was almost unable to push the next button through. As she fumbled with the button, she could not avoid looking in the rear view mirror; curious about her husband's reaction. Instead of the indignation she expected to see, it looked more like curiosity. A gust of wind caught the top. It blew gently; but enough to flutter the sides; giving a hint of first one long stemmed coral pink nipple; then the other.
As Dave drove off, Danny had already unzipped Sandy's dress and pulled the top down fully exposing her tits. The two men took their cocks out of their pants and Sandy's hands were placed on their hardening cocks while they enjoyed a feeding frenzy on the young wife's tits.
"Oh, ... fuck ... what a set of fucking tits" Danny said as he sucked in his breath. Conrad glanced up again into the rear view mirror. His shock and outrage was offset by his curiosity. In spite of his outrage, this sudden display of his wife with one of her breasts flickering in and out of view behind the fluttering dress was spectacular. He was getting caught up in the whole scene.
Sara felt arms moving up and over her back; around her neck. She felt one hand of each man beside her softly caress her breasts; running their fingers across her nipples. It felt like a washboard rubbing up and down her Bai Ling type of "saillant" nipples.
Sandy was all too aware of her humiliating display as she sat between the two men like a beauty queen in a parade (in the middle of the back seat of a convertible; on display). Dave turned for a better view to watch as Danny deeply kissed Sandy while he fondled one nipple; sandwiched between the two men. They each had moved Sandy's hands over their cocks and held them there to give her the idea of what she was to do. She knew immediately what was expected. She neither cooperated or resisted; keeping her hands where they had placed them, but refusing to take the initiative in caressing or stimulating them in any way.
She refused to resist their rape, but she sure was resistant to helping them humiliate her.
Conrad could see everything in the mirror. He watched as she tipped her head up and sideways to meet the huge man on her left. It wasn't just a kiss. It was rape. It was an acknowledgement of what was to come. Conrad watched as her head turned incrementally; adjusting to the organ entering and exploring her mouth. He watched as she adjusted her tongue to accommodate his.
Sandy's mouth was open as far as it would go; giving some indication that her other opening would struggle to accept whatever else he chose to insert. To Conrad, it looked like a passionate exchange. To Sandy it was rape. Sandy was not willing. She had resigned herself to not resist.
"My buddy, Danny needs some loving too." Joe whispered in her ear. Sandy shut her eyes and turned her head to her right. She tipped her head up to meet his lips. She made no effort to resist or cooperate. Danny turned his head down to meet hers. He wet his lips and rubbed them across hers. She moved her mouth back and forth slightly to accommodate what she knew he was looking for. When he pulled back enough to wet his lips, she rubbed hers together, in an unconscious effort to accommodate him.
When she felt his tongue searching and probing, she made no effort to keep her lips together. "Give him what he wants," she tried to tell herself. The invading tongue was almost as bad as them rubbing their fingers across her breasts.
"Scoot up." The voce to her left whispered. She turned; confused, not understanding what he meant. Joe had moved his hand from her breast to her butt; underneath her. He was pressuring her to lift her butt. Sandy rose and tucked one leg at a time underneath her. She was now facing Danny but sitting with her butt on her ankles, leaving a few inches between her butt and the seat. "What was that all about?" she wondered somewhat confused.
Soon it was clear. She felt Joe slide his right hand underneath her. His left hand crawled back up to fondle her left breast. Danny now had his left hand wrapped around her neck and his right hand on her right breast. He had his tongue exploring her open mouth.
She was being psychologically rapped almost everywhere possible. "I've got to get through this." She tried to tell herself as she felt Joe's fingers enter one at a time. It was hard to tell what was more humiliating; the fingers entering her from beneath or the knowledge that her husband was watching everything through the mirror.
When Conrad had to slow down and stop the traffic light, a four-wheel drive truck with an enormous lift kit on one side of him, full of men who had also gone to the game couldn't help realize what was going on in the car. They stared when they saw the beautiful Sandy, her long stem coral pink nipple on full display and sandwiched between the two huge savages. Dave had Dannyu turn Sandy so the men in the other cars could see her body. The unbuttoned dress fluttered in the breeze; exposing a nipple ever so briefly. Had they seen what they thought? Yes. Fuck yes. It was a tit. There it was again. Oh, fuck. What was going on? They wondered.
Danny eased his hand away from the breast he was covering. This held her exposed longer than what the wind was doing. "Sheridan Hotel; room 415," Dave yelled out as the light changed. Conrad sped ahead, so as to lose them, wondering whether they would remember the hotel and room number.
He pulled into a park down the road. He had Sandy get out. Everyone was smitten with her beauty and admired her partially exposed body. Sandy tried to maintain what dignity she could by straightening the unbuttoned dress and pulling it around her. The diamond wedding ring shining in the sun, would let anyone who saw her know that she was a married woman.
"Quit holding on to your fucking dress and walk with us," he told her. Sandy did as she was told. The wind felt cool against herexposed body. Her nipples stood at attention as she exposed herself.
"Now, walk to the tree over there," Joe said. Sandy balked. The tree was a long ways off and she was in six inch heels. She soon felt the sting of the men's hands, slapping her ass. They held her there until she was in tears; her hot ass burning from the spanking. "Now do as you're fucking told or next time it will get worse!" Joe threatened.
With two men on each side of her, Sandy began to walk to the tree. She was unsteady due to the heels, but that only served to draw more attention to the young blonde wife. She might have made it un-noticed except for her high heel shoes. The clip clop of her heels and the fact that a beautiful woman was walking just ahead of four men; two on each side made her the center of attention to the casual couples out for a romantic stroll. She was very aware of all the stares, men and women alike, from their vantage points along the way.
The three black men with her admired the bright hand prints they had given her and laughed at her humiliation as she paraded, red assed in front of whoever was looking. Like the men in the truck, they were slow to understand what they saw. "Was that dress unbuttoned? Was she actually naked under that dress? It fluttered just enough in the dark and the street lights and stars put out just enough light for the observers to see but not quite be sure.
An old man, perhaps in his early eighties went there often. He sat on a park bench. About the only excitement he got during the week was to go there at night and watch wistfully at the younger couples out on maybe their first date. It was exciting to him.
Sandy had made it to the tree and had turned to come back. The black men saw the old guy on the park bench. He was by himself. The bench was just beyond the illumination of the sidewalk / pathway lighting. The men could see his feet and knees in the dim light. When they got close, they could see the uncertain glint of his eyes.
"Stop here; Miss Sandy." Sandy stopped. "See that old man?" She nodded. She pulled the sides of her dress closer to her. Up til then, she had managed to just walk quickly past people going in the opposite direction. "I think you need to make his night. Give him the thrill of his life. Give him a night to remember." Dave whispered to her.
Sandy looked into his eyes, hoping this was a wicked joke. "Go sit on his fucking lap or I'll twist your tit till it bleeds." Dave whispered. He pulled an object out of his pocket. It was a Bluetooth. He draped it around her ear. "Can you hear me?" he whispered. Sandy nodded.
The sound of her high heels echoed in her ears as she walked slowly over to the old man. Sandy was trembling uncontrollably. Her knees barely got her there.
"I'm supposed to ... to ... to ... show you a ... a ... a good time." She stuttered. Sandy turned to look back at the men to see if it was just a cruel joke. She could see Dave glaring at her. "Sit on his fucking lap." The words rattled in her head.
Slowly, Sandy walked around to his right side. She held her dress together with her hands and sat down on his lap. He was a frail man. She wasn't sure he could support her weight. She sat with her right side facing the old man so the men she was with couldn't see her face.
"Put your fucking arm around him." She heard in her ear. Sandy almost vomited. She could not hold her dress closed if she moved her right hand up over his neck. She tried to think about what was at stake if she just got up and ran. "I'm doing this to keep our family together." She tried to tell herself. She had no choice and she knew it. "At least we're off the paved path and out of the light." She tried to tell herself as she got up off the old man's lap and sat across his thighs with her right arm around his neck; facing her husband and her three tormenters.
She put her left hand between them, in his lap; trying to get her mind accustomed to the idea of what she had been ordered to do. At first, all she could do was lay her hand there; without any movement.
"Ask him if he would like his dick sucked," she heard Dave's voice through the Bluetooth. Down inside, she must have known it was coming, but she still wasn't ready to hear it. Her husband was standing next to Dave and heard the command. He saw her shoulders shudder imperceptibly. He could see her turn her head towards him a little as she seemed to slowly whisper something to him. He could see the startled look in the old man's eyes. He could see the curiosity in them turn to unbelieving excitement.
He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Sandy got off of his lap and sat on his right side. She kept her right hand wrapped around his neck. She now had her head against him, with her face buried in his chest; unwilling to let any of the men see her tears.
She didn't need to see what she was doing. The men watched in curiosity at the drama unfolding at the edge of the circle of light a few feet from them. The light was dim, but they could see Sandy's right breast with her right arm around him. They could see her left hand tremble as she slowly unbuckled his belt. She did not try to cover herself as the unbuttoned dress fell away, exposing the treasure between her legs as she fumbled with his zipper.
The old man eagerly raised his hips off of the park bench as she tugged his slacks and underwear down past his knees. As private parts go, the old man would not have been too intimidating. It wasn't the size of his cock, it was the fact that Sandy was doing this in public that was so humiliating to her.
She ran her fingers down his abdomen, searching for it. She was determined not to look unless ordered. Her thumb and forefinger made contact. The electricity of their contact sent opposite reactions to the couple.
The frail old man was transforming. Sandy could feel the shriveled little thing in her hands come to life. Slowly it grew; jumping in length an inch or so each time her fingers flinched. It was getting longer and wider; like an unattended fire hose once the water is turned on. She could feel it jump and flail with growing excitement as she rubbed her fingers along the length of him.
She felt the old man move. She felt his hand on the back of her head; forcing her down. "What should she do?" she wondered. Should she get off of the bench from beside him; get down on her knees between his?
Sandy lowered her arm from around his neck. She put her right forearm against his thigh. She turned her body so she faced the side of him. She bend over and put her left hand around it. She had her right leg bent at the knee with her lower leg on the bench and her left leg with her foot on the sidewalk. That left her completely exposed to him. She used her right hand to lever the length of him up towards her face as she slowly leaned down to face it. She put her left hand over the end and slowly, unwillingly massaged the tip with her palm as her fingers draped down over it.
Sandy twirled her left hand around it, massaging the end, hoping with everything in her that he would erupt right away. It was a tactic she had used many times on her husband, trying to avoid the whole incident. Usually she was successful. This time, she knew she did not have her feminine option of saying; "No," or "Not tonight," or "Later." She usually could get by with "If you really loved me, you wouldn't make me do this."
Tonight she knew any uncertainty on her part would bring the cruel voice into her Bluetooth. Sandy looked briefly into the old man's eyes, hoping to see some sign of pity or empathy for her. He had gone too long without a woman's touch; of any kind. He was not about to ameliorate a situation he would never likely encounter again.
She felt the hand on the back of her head. Sandy pulled back. She flipped her head to get her hair behind her. She let go of one hand to help flick it behind her. "Please, I'm begging you. Please don't force me. Please give me a little time to work up to this." She stuttered. It was almost a whisper. The old man was hard of hearing, but wasn't going to push the situation. He smiled.
Sandy looked down at the twisted gnarly member in her hands. She watched the veins bulge and throb. He was back to his days as a young man now. Sandy brushed her fingers almost absent-mindedly along the length of him, stalling for time.
"Do it; God dammit'" she heard over the Bluetooth. She bent over. Her tears fell on the gnarly tip she was fondling. She tried to blot out the noise. She tried to blot out the clip clop of shoes getting closer along the concrete sidewalk. Her heart pounded when the steps did not go past. Her heart pounded when she heard them stop. "What the fuck?" she heard a girl's voice whisper.
Sandy tried to blot out everything in the world. "She was not there. She was not doing this" she tried to tell herself as she lowered her head.
Sandy held the girth of it in her right hand, almost against his abdomen. Her left hand fondled the length of him. She pulled the loose foreskin of the uncircumcised shaft back to reveal the throbbing pink crown.
Sandy looked over at the collection of people just under the street light. She looked uncertainly from Dave to her husband, looking for some last second sign of reprieve. "Get the fuck with it; you cunt." She heard from her tormentor.
Instead of looks of indignation or agony from her husband, she seemed to sense curiosity. She tried to use whatever mental telepathy she had to project a look of "I'm doing this for you."
She was alone as she lowered her head. She closed her eyes and rubbed the tip across her face; across her eyes; across her nose; across her cheeks. She turned her face slowly from side to side and rubbed the tip between her lips. It wasn't the taste that was so objectionable. It was the flash of the cell phones. It was humiliating.
"She keeps stalling; Conrad. Tell your cunt wife to quit fucking stalling. Tell her what the fuck to do. Tell her or we'll have the bystanders get involved too. Would you like to watch that too?"
"Sandy, honey. You've got to get started. P ... p ... put it in ... in ... in your mouth." There he said it. Sandy had not heard the order from Dave to Conrad. All she knew was that her husband was ordering her to suck this cock. This was heaping humiliation on humiliation. It was one thing to be held down and raped. It was quite another for her husband to orchestrate the whole thing.
Sandy almost gagged when she heard the command. She squeezed her fingers around the now slick shaft softly, tugging up on the loose foreskin. She still refused to look at it. Slowly she lowered her head and opened her lips.
"Mmmmmmmm," she heard from the old man as she rubbed her lips over the end. "Ohhhhhhhh," her husband heard as her head moved farther down. She had her lips over the back of his crown now. She felt his hands on the back of her head; on her ears. He softly caressed the sides of her cheeks. He fondled her ears. He was in heaven as much as she was in hell. He did not force her down. He ran the back of his fingers along her face and through her hair. He softly pulled her hair back from the sides of her face over the back of her head.
In some strange psychological battle with her sanity, Sandy seemed determined not to let the whole shaft into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the tip. She tugged and swirled her fingers tightly up his shaft struggling to stimulate him without taking any more in her mouth than she could. It wasn't that far from the tip to the base; it was a mental struggle in her mind to keep what dignity she had left.
She felt the bright flash of more cell phone flashes. "Pleashhhh," she groaned hoping they would quit with the cell phones. "Are you getting all of this?" she heard Dave ask somebody. "Turn your head, honey. We want to see your lips around it." She shook her head violently, refusing to cooperate. "Squeeze her nipples, old man. She'll do what she's told." She heard from either Joe or Danny.
Panic and humiliation washed over her as she felt the old man's fingers searching for her left nipple. He found it. Sandy struggled with her mind to comply. She turned her face towards the men watching. She saw cellphones. She could see the continuous light; indicating that the video portion of them were being used.
"Okay; keep doing it while you are facing us. Hey, old man; can't you reach her cunt?" The old man guided her to lay down more on the picnic bench. She was now trying to lie down along the bench. The old man was slumped back more on the bench so she could lean across him and support herself on her right forearm. Sandy was now totally exposed with her vagina now facing the cameras.