Cock Fight 1.1 (Revised)

by

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Coercion, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Slut Wife, Cuckold, Rough, Humiliation, Masturbation, Cream Pie, Size, Hairy, Big Breasts, Violent, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: The original version of this story drew some of the lowest scores and harshest comments I've ever received. Instead of deleting the original and writing it off, I decided to do a rewrite. If you read the first story, please read this one and let me know if it's any better, or if the whole concept just sucks rocks.

My wife, Kimber, has the body of a porn-star. She's a five-foot-two natural blonde and has a figure that makes men drool like wolves over a kill. The problem is, she has a libido to match. I thought she might cool-down some after we were married, but that didn't happen. If anything, she got worse. I didn't mind the sex three to four times a day. Hell, I knew what I was getting when I proposed to her. I had to because we were having sex at the time. I just blurted-out "Marry me!" instead of the more traditional "I'm cumming!" Her answer was "Yes!", which I wasn't totally sure was an answer to the question. Later, we got it sorted-out during one of those "Did you mean what you said when..." conversations, and she was just as emphatic without the orgasmic accompaniment.

For the next ten months things were great and got greater. But then work at the plant picked-up and they told us we had to start putting in regular overtime while they figured out if they were going to have enough orders to justify adding a second shift.

In the morning it was OK. I usually woke with a raging hard-on that I could put to good use. Or she could, since she liked being on top so much. Bedtime was fine, as long as she didn't take too long getting off, which sometimes meant not getting to sleep until after midnight. It was coming home after a long shift that was tough. Mind you, most guys would love it if once in a while their wives met them at the door wearing something sexy and sheer with 'that look' in their eyes, but those guys aren't having to satisfy an insatiable and impatient sex-kitten like Kimber. I came home to that every day. No pressure there!

The extra hours every day were wearing me down and I was having to put her off more and more often lately. This wasn't sitting well with Kimber, who felt that three times a day was her absolute minimum and anything less was depriving her of something she needed and craved.

She wasn't kind about it either. She could act so spoiled at times! I knew it was just her hormones talking, but it still stung.

"What's the matter Tommy?" She'd whine. "Been jerking-off too much at work again? Not enough left for me? A real man wouldn't leave me all hot and frustrated. Maybe I should see if Boris is doing anything. I know he has wanted to fuck me since the first time you brought him over. Maybe tonight's the night I let him do it. I think he'll be able to get it up for me."

Bringing up Boris was her version of the Nuclear Option. We'd traded fantasies one night and I had unwisely told her that one of my nastier ones was about her doing it with a guy who was seriously hung. A description that unfortunately matched my Army buddy, Boris Gorski. Boris had been to dinner at our house a few times. She knew him better than most of my other buddies. That is, well-enough to do some serious flirting with him in front of me. So his name was the one she used whenever she wanted to push my cuckold button – without understanding exactly why it worked so well. The thing I'd never told her was: When Boris and I had been on our last deployment, I'd got a good look at his johnson when he got out of the shower and was drying-off in front of me. My dick is above average, but Boris had a good three inches on me, and was much thicker. I didn't know what that thing looked looked like when it was hard, but I could imagine. And more than once, I'd imagined Kimber, on her back, squirming wildly while Boris shoved his big dong into her, going deeper than I ever could. That was the part of that fantasy I swore to take to my grave.

One day I came home after working even later than usual and my ass was really dragging. Kimber was on the living room sofa, naked. She had her feet braced on the edge of the coffee table with her knees splayed apart. Her back was arched, making her breasts ride up so her nipples pointed at the ceiling One arm was around her back, reaching down between her legs, where she was busily fucking herself with a blue dildo I didn't even know she owned.

"Sorry I'm late, honey." I told her, offering an apology I strongly suspected would do me no good.

"That's all right," she said huskily, tugging on a rosy nipple with one hand while the other continued to run the plastic rod in and out. "If you're not going to be here to take care of my needs, I guess I'll have to do it myself."

No threats, no sarcasm, no escalation, not even an attempt to goad me into making the effort. Just a dismissal. I should have been worried, but I was too tired to be anything but grateful that we weren't going to argue. I hauled my carcass off to bed and crashed.

In the morning, things seemed back to normal. I woke with Kimber straddling me as she lowered herself onto my morning-wood.

"Good morning," I said.

There was no response. She just slid down my shaft, all oak-hard, seven-plus inches of it. I lay there appreciating the show, watching her gyrate and listening to her moan as she rode me, thinking that if she was going to treat my dick as just another dildo, then I should be grateful that it was my dick and not someone else's – like maybe Boris.

Once she'd climaxed, she collapsed onto my chest, her double-D breasts mashed between us, her stiff nipples digging into my skin and my hard dick still inside her. I put my hands on her back, stroking her until her ragged breathing began to return to normal, then slid my hands down to cup her butt.

Pulling her cheeks apart, I reached in and lightly touched her asshole with my finger. As usual, this made everything clench, including her pussy. I took advantage of this reflex, pushing into her so I could savor the way her pussy got so tight around the base of my dick. That gave me the last little big of stimulation to make my dick grow that last half-inch and make the veins on my dick stand-up.

Kimber moaned and opened her legs wider, encouraging me to use my now corrugated eight-inch shaft on her.

I did, rocking my hips so I was fucking her, going slow at first, then faster and faster as she responded. Typically for her, it only took a couple of minutes to bring her off a second time.

I was still rock-hard and a long way from cumming. I figured this was my best shot at making-up to her for the night before, so I kept going while she was still in the throes of orgasm, doing my best to prolong it, but also selfishly thinking if I could wear her out, she might just go back to sleep. Then I could get out of the house without our usual long, clingy good-bye.

My strategy failed. Even though she was still shaking from her latest climax, Kimber struggled to pull herself up and off of my thrusting member.

"None of that, now!" she scolded me, clearly seeing through my plan. She slid back down my body until she was astride my thighs, then moved forward until my cock was against her belly and her hot crotch was resting on my balls. Then she reached down and wrapped her hand around my slick cock.

"I promised Lauren I'd hang out with her today," she told me, "I told her I'd be there early, but since you're so horny this morning, I suppose I can help you out for a few minutes. I'll make you cum ... just not in me. I don't want to be all gooey down there in case Lauren wants to go down on me. She says she doesn't like licking cum out of my pussy. She told me she thinks that should be your job. She's got a point, you know. You always want me to swallow when I suck you off. Maybe I should make it a rule that if you cum in me, then you have to lick my pussy clean again."

I declined to dignify Lauren's suggestion with a response. I'd never tasted my own cum and I never intended to.

Kimber took a firm grip on my dick and tugged on it. She rode her hips up until her clit was pressed against the underside of my dick, then she started bucking against it while pulling on my stiff dick.

She came quickly doing that, and her climax set me off too. Unfortunately, Kimber had such a strong grip on my dick that instead of my cum shooting up into her cleavage, it jetted out, the white stream flying up between her tits and scoring a bullseye on her left nostril.

"Damn you! You did that on purpose!" She screamed, utterly ignoring the improbability of me actually managing to pull that off – even if I'd tried, as well as the fact that she was the one responsible for mis-aiming my dick.

She jumped out of bed with a cum-booger dangling out of her nose, and fled to the bathroom, where I heard her blow her nose. When she came back, her anger had faded a bit, but not enough to appreciate the humor in the situation. I, on the other hand, found it impossible to hide the fact that I found it funny as hell.

"Don't you dare laugh at me! Don't you dare!" That she merely shouted and not shrieked told me that she was more embarrassed than mad.

Then she stamped her foot. It was adorable and damn sexy at the same time. Sexy because Kimber can't really be anything but. Even more than usual because stamping her foot made her tits jiggle, something she made worse by pulling her shoulders back and putting her fists on her hips.

I thought that seeing that her jiggles had cured my giggles might help her get over being mad at me, but it wasn't to be. She marched off into our walk-in closet. When she came out, she'd pulled on an old shrunken-cotton work-shirt of mine that she'd taken to wearing instead of a robe. It came down far enough to be decent, but just barely. Normally she left it unbuttoned, but pulled closed enough to protect her tits while she was cooking. If someone came to the door, she did-up a couple of buttons. This made her very popular with teen boys selling band-candy. Less so with the Jehovah's Witnesses.

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