Chapter 2: Not What He Expected

Tana lined up the three men in Steve’s clear view and started on the left. Obviously, she intended to use her mouth for bringing each of them in turn from chubbies to full hard-ons. Horrified, he tried to look away or close his eyes, but it didn’t help as the outrageous display remained fixed in his mind’s eye. The slurping and moaning kept drawing him back to watch his ex-wife’s slobbering.

“I’ve never seen her behave like this. She would only blow me on my birthday and sometimes Christmas, and even that stopped years ago. Tonight’s story explains a lot.

“From having sex several times a week as newlyweds, to a couple of times a month while she was breast-feeding Annie and David, I thought this was typical progression in a marriage. But when they were in grade school, sex dropped off to only a few times a year, and even then, only when I begged her. For the last several years, Tana says now she was getting her rocks off with that guy (and probably more guys) instead of with me.

“We did have a “dead bedroom,” but that wasn’t MY choice. And look at her now! I’m getting hard watching her, but my hands are tied up so I can’t even jerk off. What a bitch!”

Moving from her second cock to her third, she took a moment to look over toward her ex-husband and saw his erection.

“Oh, you like to watch? You (indicating cock number one), go stick your cock in his mouth.”

With an evil smile, the man walked up and stuck Steve with a hunting knife just above the nipple. A trickle of blood dripped down onto his belly.

“No biting, Steve; keep me hard while she finishes with—”

“Stop! No names.” After interrupting him, she named them A, B, and C in order of being sucked. Tana returned to sucking C and also playing with her clit.

Steve suppressed an urge to vomit; it was the first time he had a cock in his mouth. Filled with revulsion, he provided a lackluster blowjob. After being pricked once more near his other nipple, Steve’s technique improved (but not his revulsion).

Two more miserable minutes passed, then Tana switched things up.

“You, A, get the lube from there.” She pointed to Steve’s tormentor, then at the right-side nightstand. Steve realized her big bottle of lube was still there on “her side” of the bed. The second guy, B, pulled the blanket down and placed himself on his back in the center of the bed. His hard-on waved like a slippery flagpole, coated with Tana’s saliva.

At least Steve’s mouth was free now, but he scowled watching his ex-wife straddle the guy and impale herself in one quick and noisy stroke. Worse, she ground herself against him while cooing happily.

The bitter taste of A’s cock was still in his mouth as Steve watched him get behind Tana’s ass and start greasing her up for double penetration.

“Anal, Tana? You never gave ME your ass.”

“Why should I? You’ve always been such a lousy lay, Steve.”

Addressing the lubricator, she told A, “C’mon, I’m ready for you. Ah. Yes! I feel both of you crowded in there. Shit! Fuck me!”

Steve, still trying to spit out the unwelcome taste of cock from his mouth, felt he was in hell. Adding to his misery, Tana’s was obviously writhing and sighing with obvious pleasure. A was banging her ass noisily, and B used his muscles to push up repeatedly against Tana. Steve could barely remember a time when his wife did anything more than lay motionless underneath him. Instead of boredom, he could see her delight as two cocks slid in and out of her—sometimes synchronized and sometimes opposite.

It got worse. The third guy, C, kneeled on the bed beside her head, and she latched on, continuing the series of blowjobs she had started with A. Steve could only moan with anger and frustration, watching his ex-wife thrilled by being penetrated simultaneously by tonight’s three partners.

Back in those days when their kids were small, Tana’s obvious boredom meant it was difficult for him to climax. “Are you done yet?” she would ask, using the same tone as if she were impatiently waiting for him to be done using the toilet. Even more irritating, as pregnancies altered Tana’s body, his attraction to her was peaking at the same time she was losing all interest in sex.

“Sex with me, that is,” he thought, “but she was getting sex from these guys, for sure.”

In Steve’s youth, his sexual feelings started very early, before he was even ten years old. Steve’s mother and father had full-time jobs, so Rosa, his father’s divorced mother, was in charge. She was his abuela (grandmother); all the way through high school she took care of Steve.

Rosa was 53 when he was turning 15 and she still turned heads. There were a few wrinkles, but her high school graduation photo on their wall showed only small changes from the passing years. An American citizen born in Puerto Rico, she was a boricua—with roots from the indigenous peoples of the island.

Slender and shy, Steve came home from the ninth grade one afternoon almost completely covered in mud. Bullies flung him into a deep and slippery mud puddle, and he rung the doorbell and stood sadly (and dripping) on the front porch.

After a brief look, Rosa sent him around to the backyard. Obviously, he couldn’t go inside and get mud on the floors.

“Steve, get that plastic wading pool down and put it on the grass.”

The pool was rigid, not inflatable, and was about five feet in diameter. Meanwhile, she prepared a bucket, a sponge, and the garden hose. Instead of a car wash, she was about to perform a Steve wash. At least being doused with a garden hose was not going to be uncomfortable in the warm afternoon sun.

“Well, go on; take everything off.”

“But, but, you’ll see me.”

“Steven! I bathed you until you were nine. There’s nothing you have down there that I haven’t seen dozens—”

She clapped her hand over her mouth. But her arm was covered with suds from getting everything prepared for washing him. Now her top was all wet.

“Shit. Now I have to undress, too.”

Startled, he watched bug-eyed as she skinned down her slacks and panties, unbuttoned and pulled her polo shirt over her head, and then spun her bra around and unhooked all four of the little hooks.