Chapter 2

Maybe he'd been dreaming? Sam knew that what he'd seen in his bedroom yesterday was real but he didn't want to believe it. He spoke to Sally in the morning, wondering if he'd imagined that, too.

"Hee hee. I bet those guys woulda been s'prised if they seen me on your lap. Are you gonna... like... talk about my story some more?"

"We should, Sally. I ought to explain some more about what you can and can't write about. Same time today, OK? It's Friday so I know there won't be any painters today.

He was a masochist. A weak, wimpy masochist. Why else would he have come home again today, at noon?

The apartment that he and Shelly rented belonged to a friend, a somewhat kinky friend. Along with its wall and ceiling mirrors, the master bedroom had a small adjoining hidden cubicle that their friend used to spy on houseguests who would sometimes visit overnight. Not even Shelly knew about it but Sam's friend had told him about it late one night while they were finishing off a bottle of scotch. And Sam had been there, waiting, when his wife and her hugely endowed friend arrived at noon.

"Promise you'll never tell, Rick? I don't want to hurt him." The statement made Sam feel even sicker as he watched his big-titted spouse take of her clothes while Rick Adams stood quietly beside the wide bed.

"It's our secret, baby. Damn, you have great tits," the man said crudely as he stripped his own clothes off. "Get down, Baby. On your knees."

Sam couldn't believe it. His bossy, arrogant wife dropped obediently to her knees in front of the little man and took his dangling, semi-erect tool in her hands, leaning forward and engulfing the bulbous tip with her soft-lipped mouth. He'd never been able to get her to suck him, not even when she was drunk.

"That's the way, Baby. You're a natural born cocksucker." And Sam watched from his little, hidden cubicle as his wife obediently slavered over her lover's huge dong, his own more modest organ swelling in perverse response to his wife's perfidy.

"Don't cum, Rick. Not yet. Not in my mouth," the kneeling woman said softly as she paused from her submissive servicing.

"Tell me what you want, Bitch. Tell me!"

"I want you to fuck me. I want your big, hard cock in my hungry cunt. Fuck me, Rick! Fuck me now!"

"Get on the bed, Bitch! Lie down and spread your legs!"

Like a puppet, the woman climbed onto the bed and lay back, opening her long legs wide as the man knelt over her, between them.

"Damn! You feel good, Shelly," Sam's fellow teacher said appreciatively as he buried his huge cock in the woman's swollen snatch. "Love the way those big tits roll under me."

"Oohhh God, Rick. You're in so deep... in where nobody's ever been before," and Sam felt a sharp pang of jealousy at his wife's admiring comment. More sad than angry, he watched his wife being ploughed by the mammoth fucktool, her legs rising to wrap around the man's hips as she began to undulate in the way Sam knew so well. "Yeah... hurry... yeah... love your big cock," she chanted. "Give it to me!"

It was over, Sam mused, sickened by his wife's treachery, knowing she'd never be his again. He still wanted to fuck her. To feel her big-titted body under him, but it would be like fucking a prostitute. No love. Just sensation. He watched. The man was supporting his upper body away from hers and, with each bruising thrust, Shelly grunted and her big tits flopped loosely.

"Now, Baby. Go down on me!" Rick had suddenly pulled out of Shelly's steamy twat and flopped over on his back. He had his hands on her head, pulling her over above him, forcing her down.

"Nah... Rick... not yet... didn't cum yet," the woman protested but her mouth opened and she engulfed the bulbous, purple knob with her lips. "Don't cum... not in my mouf... don't." Her muffled protest sounded weak and ineffectual and, as the man pushed her head down, she surrendered to his demands.

Sam felt a certain mean satisfaction as the man fucked up into his wife's unwilling maw. She was no longer trying to pull away, however, her head bobbing, little guttural grunts sounding from her when the long shaft bumped the entrance of her throat. He heard the man's moan of satisfaction and Shelly's choking gurgle that confirmed the final betrayal as she let him discharge his semen into her mouth.

"Rick... oh God... I never did that before," Shelly said meekly as, after several wet, slurpy swallows, she raised her head from the man's groin. A trickle of creamy gism escaped her mouth as she whimpered, "Can you? Like? Finish me, too?"

"Gotta go Baby... tomorrow, maybe. Damn, you're good!"

The man pulled on his clothes while his naked companion sprawled on the bed, tears of frustration or something trickling down her cheeks. "There won't be another time, Rick. I never appreciated how good a man I have until today. He'd never be as thoughtless as you."

"Hah! I bet that by tomorrow you're going to want to have the big one again. Bitches like you need it."

Sam watched as the man left the bedroom and Shelly sat weeping disconsolately on the edge of the bed. He waited until his unfaithful and dispirited wife finally dressed and went back to her library job. He took no joy from her obvious unhappiness and, in fact, the erection he'd grown while watching her being fucked remained uncharacteristically hard until she was gone. With no class in the afternoon, Sam showered and put on a pair of lightweight jogging shorts and a t-shirt before returning to his office.

By the time Sally knocked on his office door, ten minutes or so earlier than the assigned time, Sam knew what he was going to do. His balls ached from his earlier unwilled arousal and it had been more than a week since his last wet dream - and more than three months since his last successful coupling with Shelly. No wonder she'd gone somewhere else for satisfaction. But his pretty, thirteen year old student was not innocent, despite her youth, and he had spent the afternoon scheming about how he'd get her. The scheming, as it turned out, was unnecessary.

"Didja like my essay OK, Mr. Slade? I mean... like... 'cept for the other stuff you gotta tell me 'bout?"

"Yes, Sally, you wrote a very good essay. The best in the whole class," Sam lied. It was, in fact, quite well written and she'd told him a lot without quite being explicit. "But you're right. We have to talk about what you wrote."

"Oh thank you, Mr. Slade," and the shapely, little teen put her arms around her teacher's waist and hugged him. "I'm glad you liked it." As she hugged the big man, Sally felt warm all over from is compliment. He was so nice, nicer even than Uncle Ben. She wanted to make him happy, too.

"Now, Sally, one of the things you say that you probably should leave out is where you wrote 'I swallow his cream and she don't.' You started to tell me more the other day but maybe now you can tell me everything."

"Uh... like... I... like... you know?" The girl looked even cuter than usual as she blushed. "Like... I kiss him... his... his cock. But I didn't write that. He said we had to keep that part secret. But he said it was OK if... like... if I said the words out loud when it was just us to hear? Is it, Mr. Slade? I mean, like, is it OK if I use words like... like cock when I tell you."

"Sure, Sally... say anything to me that you do to Uncle Ben." Sam sat down in his chair then to hide his growing erection. God. He was getting better. He'd had more erections in the last two days than in the previous three months. Of course it's an underaged girl and a cheating wife that's causing them, he mused ruefully.

"Can I? Like? Can I sit on your lap while I tell you, Mr. Slade?" Did he want her to do stuff for him, too? Would that make him happy? Without waiting for an answer, the thirteen-year-old climbed onto her teacher's lap and felt right away the hard bulge in his crotch. Yes. He would like it. He wanted her to do stuff.