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- This story is part of the Flash of Desire Tournament
- It competes against Private Teddybear's Second Deployment in the SF
- Theme: Odd One Out
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The night was safe, predictable, and controlled. The Wife, the Boss, and a coworker Friend. A good meal, courtesy of the Boss. A shared bottle of Scotch, furnished by my Friend. And my Wife played hostess at the Boss’s private lair.
What could go wrong?
Once I downed my first drink, everything went sideways. Standing turned me into a reeling, weak-kneed mess, wobbling this way and that, and I crashed into a plush chair. Wife was dancing for us. Wearing a slutty dress, she danced about for them.
It was the kind of outfit that didn’t ask for attention—it demanded it. A single crimson strap crossed Wife’s left shoulder, the other bare, while it plunged to her tits, which drew the eye downward. The material clung to her like a second skin, a stretchy cotton but unforgiving in its fit, leaving no curve to the imagination.
The back was all but absent—an expanse of jet-black flesh interrupted by the thin band of cloth at her waist. It ended a tad past her hips, with two subtle side slits that revealed glimpses of her round ass with every movement.
Clothing designed for dark rooms and pulsing music, for nights where boundaries blurred, and caution was left at the coat check. Either knowingly or unknowingly, she provoked them.
Boss hooted at her, encouraging her, while Friend catcalled. And both of them refilled my glass every time I emptied it.
“Too much woman for you,” Boss said.
“I’ve always wanted to fuck your cunt, whore of a wife,” Friend said, filling my tumbler.
“You know,” Boss said, “the two of us should teach you, nasty bride, a lesson.”
And for some strange reason, I agreed that the two of them should teach her a lesson.
Boss was first, backhanding my Wife of three months; she crashed to the floor, whimpering and confused. Unzipping his pants, he fished out the biggest, palest prick I’d ever seen. The monster twitched, semi-erect, girthy, and swelling with each blow against Wife’s ebony cheeks.
Taking a fistful of curly hair, he dragged her to her knees and to his crotch.
“Get to work,” Boss said.
“Please don’t,” Wife said, and Boss’s palm smacked her cheek while he held her hair. Making the slap a harder impact. That was the last word she spoke that night.
She went to sucking and jacking the beast with both her tiny hands. The crimson of her dress bunched around her hips, the single shoulder strap slipping down her dark arm. A smooth curve of brown skin glistening under the dim light, the high side slits doing nothing to preserve her modesty in this position.
Friend moved behind her, hauled her to her knees, and pushed the cloth up. Snatching the white lace, French cut panties off her ass. The ripping of the material caused my dick to stiffen. They were going to rape her, and there was no one to stop it.
Wife’s small frame made their size all the more obscene. The thick shaft in her hands, almost comical in its massiveness, touching her delicate sable fingers; veins traced angry paths along its length, the head flushed and heavy. She worked him with both hands, stroking from base to tip where her mouth couldn’t reach, her full lips stretched around the crown.
“That’s it, knew you were a natural-born cock hound.” Boss released his hold, and by now, Friend was naked and thrusting into her tight pussy.
The contrast was stark—her dark skin alongside his pale thickness, the soft black coils of her hair brushing his thighs as she took him deeper. The Friend fuck her ass so hard, it sent waves across her ass cheeks. Her throat worked, accepting inch after inch of that monster dick until her nose pressed into his stomach. All the while, Friend’s prick invaded further into her holy of holies.
The muscles of her neck flexed as she held Boss, eyes watering, mascara running down her face.
When she pulled back, gasping, a string of saliva connected her swollen lips to his slick shaft. Friend pounded her, ripping the slits on her dress to expose all her naked flesh. She gazed up at him through wet lashes, the dress’s plunging V-neck offering a view of her heaving chest. The expression on her face shocked me.
Glancing over her shoulder, she grunted every time Friend bottomed out.
With that, Wife dove back down, eager, hungry, taking him into the wet heat of her mouth again and again, the soft fabric of her club attire rustling with every bob of her head. Reaching down, Boss took hold of the strap and ripped the remnants from her, tossing them to me.
“Go ahead and jerk off, loser, odd one out, it’s all you get tonight.”
“Unless you want to suck another load out of me,” Friend said. That’s when I noticed how massive his was, much larger than Boss’s. Jerking his prick for a minute, he leered at me, plunged back inside Wife, and grunted as he dumped the first load into her.
Boss exploded across her face, and the two men switched positions.
That was a month ago; they drugged me, raped Wife taking her away from me. Through the week, every night, she jacks me off, tells me how much better they fuck than me. On the weekends, they fuck her while I watch. Whacking off into a destroyed dress, a voyeur to Wife’s degradation.
The thing I got out of this mess was a promotion to vice president of acquisitions and mergers. It’s an easy job; Wife’s the only acquisition they merge with.
