Liar (Part 1)

1.

Amy crept in quietly, hanging her keys on the hook near the door. She closed the door behind her, flipping the deadbolt as silently as she could. Her clothes were wrinkled, the back stained with sweat from her night of dancing with her girlfriends. She kicked her heels off and held them so that the sharp “clack” they made on the tile floor wouldn’t wake me, and tried her best to smooth the fabric of her dress. I watched her from the darkness of the living room. She looked at herself in the mirror in the hallway and, frowning at her smudged lipstick and running mascara, made her way to the bathroom.

For the last few weeks she’d come home a few nights a week  like this, dress ruined and makeup practically falling off. Each night I would watch her appear at the door and then make my way upstairs when she inevitably went to the bathroom to try and clean herself up as best she could. She could never completely rid herself of the signs, usually the smell of cologne would hang in her hair until she could shower the next morning. She thought I was asleep, and thus didn’t notice.

Tonight was different, though. I relieved myself of my seat in the dark and followed her into the bathroom. She had stripped her dress from her body and was washing her face when I appeared behind her. As I observed her, her face in the sink, and her heart-shaped butt pointed in my direction, I couldn’t help but notice the handprints he’d left on each cheek of her firm backside. 

“Wow,” I said out loud. She bolted upright, seeing me behind her in the mirror. “He sure did a number on you tonight, huh Amy?”

Amy stood quietly, thinking of how to respond. I could see the thoughts churning through her head. She wasn’t yet sure if she’d been caught, could she lie her way out? Of course, no, she couldn’t, but she tried anyway.

“What do you mean ‘him,’ Dean, I was out with Gemma and Annie.”

Really?

“I can see the prints he left, Amy, you’re not doing yourself any favors by lying.” There was a time I may have been hurt by her actions. A few years ago the thought of another man fucking my wife would have made my blood boil. But not anymore, the woman I knew back then was a different person. I didn’t recognize the Amy who stood before me, smelling of Generic Scent Pour Homme and marked with the night’s indecencies. This person wasn’t my wife. She still looked like her, her dark brown hair straight and long, and deep brown eyes set a little wider than normal apart. The large lips that I’d enjoyed wrapped hungrily around my cock so many times were the same, the long throat I’d watched bulge around my thickness and wrapped my fingers around in the throes of passion was still there. But the person inside was a shell.

“Babe, what are you talking about? I’ve been dancing all night. I got a little marked up at the club, it’s no big deal.”

No big deal. Mostly I was angry. Our bedroom had been dead for months and she’s out there playing pocket-pussy to someone she doesn’t even know, and I made my peace with that. But I was pissed that she had no job, a freeloader. Back when she was my wife I was happy to provide for her, but now the whole thing put a sour taste in my mouth.

“It’s a big deal,” I started, “It’s a big deal because you’re out fucking some Chad or Brad or John and I’m here paying for the whole thing. You don’t even hide it, you come home smelling like cum and cheap booze and get into bed next to me like everything is normal.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, Dean. I can’t believe you would-” she went silent and turned around, leaning back against the counter, her arms holding her slanted body up, pushing her small, albeit perfectly perked tits toward me. She knew she had been discovered. I took a step closer.

“Get the fuck away from me Dean,” she said.

Her voice wavered and her gaze softened. She had never seen me angry like this. Fuck, neither had I. She hung her head, she was likely still drunk from earlier in the night.

“Was he good?” I asked.

“Better than you.”

Bitch.

“You’re leaving. I need you out by Tuesday.”

“You can’t kick me out, fuckhead, we’re married.” She held up her hand, showing me her ring to prove her point. “And anyway—.” She stalled as I grabbed her hand and pulled the ring off her finger. “What the fuck, man. You really want to do this?”

I left her in the bathroom and went to lay down on the couch, tossing the ring in a coffee mug I had left on the table.

2.

I awoke the next morning to the smell of coffee. A steaming mug had been placed in front of me and the dirty, ring bearing mug from yesterday had been taken from its spot. Amy, freshly showered and looking much more put together than last night, sat on the chaise at the end of the sofa. She had her plaid skirt and a cropped t-shirt on, exposing her midriff. This was unusual. Other than the night before, this was as naked as I had seen her in months.

“Bitch.” I said, reaching for my coffee.

“You can’t kick me out,” she said.

“Why not? It’s my house, they’re my cars, I pay for everything. Why should some whore get access while offering nothing in return?”

“I’m not a whore, Dean.”

“You’re right, whores get paid.” I stood, taking a step to walk out, but Amy took my arm before I could leave.

“Please, Dean, I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“You should have thought about that.”

Amy reached for the drawstring on my sweats. I watched her untie the knot holding them up and she looked up at me while she lowered them. Her hot breath on my unused cock made it swell. She reached her tongue out and licked the head, causing it to jump toward her face.

“If you think sucking me off is going to make me let you stay, you’re obviously still drunk from last night.”

She took my tip into her mouth, running her tongue up and down the slit at the end and sucking softly on the head. Her eyes closed as she swirled her tongue around the quickly thickening knob, her lips spreading wider as my cock swelled. She lifted her top off, releasing me briefly to pull the tee over her head. I took the opportunity and started to turn away but she moved quickly, taking my balls in her hand and squeezing them to make me stay still. She took my prick back into her mouth, licking the drop of precum before swallowing half my swollen member down her throat. Her lips stretched tightly as she tried to swallow more. My cock glistened with her saliva as she pulled it out and took it back in again.

“It’s so thick,” she said, pulling it all the way out to catch her breath. “I can’t take the whole thing anymore.” She returned to the shiny head and took it back into her mouth. Her tongue swirled and licked up and down the shaft while she sucked me. Her hand clamped my balls tightly, making my cock throb at the back of her throat. 

Can’t take the whole thing anymore? I said to myself. We’ll see.

I placed my hand on the back of her head and took a handful of her hair. She moaned on my prick, spit dripping down her chin. I stepped back and pulled her head with me, straightening her throat, and pressed my cock deeper. She coughed, her breath catching in her throat, letting me slide farther..

“If you’re going to take it, you’ll be a good slut and take it deep, understand?” I said, holding her against my pelvis. Amy looked up at me, tears forming in her eyes. I pushed her head down harder and felt my cock clenched in her rippling throat. Spit dripped from her chin and coated my balls as I forced her head down. I felt her nod weakly, her eyes glistened back at me as she ceded control. I lingered for a moment, feeling her neck muscles clench at my prick, before releasing her head.

“You fucking asshole,” she said, taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes. 

I forced her head back down, slowly fucking into her tight throat, reaching around to feel it stretch in my hand. She moaned around my cock as I fucked in and out of her. I pulled her to her knees on the floor, releasing her head. She slurped at my shaft, pulling my balls to get me deeper. Her hand wrapped around my length and started stroking me gently while she lapped and swallowed at my hard prick. I tugged her hard nipples, causing loud moans to escape her mouth.

“If you’re going to stay, you’ll be doing this every day.” I said, short breaths escaping my lips as she milked precum from my shaft. “You’re a free use bitch now.” Amy’s hand started to pump my shaft faster. She sucked in long, deep mouthfuls. She took her hand from my balls and slid it beneath her skirt, where it disappeared briefly before returning, glistening with her wetness. I took her hand and licked it clean. She always tasted like fresh fruit. My balls felt heavy as the pressure built, churning with months of unreleased sperm ready to fill her mouth.

“No more going out late, you’ll be home by eight or I’ll put you on display for the neighborhood, get it?” I asked, rhetorically.

“Yes Dean,” she replied between mouthfuls.

“You’ll call me Sir.”

“Yes, Sir.” She replied, panting. She took me down her throat and felt my balls tighten. I pulled her head down and fucked her throat deep, flooding her with semen, pulling out to shoot the last drops on her face and neck. I wiped my cum from her face with my finger and stuck it in her mouth. She licked the sperm from my finger hungrily, swallowing before releasing me. I pulled my sweats up and re-tied them, turning to leave the room.

“Wait,” she begged from the floor. She pulled the hem of her skirt up to reveal the smooth, shaven folds of her dripping cunt. “What about me?” she said through tears. Her swollen clit peeked out from the top of her glistening lips, and long, silky strands of her wetness dripped to the floor beneath her.

“What about you?” I asked, getting down on one knee in front of her. Her bottom lip trembled. I reached out and cupped her dripping cunt in my hand. She inhaled sharply. I wiped my slickened hand through her hair, gripping it tightly. My other hand reached down and my fingers began to probe her. I pulled her head back, pinning her back to the chaise, her ass sat firmly on her heels. I smacked her wet pussy sharply. “What? What about you, slut?”

“Please, Sir,” she cried, gasping at the rough treatment of her sensitive hole. “I need to cum, please.” Her hips thrust up at my fingers, trying to fuck them deeper. Her moans grew louder as I stretched her tight cunt with my calloused hand. I reached down from her messy hair and gripped her wrists, pinning them behind her head.

“That’s it,” she moaned. “Fuck my little pussy. Fuck it, sir.” her thighs jiggled as she shook, her orgasm building closer, her pussy grasped and tugged and clenched at my fingers, sucking them deeper. I fingered her faster, my palm slapping her swollen clit with every movement.

“Oh shit. Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum, Dean.” Her eyes rolled back and her mouth fell open. Her pussy leaked around my hand as I stroked her cervix. I spit in her open mouth as her orgasm began, and removed my hand from her burning cunt.

“NO!” she screamed. Her hips bucked at the open air, trying desperately to find the fingers that were no longer there. She whimpered as the orgasm that never came subsided. “Please, no, no, no, no, please sir.” Her thighs clenched. She struggled to free her hands, likely to finish herself, but they remained pinned to the sofa.

“Look at me,” I whispered. Her eyes turned to meet my gaze. “You cum when I allow you to.”

“But I–”

“You what? You want to cum? You think I’m going to let you cum? Now?” I gazed into her eyes and she slumped to the floor, defeated. I got up and turned away. “Fucking slut,” I said, mostly to myself.

“What do I do now?” She asked as I walked away.

“Call Annie,” I suggested. “She should come over tonight.” 

-Myistek