No idea

You had no idea as we had dressed for the evening formal dinner that this was how the evening would end.  In the days of planning, neither had I. But with everything in place, I knew exactly how the evening would pan out. I knew that we would stay for dinner, we'd have champagne and dance a little.  But I also knew that at the end of the night we wouldn't return home alone.  And I knew that what was going to be a pleasure for me, would torment you.  That what would build me, would break you.

You had no idea until you had seen us flirting over the dinner table, a dark haired, younger very handsome man with the most kissable lips. You could tell from the way I looked at them, that I wanted to devour them, to devour him.  You could tell from the way I looked at him and the way he looked at me, that there was a current of electricity, shocks passing across the table which everyone else was oblivious too.

You had no idea where we had gone when I had excused myself from the table to "powder my nose" and you had no idea where he had gone when he had left a short time after.  The bewildered look on your face when we returned together, flushed faces, and a smile on my face.  As I sat down beside you and guided your hand between my legs, you knew.  You knew what had just happened and as I placed my hand on your device I could feel your cock begin to stiffen and I knew that you knew.

You had no idea that he would be coming home with me. With us.  And you had no idea that you would be sat across the room, the same room, while I straddled him, kissed him and lowered myself slowly onto his hardened cock.  And as I took control over his cock, the speed and depth to how he entered me, I could hear and sense your humiliation as I told him how wonderful it was to finally have such a big cock inside of me, to be filled by a real man.  I knew. I knew that you were longing to be him, longing to be in that place, that you weren't jealous of him, but longed to be him.

I knew that your cock would be straining against the device I had locked you in before we had gone out for the evening. After all, I wanted you properly dressed, you looked so handsome in your dinner suit, the bow-tie, it was as much as I could do to keep my hands from you before we had left, I had teased you, tormented you, edged you until you were so aroused and then locked you away.  Laughing at your frustration.

And there you sat, across the room, witnessing him fucking me.  My kissing him, our moans and groans of passionate release as he fucked me harder, deeper, as I rode him.  All the while, you sat there watching us. Watching him. Watching me.  

We were lost in the desires, the lust of the moment, oblivious to your humiliating defeat, oblivious to the strains of your cock.  Oblivious to your burning cheeks of longing, of need, of desire, your broken humiliation as his cock filled me deeply. Oblivious to your own moans as he came deep inside of me.

And you had no idea that soon it would be your turn.  That this would be your moment of even deeper humiliation as I order you to your knees before him, to clean his cock which had moments before been deep inside me.  

And you had no idea that your humiliation would only be complete as you led on your back while I straddled your mouth and ordered you to clean me, to clean me deeply and thoroughly, your tongue recoiling at the taste of him.

And you had no idea as your tongue brought me to a shuddering orgasm that my juices, his juices would flow over your face, your mouth, and your tongue, trickling down the back of your throat causing you to gag. You were broken. Your humiliation marked by us both.

You JoJo. Had no idea.

Talking...(while fucking)

The hunger is restless. 

It is like a thirst that cannot be quenched; a desire that cannot be satisfied.  No amount of masturbation can satiate the feelings that rage within, nothing which can prevent the depraved thoughts from growing in the mind. 

Depraved thoughts of you. Of me. Of many things.  Two, three, more times a day, in light, in darkness and yet it still isn't enough to calm the desire and the hunger that burns in every fibre of my being.  It still leaves me unsated. The desire, the longing, the urgent need still screaming, the hunger still restless.

So I imagine him, fucking me up and down the room, the kind of animalistic fucking where furniture goes flying, as bodies fall from one wall to another; hair pulled, face slapped, bruised, battered, bitten. Forced against the table sending the contents splaying all over the floor. Thrown against the sofa and on to the floor. Frenzied and frenetic fucking all played out before your eyes. 

His voice in my ear, talking while fucking, whispering into my ear of the things he is going to do to me, the things he is going to make you watch while he does them to me. His voice reverberating through my mind, around the room as he tells you what he is going to do to me.

And this does it to me.  It opens me. 

A voice, his words, the sound of the deep and sexy voice that has such an hypnotic effect, it enters into my head and opens me up more to him.  And he is talking and fucking. 

And you are watching still.

And without him touching me further, his words are forceful and strong, commanding and compelling, they are another implement in our pleasure, another tool in a box of so many. They penetrate my body, my mind.

And I come.

To the sound of his voice. To his words.  

And I am fucked, physically, emotionally, verbally.

My body shakes. The dampness of my skin against his from the forceful way he has taken me, he runs a fingernail down my spine, it is wet, I am wet.  And I feel naked, empty, open.

And still you watch.

He whispers into my ear, moving me down to my knees before him.

"Tell me how much you like my cock" He says. His words penetrating into my mind once more, infiltrating into the depths of me.  My own body reacting to the desire and longing from his words.

I kneel before him. His cock is hard, large, thick, I love the way the veins stand out, how it stands perpendicular to his body from where it is so hard from arousal. And as I touch it, while looking at you, I smile.

"I love it . . .I want to suck it and taste it and feel it . . ." I reply, still watching you.

You know how much I like to suck cock and yet you know that it has been so long since I have done so with yours.  And as I lean forward to take his cock in my mouth, my eyes do not break from your gaze.  I can tell that your cock is hard without being able to see it. I know that you are sat there wishing this were your cock being taken into my mouth.  I know that in the depths of your mind that you wish it was your mouth the cock was forcing its way into.  I know you are desiring, lustful, fervent, and that you are invaded by the words, aroused by what you have seen played out before your eyes.

I tease you with my eyes while I tease him, touch him, taste him.

I am taken to a place of ecstasy and surrender.  He grabs my hair, forcing himself deeper into my mouth, his grip on my hair is hard and harsh but it makes me groan from desire and want him all the more.  I am gagging now as he fucks my mouth, my eyes are no longer locked on you, they are locked on this beautiful cock and the body behind it.  And it is fervent and frenzied and it is rough and hard. And there are tears in my eyes and upon my face as he forces himself deep into my mouth and my throat.  And he is fucking me deeper and harder and I am gasping, gagging, choking, struggling for breath. And your breathing is shallow. And in the distance I hear you moan.

His voice unlocks me. Breaking the hold that he has on me.  Taking me away from the place I had drifted to. I do not hear what he says, but know that he has spoken to you.  You are blushing, humiliated at the words that he has thrown at you.  Seeing you there, like that, arouses me deeply.  I feel the hunger rising, the desire building at your discomfort, at your humiliation, yet knowing that will go straight to your cock.  Just as it goes straight to the depths of me.

He pulls me to my feet by my hair.

"Do you know how wet she is?" He asks you.  You nod, your eyes glazed with longing, with your own desire and arousal.

"I am going to turn her around and I am going to slam my cock deep into her. Hard. You love the sound of my balls slapping against her ass, don't you?"

His words, his voice and your reaction goes straight to my cunt. His words alone orchestrating the build up of another orgasm. 

And he pushes me over to the chair, where he fucks me hard, and I hear your moan as I groan at him entering me.  You are sat there watching him, watching his cock, watching me.  And I cannot get enough of him, and I want him to come in me and on me so he is there for longer, so I can feel him long after he has taken me. So you can taste him upon me long after he has gone.  And his words reverberate around inside me, and his cock is pounding into me.

And he is talking and fucking.  And you are watching. And longing. And wishing.

And I come at his words. And I come as he comes.  And as he comes he is still talking. Still fucking. And you’re still watching.

And he talked. And he fucked. And he talked while he fucked.  His voice, his words, echoing around inside the mind as he continues to whisper in my ear.  

And I beckon to you with a glance.  

There is no talking. 

There is no fucking.  

It's your turn now.

Do you remember . . .while he and I fucked?

Do you remember how it felt knowing that you were taking me to him, taking me to the man who I was going to fuck in ways that we didn't, of how it came about from that conversation we'd had sometime before when you told me you wanted to watch me being fucked by another man?

Do you remember how hard your cock was when I told you what I was going to do with him, of what he was going to do with me and that you would be sat outside waiting all the time I was there?

Do you remember how I told you how much I wanted him, how I was going to suck his cock and then how good it would feel when I allowed him to fuck me, feeling him release his cum deep into my cunt.

I do.

Do you remember the journey to his house, the silence in the car, the bubbling intensity of arousal and anticipation building with every passing mile?

Do you remember pulling up and stopping at his house, knowing that in just a short amount of time, I would be in there fucking another man, being fucked by another man that you had driven me to?

Do you remember that moment as I turned around and kissed you hard on the mouth, reaching down and feeling the hardness of your cock before stepping out of the car and walking towards his front door asking you if you were still sure? 

I do.

Do you remember how much you longed to touch yourself while you waited, the ever increasing hardness of your cock straining against your jeans, but the openness of the street preventing you from doing so?

Do you remember how it felt the moment he kissed my neck and his hands reaching into the front of my blouse pinching and twisting my nipples, all the while that my eyes were gazing out of the window at you?

Do you remember the way you looked up to the window and how it felt as you watched us together, my kissing him, taking his cock out of his jeans and boxers and disappearing down out of sight as I knelt before him and took him deep into my throat?

Do you remember that moment as he and I left you sat there, turning away from the window, leaving you to your imagination, to your thoughts, to your visions, to your fantasies as I sucked him . . .as he fucked me?

I do.

Do you remember the smile on my face as the front door opened, as I turned around and kissed him on the mouth before leaving him, just as I had done with you a short time earlier?

Do you remember how your still hard and straining cock felt when I played with you through your trousers, kissing you hard in the mouth as I reached behind for my seatbelt?

Do you remember how you pleaded with me afterwards to know how it had felt to be fucked by another while you were sat outside, of how you wanted to know all of the details of the moments I had just shared with another?

I do.

Do you remember when I told you how it had felt to have his cock deep in my throat, while he had his tongue deep in my cunt and the deepest of groans that had come from your mouth?

Do you remember how I made you stop on the way home so you could bring me to another orgasm, your fingers finding my cunt already wet?

Do you remember how you wanted to fuck me too, for another mans cum to be over your cock, for your own cum to be mixed with his and my own juices?

I do.

Do you remember how it felt to fuck me so soon after another man had done so, of how wet I was, of how aroused you were, of how I whispered into your ear all the things that he had done to me, of all the things that I wanted you to do to me?

Do you remember how I made you lie on the bed and placed my glistening cunt above your mouth, expelling another mans cum mixed with yours, mixed with mine into your mouth? 

Do you remember how I promised you that there would be a next time and that next time you could be there and that you could watch?

Do you remember?

I do.






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