Oscar and Irene Pt. 05

Big Tits

I came as hard as I had in several months, a ball-draining eruption that momentarily caused me to see stars, and took me several moments to recover from. After I caught my breath, I picked up my iPad, and after wiping the remaining traces of my ejaculate from the screen, I looked to see what Irene and Matt were up to.

As I focused my attention on the screen, my wife was on her back, legs wide apart, as Matt knelt between her thighs. They were having some discussion about the logistics of their upcoming sexual encounter, and as I zoned in, I caught the gist of it.

“Matt, please, you don’t need to use a condom,” she implored him, as he held the unwrapped prophylactic in his hand.

“You haven’t had sex in seven years, and I have only been with one man in my entire life. This is about as safe as sex gets!”

“What about Oscar?” Matt countered. “Has he been a good boy?”

My wife let out a loud chortle that she made no attempt to suppress, and responded in a way that must have diminished my stature in her boss’ eyes. It certainly was a kick in the nuts for me to hear.

“That pussy?” she said coldly. “Matt, I love my husband dearly, but to suggest that he has any chance of extra-marital sex is ludicrous,” she said with a giggle. “He barely can contain himself when we fuck.”

To my surprise, Matt seemed concerned that my wife and I even had a sex-life.

“Do you guys still have sex?” he asked, seemingly trying to weigh up whether or not he still wanted to do this.

“Matt, please,” my wife begged. “Let’s fuck.”

“Well, do you?” he insisted to know.

“Occasionally,” she admitted, “but I don’t need it from him, if you want me to cut him off.”

Hearing this, especially right after my orgasm, was tough. All men know that verbal stimulation, while important to facilitate orgasm, can be unwelcome and difficult to hear, after a man achieves release. The fact that my wife was offering to deny me sex, in order to have sex with her boss, was disheartening, to say the least.

“No,” Matt responded magnanimously, “you can still fuck Oscar occasionally. However, if you want me to bareback you, he needs to wear a rubber from now on.”

“Okay,” Irene responded almost immediately, “we have a deal.”

As Matt tossed the condom over his shoulder, and lined his cock up with the entrance to my wife’s pussy, my heart sank. She just traded a lifetime of my pleasure, for a few minutes of hers, with hardly any contemplation. Matt hadn’t been inside a woman in seven years, and as my wife invited him to bareback her, I knew he wouldn’t last long. This was fucked up!

Once Matt slid inside my wife, he remarked on how wet she was. She giggled and whispered something inaudible to me, in his ear. Then they started to fuck. Matt started off slow and deep, his ass-cheeks flexing as I watched him from behind, in the hidden camera. On each downward stroke he got balls-deep inside Irene, and she let out an appreciative moan. Then as he withdrew his erect cock from her, my wife would pull him back inside her, as her dainty manicured hands rested on his muscular ass.

He built up his speed slowly, like a steam engine gathering speed, showing no signs of the premature ejaculation that I was expecting, from a man who hadn’t had any pussy for seven years. He was a very impressive physical specimen, his muscles tensing and flexing under the current demands being placed on his body. As I watched them fuck, and Irene raked her manicured nails across his ass, I noticed the absence of her wedding ring.

Irene had worn the same ring for the entire duration of our marriage. I don’t think she ever took it off, yet now, inexplicably, as she got pounded in the hotel room, it was gone. As I processed this, I wasn’t sure if I was more perturbed by the absence of the wedding ring, or if it would have been more difficult for me to see the symbol of our unity raking across her boss’ ass as he got balls-deep inside her.

My expectations of a quick encounter, were soon proven wrong, and it was Irene who reached climax first, crying out Matt’s name as he relentlessly impaled her. As I watched her toes curl, and she dug her nails deep into the flesh of her boss’ ass-cheeks, I had another disturbing revelation. My wife had evidently faked some of her orgasms with me. Maybe not all of them, but I had never seen her climax with the intensity that she was currently experiencing.

It was like watching a train wreck, disturbing to observe, but impossible to turn away from. To my astonishment, Matt fucked my wife for about thirty minutes before she threw in the towel. She had enjoyed four or five orgasms, and yet he seemed perfectly composed, relaxed even. He stopped thrusting in to her, and even though they remained coupled, it was a welcome break for my wife.

“Jesus Christ, Matt,” Irene said as she gathered her breath. “You are an animal.”

They kissed and chatted amiably as Irene composed herself, and a few minutes later, I heard my wife speak.

“Are you ready to come soon, Matt? I am completely maltepe escort satisfied.”

Matt nodded agreeably, without really committing to anything, and started to slowly make love to her again. After a few moments, he placed his hand under her head to support and cradle her neck, and then in one fluid movement, he rolled over into his back, taking her with him so that she was now straddling him, in the cowboy position.

Irene has always fought me tooth and nail, during our entire marriage, anytime I have suggested different sexual positions, so I was very surprised that she allowed her boss to manhandle her into his new desired position. Once she was on top, she adjusted quickly to the new sensations, and as Matt guided her own hand to her clitoris and encouraged her to touch herself, she ended up coming twice more.

This seemed to satisfy Matt, and shortly after my wife’s last orgasm, he unloaded deep inside her. I thought my wife would hop off immediately after Matt came inside her, but she seemed very comfortable in this new sexual position, and remained on top of him for several moments as they kissed.

I had seen enough and was truly drained by the events of the evening. I grabbed my iPad, and climbed into bed, and was just about to switch it off, when Matt and my wife finally uncoupled. She excused herself to wash her face, and I watched as Matt got up slowly from the bed. He walked towards the closet upon which I had hidden my iPhone, and looked up directly at the lens.

“Hope you enjoyed the show, you cuckold,” he said with a smirk. “See you in the morning.”

I wasn’t sure if Irene was planning to spend the night with Matt, but a few moments later I got my answer as I heard the door to our adjoining rooms open. I pretended to be asleep, but Irene was having nothing of it.

“Wake up, baby,” she whispered, “I am horny.”

Having just witnessed my wife enjoy multiple orgasms at the hands of her sexually experienced boss, Matt, I found it very unlikely that she could still be horny. However, if she wanted to have sex with me, who was I to argue with her.

I let Irene know that I was awake, and she pulled the comforter back, and climbed into bed with me.

“How was work, baby?” I asked, aware that she had no clue what I had witnessed.

“Hectic,” she replied. “Long day. I need you, baby.”

Irene and I started to kiss, and I was hard almost immediately.

“Feels like you are ready to go, baby,” she teased, as she squeezed the tip of my cock.

We made out for a few more moments, and then Irene dropped a bombshell on me.

“Let’s fuck, baby. I need you to get my juices flowing first.”

I knew what my wife needed, and I wasn’t looking forward to it, one bit. Irene grabbed me by my ears and started to force me down. I considered resisting but knew it was futile, so I just followed her lead, and was praying that she had taken a shower after her encounter with Matt.

Unfortunately for me, Matt’s load was freshly deposited inside my wife’s pussy, and because they had spent the last several minutes in the cowboy position, her inner thighs were coated with his ejaculate also. There was just no avoiding his seminal fluids, as I started to orally pleasure her.

“Pleasure her” is a bit of a misnomer, as despite my best efforts, I was unable to bring her anywhere near orgasm, thanks to her boss’ thorough attentions that had rendered her completely and utterly satisfied. After several minutes of oral sex, during which Irene’s breathing remained calm and even, I realized that my tongue between her legs was there for the purpose of clean-up duty, rather than any additional sexual pleasure.

After an extended oral session, I felt like it was my turn to orgasm, and slowly raised myself up, so that we were face to face. My cock was dancing between my legs, the tip of it trying to force its way inside her very wet pussy, without any assistance. Irene grabbed the end of my cock, and brushed it between her labia, giving me a brief taste of just how warm and wet she was.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked, knowing full well that I did not.

“Baby,” I begged, “I have had a vasectomy, why on earth would I need a condom?”

“Well,” she teased, enjoying watching me hang on her every word, “Matt doesn’t want to share me with you anymore. He wanted me to cut you off from all sexual activity with me, however after much begging on my part, he agreed that we can still fuck occasionally, but you have to wear a condom.”

I knew her claims of a protracted begging session were a total fabrication, as I had seen the exchange between the two of them. He had decreed that I would wear a condom during sex with my wife, and she had readily agreed. However, it didn’t benefit me to have that argument with her, so I focused on the task in hand, securing a condom.

“I wonder if I can charge one to the room?” I offered cautiously, not wanting Irene to know that I had witnessed Matt do the same thing.

“No way,” my wife mamak escort responded angrily. “Matt was pissed that you charged a prawn cocktail to his room. He will beat your ass if you try a stunt like that, and try and rub his nose in it. He is generously allowing you the occasional play, but he is not going to be cool with paying for your condom.”

I knew that there was an unused condom on the floor of Matt’s bedroom, carelessly discarded after my wife invited her boss to bareback her. My mind started racing trying to figure out a way for me to get that condom, but Irene was already coming up with plan B.

“Why don’t we get some rest, and in the morning after you buy a condom, we can have sex?” she suggested cheerfully. “It is getting late.”

Irene didn’t even wait for my response, turning her back on me, and in her relaxed, satiated state, falling asleep moments later.

In the morning when I awoke, Irene and Matt were already gone, their work apparently having got in the way of my morning fun. As soon as I was sure that they were not in Matt’s room, I snuck in there to grab my phone. To my horror, it was lying in the middle of Matt’s unmade bed, right in the wet spot that they had created. The home screen indicated that I had three missed calls from Irene. The messages from Irene were very businesslike, so full of instructions that I needed to get a pen, to write them down.

My wife wanted me to take the small pile of clothes that lay next to Matt’s bed to the dry-cleaners, clean up his room, and make his bed. Apparently, they had requested housekeeping to skip their room for the duration of their stay, instead utilizing my services, thinking it an appropriate way for me to earn my keep. Your breakfast is on the table, my wife added.

I wasn’t happy having to make Matt’s bed, particularly knowing exactly how it had got messed up, in the first place. My plan was to pull the sheets and comforter up, and just generally straighten it out, but as soon as I pulled the sheets back, I realized that they needed changing. They were badly stained, with a mixture of semen and Irene’s vaginal secretions, and that asshole had managed to ejaculate on both pillowcases too. After I stripped the bed, I gathered up the dirty linens, and went in search of some clean bedding.

I found Housekeeping two floors down, but immediately encountered a language barrier. We were staying in a very expensive hotel, and the maids were not used to someone changing their own bed. I ended up just putting Matt’s dirty sheets into the hamper, grabbing two pillowcase, and the sheets I needed, and leaving the woman a ten dollar tip in the process.

After I made the bed, I ran their stuff to the hotel dry-cleaners. One pair of previously white, now predominantly light peach Hugo Boss briefs, one white dress-shirt with light peach lipgloss all over both sides of the collar, one set of light peach matching lingerie with assorted stains all over them and one pair of expensive, tailored dress pants, also bearing traces of light-peach lipgloss across the entire crotch region.

I was already very uncomfortable in my role as Matt’s manservant, and wanted as little conversation with the dry clean attendant as possible. However, he looked at me and spoke.

“Having fun in New York?” he asked, having a sly look at the clothes laying on the counter in front of him.

As soon as he picked up the dress shirt and realized that it belonged to a six foot plus tall, athletic male, he realized his mistake, and went silent. As we exchanged an awkward glance, we both understood that any fun that I happened to be having in New York, was not related, in any way, to these soiled items of clothing.

That excruciating episode over, I returned to Matt’s room, the “No Service” tag hanging from the doorknob, a stark reminder that Matt had his own maid service.

There was an individual-size box of cornflakes, a kid-size milk carton, and a banana on the table, which evidently was my breakfast. As I digested the banana, it was not lost on me that it was Matt who could probably have benefited from the potassium and other important minerals that this fruit provides, seeing as how he had engaged in a protracted and energetic fuck-fest with my wife.

After breakfast, I tidied up his room, finding the discarded condom on the floor by his bed. Even though the packaging was gone, the condom definitely hadn’t been used, given that my wife had given her boss the green-light to bare-back her. As soon as I got it over the tip of my penis, I realized that it was the wrong size for me. It was way too big, in both length and girth, dwarfing my erection, and making me dread Irene’s inevitable measuring of Matt’s cock.

The rest of my day was uneventful, although I had some concerns about what Matt would say about my surreptitious recording of his session with my wife. He had removed my phone from its hiding place and left it on his bed, strategically placed in the wet spot that they had created. Surely he intended to confront me ankara ofise gelen escort about it when they returned

Irene was in a very playful mood when she got back to our room.

“Did you buy a condom?” she teased, as she began to remove her suit.

Once she had stripped down to her garter-belt and stockings, she told me to sit on one of the high-backed wooden chairs in the room. She straddled me, grinding her crotch into my erection, as we kissed.

“Are you in the mood for something different?” she asked me seductively, as we dry-humped. “I am ready for my first ever blowjob.”

I would like to say that Irene and I made love in several different positions, before she sucked me off, but the truth is much more humiliating. Irene, while keeping me engaged through promise of sexual delights, stripped me naked, tied me to the high-backed chair, and then tilted the chair back on its rear legs and dragged me into Matt’s room.

I felt very vulnerable as I faced them, naked and bound to the chair. Matt spoke first, his contempt for me palpable.

“Did you get your jollies watching me fuck your wife?” he asked dismissively.

I hung my head, as I remembered the ignominy of jerking off, as he made Irene promise to suck him off.

“There’s our answer, Irene,” he said proudly. “I told you he is a cuckold.”

With that established, Matt moved towards my wife, and began to kiss her tenderly. She responded favorably to his advances, and from my vantage point less than three feet from them, I could see her vaginal secretions begin to appear. They were evident first, at the entrance to her labia and then several minutes later, on her inner thighs. My wife self-lubricated to an extent beyond which I have ever witnessed before, the combination of their undeniable chemistry and his dominance of her.

She was putty in his hands and when he was ready, he rotated her so that they faced each other, a couple of feet in front of me.

“Kneel,” he told her, the command itself a real punch in the gut for me, but her immediate compliance, even more emasculating.

Seventeen years together, sharing a bed, a life, combined dreams and a hopeful future, and Irene hadn’t even come remotely close to giving me oral sex. Now as she knelt before her boss, in her dusty-pink lingerie and matching lipgloss, he undressed slowly, letting me feel the weight of her decision to suck him off. Her wedding ring was back on, although I felt like Matt had engineered this. It probably excited him that a married woman was about to suck him off, in front of her husband, so he had instructed Irene to proudly display her symbol of lifetime unity, as she swallowed another man’s seed.

I knew she was going to swallow his load too, before he even fully disrobed. He had persuaded my wife to promise to suck him off, and even though she may not have fully understood the distinction, this involved the exchange of bodily fluids.

Once he was naked, except for his briefs, he cupped his hand under my wife’s chin, and raised her eyes to meet his. I could see the embarrassment written all over her face. She desperately wanted to please her boss, but she was fighting with her inner voice, as she knelt before him. She was a good girl, and good girls didn’t suck cock. Especially not their boss’ cock.

Matt recognized her inner struggle, and sought to diffuse it. He began to compliment her, telling her how beautiful she was, how accomplished, how much he respected her.

“You don’t need to return the favor if it doesn’t feel right,” he said, choosing his words in such a way to induce guilt in her. “I know you promised me, but if you have changed your mind, that is okay.”

I knew he had convinced her when she extended her manicured hand towards him, and squeezed his cock through his designer briefs. Taking her touch as consent, he stepped forward, closing the gap between them to mere inches. Even though the gap between her lips and his cock had been narrowed, Matt had positioned himself in such a way that my wife still had to reach to take care of him.

Irene flashed me a furtive glance, her look conveying a mixture of shame and lust, as she moved her head slowly towards his crotch. At the last second, she extended her tongue, and licked his shaft in a slow upward motion. It was both lewd, and incredibly sexy at the same time, as my wife of fifteen years, made it apparent that she fully intended to make good on her promise to suck this man off.

Matt was wearing some form-fitting silk briefs, in a very light shade of blue, and as soon as my wife ran her tongue up his shaft, he emitted a glob of pre-cum visible as a darker shade of blue, as it pooled in his underwear. What my wife lacked in skill, she made up for in enthusiasm, and even though I wished it was my cock that she was worshiping, I was very proud of the way she pampered him.

As Matt stood there with his arms behind his back, presumably so that I could view his ripped torso in all its glory, my wife licked, nibbled and sucked his cock through his silk briefs. Once she had teased him to the point that his briefs were soaked with his pre-cum, and she had transferred most of her lipgloss to the front of them, she stuck one of her dainty hands in the waistband of his underwear, and eased them over the tip of his cock.

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