The black silk blots out my view. I hear them moving around me, my husband and his bully. They’re getting into position and the game is about to start.
They told me it was an old game they used to play. Blind Submission. I put a blindfold over my eyes and they would take turns pushing the line. All I had to do was figure out which one was my husband, and which was his bully.
I feel their touch on my body, their lips on my lips. I taste them and I sense the difference. One is weak, uncertain, and far too eager to be satisfying. The other is strong, confident, and he knows how to take his time.
To call this a game is laughable. It’s a flimsy excuse to let them press on with their selfish agendas. His bully just wants to have me. My husband? Well I think he just wants to watch.
Like I could ever mistake the firm touch of that handsome bully for my weak and submissive husband. I know who is who, but I’m not going to tell.
Not when I’m having so much fun with the game. Not when my body aches and begs me to keep going. Not when I’ve got the deniability of a blindfold to strip away my barriers and give me the freedom to take what I truly want.
The one thing I know can satisfy me. The one thing I know my husband can never give.
Excerpt
The rhythmic sound of the headboard pounding against the wall from the room next door was unmistakably timed to the pounding that Max was giving to that woman he was with. That stranger.
My wife was fucking me to the beat of his hips.
“You like it?” I heard Max grunt from the other room, “You like my cock up your married cunt? You know I see that ring on your finger, right? You’ve got a man waiting for you at home but you’re here with me. Say you need it. Say that it satisfies you. Say that you fucking love cheating.”
“I love it!” his partner cried out, her voice so desperate that it broke me.
I stared up at my wife as she rode me with her eyes closed. I heard the confession from the room next door, the cheating. I couldn’t hold on any longer.
With a groan, I felt her hand close over my lips. I felt my Hope silence me and keep me from letting them know that I’d lost, that I’d been too weak to hold out.
My cock pulsed and my hips pumped upwards out of my control. So hard that I bucked her off of me and when I fell back down I slipped out of her. My cock slapped against my belly and was pinned there by her hips as she fell back down onto me. It pulsed and throbbed uselessly, the heat of my sticky resolution coating my belly as I moaned into her hand.
I was done. I’d failed to hold out, failed to even ensure that I was inside of her when I came.
I was done, but Hope wasn’t.
She kept her hand clamped over my mouth but her hips didn’t stop, grinding up and down the length of my shaft as her other hand dove between our bodies and played over her clit. I heard her moan from above me as she continued the game.
“Yes Roger it’s so good,” she lied, “Oh god give it to me!”
“Give me more of that cock!” the woman on the other side cried out, “Make me your cheating slut! Make me a whore! Make me cheat! Make me cum!”
“Take it!” he grunted over and over again, “Fucking take it!”
“I WILL!” Hope cried out, and I didn’t know if it was in response.
I heard her cries and I didn’t know who they belonged to. The woman on the other side of the wall who was cheating with my old bully, or the woman I loved who just wished she was.
As I watched her glorious climax, her body stiffen with pleasure as she pumped up and down the length of my shaft without once letting me inside. As I watched her whole body stiffen with a climax so powerful that at the height of it she lost the ability to make any sound at all, I realized that it didn’t matter.
He had made them both cum, my wife without even touching her and that stranger with him buried deep inside of her.
Max had won them both over. He was their fantasy, and it was all happening all over again.
That night I lay with my wife exhausted beside me. I stared at the ceiling listening to Max take his stranger over and over again, making her confess time and again that he was better than her husband. That he would always be better than her husband.
It wasn’t until late in the night that I got any sleep at all, and I knew that I wasn’t alone. Hope lay next to me the whole night, shifting and moving so slowly that she thought I didn’t notice.
But I noticed. I noticed the rhythm of her fingers as they played between her legs. I heard the harsh and ragged breaths as she brought herself to the edge time and again and again just listening to Max’s masterful work.
My wife. My sweet and demure wife. My wife who was shocked by swearing. My wife who wouldn’t go out of the house wearing anything that didn’t cover anything, who wore a one-piece on the beach.
That wife wasn’t next to me that night. She was replaced by someone else, by a woman with needs.
Needs that I could no longer satisfy.