HIS WIFE’S WONDERFUL COCKS

Dahlia Lovejoy

Colin has sucked his wife’s cock plenty of times—or rather, her cocks. Ananda has a whole collection of them in various sizes and shapes, in materials from glass to wood to silicone. He knows each one’s unique taste, the weight of it on his tongue, how it bumps against the roof of his mouth as she slides in and out. Her biggest is about ten inches long and as wide as a dollar bill. Taking it feels like swallowing an apple whole.

He loves it.

Tonight, the cock she has chosen for him is different. It’s one of flesh and blood, attached to the body of a naked twenty-seven-year-old named Ben with a blindfold around his eyes and a ball gag in his mouth. Colin isn’t usually inclined toward men, but even he can see Ben is gorgeous. His chest and abs are perfectly cut, his legs long and sinewy. Despite the bindings, Ben stands proudly in front of the gauze curtains of the hotel room window, the filtered sunshine forming a halo. Cast in marble, he’d certainly be mistaken for a Greek god.

Well, if it wasn’t for his huge erection. The Greeks tended to prefer their gods flaccid. Which is too bad, because Ben’s hard-on—its thickness and weight—bring balance to his proportions and make him all the more ideal in Colin’s sight. He can see why his wife likes this plaything.

Ananda motions for Colin to kneel in front of Ben. “Do you like the new dildo I brought for you?”

“Yes, Madam.” Colin falls to his knees. He’s been anticipating this moment ever since Ananda started to plan it a few weeks ago. He’s long been curious about how her cock would feel covered by skin instead of silicone, and with a warm, beating pulse at its center.

But he’s been dreading this moment too. He’s never sucked a real live dick before. What if he doesn’t like it? What if he does something wrong? What if he can’t make Ben come? What if he doesn’t want to make Ben come? Ben might be Ananda’s plaything, but he isn’t Ananda.

This is the moment of truth. Ben’s cock stares Colin right in the face, growing harder, expanding like a lung, its veins twitching as blood pumps through them. The skin flushes the way Ananda’s labia do when she’s turned on.

Colin has the urge to lick it.

Huh. Maybe he didn’t need to be so worried after all.

Ananda applies a clamp to Ben’s left nipple and tightens the screw. The slightest moan escapes around the fabric in his mouth. In his blurry near vision, Colin sees the head of Ben’s cock glisten. Colin can smell it, too—the sharp, masculine scent of precome. The scent makes him woozy.

“Are you ready to suck my flesh dildo, sweet? You’re so good with your mouth.”

Colin folds his hands primly behind his back and adjusts his knees on the Berber carpet. “Yes, Madam.”

“Then open up.” Ananda sidles up behind Ben, her pelvis snug to his ass but a little off-kilter so that her curvy hip peeks out past the straight lines of Ben’s waist and thigh. Against the haze of sunlight, Ananda’s and Ben’s bodies blur together; if Colin squints, it looks almost as if Ben’s cock is jutting from between her own thighs. “It’s time for you to show me what you can take.”

She nudges Ben forward and his swollen cockhead brushes against Colin’s lips. The texture is silken and inviting, not so different from Ananda’s mouth when they kiss. So Colin kisses back, closing his lips around Ben’s foreskin, pushing it back gently as Ben begins the slow drive in. It’s not too different from Ananda’s other cocks, just warmer and…saltier. The foreskin feels different, too, in the way it clings to Colin’s touch. It reminds him of the delicate folds of Ananda’s labia. His own cock grows heavy.

Ben grunts something indecipherable but pleasured-sounding. Ananda reaches around Ben’s hips to grab Colin’s hair. “So pretty with your lips around my flesh-dildo, sweet. Ready to take more?”

Colin grunts his assent. She yanks him forward by his hair so the head of Ben’s cock weighs solidly on the center of his tongue. Ananda’s grip grows tighter, sending fine threads of pain through his scalp. “Open wider, sweet. I’m going to fuck your mouth.”

With a quick thrust of her hips, she propels Ben’s pelvis forward. Ben’s crown bumps against Colin’s soft palate, precome barely easing the friction. Ananda thrusts at just the right pace, which means it’s faster than Colin would dare accomplish on his own. His chest prickles with sweat. His cock stands higher, bumping against Ben’s calf.

Ben’s moans become increasingly desperate with each thrust, and when Colin relaxes his throat to let more in, the sound that Ben makes is enough to shake the paint from the walls. Ananda moans too, a forceful, feminine grunt that makes Colin’s cock ache.

There’s an art to deep-throating. It requires intense concentration and complete absence of ego, the willingness to bend and mold one’s muscles to an invading form. Colin must be alert for the smallest signs of resistance and quickly dismantle them. His wife’s satisfaction is paramount.

Colin’s nose is just an inch from Ben’s curly pubes when a familiar scent jolts him from his meditative state. Lilac. It’s Ananda’s favorite body wash, but it’s on Ben’s body, clinging faintly to his skin and hair.

Only it’s not Ben’s skin or Ben’s hair, because Ben belongs to Ananda. Ben’s body is Ananda’s, and so is his cock. In this moment, in this scene, the cock in Colin’s mouth is Ananda’s. Each suck, each lick is for her pleasure.

Colin drives toward the scent, taking the cock’s head deep into his throat until his nose buries in Ben’s—Ananda’s—soft cloud of hair. The lilac scent overwhelms the flavor of Ben’s—Ananda’s—leaking erection.

Ananda withdraws her hands from Colin’s hair, but this alters neither his pace nor the depth to which he takes her cock. Her moans and whimpers are difficult to distinguish from Ben’s.

“You’re enjoying it, aren’t you, my little cocksucker?” she taunts. “You like taking my dick, don’t you?”

Colin’s throat is too stuffed to answer with a moan, much less with a yes. All he can do is show her how much he likes it. He curls his fingers deeper into Ben’s thighs—pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing—driving his wife closer to ecstasy.

The air is heavy with the scent of Ananda’s arousal. She thrusts her hips against Ben’s ass. Colin can feel the reverberations in his teeth.

“I’m going to come.” She pronounces the words like a threat. “I’m going to come down your slutty little throat, and you’re going to take it.”

Ben’s cockhead mushrooms deep in Colin’s throat and hot, slick come bursts forth. It’s bitter and plentiful, and Colin wants to swallow every last drop—this gift from his wife, his Dom, the woman who knows him better than himself and gives him what he needs.