Angie

ANGIE

 

 

By Aaron Oliver

 

 

Six years ago, I was a happily married New Yorker, a 30-year-old advertising executive with a six-figure income.

 

Then I came home a day early from a business trip to Chicago . . .

 

I saw Angie’s blouse lying on the living room floor, her bra on the couch – and I heard sounds from the bedroom.  I walked slowly down the hall, and I heard Angie gasping, the way she usually did with me.  As I neared the doorway to the bedroom, I could see the wall-length, floor-to-ceiling mirror at the opposite end of the room from the bed – and in the mirror I could see a very large naked man fucking my wife.  She was on her back on the bed, her legs wrapped around his hips, and he was slamming in and out of her, again and again, her gasps growing more fevered.

 

Neither knew I was there, and I stopped before I reached the door of the bedroom, watching them in the mirror.  I was stunned, angry – and then I realized something else.  I was getting incredibly turned on.  Watching this other man fucking Angie was giving me an erection!

 

I couldn’t believe it, but I loved the sensation, and my anger disappeared.  I stood there for another minute or two until they both erupted in orgasms, then quietly retreated down the hallway and out of the house.

 

I called half an hour later, told Angie I’d just arrived at the airport and would be home in about 45 minutes.  When I arrived, she was in the kitchen, fully dressed, cooking dinner.  She turned, gave me a big smile and a hug, then told me to relax with a drink until the food was ready.

 

We had an early evening.  I was tired from my trip and she – god knows what she’d been doing.  But by the time we climbed into bed, all I could think about was her being fucked by the other man.

 

Angie crawled into bed with me, leaned over and kissed me on the lips.

 

“Happy to see me?” she whispered.

 

“You don’t know the half of it,” I whispered back.

 

She settled onto the bed next to me and drifted her hand down my chest.  My nipples responded as her fingertips passed over them and her hand paused for a moment, circling them in turn, then continued downward.

 

She found my cock and squeezed it.

”You are glad to see me, aren’t you?” she whispered again, her hand sliding gently up and down my shaft.  I groaned, and she continued to tease me like that for a moment or two, then rose to her knees and straddled my thighs, her gorgeous breasts swinging above me as she moved. She took my cock in both hands, leaned over and began kissing it, enveloping the head with her lips.

 

I nearly came immediately, but she pulled away, started working with her hands again, one on each nipple, then bent forward and began sucking my cock with her lips while her fingers teased my nipples.  My entire body responded and I began thrashing about beneath her.  She wasn’t sucking me firmly enough to bring me off, just enough to keep me panting.

 

Then she shifted position, one of her hands around my shaft, her lips and tongue brushing against one nipple, then the other.  My body continued to thrash.

 

“Oh, yes,” she said softly, “you are very glad to see me, aren’t you?”  I gasped once or twice and muttered something through my clenched teeth.  “What?” she said, raising her head from my nipples and staring into my eyes.  “What did you say?”

 

“I . . . I . . . I . . . saw you!” I managed to groan as my body continued to thrash.

 

“What do you mean, you saw me?” she whispered, her hand never ceasing in its movements on my cock.  I tried to get out the words as desire took over my entire world.  “I . . . I . . . I . . . saw you with him!”

 

She leaned back, sat on my thighs and stared at me – but her hand kept moving.  She took her other hand and cupped my balls, squeezed them a bit.  The moving hand traveled from the base of my cock upwards, flicking deliciously beneath the head each time it arrived, my body nearing an explosion each time it happened.  But she made sure her touch was soft enough to keep me from going over the top.

 

“When?” she whispered, staring at me as her hand worked its magic.  “When did you see us?  Today?”

 

All I could do was grunt, “y . . . ye . . . yes!”

 

“You mean you came here, saw us here?” she whispered and could tell by the way my body responded that I had.

 

“And you liked it?”

 

My entire body rose up off the bed for a moment, but she never let go of me.

 

“My god,” she whispered, still staring at me, “you liked it!”

 

I could see a feral look come into her eyes as she paused and let me go, then rose to her knees and hovered above me.  “You liked it,” she whispered again, and I just stared at her, my entire body trembling.

 

She climbed off the bed and walked around the room for a few moments.  I tried not to move.  She grabbed her robe from the closet and left.

 

I could hear her moving down the hallway and then in the living room and kitchen.  I could hardly think.  My cock was enormous and my nipples like stones.  It felt as if a fire were racing through my entire system.

 

She came back about half an hour later, wrapped in the robe, and sat on the bed next to me.

 

Neither of us spoke for a few moments, then she reached out and laid a hand on my thigh.  My cock bounced, and she looked at it for a moment, then slid her hand over my shaft again.  I groaned, and she looked me in the eyes, her hand idly continuing its movements up and down my cock.

 

“I’ve been fucking other men for more than a year now,” she said quietly, and my cock jerked in her hand.  She let go for a moment, then resumed caressing me.  “I usually wait until you’re out of town – but sometimes I’ve had a lover during the day or when you’re out at a business dinner.”

 

I was groaning by now with desire, my entire body flopping about the bed.  She continued playing with me, just sitting there and watching as I went out of control.  But she never touched me long enough to bring me off.

 

“I’ve been out there in the living room thinking,” she went on in her quiet voice.  “I don’t intend to stop seeing other men” (I groaned again and my cock throbbed visibly) “but if this is the way you react then I’m going to start telling you about them.”  My groans were coming almost constantly now and I was as turned on as I’ve ever been.  “And while I’m telling you about them I want you to bring me off again, every time, maybe more than once.”

 

She let go and I fell back against the bed.  She stood and let the belt of her robe fall open.  I could see her pussy and her breasts emerge, and then the robe fell off her shoulders to the floor.  She was naked again.

 

“Get off the bed,” she said, and I slid off and stood next to her.  She crawled up onto the bed, propped a couple of pillows at the head of the bed, lay down against them and placed another pillow beneath her thighs.  Then she spread her legs far apart and said, “Put your head between my legs and your tongue in my pussy.  I want to tell you about Bart.”

 

I never did cum that night.  As I tongued her to an orgasm, her juices flowing across my face, she described how much she loved to suck Bart’s cock and have him inside her, told me how wet she became just thinking about him and how long he could last before exploding.  And she didn’t stop there.  After her first orgasm she gripped the sides of my head with her thighs and began telling me what it would be like the next time she spent a day with Bart.

 

“He’ll keep me at a fever pitch all day,” she whispered, “and he’ll fuck me four or five times.  The man’s insatiable and he’s always hard, no matter how often he cums.  He’ll fuck me in the kitchen and in the living room and in the hallway and I  the bedroom.  And every time he does I’ll cum like a bomb!”  She erupted again as my tongue and her fantasy merged.

 

God knows how many times she’d been fucked that day.  She finally pushed me away and told me to sleep in the living room, then fell into a deep sleep herself.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

That’s how it began.  Angie began to take more lovers than ever before.  Sometimes I’d be in town, sometimes not.  We sound-proofed the closet and rigged up a two-way mirror on its door.  If I was in town, I’d take off my clothes, stand inside the closet and watch her with her lover of the day, my cock throbbing, then join her after he’d left to lick his juices out of her cunt.  If I was out of town, she’d tell me all the details when I returned and mercilessly tease my cock.

 

It didn’t take more than a couple of weeks for Angie to realize what a rush it was to fuck everybody else and leave her husband high and dry.  Watching me pant and thrash about the bed as she teased me turned her on enormously.  She began insisting I stay hard, that I not explode in her mouth or her hands or her cunt.  She’d fuck another man silly, then tease me endlessly.  Most nights she wouldn’t let me cum at all, just bring me to the brink repeatedly -- and we always finished with me tonguing her to a climax once or twice or three times.

 

I didn’t care.  I was in lust, more than I’d ever believed possible.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

It’s been going on for six years now, and Angie has raised the stakes a number of times.  She discovered early on that if she kept me hard and frustrated, I’d do just about anything she asked, in bed or out.  As the weeks and months passed, she began to turn more and more of the household chores over to me, and eventually she took over the checkbook as well.  These days I simply sign over my paycheck to her – and I don’t really know what she does with the money.

 

My income increased substantially over the years, so Angie eventually quit her job as executive secretary for the CEO of a local manufacturing company, then took him as one of her lovers.  The first time she brought him home she left him in the living room for a few minutes and slid back the door of the closet.  I was waiting there, naked, my cock already erect, and she grinned at me, then told me to put my hands behind my back.  She tied them together with a coil of rope and said “I want to be sure you don’t fondle yourself while I’m fucking George,” then tapped the head of my penis with her palm a few times and left me there, sliding the door shut in front of me.

 

I could see the entire bedroom and it wasn’t long before Angie and George appeared in the doorway.  They were both fully clothed, and George sat on the edge of the bed.  Angie kicked off her high-heeled shoes and knelt in front of him, her back to me, then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, reached in and pulled out his cock.  It was already completely engorged, and very large, and when she dipped her head to lick it my own cock jerked and I groaned aloud.  Fortunately, George couldn’t hear him because of the sound-proofing.  She worked her tongue up and down his cock, freed his balls from his pants and took them one after the other into her mouth, sucking on them.  George leaned back on the bed, so Angie rose higher on her knees and began sucking his cock in earnest.  She took it deep into her mouth and slid her lips up and down its length, her tongue sliding in and out as she did.  George started to thrash about beneath her and I could tell he was close to cuming.  My own cock was bouncing and my breath was coming in short pants.

 

Angie stopped sucking him, stood and raised her skirt.  She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and I could see her gorgeous ass as she crawled up on him and positioned herself above his cock.  When she plunged down on him I nearly erupted!

 

She rode him, softly at first, then harder, and finally took him over the top.  I couldn’t hear them, but I could tell her cried out when he came, more than once.  He arched his back and held it there as his body shuddered – and I nearly collapsed in a frenzy of desire.

 

Angie rode him to the end of his climax, then slid off.  She hadn’t cum yet herself, and I knew she wasn’t finished.

 

She went right back to work on his cock with her hands and her mouth, and it wasn’t long before he was fully engorged again.  Then she pulled off his shoes and pulled his pants onto the floor, leaving him naked from the waist down.  She said something I couldn’t hear and he sat up on the side of the bed, his cock pointing straight toward me.  She unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off, then lifted his t-shirt over his head.

 

He was naked.  She was still fully clothed.

 

But then she stepped back and stood in front him, her back to me, staring at his cock, and slowly undid the belt on her skirt.  When the skirt fell away I fixated on her gorgeous legs.  Her thighs are very strong and she has a perfect tan covering her legs and her ass.  She stood there for a moment, then began unbuttoning her blouse while he stared at her hungrily from in front and I watched from behind, mesmerized.

 

The blouse dropped to the floor.  She wasn’t wearing a bra.  And now she wasn’t wearing anything at all.

 

George stood and moved toward her, grabbed her ass and lifted her into the air, then whirled her around and threw her down on the bed.  He lunged on top of her, drove his cock into her with incredible force, then started slamming himself into her over and over again as she wrapped her legs around him.

 

It took him longer to cum this time and, when he did, Angie went with him . . .

 

But Angie still wasn’t done.  They rested for about five minutes while I tried my best to bring myself off mentally without touching myself.  I knew I couldn’t do it, but it brought me close, and I reveled in the desire that engulfed me.  I kept staring at Angie the whole time, watching her move, gazing at her breasts and her pussy and her thighs.

 

Angie pushed George off her and bent over his cock again.  She knelt between his legs, her ass pointing toward me.  She took his cock in her mouth and at the same time reached both hands toward his nipples and began playing with them.

 

It wasn’t long before he was writhing again, and I thought I would pass out from desire.  He started bucking on the bed and a few moments later erupted again in his third orgasm.

 

Angie never flinched.  She kept her lips locked around his cock and her fingertips brushing his nipples -- and rode him until he slumped backwards onto the bed.

 

They left the bedroom a few minutes later and about half an hour afterwards I heard the front door shut and a car pull away.

 

Angie opened the closet door almost immediately.  She was nude, her breasts glistening, her nipples erect, and a hungry look on her face.  “He fucked me again in the living room,” she whispered, grabbing my cock and pulling me out of the closet.  I almost came right then, but somehow resisted.  She didn’t untie me, just led me to the bed and started playing with my cock and nipples, standing over me while she did, her breasts swinging above me.  She brought me to the brink, over and over again, stopping each time just as I began to thrash uncontrollably around the bed, and finally she pushed me down on my knees by the mattress.  Then she sat in front of me, spread her legs and waited for my tongue.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

That became our regular pattern.  Whether it was her ex-boss or some other lover, she insisted I have the house spotless whenever she brought him home -- and made sure I stayed hidden behind the mirror during his stay.  After he’d leave, she’d summon me into the bedroom, tease me unmercifully, sometimes for an hour or more, then command me to use my tongue to clean her pussy and bring her off again.  She loved to ask me questions while she toyed with me or I sucked on her clit.  “Did you like it when Brad took me from behind?” she’d ask.  Or “what did you think when I took that enormous cock of Jim’s into my mouth?”  Or “how did it feel when Doug slammed me up against the wall and plowed that big cock of his into me over and over again?”

 

As the years passed, she began taking me with her whenever she’d go out clubbing, ordering me to stay by the bar and watch her flirt with other men, dry-hump them on the dance floor.  She’d give me a signal when she was ready and I’d head home.  An hour or so later she’d arrive with whatever man she’d picked up in the club, and I’d be waiting behind the mirror.

 

After a few years she locked me in a chastity belt to keep me from masturbating at work or on the road, releasing me only when she wanted to tease me, which happened almost every night when I was in town, whether she had a lover with her that evening or not.  She’d quiz me about the women in my office and the women I’d see on the street, ask me how much they turned me on, how frustrating it was to be locked in the chastity belt.  It was all part of her teasing.  I’d go days, sometimes two or three weeks, without having an orgasm – and, when she did let me have one, she’d give me just 90 seconds to run all the way down to the half-bath in the basement and jerk off, then get back to her, timing me to make sure I didn’t take a second longer.

 

And her teasing knows no bounds.  If I’m in town on the weekend, she’ll keep me naked and sometimes chained to the wall in the basement until she “needs” me.  She likes to use clothespins on my nipples and balls while I’m chained, leaving them there for hours on a Saturday or Sunday, occasionally flicking them with her fingertips.  And she delights in teasing my cock while I try to cook dinner or vacuum the carpets.  Most weekends I bring her off six or seven times, sometimes with my cock, sometimes with my tongue, sometimes with my fingers.

 

So, here I am, six years later, a happily married New Yorker, a 36-year-old advertising executive with a six-figure income.  I guess you could say nothing much has changed – except for everything!