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From: cwcobblest@aol.com (Cwcobblest)
Subject: Hubby Humiliation Bonanza: "Of Mud and Mist," part two
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"Of Mud and Mist," Part 2 (MmF, wimp husband)
by c.w. cobblestone

The rain has finally stopped tapping on the roof of the car. Everything is
quiet...that eerie quiet that hangs in the air right after a thunderstorm.

Every time the door opens, I crane my neck to see if it's them. It's going on
10:30 now and they're still in the restaurant. This waiting is driving me
crazy! Nothing to read. Nothing to keep my mind occupied. Nothing to do except
sit here and wonder.

Who ever said life was fair? I sure got a shitty deal, didn't I? I gave her
everything I had...every ounce of my love - and she wiped her ass with it. All
I ever wanted was for us to have a happy marriage. But I gave on that dream a
long time ago.

Now I'm just trying to survive.

In the old days, I used to fantasize about coming to Melanie's rescue: I'd save
her from drowning or something, and she would be eternally grateful. We'd live
happily ever after. 

Who ever guessed things would turn out like this?

Betrayal. It's a feeling you can never imagine unless you've had it happen to
you. Most men would have the balls to get out of a situation where they're
being hurt over and over again. I, unfortunately, do not.

Melanie says it's my fault. "If you weren't such a fucking wimp, maybe we could
have a normal relationship," she tells me. 

"Put yourself in my shoes," she says. "On the one hand, you have Ron, who's
sexy, and intelligent, and funny, and successful. And then there's you:
dumpy...uninspired...a complete loser! Now, tell me the truth: who would you
pick if you were me?"

Maybe it is my fault. She is right about one thing: I'm certainly not a very
motivated person. I'm not the kind of guy who wants to go out all the time. I
don't like being around people. All I want to do when I get home from work is
relax and watch a little television. 

That's the exact opposite from Melanie: she hates to sit at home, and she's out
just about every night. If she isn't on a date with Ron, she's having dinner
with a friend or going to a hockey game with her co-workers. I spend many
lonely nights waiting for my wife to come home from yet another evening of
painting the town red.

But weekends are even worse. That's when Ron stays over, usually from Friday
evening until Sunday. To have him walking around our home like he owns the
place is just too much for me to bear...



 

I told you what happened when he came over last Friday night. I made dinner for
Mel and Ron, then I spent the entire meal on my knees with Ron's dick in my
mouth. After dinner, they went off to the bedroom. I could hear the grunts and
the moans and the "Oh, Gods" until 3 in the morning.

They slept in until noon. I spent the morning washing and waxing Ron's Ferrari;
that was his last order before he took Mel off to bed. I had to get up around
six to do it, because I wasn't sure how early they'd wake up. 

A few early-birds drove down our street and looked at me kind of funny. Come to
think of it, I guess it is unusual to see someone out in the driveway washing a
Ferrari at six in the morning! But I'm used to all the funny looks by now.

Because they slept in so late, I was able to get a lot done. By the time
Melanie and Ron started to stir, I'd already washed his car, straightened up
the house, washed and ironed the clothes he wore last night, and had breakfast
cooking.

Bacon and eggs, with toast and jam...orange juice, and slices of fresh
honey-dew melon. I arranged it all neatly on the serving tray, then topped it
off with the morning paper and a nice rose in a crystal vase. I scooped up the
heavy offering and made my way to the bedroom.

"Come in," my wife called in response to my timid knock. Mel was sitting on the
edge of the bed, filing her toenails. Ron was in the adjoining master bathroom
taking that long first piss of the day.

"Good morning, Mistress," I said cheerfully as I set the tray down onto the
king-sized mattress. I wasn't really in a good mood - I never am when Ron stays
over. But I know my mistress doesn't like a sulking slave, so I have to put on
an act...or risk getting the shit beat out of me!

"I hope you both had a good evening," I continued in a cheerful, yet humble
tone of voice. 

Ron sauntered naked into the bedroom, his big dick flopping confidently back
and forth with each step. "Oh, we had a GREAT evening, didn't we, Mel?" he
said.

Melanie had a dreamy look in her eyes. She smiled softly and put her hand to
her breast. "Mmmmmmmmm....last night was out of this world, baaaaby!" She
looked at me and her smile broadened. "Four times, Davy!" she said, twirling
her four fingers right under my nose. "We did it four times last night! Can you
believe it? Four times!! Isn't Ron just the GREATEST?!!?"

"Yes, Mistress," I whispered, trying to avoid eye-contact with the smirking
Ron.

"Alright, that's enough about my prowess in the sack," Ron said as he plopped
down onto the bed. "We all know who the Bone-Master is around here." He looked
over at Melanie. "Since you like my cock so much, little bitch, you can feed me
my breakfast! And be quick about it, slut!" he ordered, only half-joking.

Without a second of hesitation, my wife scooted up to her reclining lover and
began slowly feeding him with a fork. After a few bites, Ron looked over at me.
"You," he said, still chewing his mouthful of food. "Get over here and suck my
toes."

I knelt at the foot of the bed and took Ron's big toe gently between my lips.
While I abased myself at his feet, I managed to sneak a few peeks up at them
every few minutes. Melanie looked like a Geisha girl, sitting on the bed with
her legs tucked up under her, tenderly feeding her lover. 

The look on Ron's face was absolutely sickening. It was obvious he was feeling
awfully pleased with himself! I guess he had reason to be pleased: here he was
in this couple's house, with a stunningly beautiful woman feeding him breakfast
while her husband submissively sucked his toes! Ron had the calm, bemused smirk
of a man who knows he has the world by the tail. It was the look of a true
king!

Ceaser. Nero. Ramses. Henry VIII. No monarch ever felt more regal than Ron did
at that moment!

When they finished eating, they laid back on the bed while I removed the tray
and took it to the kitchen. 

By the time I got back into the bedroom, Ron was on top of my wife, slowly
humping her thigh. Melanie had her face buried in Ron's shoulder, and her
breathing was starting to get heavy.

Mel noticed me first. "Don't just stand there gawking at us, you sorry sack of
shit!" she spat at me just before Ron effortlessly flipped her over and sat her
on his lap. "Get over here and make yourself useful - lick my ass!"

It was difficult to keep my tongue in her butt as she rode Ron's cock up and
down. As her humping grew faster, Mel's ass began to slam into my into my face.


Luckily, it didn't take them long to cum. Melanie thrashed around wildly on his
cock, screaming bloody murder as the orgasm swept through her body. I tried to
keep up, but it was nearly impossible as Ron was holding her by the hips and
moving her up and down on his cock at lightening speed as he loudly enjoyed his
own orgasm.. 

Melanie fell back onto the bed. My mouth followed her butt down to the
mattress.

I continued licking my wife's anus as she nuzzled up to Ron, tenderly stroking
his hair. Feeling playful, Melanie started mewing in Ron's ear, which she knows
tickles him. He laughed and turned his head from side to side, trying to avoid
my wife's darting tongue. 

Meanwhile, down below, I was finding it hard to breathe. Her ass was squished
right up against my face, and I was gasping for air. The gamey smell of their
lovemaking was just inches from my nose, and my chin was starting to get wet
from the cum oozing out of Mel's pussy.

I heard Ron burp loudly, causing Melanie to retreat in semi-mock disgust.
"Grrross!" she complained dramatically, while Ron chuckled lightly to himself,
as if he'd just done something really clever.

Then Ron leaned up on one elbow and looked down at me with an amused
expression. He watched me lick Melanie's ass for a few minutes before turning
back to Mel.

"What do you think, honey?" he asked my wife. "Has our little fag-slave earned
the right to taste my love puddin' this morning?"

"Hmmm...I don't know," Mel replied, placing her finger on her chin, pretending
to be deep in thought. "He's really doing a nice job of lickin' my ass."

"And the breakfast was just scrumptious," Ron added. "The bacon was crispy, the
toast was just right...and the rose was a nice touch!"

Melanie smiled impishly at Ron. "Okay, what the hell," she said. "The little
queer has earned a taste!"

I yelped as I suddenly felt Mel's hand grab my hair by the roots. She swung her
leg across my body and guided my face to her sticky vagina. "Wake up, Davy!
It's Jello Pudding time!" she sang as I began softly licking the globs of semen
from her battered pussy. "Taste the freshness, Davy! That's one hundred percent
protein you're suckin' on down there! Thank Ron for letting you lick it out of
me! Don't be so fucking rude to our guest, Davy!" she hissed as she reached
down and slapped me hard across my eye.

I felt like my throat was full of sandpaper, but I knew I had no choice.
"T-thank y-you, sir...for letting me...lick your cum out of...Mistress
Melanie's...vagina."

Ron said nothing as he relaxed on the pillows with his eyes closed and a dreamy
smile on his lips. He reached down and tenderly patted me on the head.

I slowly lowered my head back to my wife's sloppy pussy. Her tattoo was staring
me right in the face. Earlier this summer, Ron talked Melanie into getting a
tattoo: a little red heart on her upper thigh, just above the bikini line, with
the word, "Animal" engraved in tiny, florid letters. She's talking about
getting another one done on her ass; maybe Ron's initials, she said.

That would be the clincher: my wife running around with another man's initials
tattooed on her ass! Unfortunately, I think she's serious about having it done.

After I licked Melanie's pussy clean, I was sent off to go run a hot shower.
Then, as they enjoyed a long, hot, leisurely shower together, I scurried around
making the bed and straightening up the bedroom. Then I gathered up the dirty
sheets and took them downstairs to be washed...


*     *     *


Nothing yet. For a second, I thought I saw them come out, but it was another
couple. My leg is starting to cramp from sitting in the car for so long, and my
foot is falling asleep. I'm afraid to get out and walk around, because the last
thing Mel told me was to "stay there." 

I don't know if she meant for me to literally sit in the same spot...but I'm
not about to take any chances!

I know it sounds crazy, but I need these chains. Please don't hate me because I
am weak. Have mercy on a broken man's soul.




DON'T BE A DWEE...STAY TUNED FOR PART THREE!!!


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