Oscar and Irene Pt. 12
"Matt said bring our trash in with you." she instructed me, as she turned her back on the open window, and disappeared back into the room.
I wasn't sure what he meant by "our trash," but as I looked around the impeccably groomed gardens of the wedding venue, the only things that looked out of place were the smoldering cigarette butt, and Matt's used condom. I stubbed the cigarette out first, before picking it up. Then turning my attention to the used prophylactic that hung tenuously from the branch, I reached tentatively for it, grabbing it about two thirds of the way down its length, so that its milky-white contents remained within.
Carrying it at arm's length, as if were toxic, I couldn't help but notice that the exterior of the condom was wet too. My heart sank, as I realized that it was Kiki's vaginal secretions that had soaked the outer surface of the Magnum condom.
I entered the Summer House with my head hanging low, a combination of fear and embarrassment washing over me, as I carried the cigarette butt and the used condom. Matt had withdrawn from my wife, and had grabbed a towel for modesty, although it did little to conceal his erection. Irene was laying on her back on the bed, making no attempt to conceal her frustration at having their encounter interrupted. She hadn't adjusted her position since Matt abruptly withdrew from her, and as she lay there with her legs open, the evidence of her desire was on display.
Her freshly shaved pussy was slick with her juices, the vaginal secretions coating her inner thighs and running down her ass-crack. Her labia were puffy and extended, stretched wide apart as they had been, to accommodate his considerable girth. As my eyes moved slowly up my wife's naked body, I came across her erect nipples, a further indication that Matt had heightened her arousal. Her face was reddened, though not with shame, as would be expected as she lay there offering herself to another man, but rather with lust. As we made eye-contact she looked furious with me for interrupting her between orgasms, and I immediately looked away.
"If you want to watch us fuck, Oscar, all you have to do is ask," Matt said disdainfully. "We are more than happy to oblige, aren't we Irene."
"Whatever you want, Matt," she responded submissively, repeating her new favorite phrase.
"Put the cigarette butt in the trash, lay the condom on the kitchen counter, and strip," Matt said commandingly, looking directly at me to see if I had any fight left in me.
I knew better than to resist him, and began to disrobe. Once I was down to my underpants, my wet spot was impossible to miss, and Kiki let out a delighted giggle.
"Someone is leaking," she said, as she put one hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter.
"How long were you out there, hiding in the bushes like a cuckold?" Matt asked angrily. "Did you like what you saw?"
I shuffled uneasily, unable to formulate a response under the circumstances.
"Matt," Irene said quietly, coming to my defense. "Leave Oscar alone. Let's finish what we started, baby. I am so horny."
"Make him watch, Matt," Kiki said, seemingly enjoying my capitulation to this man. "I want you to fuck Irene in front of her husband."
Matt, emboldened by the pleas of the two women, dropped his towel, and started to walk towards Irene. As he got to the end of the bed, he turned back over his shoulder to me.
"Get naked cuckold. Kneel by the side of the bed," he ordered me as he climbed on to the bed.
Kiki watched intently as I lowered my briefs to the ground. They were wet with my semen, and my pubic area was also matted with my seminal fluids.
"Did he come in his pants from watching you guys?" she asked incredulously. "What a pussy."
Once I was kneeling, Matt reentered my wife's wet pussy, her appreciative moans starting the second he was balls-deep. Kiki, in an attempt to demonstrate her willingness to fulfill this man's every desire, knelt between his legs, lowered her head and began to rim him.
As I watched on forlornly, Matt fucked my wife for several minutes, as Kiki lovingly ate his ass. He ended up bringing Irene to four stupendous orgasms before he finally threw his head back, cried out in pleasure, and erupted deep inside her. I knew he wasn't wearing a condom, and I watched on silently as he thrust deep inside her, filling her with his seed. To my surprise he withdrew his massive cock, and shot a thick rope of cum across her shaved pussy, as if to mark it as his own. Matt grabbed the tip of his cock, pointed it towards Irene, and blew his last cum-shot across her stomach and breasts. After he was done with his very impressive orgasm, Matt rose slowly from the bed, his erection standing proudly between his legs.
Kiki took one look at the mess he had made of my wife, and cried out enthusiastically,
"Yeah, Matt, way to mark your territory."
Matt smirked and turned his attention to my wife.
"How long has it been for Little Boy, Irene?" he asked my wife, as Kiki looked on giggling.
"Two weeks," my wife said proudly, completely unaware of my recent encounter with Daphne. "As you can tell by the wet spot in his undies, he is ready to blow his load. I think you should let my hubby have his fun now, Matt."
"Ok, stud, you are up," Matt said with a chuckle. "Irene, make sure he wears a condom."
Irene turned on her side and reached for the box of Magnum condoms that were on the bedside table. She tossed one in my general direction, in stark contrast to the way that Irene and Kiki had helped Matt, rolling the prophylactic down his shaft in a team effort.
"I want him to wear my condom," Matt said, which elicited another giggle from Kiki.
I flashed him a look of disapproval, and he spoke to assuage my concerns.
"I get tested for STIs regularly," he assured me. "Besides I don't think you can catch anything from sharing a condom," he added, as if this form of subjugation was perfectly normal.
"Unless you make him eat the contents," Kiki added. "That I would love to watch, Matt."
I knew that no-one else in the room was going to volunteer to handle that sullied condom, so I walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed it. My hands were shaking from a combination of humiliation and rage as I opened the end of the condom. I would have been experiencing severe performance anxiety just from the prospect of having to perform at such short notice. However, under the pressure of having Kiki and Matt as an audience, and still in my refractory period, having just recently blown my load in my briefs, I had no hope of getting an erection, and entering my wife.
"Let me help you with that, Oscar," Kiki offered, to my surprise.
The young Asian knelt before me, and immediately began to taunt me.
"This gives new meaning to the word sloppy seconds," she teased, "reusing Matt's soiled condom. Are you even able to get it up?" she continued mercilessly. "I will blow you if you think that will help."
I did at least get a semi-erection, at the thought of Kiki's lips on my penis. Between the two of us, we managed to get the condom onto my cock, the over-sized XL rubber, dwarfing my semi-erect member. I noticed two distinct shades of lipgloss on the shaft of the Magnum. Kiki noticed too, touching her dainty fingertips on the traces of the hot pink one.
"That's my lipgloss," she said proudly. "And the peach one is your wife's."
In addition to bearing the telltale signs of his two-girl blowjob, the condom was also stretched from having encased Matt's impressive member, and it hung two or three inches below the tip of mine.
It had been several minutes since he had fucked Kiki, and Matt's load had cooled to room temperature by now, and was starting to congeal. The tip of my cock was immersed in his seed, another reminder that he always came first. The three of them watched on in amusement as I shuffled forward towards my wife, as she lay on the bed with her legs wide open, and Matt's ejaculate splattered across her pussy, stomach and breasts. I knelt between her thighs, and without any offer of assistance from my wife, I lowered myself on top of her, hoping that the combination of her well-lubricated pussy, and my small cock, would enable me to slip right inside her.
The last few times that I had made love to my wife had been sloppy seconds, so I wasn't unusually disgusted by the prospect. However, wearing her lover's used condom added another layer of humiliation to the act, and I struggled to remain erect.
Irene typically waited at least an hour after Matt's last orgasm, before inviting me to hop on. This allowed any residual of Matt's semen to dry on her labia and inner thighs, leaving only the copious load inside her, which actually served as an excellent lubricant. Now as I lowered myself on to her, I felt his semen squish against my pelvic region, stomach and chest, which served as a very potent reminder that he had been here just before me.
Irene was very patient as I wriggled around on top of her, trying to get hard enough to enter her.
"Come on Oscar, you can do it baby," she whispered, encouraging me to get erect. "I love you, baby. Make love to me, sweetheart."
Unfortunately for me, it was just not to be. Being in my mid-forties, I just wasn't capable of getting a second erection, so soon after my orgasm with Daphne. Eventually I gave up, and as I got back on my knees, with Matt's semen visible across most of my front, he spoke commandingly.
"If you are not up to the challenge, Oscar, why don't we get cleaned up?" he instructed.
Matt stepped around my wife and I, knelt on the bed by her head, and lowered his cock to her lips. My eyes widened as I saw her lift her head slightly, extend her tongue, and start to lick their combined juices from his shaft.
"Clean Irene up, Oscar," Matt said firmly, leaving no room for discussion.
I tentatively lowered my head to Irene's breasts, and began to lap up Matt's ejaculate, as he taunted me.
"I think I know why Oscar couldn't get it up, Irene," he informed her. "Too much sex. I want you to cut him back to once a month from now on. Maybe he will appreciate the gift I am giving him more, if he has to wait thirty days between orgasms."
This was fucking ridiculous. I was horny all the time as it was, having to endure fourteen days between releases. One month was far too long for a healthy man in his mid-forties to go, and I contemplated speaking up to resist him. However, it was my wife who broke the uneasy silence, seemingly completely in agreement with his new directive.
"Whatever you want, Matt. Once a month it is."
Once my wife's breasts were clean, Matt put his huge hand on the top of my head, forcing me towards my wife's soiled pussy. As I licked his semen from her stomach and pelvic region, I felt him get up off the bed. I caught him in my periphery vision as he started to leave the room, and noticed that he had a fresh condom in his hand. Matt apparently was not hindered by an excessively long refractory period, and as he passed me he made it clear that he was ready to go again.
"Kiki, let's hit the shower," he said cheerfully. "We have some unfinished business."
Kiki followed Matt obediently to the shower, and moments later I heard the water running. They took an extended shower, and judging by her vocals, Matt managed to get the young Asian to come again. Hearing her cry out in ecstasy got my juices flowing, and finally after enough time had elapsed between my orgasm with Daphne, I got hard.
Irene reacted favorably as she noticed my erection, and she stroked me tenderly as she offered me some release.
"You can come if you want to, Oscar," my wife offered generously, "just be quick about it and don't make a lot of noise. I don't want to make Matt jealous. He already thinks you get way too much sex."
Less than three minutes later, as Kiki's cries of pleasure reverberated around the shower room, I exploded in silence into the over-sized Magnum condom. My puny load was barely noticeable, as it joined Matt's copious ejaculation in the tip of the condom that we had shared.
Irene laid there impassively, one hand resting on my lower back, as I wriggled around on top of her trying to prolong my release. Immediately after I stopped, she pushed me from her, and went to join her boss in the shower. I took that as my cue to leave, dressing hurriedly, trying to get out of there before Matt followed Kiki's suggestion, and made me eat the contents of the condom. My soiled briefs were still wet from my encounter with Daphne, a stark reminder of that pathetic rendezvous. As I slinked out of the Summer House, leaving with the same amount of humility that I had entered, I could hear laughter and merriment coming from the bathroom, accompanied by the occasional slapping sound as Matt left his mark on the two girls.
Matt followed through on his threat to cut my orgasms back to once a month. It was extremely difficult for me to endure thirty days between releases, and Irene enjoyed the way I pampered her, in the hopes of her cutting me some slack, the way she had done in the Summer House.
I was much more conscious of the calendar, often counting down the days to my upcoming orgasm. Of course, with such an extended period between my permitted orgasms, my staying power was reduced significantly, and I often blew my load within seconds of entering my wife.
Just as Irene had predicted, Matt did start to tire of her, and as she became more and more desperate to keep him in her life, she became more willing to accommodate his increasingly depraved requests. They booked into the Mandarin Oriental for a long weekend on our next anniversary, and Irene finally gave her boss the gift of her anal cherry. Shortly after that, despite a very specific warning from Daphne, Matt threw Irene in as a bonus, in order to close a lucrative deal for her boss.
She ended up sucking two guys off in the conference room at Matt's work, after they had reached a stalemate in negotiations, and Matt offered to "sweeten the pot." As my wife relayed the story, it was only her quick thinking and claims of being on her period, that prevented them from having penetrative sex with her. I think Irene knew that the writing was on the wall for her and Matt, when her boss hired a new administrative assistant, who began to travel with him exclusively, instead of Irene and Daphne.
We rarely hear from Matt anymore, although Irene continues to torture herself by obsessing over his social media accounts, which offer a look inside his love life, in excruciating detail. In fact, it had been about a year since her last dalliance with him, that long weekend in the Mandarin Oriental for our wedding anniversary, when he finally texted her. I think he had been let down by another woman at the last moment, because he was booked into a luxurious suite at the "W" Hotel in Barcelona, and he needed Irene there immediately.
Despite my pleas, Irene dropped everything to accommodate her former boss, and ended up staying with him for the entire weekend. Apparently, Daphne was invited too, because on the second day Irene sent me a text saying that the two women were going to get matching tattoos, to celebrate their renewed relationship with Matt. I begged her not to do it, and luckily I prevailed, as upon her return I scanned her entire body for ink-work as we showered together, coming up with nothing to report.
Irene did cut me off from sex though for almost six weeks, although she gave me the occasional hand-job. When I pressed her for the reason, she was evasive, and I figured that her obligations to Matt and his business associates had caught up with her, and she had acquired a sexually transmitted infection.
As it turned out, after a brief but humiliating conversation with Alfred, I learned that Daphne was also out of commission for six weeks, which confirmed my suspicion of an STI. Imagine my surprise then, when six weeks after she returned from her weekend at the "W" Hotel, Irene invited me to go down on her, as she relaxed in our sunroom.
It was a gloriously sunny day, typical of Barcelona for this time of year, and as I lowered my lips to her shaved pussy, Irene whispered quietly.
"I love you Oscar, I always will. I am so sorry for the liberties I allowed Matt to take with me. Please forgive me."
As I contemplated the timing of her apology, I noticed a blue tinge running along the side of her labia. I parted the entrance to her pussy for a closer look, and I noticed that she had indeed got a tattoo. At first I was relieved, as it dawned on me that Irene's six week convalescence was due to her recovery from the tattoo, rather than an STI.
However, as I moved closer to inspect the inscription, the words "Matt's pussy," leapt out at me, the final kick in the nuts from that asshole, particularly as we never heard from him again.
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