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From: anthony anthony <tonytony3@juno.com>
Subject: {ASSM} tonytony3's "Transformation <revised>" 2/3, a wife watching 
Date: Tue, 15 Feb 2000 21:10:03 -0500
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He opened the bag he brought with him,  
and pulled out two Stouts. "I hope you  
don't mind."  
  
She took one of the beers, and just as it  
was being opened our front door bell rang.  
I got on a robe - yes, I was naked on our  
bed, watching channel 30 - to find the  
pizza guy there.  
  
"It must be my tenant who ordered that," I  
said, pointing him toward the path around  
to the apartment.  
  
I was back in the bedroom in time to see  
Joseph paying for the pizza, and  
apologizing to the delivery man. "Yeah",  
the guy was saying, "it's only after 9 and I  
think your landlord was already in bed. I  
must have disturbed him."  
  
'Betty' can be wicked, sometimes. She  
went to the phone, and dialed our number!  
  
"Mr. Barnes, it's Betty downstairs." she  
said to me. "I'm sorry about the pizza  
delivery confusion. The delivery guy didn't  
disturb you, did he?"  
  
I made some noises in the phone, and she,  
turned, smiling, towards the HAVC vents  
so that Joseph couldn't see, stuck her  
tongue out at me, and hung up!  
  
They were soon sitting on the sofa, beer,  
pizza, and napkins occupying them.  
  
"Some date, huh, Betty?"   
  
"Joseph, it's different, and kind of fun. I'm  
glad you came."  
  
Their conversation meandered as slices  
were eaten.  
  
"Joseph, tell me more about being married  
three times. What happened? Did you  
choose wrong wives, or did you cheat, or  
did they, or what?"   
  
He paused for a while. "It's not easy to talk  
about, I don't like screwing up. My shrink  
told me I'm like a lot of other cops. When  
you run around with a gun all day,  
expecting people to obey you, you get to  
be control freaks. That carried over to my  
marriages - I'm OK for a while, but then  
want to control everything! What about  
you?"  
  
"My marriage was all right," Tina/Betty  
said, "I'll tell you about it, but tell me more  
about this control thing."  
  
"Control!" went though my mind like a bolt.  
"Convents control everything! That  
explains a lot, even about her dealing with  
the flooding thing. She likes being  
controlled!"  
  
Joseph was talking: "Sometimes I wanted  
to control everything. Sometimes I even  
handcuffed my last wife. I was having fun,  
but after a while she didn't like it. It's hard  
to explain. . . tell me about your story for a  
while."  
  
"OK. My marriage was OK, I thought, but   
my husband just wasn't happy with me  
sexually. He was the only guy I ever had  
sex with, and, you know, I just didn't know  
how to please him."  
  
"He must have been a jerk."  
  
"No, he really isn't. It's just that, like, all of  
my life I thought sex was making love. He  
wanted it just be sex sometimes. Not  
making love, with all of the inner stuff that  
goes on, just having physical pleasure."  
  
"Nothing wrong with that."  
  
"I don't know how to be that way."  
  
"You should try it sometime. Let your hair  
down, it can be fun. You been dating a lot  
since you  split?"  
  
"No. I just couldn't get my courage up.  
Joseph, you're the first guy I dated since I  
moved into this apartment."  
  
"Oh. I didn't realize that.  I guess that's an  
honor.  Are you scared getting out in the  
world again?"  
  
"Yeah, and since I'm going to be moving  
back to Pennsylvania next week  I didn't  
want to start anything here. But then I  
figured out a couple of  nights out would  
be fun."  
  
Joseph nodded, the story made sense to  
him.  
  
By now the pizza was gone.  
  
She wandered over to his equipment belt.  
"What all do you carry?"  
  
"You can see the pistol - it's a 9 millimeter  
automatic. We carry a baton" - he showed  
her that - "pepper spray, a couple sets of  
'cuffs. . ."  
  
"More than one set?"  
  
"Yeah. The department issues one set, but  
most of us buy extras. Bad guys come in  
pairs, sometime."  
  
"Do you use cuffs on women, too?"  
  
"Oh yeah - department regulations.  
Women are dangerous, too."  
  
"What's it like to be handcuffed?"  
  
"Well, you're pretty helpless, unless you've  
had a lot of experience wearing them.  
They're not all that bad, I guess. Want to  
try them on?"  
  
"Are you serious?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Show me!"  
  
"OK". In an instant he had her hands  
cuffed behind her back. "See, you aren't  
much of a threat to me when you have  
these one,  but it's not uncomfortable, is  
it?"  
  
"No. . . I do feel helpless, though."  
  
"Well, in that case. . ." he turned her to  
him, embraced her, and kissed her -  
quickly, but firmly. He then turned her  
again, and had the cuffs released in an  
instant.  
  
"Uh!" she said - "do you do that to all the  
women you handcuff?"  
  
"I don't think I could get away with that.  
You said you felt helpless, and it's that  
control thing. I have to be careful about  
that."  
  
He went to sit on the sofa - she went to the  
wall light switch, turned it off, so the  
lighting was just from a table lamp - more  
than enough for my sensitive cameras, but  
more romantic.  
  
"Here it comes" I thought/hoped.  
  
He sat beside her, got an arm around her,  
turned her face towards his, and a kiss  
started.  
  
She just didn't respond - she sat there, her  
arms at her sides.  
  
"Maybe I shouldn't have done that - not  
then, and not before," he almost  
apologized.  
  
"No. No, I liked it. Joseph, I'm just scared.  
You're the first guy I kissed, since, you  
know. . ."  
  
"You're really up tight about me being  
here, aren't you? If you're not having fun I  
should go."  
  
"No, it's not that. Look, this dating is all  
new to me. I don't know how it's supposed  
to go. . ."  
  
"I do. It's supposed to be fun. Like, like,  
well, eating pizza or something. Like, well,  
handcuffing you. Man, in the old days, if I  
had a prisoner like you. . ."  
  
She interrupted - "You liked cuffing me?"  
  
"Sure. Like I told you,  I like being in  
control."  
  
"Uh. . .I kind of liked feeling helpless, and  
NOT being in control."  
  
Joseph is a smart cop. He picked up that  
idea right away. "Some people do like stuff   
like that."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Look. Some of us like being in control,  
some people are more comfortable when  
they're being dominated - it means they're  
not really responsible for what happens, I  
guess."  
  
"You know a lot about that stuff, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, like I said I played games like that  
with my last wife a few times - it's a big  
turn on for me. It was fun for her, too."  
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
"I don't like talking about ex wives, OK? I'll  
tell you a little bit. We did it like this. I'd be  
in charge. I did whatever I wanted - what I  
think would be fun for me, and for her.  But  
- and this is very important - if I started to  
go too far she  just had to say a magic  
word - we used 'Herman' - and I had to  
stop, right then, and put things right, like  
taking off the handcuffs, and everything.  
No questions, no pleading. The cuffs or  
whatever come off, I stopped what I was  
doing, period. Simple, huh?"  
  
"You could do anything you want!?"  
  
"Right up until she said  'Herman'. That's  
right."  
  
"What kind of things did you do?"  
  
"Uh - well, sexy things."  
  
"I guess I knew that. But what,  
specifically?"  
  
"Come on, Betty, this is embarrassing. I  
hardly know you."  
  
"Joseph, I don't know anything about stuff  
like that. Please tell me."  
  
"OK. Like, sometimes we would act out a  
rape or something. Or, I'd handcuff her  
and undress her and we'd have sex. Or,  
like in real life, I'd be a cop. . ."  
  
"That's not so bad. What else? What's the  
worst thing you ever did with her?"  
  
"Come on, Betty. . ."  
  
"No, tell me. I'm really interested."  
  
"She really got turned on by guns."  
  
"Oh. I was raised in Pennsylvania, I like  
them, too."  
  
"No, that's not what I mean. Like, once,  
well, I unloaded my nine millimeter, and we  
played touching games and stuff, that's  
all."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Like, she liked to feel it on her neck,  
things like that."  
  
I could see Tina's body language. This  
was getting to her!  
  
"Joseph - did you only touch her neck with  
it?"  
  
"Uh - no."  
  
"What else did you touch?"  
  
"Damn it, it was foreplay!"  
  
"Her breasts?"  
  
"Yeah, sure, her breasts."  
  
"And more?"  
  
"Yeah, more, we used it like a sex toy: it  
was foreplay, damn it! I don't want to talk  
about her any more, OK?"  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"OK," she agreed. "No more talk about  
that. There's a couple of cans of beer left.  
Let's open them."  
  
She got up, did that, got the CD player  
running, and sat next to Joseph, each with  
a beer. The room was quiet for a moment.  
  
"I guess I understand about wanting to be  
in control."  
  
"I don't want to talk about that any more!"  
  
"I didn't mean to talk about her. It's just that  
that's so new to me.  Joseph, do you  
always follow the rules, like the Herman  
rule, when you play?"  
  
"Absolutely! If I didn't, and I was playing  
with someone who wasn't my wife, I could  
be accused of anything. I'd be in a whole  
world of trouble. Like, if I had someone  
handcuffed, they could accuse me of false  
arrest, or kidnapping, or rape, or anything.  
I'd lose everything, I could even go to jail."  
  
"So you have to trust whoever you're  
controlling - trust her a lot, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, but she has to trust me, too."  
  
'Betty' drank from her can. So did he.  
  
I thought I knew where this was going.   
She asked again, "If you were playing, all  
the person would have to do is say  
'Herman", right?  It's that simple?"  
  
"Yeah, why do you keep asking? But yeah,  
Herman stops everything." Joseph was  
looking at her, questioningly. "You never  
did bondage or submission, things like  
that, did you?"  
  
"A long time ago, submission, yes, but it  
was a religious thing, not a sexual one. I've  
always been inhibited sexually."  
  
"Submission takes sexuality out of your  
hands, you give yourself completely to  
your master - at least that's what the boss  
is called."  
  
"Oh."  
  
You want to try it, don't you?"  
  
"If I did, would  you stop if I say Herman?"   
  
How obvious, I thought - it IS flooding!  
  
"Ahhh. Yes. If you want to play, it'll be  
great! I NEVER played with someone I  
didn't know really well already, and I hardly  
know you. Jesus! Do you want to?"  
  
Small voice - "I do."  
  
Joseph stood up, and looked at the woman  
he knew as Betty.  
  
His voice changed temper - it got lower,  
almost threatening.  
  
"Stand up, Miss!"  
  
She did.  
  
"Put your arms behind you."  
  
She did.  
  
He turned her around -  I could hear a click  
- and she was handcuffed again.  
  
"I'm gonna love this!" he said.  
  
"Don't hurt me. . ."  
  
"It's not about hurting. It's about stuff like  
this."  
  
He turned her again, kissed her again.  
  
She didn't protest - she stood there, almost  
unresponsive.  
  
"I like this." He turned her again, so he  
was  behind her, and he pulled her to him,  
his hands creeping up her sides, still  
holding her close.  
  
His hands moved in front, one below the  
other, moving, down, then up, caressing  
her torso.  
  
They moved  higher, and higher, to just  
under her breasts.   
  
I noticed she leaned back against him.  
  
"I like doing things like this." I watched as  
his palms turned upward, under her  
breasts, supporting them, weighing them,   
from beneath..  
  
"See," he continued, "nothing that happens  
is caused by you, it's all being done by me.  
You're innocent."  
  
I could see Tina take a sharp breath! She  
was being touched sexually, blatently, and  
she was helpless. Flooding!!!  
  
She said nothing, still  not resisting, not  
moving.  
  
Finally his hands were on her blouse, over  
her breasts.  
  
"I can't stop you from doing that, can I?"  
  
"No!" gruffly.  
  
He leaned down, kissing at her ear.  
  
She tilted her head, making it easier for  
him.  
  
He bent more, his mouth tracing from ear  
to neck.  
  
"That's nice" she said, in a whisper.  
  
"There's a lot more to come." His mouth  
was busy again.  
  
"You're going awfully fast. . ."  
  
After a moment, he maneuvered her so  
that he could reach his equipment belt -  
one of his hands found his baton!  
  
Still holding a breast with one hand, he  
brought the baton in front of the both of  
them.  
  
He traced it along the side of her head,  
down beside her ear.  
  
"I like using this. I like threatening people  
with it. It excites me!"  
  
I saw as he turned the two of them a little,  
so they were facing the full length mirror  
we mounted behind the main door.  
  
"Open your eyes - look at us!" he  
commanded.  
  
She did.  
  
The baton extended from her ear across  
her cheek.  
  
He moved it, down to her shoulder, up  
again, under her chin, raising her head.  
  
He moved it higher, his hand in front of  
her, so it was across her face, almost to  
her other ear.  
  
And he drew it across her cheek, across  
her lips.  
  
"Open your mouth!"  
  
She shook her head no.  
  
I saw him press the shaft  against her lips!  
  
"Open!"  
  
She did, a little, and he moved so that the  
baton was across her lips.  
  
"Kiss it!"  
  
Nothing. She did nothing.  
  
"Submit yourself, do what you're told to do.  
Kiss it."  
  
I saw her lips purse a little.  
  
"Use your lips, use your tongue. Really  
kiss it. You have no choice, I'm in control."  
  
Her mouth opened a little more, and her  
tongue was on the baton.  
  
"That's better -- that's very sexy."  
  
He drew that long dark thing  along her  
lips, until the tip was at her mouth.  
  
"Take it in your mouth."  
  
Nothing!  
  
"I'm in cotrol, do it!"  
  
She turned to face the baton, her mouth  
opened, and encompassed its rounded  
end.  
  
It was completely erotic, seeing that!  
  
He watched, and I watched, as she  
carefully moved her head, taking in an inch  
or two, then withdrawing, and again, and  
again. She was giving a blow job to the  
baton, standing there, and my own cock  
erupted!  
  
That tableau continued for a minute or two.  
  
"You're doing good at that!"  
  
It was only a baton, and it was the sexest  
thing I had ever seen!.  
  
Her head was moving with the same pace  
on it  as other women's  heads and mouths  
moved along my own cock, a long time  
ago.  
  
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.  
  
She nodded affermatively.  
  
"Good! Cops depend on that. I want to  
move on."  
  
He tossed the baton to the chair.  
  
His hands began moving again, up over  
her breasts, and down, over her stomach.  
  
They were both watching the action in the  
mirror, him behind her, her hands still  
handcuffed.  
  
Finally, his hand rose, to her throat.  
  
To the buttons on her dress.  
  
And released the top one.  
  
And the next one.  
  
Now he was kissing at her ear again, and  
at her neck again, while she watched their  
reflection.  
  
A kiss.  
  
Another button, by now the one between  
her breasts.  
  
He could, and did, pull the neckline with  
his lips, so he could kiss at her shoulder.   
  
And another button.  
  
And another.  
  
It was unbuttoned to her waist, open a  
little, her black slip showing.  
  
He looked in the mirror, too.  
  
"Nice slip."  
  
His lips were still at her shoulder, his  
fingers lifting the dress, to the next button,  
  
And the next.  
  
And the last!  
  
Now the dress hung, open, revealing a few  
inches of slip, from her chest to above her  
knees.  
  
He stood tall, now, still behind her, and  
they both watched as he opened the  
dress, now more like an open robe, past  
her shoulders, down her arms, draping  
behind her, held up only by her hands.  
  
"Very nice slip: I'm glad you were it for me.  
You look sexy!"  
  
Still no comment from her - but no  
resistance, either.  
  
My own cock was hard again!  
  
He reached into his pocket, got out the  
key, and controlling her carefully released  
one bracelet, slid the dress off that hand,  
then the other, and reattached the cuff. He  
was so smooth - he'd done all of this  
before, but never with my wife!  
  
I watched as she watched as his hands  
traced up and down her sides, her waist,  
her hips, her thighs, and up again.  
  
"Kick off your shoes now."  
  
She did.  
  
  
He was standing close behind her,  
pushing into her hands.  
  
"Feel how excited I am!"  
  
"What. . .?"  
  
"Don't act innocent. You can feel my cock  
through my trousers!"  
  
Oh! her hands were right there!  
  
"Uh, yes, yes I can, it's. . ."  
  
"Yes, it's hard, and big! And you know  
why, don't you?"  
  
She nodded yes.  
  
"Good." He moved away a little, and I  
watched as his fingers, on her thighs, were  
working, lifting her slip.  
  
She watched, her mouth open, as finally  
his fingers found her panty hose clad legs  
under her slip.  
  
He lifted his hands higher, bending a little,  
his hands were covered by the slip now,  
going up until they  were waist high.  
  
Then he knelt, and pulled!  
  
And down came panties and panty hose,  
to her knees, to her ankles!  
  
"Step out of them."  
  
She lifted one foot, and he pulled the  
tangle free.   
  
And then the other foot.  
  
"Now we're getting somewhere" he  
muttered.  
  
She had nothing to say, standing there,  
wearing only a slip and bra, in front of a  
cop, the slip dark enough to be concealing,  
clinging enough to revealing. . .  
.  
He stood behind her, moving close again.  
His hands were busy between them -  
doing something with the handcuffs, I  
wondered, until, his hands appeared on  
her hips, drawing her back, against, him.  
  
The expression on her face changed to  
surprise - shock!  
  
"Now you can really feel how excited you  
make me," he declared.  
  
He had unzipped his pants, loosened his  
belt, and pulled out his cock. Her hands,  
still handcuffed behind her, were on it - the  
only other erect cock I think she had ever  
felt.  
  
"Go on, keep touching  it - hold it!" he  
commanded.  
  
I guess she did, because they both stood  
there, his hands gliding up and down her  
sides, hers, behind her back, touching,  
measuring. . .  
  
"I want to feel my cock to touch your body.  
Pull your slip up in the back."  
  
I watched their reflection, and could tell  
from the wrinkles in her slip, and its  
movement to her mid thighs, that she was  
obeying.  
  
Her hands, I could tell, were just about as  
high as her buttocks.  
  
"Lift it higher."  
  
I saw movement, and now they had to be  
at the small of her back.  
  
And her mouth formed an "O" as he pulled  
her back hard against him, his penis, I'm  
sure, pressing against her nude ass.  
  
"That's what a man in control feels like," he  
rasped, his hips making small cycles, her  
face reddened, and I thought, covered with  
a sheen of perspiration. She wasn't  
objecting, though, to the movement of his  
penis between her buttocks, to his mouth  
on her neck.   
  
The pair of them turned, so I could see  
their sides - she had one hand holding the  
slip, the other around the shaft of his cock!  
There's no wonder why his hips were  
moving that way - she was masturbating  
him against her ass!  
  
"This," he said after a minute, "is foreplay.  
I'm tired of foreplay. Let's gp  to your  
bedroom."  
  
"Is that an order, sir?"  
  
"It is an order."  
  
She released his cock, and her slip, and  
without looking at him walked to the  
bedroom.  
  
He adjusted himself, getting his cock back  
inside his pants, grabbed something, and  
followed, a few feet behind.  
  
I switched cameras, in time to see her  
standing at the foot of the bed, looking at  
it. He walked to the bed, and pulled the  
covers off.  
  
She stood, watching, still in her slip, her  
bra, as the bed, an alter where she was  
going to be sacrificed,  was made ready.  
She knew how to stop him, I knew. A  
simple word. Would she say it?  
  
Not yet!  
  
He went to her, facing her, pulled her to  
him, embraced her. He was inches taller  
than she was, and bent down toward her.  
She responded, raising her head, meeting  
his lips!  
  
His arms, holding her to him, dropped from  
her back to her hips.  
  
Would he continue? Would she allow him  
to?  
  
I was distracted by my own cock's demand  
for attention, as I watched the kiss  
continue, until I noticed. . .  
  
. . I saw  
  
. . . I saw his hands, on her hips, weren't  
idle.  
  
They were gathering the material of her  
slip!  
  
Already it was raised past her mid thighs,  
  
then her nude hips!  
  
He moved away an inch or so, creating a  
space, so that now he could lift it higher,  
while still engaging in the kiss. She  
allowed the space to continue, moving her  
hips away a little, too.  
  
I watched as he lifted - my side view was  
perfect - higher than her hips, her sides. . .  
  
And he broke the kiss for a minute - they  
maintained eye contact - and he lifted  
higher, then moved his hands more to the  
front, and the eye contact was broken for a  
moment as the massed material of slip was  
lifted over her face, over her head, and  
down her back, until it was covering her  
hands, prevented from going further by the  
cuffs.  
  
He continued to stare into her eyes as his  
hands left the slip, and moved up her back,  
to her bra strap. How could he avoid  
looking down, she was naked except for  
the bra.  
  
And he released that, too!  
  
It hung, limply, from her shoulders, still  
covering her.  
  
He took her by the shoulders, and pushed  
her to the bed.  
  
Onto it.  
  
She sat there, legs tightly together,  
concealing herself as best she could.  
  
He, however, had done this before, He  
knew what he was going to do, and how  
best to do it, much better than we did.  
  
He got behind her.  
  
Pulled/lifted her to the middle of the bed.  
  
Again went to his pocket, got the key, and  
released one bracelet of the handcuffs.  
  
He brushed off the slip, pushed that arm  
foreword, and pushed the bra strap off it -  
"What  beautiful breasts my wife has," I  
thought, as it was exposed for the first  
time, "and look at how erect that nipple  
was. She's really turned on!"  
  
By then he had repeated the action with  
the other side of the bra - now she was  
naked! Since he was holding her arms  
behind her, she couldn't even cover  
herself!  
  
But that wasn't enough for him.  
  
>From behind, he reached around, put his  
hand under her knee, and pulled - she  
bent her leg. It took him only a second to  
attach the handcuff bracelet to her ankle,  
so that hand and ankle were attached.  
  
>From his pocket he brought other set of  
cuffs, and moving a little, got one end  
attached to the other ankle.  
  
"I'm going to show you what helpless really  
is now. Give me your other hand."  
  
She extended it, toward her ankle, and it  
too was bound.  
  
He, from behind her, grasped her  
shoulders, and pulled, so that she was on  
her back.  
  
Take a break, readers, and take your lover  
with you into the bedroom. Try out this  
position, wrists bound to ankles. The story  
will be here when you return. I don't think  
you'll be back too quickly, though.  
  
He got off the bed, and moved to its foot.  
  
She lay there, watching him, knees  
together, waiting.  
  
"Are you helpless?"  
  
"Yes, never more helpless. You're in  
control, I can't stop you from doing  
whatever you want."  
  
"Good."  
  
He pulled his shirt free of his slacks,  
unbuttoned its cuffs,  and the rest of the  
buttons too, and off.  
  
He pulled his tee shirt over his head, too.  
  
Raised a foot, got that shoe and sock off.  
  
And the other one, too.  
  
Staring at her, he released his belt buckle,  
undid the clasp of his uniform trousers.  
  
The fly was already down - and he stepped  
out of his pants, leaving only his briefs on.  
  
"Betty!" he said firmly.  
  
She looked at him questioningly.  
  
"You do remember the rules, don't you?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"In another minute, 'Herman' isn't going to  
work. This is your last chance. If you're  
going to say it, say it now."  
  
She was silent!  
  
We both watched as his hands found his  
own waistband, and then, those briefs  
were down and off, too.  
  
My wife was facing a nude man, only the  
second one she had seem in this condition  
in her life.  
  
"I'm afraid" she whispered in a quiet voice,  
so quiet I could hardly hear her.  
  
He bent over, picking up the baton he  
brought with him to the bedroom.   
  
He walked, nude, to the foot of the bed.  
Knelt on it.  
  
He leaned toward her, the baton a  
weapon.  
  
He traced it down along her face - she  
opened her mouth for it, as she had  
before.  
  
He teased her lips with it, then stopped,  
and moved it to her neck, lower.  
  
"This is a great sex toy, too."  
  
It moved down, over her throat.  
  
Its end moved along her breast, and  
pressing down, over it, indenting it, its side  
pressing down on her nipple.  
  
"This is control. This is power. This really  
gets me going!"  
  
The baton moved down, over her belly,  
and up one of her legs to her knees..  
  
He forced it between her her tightly  
clenched knees, and down, against her  
pelvis.  
  
"It's uncomfortable for you to keep your  
legs together  when I use handcuffs like  
that: relax them."  
  
I saw them move apart a few inches.  
  
The baton moved lower. Tina, sweet Tina,  
actually tilted her pelvis toward it! I couldn't  
see what was happening, but his hand  
began  making  small motions, gentle  
motions, , twisting, pushing a little, twisting  
again, moving it, exciting her. I could see  
her stomach quivering as she took short,  
gasping breaths.  
  
Then he brought it to his own face.  
  
I watched him as he put it in his own  
mouth!  
  
Tina and I both watched him lick it!  
  
"You taste good."  
  
He did it! He had put it IN her - he fucked  
her with it!  
  
He dropped the damned thing to the floor,  
and moved to the side of the bed, he knelt  
on it, his knees near her shoulder.  
  
Tina was helpless in front of him.  
  
He leaned toward her, his hand reaching  
toward the back of her head. That hand  
grabbed a handful of hair. He grasped it:  
he used it to lift her head to his lips! It was  
not a loving kiss - it was an erotic one!  
  
"You liked me using my night stick," he  
grunted, ending the kiss. "You'll like using  
me, too, and me using you."  
  
He used his hold on her hair to force her  
head back, exposing her throat.  
  
He bent foreword. His mouth found that,  
too!  
  
She had never been treated like that  
before.  
  
His mouth moved down, from her throat -  
until he was at her breast.  
  
He lifted his head a little, I could see her  
breast extend, pulled by his mouth, as he  
sucked it as he moved.  
  
The hand holding her hair freed itself, and  
twisted at one nipple as his mouth teased  
the other.  
  
I watched - and she had her head up a  
little now, too, watching, because he was  
no longer at her breast. He twisted a little  
more, so that he was licking at her  
stomach.  
  
And he moved a little more, so that his  
head was at her pelvis, and first one hand,  
then the other, met at her groin.  
  
Tina turned a little away from me. She was  
looking right at his erect penis - in this  
position it wasn't more than a few inches  
from her face.  
  
He seemed to be spreading her vulva with  
his hands - his lips were close to it, he  
seemed to be blowing cool air at it, as a  
child might to cool down something before  
eating it.  
  
"You want this, don't you?" It was an  
unnecessary question, of course she did.  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Her hips bucked - his mouth found her,  
open, ready.  
  
His torso was twisted, knees still at her  
shoulders, but he moved a little, and his  
cock moved closer to her.  
  
Then, like the baton earlier, it lay across  
her lips.  
  
He raised his head a little, looking under  
his twisted torso, at her face, at his cock.  
  
I heard him say what I expected: "Do me,  
too."  
  
She shook her head - she didn't want to.  
  
He knelt upright again, abandoning her  
cunt.  
  
His hand found her hair again, and  
tightened around it, holding her head  
firmly.  
  
He had is cock in his other hand. He  
moved so that his penis lay across her  
lips.  
  
"Do me!"  
  
He forced its shaft across her lips, but she  
resisted , keeping them closed.  
  
"Take him" I said aloud to the monitor  
screen. "Take him in your mouth!"  
  
His cock brushed across her cheek, back  
to her lips, again and again, scortum  
against her chin, him domanent over her.  
  
It happened! She pursed her lips against  
that shaft, as she did to the baton.  
  
Then her lips opened.  
  
He moved again, drawing his shaft along  
those lips, until its  tip was at her lips.  
  
He pushed,  
  
forcing,  
  
and finally,  
  
finally,     
         
there was a motion,   
  
and he let her hair go,   
  
  
because the end of his cock found its way  
into her mouth.  
  
I saw my wife's lips close around it.  
  
"You know what to do," he muttered, as he  
withdrew, turned, lowered his head again,  
going down on her again, and I watched,  
fascinated,   
  
as he moved over her, straddling her,   
  
as she raised her head,   
  
following the motion of his hips,  
  
and took a little more into her mouth,  
  
and how his hips followed her head as she  
lay it back on the bed.  
  
I could see her cheeks indent, as she  
sucked at him!  
  
His own  mouth was working, too, his  
tongue in her, tasting what his baton had,  
earlier. Each time he'd raise his hips, she'd  
lift her head, following his cock, not giving  
it up.   
  
His own head was between her legs,  
sucking at her, his tongue being a small  
penis, exciting her,  
  
until,   
  
in a few moments,   
  
Tina sagged back, panting, flaccid,  
because he drove her over the edge.   
  
He was close, too.  
  
He rolled off her, his hand grasping the  
head of his cock, squeezing it in the  
classic maneuver to avoid premature  
ejaculation.  
  
"Not like that", he said, "I don't want to  
come like that. I want to be in your cunt."  
  
He moved to the side of the bed, his face  
wet with his saliva, and her juices.  
  
He took the pillows, bunched them, forced  
a hand under the small of her back, and  
lifted.  
  
She helped a little, lifting her hips, until  
both pillows were under her ass.  
  
Now, at the bed's foot, his hands found her  
knees, and pushed them apart.  
  
I had never seen anything as sexy, as  
obscenely erotic, as Tina, there, her hips  
lifted by the pillows, hands attached to  
ankles, spread as wide as she could be.  
  
He knelt between those knees, leaned  
foreword,   
  
and that's what adultery looks like, what  
being cuckolded looks like, as he rammed  
into her, almost frantically, the first  
penetration fast, not gentle.  
  
He started to go  slower, and deeper, as  
he neared his peak.  
  
The best part was that Tina was moving  
under him, lifting to meet him, her buttocks  
being driven back to the pillows when he  
pushed into her.  
  
Soon enough, he grunted his way to an  
orgasm, and  he emptied himself into her,  
and too soon to be romantic, , rolled off  
her, and lay beside her.   
  
They were both breathing heavily, almost  
puffing.  
  
Tina, still shackled, recovered first, and   
looked at him.  
  
"Joseph?"  
  
"Huh?" he wheezed.  
  
"Joseph, I don't think I like submission and  
bondage."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Take these off, Joseph, I feel lousy about  
doing what we did."  
  
"Oh."  
  
He got out of the bed, fumbled in his pants  
pocket, and in a minute had the cuffs off.  
  
His hand went to her crotch while she  
rubbed her wrists.  
  
"Want more without bondage, baby?"  
  
"I had enough, Joseph. I wondered about  
not being in control, and now I know, it's  
not for me. Fun one time, but no more, not  
for me."  
  
"It works for some people," he told her, "I  
want it to work for women I'm with, I like  
the control."  
  
"It doesn't  work for me."  
  
The mood in the room had changed. 
 
"Betty, we just had sex,  you went down on  
me, and I did you, too. You can't take that  
back." 
 
"It's time to stop, Joseph. You should  
probably go home now." 
 
"It'll be much nicer if we spend the night  
together, Betty." 
 
"I don't want to do that, I really need some  
time along." 
  
"But. . ." 
 
"No but's, you're starting to ruin a good  
evening. Maybe you'd better go home,   
Joseph."  
  
 She got out of bed, and handed  his pants  
to him.  
  
By then I pulled my robe on, ready to go  
down and rescue her.  
  
No need. He pulled on some clothes,  
carried others to the door.   
  
"I'm sorry, Betty. I thought it would work  
out better. Goodnight."  
  
And he left.  
  
The outer door to the apartment slammed  
a few seconds before I opened the inner  
one, that opened to the rest of the house.  
Tina, tears in her eyes, wrapped in her  
robe, was in my arms.  
  
"Don't hate me for doing that, for lettinging  
him do that to me, Bob, I'm sorry."  
  
"Everything's OK," I told her.  
  
"It must have been awful for you to see  
that!"  
  
I held her, still aroused by the sights, the  
memories.  
  
"I feel cheap, and used, and like a tramp. I  
hate that I did that! How can you ever want  
me, or even touch me again, after that."  
  
I muttered something about loving her all  
the more, but I was too distracted to pay  
attention to the words. This woman,  
wrapped in her robe, smelled of sex!   
  
Smelled of another man!  
  
She was, I realized, still wet with him!  
  
I couldn't help myself.  
  
I took up to our our room, our bed, offering  
what comfort I could. 
 
We lay on it, her head was nestled into   
my shoulder, and I moved, and moved her,  
until we were face to face. "How can you  
hold me, or even touch me, after I did  
that?"  
  
I rolled towards her a little, so that she was  
on her back, my head above hers.  
  
And I moved down towards her.  
  
"No, no, honey, don't kiss me, not yet, I  
want to wash myself,  I took  his penis in  
my . . ."  
  
"I know, it's all right," I told her, and my lips  
smothered the last  word.  
  
Her lips were closed, clenched.  
  
I lifted my head enough to say "I love you,  
Tina", and lowered it again.  
  
"But his penis was there, honey", she  
started to say, until my tongue pressed  
against her lips for a moment, then against  
her teeth for a  moment, then met hers, the  
same tongue that. . .  
  
and I ejaculated again, a little, quietly,  
while my mind replayed the image of what  
was, a few minutes ago,  where I was,  
now.  
  
And Tina responded, her holding me to  
her, kissing back.  
  
"Tell me you're not mad at me," she  
muttered through the kiss.  
  
"I'll prove I'm not."  
  
I pulled at her robe, opening it.  
  
My hand traced down her body, between  
her legs - so hot, so wet.  
  
"No, wait until I wash, don't touch me!" 
 
"I'll show you I'm not mad."   
  
"Let me take a shower," she said, starting  
to sit up, "and then come back and love  
you."  
  
"No, no, love me now, let me love you . . ."  
  
"But I'm dirty, I'm covered with his sweat,  
his saliva, his, his. . .I stink with him!"  
  
My lips stopped her talking.  
  
I forced her down again.  
  
I kissed her lips again.  
  
"I watched every minute," I said, "I know  
what happened."  
  
There were  tears in her eyes.  
  
"How can you touch  me, after that?"  
  
"Like this, does this prove I'm not mad?" I  
said, and kissed her lips again.  
  
She kissed back, accepting my proof.  
  
And I moved, so I could kiss her chin.  
  
I turned her head away from me, and my  
lips and tongue found her ear.  
  
"He did that," she said, almost a protest.  
  
Her shoulder.  
  
"That, too."  
  
Her hand touched me. "You're not even  
hard, not a little bit, you're just trying to  
make me feel better."  
  
"I'm not hard because I masturbated three  
or four times because you were so sexy," I  
claimed.  
  
I moved lower, to her breast, and my hand  
found the other one, tongue and fingers,  
teeth and fingers, working on her nipples,  
and I felt her hand on the back of my head,  
pressing me hard into her breast.  
  
"See, that's not so bad" I muttered, my  
mouth full of her.  
  
"No, not bad, nice, but he did that, too, his  
spit is probably still on me. . ." she said,  
and I moved, my head pushing against her  
hand, lower, to her navel.  
  
"Nice, very nice. This is all part of  
flooding," I told her. "I loved you doing it."  
  
I could feel her go rigid as she felt me  
there, nuzzling into her stomach.  
  
"You watched everything?"  
  
"Mmmm, yes" as my tongue made circles  
around her belly button.  
  
My hand found her knee, and pulled at it,  
and her legs opened a little, she still had a  
hand on my head.  
  
"You know he was in me, then. . ."  
  
"Mmmm, yes. . ."  
  
and my tongue drifted down lower, I was  
breathing in the scents from her hair.  
  
"But, he, he . . ., Bob, he ejaculated in me,  
let me clean up . . ."  
  
I had by then moved my hands to either  
side of her cunt, and spread it, opening   
those lips.  
  
"Tina, I know that, and I know I wanted you  
to do that, and you don't have anything to  
feel bad about, or dirty about. . ."  
  
"But, but. . ."  
  
My tongue found the opening, and touched  
her clit.  
  
The hand she had on my head stopped  
trying to stop me - her legs opened wider,  
she rotated her hips up, exposing herself,  
and her hands, on the back of my head,   
pushed me deep into her!  
  
Smelling.  
  
Tasting.  
  
Licking.  
  
I felt her move a little, and then felt her lips  
close on my own masturbated limp  penis.  
  
I moved so my knees straddled her head,  
holding my penis above her face, making it  
easy for her. Just like Joseph did a little  
while ago.  
  
But with me in her mouth, and her cunt  
covered by my mouth, I grew a harder, and  
she, more ready.  
  
We were able to have sex, after all.  
  
And slept in each other's arms, covered  
with our own perspiration, and his. Our  
own juices, and his. And, uniquely, our  
love for each other - not his!  
  
Tina, finally, understood that part of me.  
  
We were awakened by the special phone.  
  
"Hello?" she said.  
  
A pause.  
  
"Hello Joseph."  
  
"No, not tonight, Joseph. Or tomorrow,  
either."  
  
"No, I don't think I'll be seeing you again,  
Joseph."  
  
"Good-bye."  
  
She turned to me. "Is that OK with you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"He said I had real promise in bed, and  
wanted to see me again, to play some  
more."  
  
"Not gonna do that, huh?"  
  
"Not with him. I want to feel good when I  
make love or have sex."  
  
"You wanted a different experience. I  
guess you got it."  
  
"Yeah, I suppose so. I did learn some  
things. Maybe sometime we could try some  
of those things, but I want it with love, not  
just for sex. . ."  
  
"Yeah, we will. Are you OK with what  
happened with Joseph - you don't still feel  
cheap. . ."  
  
"No. I was worried about what you'd think   
of me. You made it all right last night."  
  
"Good.  Ah, are you going to date some  
more?"  
  
"I learned a lot from Joseph. Do you want  
me to learn more?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I still have that date with Phil. I think I'll  
keep it."  
  
She wore conservative clothes, and drove  
off to meet Phil at the restaurant the next  
evening.  
  
Three hours later she was home. "I  
actually had a dinner date with a guy! It  
was nice!"  
  
She got ready for bed, and met me there,  
and while in my arms told me about her  
adventure.  
  
They met, she said, in the bar, and he was   
a gentleman. They had a quiet dinner, and  
"I had to make up a lot of stuff. I did  
pretend to be Betty again. He was a really  
nice guy, and he walked me to my car after  
dinner. We stood in the parking lot for 15  
minutes, talking, and doing a little flirting.  
He asked me if I'd go out with him again,  
Bob."  
  
By now I had her nightgown off, and was  
paying attention to her wonderful breasts. I  
flattened one with my hands, had my  
mouth on it, sucking, teasing her nipple,  
then lifted up enough to ask "What did you  
say?"  
  
Her hands on my head forced me down  
again, as she answered. "I gave him my  
new phone number, honey, and told him  
I'd love to. Is that all right?" she asked, as  
her hand traced down my body, to see  
what my penis thought, too. It was at  
attention, and began getting attention from  
her hand. "I guess" she said between  
kisses, "that means it's all right. I wish I  
understood why this gets you so excited."  
  
"I don't understand, either, but it does.  
Like, thinking about you having sex with  
Joseph drives me crazy. . ."  
  
"So I guess it's all right that when he tried  
to kiss me, I let him?"  
  
By now I had rolled onto her, and  she  
guided my cock to her vagina. While we  
were making love - no, having sex - I  
looked down at her, looking up at me, and  
at her breasts, and stomach, with my groin  
and hers joined, moving together, and said  
"Do you realize that maybe if you like this  
guy enough,  you've probably going to  
have him doing this to you, looking at you,  
fucking you. . .?" and her legs wrapped  
around me, and she whispered  "of course,  
and you'll be watching, and masturbating,  
won't you?" Our thrusts, our urgency, our  
orgasms, answered any questions about  
whether it was a good idea.  
  
I had wanted her to be a better sex  
partner: she was getting there.  
  
________________________________________________________________
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