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It began as a lark, I’ll admit it.
Tom was over at my place. Usually, both he and his wife, Fran, would be over, but Fran was in Albuquerque taking care of a sick sister, so it was just my good friend by himself with Julie and me.
I asked my wife some minor favor. “Would you get me a beer, hon?” I asked, and Julie gave one of her smart-ass, sassy kind of replies.
“Get your own fucking beer.”
I hadn’t thought it was too much to ask, but my wife flounced out of the room.
Tom muttered, “It’d be a cold day in hell before I’d let Fran get away with talking to me like that.”
I didn’t say anything, and we turned back to the television show. But I considered Tom’s words and thought about the way Fran treated him. I had to admit that Fran did always seem to treat Tom with a certain . . . what? . . . respect? That and something more. Certainly there was plenty of love, and she always gazed at Tom with admiration, even a bit of deference.
I sighed. “You want a beer, too?” I asked my friend.
“Sure,” he said, and I thought I detected just the slightest snort of disgust when he said it.
Julie was in the kitchen, but I didn’t say anything as I brushed by her and got two beers. After Tom and I had settled in, we started to watch the second half of the game.
Julie flounced in a few minutes later and sat on the couch, with one leg bent under her ass. Tom was on the couch with her, and I sat in a nearby chair.
I sighed. I had to admit she was sexy as hell. I suppose, like most perpetually horny college guys, it was her sexiness that attracted me at first. Even now, not made up especially, she was dynamite. She had her blond hair in a pony tail. She had on cut-offs that displayed her long, golden legs, and with a shirt that was cut off below her breasts, showing a trim tummy, with a diamond stud pierced in her belly button. Julie doesn’t have big tits, but they are pert and proud. The shirt stood out a little. I wasn’t at all sure if she had on a bra or not, her tits are that perky.
As we sat there in silence, I thought of Tom’s words. In a futile effort to be a modern husband, had I been too subservient? Treated her demands as gospel? Too willing to give in to Julie’s every whim in an effort at being politically correct? I couldn’t say it had done much good. As the three years of our marriage had passed, she had become more and more demanding and snotty—something of a shrew, really. Anyway, I sat there, fuming and thinking. Finally, I abruptly said to Tom, pointedly ignoring Julie, “So what do you do when Fran gets sassy with you, Tom?”
He said rather matter of factly, as if it were the most self-evident thing in the world, “I treat her as I would any bratty child.”
“Which means?” I pursued.
“I give her a sound spanking.”
Julie burst out laughing. “Let me get this straight,” she chortled. “In this day and age of feminism, when women are fully the equal of men, you spank your wife.”
Tom looked at her, raising an eyebrow of disdain, “That’s correct. When she is being a brat. As for your vaunted feminism, I can’t say that I see that women are one iota happier today than they were when their husbands called the shots, when they showed proper respect.”
Julie was laughing so hard that I thought she would choke. And that gave me a thought. I decided to challenge my friend.
“It doesn’t look to me like Julie is showing you much respect right now, Tom. Perhaps you would care to demonstrate your technique for me and her.”
“With your permission?”
Before three seconds had gone by, Tom grabbed Julie, and none too gently I noticed. She squawked as he turned her over his lap, her bottom in the air.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Teaching a brat some respect.”
I could see that Tom was plenty strong, and as much as my wife squirmed, he held her tightly.
Tom raised a meaty palm. It hovered in the air for a moment. I held my breath. Then he brought it down with a loud thwack!
Julie screeched, “Are you going to let him man-handle your wife?”
“It looks to me like you’ve needed it for a long time,” I observed.
Tom brought his hand down powerfully two more times; each time Julie howled.
Tom muttered, “These damn blue jeans are getting in the way.”
I swear it wasn’t there at first, but Tom’s comment suddenly brought an element of eroticism into the event. I found that I was holding my pecker, and it was filling like a fricking balloon.
I said, “Then, pull them down.”
Julie squawked, unbelievingly, “You’re telling him to strip your wife?”
“Sounds like it, doesn’t it?” I answered.
Tom didn’t hesitate. With one hand he held Julie’s birdlike wrists above her head; with the other hand he quickly unsnapped her cut offs and pulled them down, along with her panties, to her knees. “That should do it,” he said. For a moment he left his hand drift over her mounds. “She really does have a beautiful ass, Jeff.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Just made for spanking,” he added.
Julie continued to struggle, but to no avail. If anything, it put her clothes in disarray. Her cut offs and panties were now laying on the floor. And her short shirt was riding up high, under her armpits and chin. Jesus Christ, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her lovely conical-shaped tits were completely exposed to me and my best friend! Not only that, and what got my cock harder than a goddam rock, her coral-colored nipples were stiff as two pebbles. Fuck, my wife was being turned on by the man-handling! Somehow that released a damn within me, and I laughed, suddenly realizing that she was actually enjoying it.
Tom, after a quick squeeze of her pale white buns, brought his wide, thick palm down in three powerful strokes. Julie’s ass turned pink. Again and again, in the now quiet room, he spanked the bratty little butt. Julie sobbed; tears started to trickle down her cheeks.
“Hon—” she gasped. But she couldn’t get any more out, as Tom slapped her ass again and again.
Although she continued to writhe, she really wasn’t struggling anymore. She recognized Tom’s superior strength. And it wasn’t just his physical strength she was submitting to; it was a greater determination, a will stronger than her own. Her writhing took out an erotic undertone. It almost appeared that she wasn’t squirming to get away from the powerful palm any more, but rather was pressing herself, pressing her pussy, against Tom’s legs.
Gasping, panting she finally got out a few more words. “Hon—please.”
“Please—what?” I asked her perversely.
“Please get him to stop. I can’t stand it.”
“You’ve been a sassy little brat for a long time, now. It’s about time you got your comeuppance. Or should I say cumuppance?”
Julie’s cute little ass was turning a bright scarlet now, as Tom aimed and rained stroke after stroke on her backside. My wife was rubbing her tits on Tom’s thigh, crying softly.
“Please,” she whimpered. “I’ll do anything you say.”
“Y-yes,” she sputtered, catching her breath in a sob.
“Tom,” I told my friend. “She looks pretty hot to me.”
My buddy lightly grazed his fingertips over her bottom. I watched my wife’s ass quiver, fearful that she was in for another going over with his heavy hand. “Her ass is plenty hot,” he agreed.
Quietly, I said, “How about her pussy? Is that hot?”
Tom looked at me for an instant. “Are you sure?”
He dipped his hand between Julie’s red thighs. My wife jumped a little at the touch of his fingertips.
But her words were quickly cut short when Tom raised his hand again
“No,” my wife groaned helplessly, squeezing her eyes shut, from which tears trickled.
Tom quickly applied three resounding strokes to her butt.
“I don’t think you understand, yet,” Tom told her. “You’ll speak when you are instructed to do so.” He whacked her butt, so that even I flinched. “Is that understood?”
“Y-yes, s-sir.” The words gurgled in her throat. But I had to admit the word “sir” did seem to come naturally from her lips.
“All right, then, be a good girl.”
He dipped his hand a second time between her thighs. I couldn’t be sure, but it appeared to me almost as if my wife spread her thighs a little bit, to give him better access.
From where I sat, squeezing my pecker, I could see that her juices had stained Tom’s slacks. I watched between his legs as he felt my wife up. He lightly caressed her clitoris, and I noticed that she shuddered. Her squirming now was as much to press her clit against his thick middle finger as it was to escape his groping. I watched Tom’s middle finger disappear into Julie’s pussy. She groaned unashamedly in passion, perhaps helpless to stop herself. She bit her lower lip to keep more animalistic sounds from erupting from her throat. For a minute or two Tom stroked her cunt, finger fucking her thoroughly. When he brought his hand up from between her thighs, it gleamed, all wet. He smeared her pungent nectar on her glowing, red ass, massaging it in, as if it were some lotion. He grinned at me, “Yep, her pussy is hot too.”
“Well, I owe you something for showing me how to control a brat. Help yourself.”
“Julie, did you hear your husband?”
“Yes,” she responded, gazing at me.
“What do you think of that?”
“I think he’s a prick for letting another man fuck his wife!”
This time Tom spanked her relentlessly. Again and again his large ham-like hand whacked her backside. There was no fight left in her, however, and she took the spanking, just whimpering. No pleading—she could see now that was hopeless. She closed her eyes. I meanwhile watched her clit throb and vibrate from the spanking, watched her nipples stay achingly hard.
Even Tom was panting when he stopped.
“I don’t think I heard you correctly. I’ll try again. Julie, did you hear your husband?”
“Yes, sir,” she said softly, submissively.
“And what do you think of that?”
“I think my husband is a very nice man to offer his wife’s pussy to another man.”
“So you’d like me to fuck you?”
“I—” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say it. Finally, she spit out, “I wouldn’t mind.”
“Oh, come now, Julie, your pussy says you would love to fuck.”
“Maybe my pussy is betraying me.”
“Maybe your mind is,” Tom replied patiently.
He raised his palm again. Julie cringed. “Please—”
“Please what?” Tom demanded. “My patience is wearing thin. Julie, do you want to fuck me?”
“Yes,” she said in a little girl voice. “Yes, Daddy, I’d like to fuck you.”
“I’d love to fuck you!” she said.
Tom finally let my wife’s wrists loose.
She immediately went to rub her sore backside, but “No,” Tom said, “leave it alone. Let it serve as a reminder of your brattiness.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said.
“Now take out my cock and give it a loving kiss. Show your husband how you obey his desires and commands.”
Julie hesitated just a moment, her hand before his zipper. Then she took out his prick. Even I had to admit it was a beauty, thick and huge and right now very erect.
Julie’s narrow pink tongue glided over her lips as she gazed at the glistening shaft.
“Put it in your mouth,” Tom ordered my wife.
Julie’s backside was turned towards me, as she bent over Tom who continued to sit on the couch. It was a bright red, and I swear it glowed. I could see Tom’s palm prints. Every so often she wiggled her bottom, as if the sensations of the spanking were still tingling over the surface of her abused flesh, heading towards the molten core that was her pussy.
Julie planted loving kisses up and down the length of Tom’s shaft. She left behind wetness, and pretty soon, his entire cock was gleaming. She lightly caressed his balls as she kissed his cock. “You taste so good, Daddy,” Julie murmured. Eventually, though, pure lust overcame her, and suddenly she buried his shaft down her throat. I could see her neck moving as she deep-throated him.
Tom put his fingers in my wife’s blond hair, as he guided her slutty, wanton mouth. Every now and then, she would murmur or purr, despite a mouthful of cock.
I watched her honey trickling down her thighs. Bent forward, Julie slipped her two middle fingers into her cunt. She stirred the juices around, then teased her swollen love-bud.
“Are you making your pussy ready for me?” he asked her. Now that she was compliant, he was almost kind to her.
Bringing her face up from his cock, she said, “Yes, Daddy.”
“Then turn around, so I can see your freshly spanked bottom. You can sit your sweet little pussy on my cock.”
Julie eagerly turned around, offering her butt to Tom for his viewing pleasure. He let his fingertips glide over the glowing globes. He kissed, then licked her hot ass. My wife shivered voluptuously.
Tom took my wife by her slender hips. Julie spread her legs and reached between her thighs. Gradually, she backed towards my friend. She reached between her legs and guided the meaty shaft towards her cunt. I watched the head of his dick slip between her pouty pussy lips. Julie let out a small whimper of pleasure. Tom pulled her back a little more, and another couple of inches of his cock sunk it. Finally, he was embedded in my wife’s slippery cunt. All that was outside was his ball sack.
Tom rotated his hips, and I could tell his cock was touching, teasing, exploring sensitive places deep in Julie’s lovely hole. Every now and then, Tom would massage the scarlet globes of her ass. Julie winced, but she also lifted her head like a mare, and it appeared to me that mingled with the pain was more than a little voluptuous pleasure too.
Squatting slightly, facing me, putting her hands on her knees for support, Julie rocked back and forth. She was fucking Tom’s cock, more than he was screwing her pussy. He was maintaining control of her even in that position.
Julie was facing me. I tried to gaze into her eyes, but they seemed glassy with lust. Her lovely mouth shifted in expressions of desire as if the sensitivity of her cunt was flickering across her entire body. Her conical tits swayed back and forth.
Julie murmured softly, little whines and whimpers. “Oh, yes, Daddy,” she sighed softly.
Tom said to me, “Jeff, perhaps you’d like to join us. Julie’s mouth seems to be craving something to fill it.”
I stood before my wife. As I said, she was bent over slightly, so her lips were not far from my aching prick.
“Take out my cock, Julie,” I told her.
No hesitation, no bitching, no sassy backtalk anymore, Julie eagerly reached forward and undid my jeans. As her lips gathered my aching erection into her mouth, I felt her trembling from the dual penetration.
Tom drove forward, plunging into my wife’s pussy. The motion caused Julie’s mouth to engulf my cock. I felt her tongue swirling around my shaft, felt her mouth trying to suck me dry. Never in our three years of married life had she ever given me such an enthusiastic blowjob. When I plunged forward, Julie’s wet cunt would shove against Tom’s prick. Between us, Tom and I, we pummeled my wife back and forth. I held Julie by her head and pounded into her. Tom held her by her hips and pounded into her.
Julie sobbed loudly. She writhed and quivered. She shook and trembled. Her cry of orgasm was muffled by my cock. I erupted in her mouth, and my wife continued to milk me until I was completely dry. She let a bit of the grayish cream trickle from the corner of her mouth, but she swiped it away with her tongue’s tip. Tom made a loud gasp, then he was spilling his seed into my wife’s throbbing pussy.
Gasping for breath, she nestled her cheek against my shaft. I could see her heart still racing in the quivering of her cute breast. I leaned over and kissed her sticky lips.
I—and Julie too for that matter—took Tom’s lesson to heart. Oh, she gets sassy every now and then, but I quickly take her in hand, and give her a sound spanking. Sometimes, afterwards, her eyes will sparkle and I wonder if she’s doing it deliberately. Whichever, our marriage has never been better.
I still invite Tom over occasionally. He suggested bringing Fran, and we could have a spanking party. I wonder what Fran’s butt looks like scarlet and hot.