Other People's Beds

Rob

The weird thing, the thing that I've never gotten used to, is waking up in other people's beds. The sex is one thing, but it's hard to adjust to the disorienting feeling of coming to consciousness in a strange room where the sunlight doesn't fall quite right or the smell is totally wrong. It always throws me off. You'd imagine that I'd have gotten over it by now. 

When I roll over in the morning after my latest conquest there's a guy whose limbs are enfolding me like he's hanging on for dear life, like he doesn't want to let go. I'm not much of a cuddler, even though he's fucking cute and ripped as fuck. I slowly untangle myself from him and his eyes drift open. 

"Hey," he says. 

"Hey," I reply. 

We both have morning breath, so kissing is off the table, but he puts a hand over my cock under the sheets and finds me more than ready to accommodate other suggestions. 

"Fuck, you're so hard…" he says. His voice is almost pleading.

"Lucky you. Get on your knees?" I ask. It has the ease of a question, but the weight of a command; he goes to it. "And grab your phone. Snap a few pictures for me." 

Once he's on his knees, he arches his back and starts taking a video over his shoulder. He's too good at filming from the potentially awkward angle to not have been in this position before. He provides voiceover commentary as I play with his ass. 

"Morning, Leo! Your husband is about to fuck the shit out of me…again," he says. 

I reach over and take the phone from him, grin into the screen and then switch from front-facing camera to the rear so that it can capture my spit dribbling down onto my cock as I line it up against the welcoming hole. "He's got such a sloppy hole. Can still feel last night's cum dripping out of him," I say, for the benefit of the camera.

Our wedding vows didn't include: "Do you promise to be unfaithful and fuck other guys raw at every opportunity?" We're modern, but not that modern; it took a little persuading before I agreed to this new normal. I didn't realize how happy it would make Leo, how badly he needed to be cuckolded. 

The hole is nice and loose for me, but still tight enough around my head to send a thrill of pleasure through me as I slide in. The guy has some sub tendencies and he moans when I stroke his lower back and tell him how good he's doing, how much better he is at taking cock than my husband—who very shortly will be listening in. It's a part of the game, of course, but it's also true: fucking Leo takes work, it takes a half-bottle of lube, poppers, and a prayer. But this dude is a natural. He angles his body perfectly so that each time I thrust into him—no matter hard hard—he absorbs the blow and remains pliant and hospitable. I fuck his ass hard on his rough sheets and his hard cock bobs between his legs. Every now and then he touches it, strokes himself, and I allow it as long as he stays focused on keeping his ass loose for me. 

"Don't clamp up," I admonish, spreading his beautiful, firm cheeks and watching with the camera as his little hole blooms in front of me. "I want you to stay nice and open for me. If you keep tightening up I'll have to take your hands off of your favorite toy, buddy." 

The bottom moans. He's a hungry slut and he doesn't want to risk any actions that might pull focus from the ace-tier dick he's getting, so he concentrates on arching his back and giving that pussy up to me. I love when they submit. I love it when the fight goes out of them and they turn into fuck-hungry receptacles. Leo knows I love it too and that was the snare that got us into all of this. 

I still remember him riding my cock in the dark of our bedroom that night. He leaned down, and whispered, "You could fuck other boys like this every night of the week." 

It made me go completely rigid inside him and I blasted my load right up into his vice-grip hole. Knowing that his enticement triggered my orgasm made him cum right after. It was the biggest, messiest load I'd ever seen him shoot and it ended up all over my chest and face. Of course, there were negotiations and check-ins after that, but I think it was more or less decided in that moment that we'd venture into the realm of Leo playing the cuckolded husband and me playing the insatiable alpha stud. 

"Oh, right there. Just like that," the bottom says. He has a name, but I never use it. He likes to be a hole. He doesn't need to be more than that, so why waste the time? 

"Yeah? You like that?" I ask, upping the tempo from a slick, steady slide to a rhythmic jackhammering. One of my hands on his lower back keeps him honest—back-arched and ass high—while my other keeps the camera hovering above to document every inch of me sliding in and out of the needy fuckhole. "Ask my husband permission for me to beat up your cunt, boy." 

"Please let your husband fuck me. Please, Leo, let him keep fucking me like this in my bed. Oh shit, he feels so good." 

I flip back to the selfie camera and grin. "Looks like he's having a good time. I've been saving up these loads for him all week while you've been jerking off on the couch. Maybe you should start asking him if I can fuck you instead of the other way around. I mean, just look at how he's owning my cock. He's too hot for words, babe." 

I continue recording. The bottom doesn't complain, he doesn't tap out, he just takes my dick for as long as I'm willing to give it to him and hell, I'm feeling generous this morning. 

Leo

I'm on my way into the office when my phone chimes. I assume it's a message from my husband checking in that he got home all right after his night out. The idea of it gets me stiff under my charcoal slacks. But I'm being responsible, I'm driving, so I keep my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel.

However, my mind wanders. 

Rob was out with some younger guy: a twink with a beautiful ass that had been angling for my husband's cock for a while. It's hard not to feel a little jealous as a thirty-something when your husband's gaze falls on someone younger, fitter. But honestly, jealousy is fuel for me.

I've always been like this. I remember jerking off in my dorm room to fantasies of someone else going down on my boyfriend. Or meticulously reconstructing exactly how, when, and with whom he had cheated on me after he tearfully confessed that he'd been fucking around behind my back. 

But it was Rob—beautiful, patient, dominant Rob—to whom I'd finally come clean. I had no choice: my fantasies of him fucking other men had become a preoccupation. When he worked his way into my hole, I loosened up by thinking of him forcing his cock into other men. I imagined how they'd react to his dirty talk or how they'd bend over backward for his beautiful, thick cock. 

I never figured that Rob would go along with it, but fuck, I'm glad he did. 

Eventually I have to pull over and check my phone. The anticipation is making me throb under my pants and I'm making a sticky mess. When I realize that it's not a text message at all, but a video clip that's been sent to me from an unknown phone number, the blood rushes to my head and makes me feel a little faint. I'm shaking a little when I reach into the glove box and pull out headphones. Even though I'm in my car, I feel like this warrants additional privacy; I don't want to miss a word or a groan. 

The twink is on his knees in the video with the camera faced behind him as Rob instructs him on how to prop himself up on the bed. Rob, being his typical dominant, sexy self, not only directs the scene, but eventually takes the camera and assumes full control. 

I'm parked on a residential street at seven in the morning. I shouldn't put my hand down the front of my pants, but I am somewhere beyond reason. I am so hard it hurts and Rob is about to fuck some other guy in a video made expressly for my consumption. The twink alludes to this being at least their second fuck since the night before and I mouth curse words as I try to covertly pull on my sticky dick on a public street. 

I watch my husband thrust into this younger dude's ass with gusto and I have to fight off the orgasm rising. From the angle of the video to the aggressiveness of Rob's taunts, every single thing about this is working for me. I wish I was still at home and in bed; I'd watch this while fucking myself with a sizable dildo and wreck myself in time with Rob's thrusts. I'd bring myself to the brink over and over again while imagining how the twink's apartment must smell, how the sheets must feel under my husband's knees, and how much he must be enjoying the sex with this decade-younger man. 

In fact, I wish that Rob would fuck the twink in our bed and pound them cum out of him and onto our sheets. I wish I could lie in the mess afterward and jerk off while smelling their sweat and cum. I want our space to reek with my husband's cheating love life.

The thought is a dangerous one. The fantasies overwhelm my overheated cock and I just have a moment to pull my cock up out of my pants before its shooting all over me. I angle it away from my button-down shirt, but the first spurt of cum ends up bursting onto my tie and running down the silk material. The other shots christen my steering wheel and splash up onto the dashboard as I sink deeper into the driver's seat and grunt. 

I feel pathetic that I couldn't even make it to the end of the video without cumming, but that stomach-churning disgust with myself is just another ingredient in the potent cocktail of my fantasy life. I know I'll jerk off to this video again and again—more times than I'll ever admit to my husband—but for now, I begin to clean myself up. 

After all, I'm late for work.

BENJI BRIGHT © 2022.

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