I've fantasised for so long about being fucked by other men and in my current position the images on screen were making me incredibly horny. Just then...my wife returned, only this time she was naked. "Enjoying yourself, slut?" she asked. When I didn't answer, she roughly grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back. "Answer me!" she yelled. "Yes....Mistress" I replied quietly. "Good. Now I'm gonna untie you and see what you can do with that tongue of yours slut".She untied me from the. “There you are!” The kitchen door slammed open and Ian walked in; he stank of god only knew what blend of random shit he spent all day moving around the warehouse he worked at. About forty or so Ian stood half a foot taller than me and was broad across the shoulders. He was not so bad to look at though his crumpled clothes bought a decade ago didn’t help; in another life I might even have found him attractive, but not in this one.“Cooking my dinner like a good little bitch,” he said. It was. This was after I’d built the ‘breeding bench’; it made the sessions a lot easier on me while putting me in the perfect position for it. Things were going about the same way. The bench made breeding more comfortable but it also put me in a position that had him hitting bottom in me. Not all of the time but it did happen on a good hard thrust. I wasn’t exactly crying but my eyes were teared-up from the pain. I was drooling, occasionally squealing my head off, my nose was running and I was a total. Without conscious intent, his hands took on a more languid motion as they moved from massaging her breasts, to playing with them. It was still part of a massage, so he felt only the discomfort brought on by the guilt of enjoying it. The nipples, which had been flat, almost non-existent before, now showed signs of life. They rose from the pale areolas, until he could pinch them between thumb and forefinger. When he rolled them they became stiff and turgid. He felt the amazement a physician.