The Snowbound Couple - Part 4

Brett sighed with pleasure, staring down as my wife engulfed his cock with that bright mouth that was always flashing wide smiles— her most noticeable feature. My cock was throbbing in my pants as I watched, only slightly aware that her foot stopped moving on my crotch.

Her head started to bob on him. Her hand feeding his cock into her mouth.

I used my hands, coaxing her to move her foot more on my cock, attempting to restart her efforts. She rubbed me some more with her foot for a few minutes before slowly forgetting, once again. Her moans were eager and muffled.

Her lips popped off his cock and she teased him by flicking her tongue over the swollen purple head— a move she often uses with me. Her eyes were lustily shut. Brett reached down and grasped the button down. In one eager dramatic motion, he tore it open. The buttons popping and flying in all directions.

Usually Alex would start laughing or make a joke if I attempted such a cliché move. This time she didn't. Only an excited moan escaped her lips. Then she was leaning up, shrugging herself free of the ruined garment. They tossed it to the side and Alex resumed her eager devouring of his cock.

The amount of effort she was putting in was startling. With each bob of her head, she forced more and more of his thick veiny log of a member to the back of her throat. Her hand went from his shaft to his heavy balls, cradling them. She stared up at him, like she was eager for his approval. I was surprised. She never struggled, never gagged, never second guessed her abilities, even as his cock hit the back of her throat, and she held him there. Her tongue escaped her lower lip and lapped at the underside of his shaft as she swallowed him. Her hand cupped and fondled his balls.

By now, I had unzipped myself. My cock was aching as badly as the uncomfortable ache in my heart. My stomach still felt heavy and leaden, but we were committed now. There was no going back, so I thought it best to stay a part of the action as much as I possibly could. I stroked myself as I watched, trying to be patient as I waited for my turn. Alex moved her foot against my bare cock, but her efforts were half hearted. My cock was maybe a third of the length of Brett's rigid soldier. The difference was alarming.

Brett reached down and started to hike Alex's t-shirt up over her tits. As soon as her perky B's came free, she grabbed both of his huge hands and pushed them hard against her flesh. His fingers dug in and he helped himself to a handful of her tits.

"Mmmmm," she purred, her head bobbing vigorously now as he stood over her. "Mmhmm..." she urged him on.

Brett began to pinch her nipples, twisting and earning a whimper. She jumped. I knew it wouldn't last long. Alex always did have sensitive nipples.

She sucked him for a moment longer, but he must have hit just the right spot with his roaming hands. She cried out and came up gasping. His big cock hung in front of her, wet with her saliva. She stroked him eagerly for a few fast pumps, then she climbed to her feet, grabbed him by the chest, and did an awkward shuffle as she turned the two of them around, and pushed him back onto the couch beside me. He flopped down, and she knelt on the floor in front of us.

The entire time, she hadn't let go of his manhood. She dragged her tongue up and down his length, then resumed locking her lips tightly around his head. Brett lounged back on the couch, sighing in pleasure at the intense blowjob that my wife was delivering. She groped reluctantly until she found my cock with her free hand. But even as she started to stroke me, this overwhelming feeling of sadness and betrayal came over me. I felt like she was just doing it to placate me. The feeling came like a lightning bolt, cutting through my lusty drunken haze, and vanishing almost as quickly.

My wife's mouth bobbed up and down faster and faster on Brett's cock. Every once in a while, her hand on my member would give a little jerk— the only actual effort I saw. Brett watched, sweeping her hair back behind her ears to enjoy her cheeks puckering in, like she was trying to suck the cock right off of his body.

"Holy shit," he gasped at me. "Dude, your wife sucks a mean cock."

I stared down at the monster that she was gobbling up. My wife never shied away from sucking cock, but I've also never seen her so eagerly devour one either. Brett's moans of pleasure grew louder. It only drew attention to the fact that she was half heartedly touching me.

"Baby? Do I get a turn?" I asked. To my own ears, my voice sounded like a whiny little kid at a county fair.

Alex continued to suck. She held up one finger at me. A gesture of "Wait." Did she actually tell me to wait? Her mouth was working hungrily. She was really going to town on him. She didn't put her hand back on my lap. Instead she slid it between her thighs. She was touching herself over her shorts.

My hand took over rubbing myself, all too aware that I had somehow become the spectator on my own honeymoon. I clung to the dwindling hope that I'd get to have my fun, and that it would be worth the wait.

As I watched her suck and slobber on a pole that put mine to shame, and listened to the sound of his pleasure and her heavy breathing, I had this image of my friends and loved ones asking me how my honeymoon went— their eyes so eager and excited to hear about how the lovebirds faired. What in God's name would I tell them? Would I tell them that I sat heartbrokenly on a couch, waiting to get my cock sucked by my own wife, because she was busy drunkenly pleasuring this complete interloper?

I could feel the tears starting to form at the corners of my eyes. I was just about to open my mouth to speak but Brett cut me off. "I can't wait any more," he said and stood. I saw a flash of disappointment as my wife's mouth came off of his cock. He turned Alex's face to my lap.

I flashed him a grateful smile, and immediately wondered why I had done that. This was my wife! And he was treating it like he was doing me a favor. He pulled the rest of his clothes off over his head and knelt behind her on the floor. My wife stared up at me, her face between my knees. Her eyes were glazed over with lust. She looked like she lost her mind— all concept of who she is, and who she's supposed to be. I never saw that look before.

She rested her head in my lap and gave my cock a few gentle sucks— nothing like what she did to Brett's cock. Her movements delicate. Even the way she held my cock with just her finger and thumb... she was treating it like she thought she'd break it.

Behind her, Brett yanked down her shorts, exposing her bare ass and soaked sex. I heard a harsh CLAP as he slapped her ass with one giant palm. "MMM!" She moaned into my cock. Her eyes shut. But the way she wagged and sashayed her hips, she was enjoying it, temping him to do it again. He gave her another harsh clap. This one was even harsher and louder than the last.

Alex spit my cock out and cried out.

"Who's a bad little slut?" He asked, and spanked her again. His hands were huge. They must have really stung, because her head dropped onto my thigh. She gripped the couch cushions, trying to catch her breath as he made her see stars.

"I am," she whimpered out, forgetting about my penis now, and staring back at him, gasping for breath. She was fighting to control her animalistic lust.

"Tell me," he demanded and slapped her ass again.

She cried out, huffing and puffing. My lap just her pillow now and nothing more. "I'm a bad little slut!" She said louder, letting him put her in her place.

Then to my shock, Brett cranked it up a bit. "Whose slut are you?"

She blinked at him, hesitating. He spanked her again, the shockwave of the slap sent jiggles up her plump butt and wide hips. "Yours!" She cried out.

I could hardly believe my own ears. He was taming my wife right in front of me, like his own slut.

"Say it again, Alex."

This time, without even being prompted with a spank, she just blurted it out. "I'm your slut."

"Are you ready for my cock?" He grabbed her hips and snarled. He was just as turned on as she was. I didn't even need to be there, for what was about to happen. They didn't care. My presence played no part in what was about to happen.

"I'm so ready," she said and started to push her butt backward to him.

It suddenly hit me, even before he entered her. "Wait... do you have a condom in your bag—"

Alex's face contorted. The moan of pleasure that roared out of her lips was so loud that it stopped me in my tracks. He was pushing his thick cock into her tight body with no protection. She gripped my legs for dear life, and she shut her eyes. She pursed her lips tightly as he invaded my wife's body with the biggest cock of her life.

"Ohhhh my god!" She cried out.

"Fuck, you're so tight..." he moaned in pleasure, filling her up. As he slid himself deeper, he looked me dead in the face and I could see a little smile of triumph. It horrified me. Before the look of shock could leave my features, he bellowed out, "Ohhh Alex."

"Oh Brett," she replied in kind. Her voice a humbled squeak. Her head beside my cock, but she didn't even see it just then— all of her thoughts focused on him.

As he sank the last few inches of his girth inside of her, her body found the rhythm she craved and she used me for leverage and nothing more, pushing back into him, fucking him so that he barely had to move.

They were hardly more than a few pumps in before my wife started to cry out. "Ohhh shit... oh fuck... oh shit."

"Oh god!" I cried out as I realized what was happening— he was making her cum within seconds of being inside of her.

Alex let the orgasm wash over her. Her body moving with his. Her hands grabbed for my hands, and she laced her fingers through mine. Her eyes still shut, her mind awash in the pleasure that his body was bringing her. She was moaning and hollering louder than ever as another orgasm wracked her body. She continued to fuck him all the way through it, and by the time it was done, she was staring over her shoulder at him in disbelief.

Brett smiled at her. His body began to move as hers slowed. He gripped her hips and pumped his cock in and out of her body, using my wife for his own greedy pleasure. They were gasping quietly to the crackle of the fire. It was bizarre being a part of whatever was being exchanged between the two of them.

My wife's mouth hung open, her ear resting to my thigh. She was panting like a subdued little fuck toy. Brett reached over to the table while his tempo increased. He gathered the sex toy— the one that was in his likeness. He held the tip out to her. And to my shock and humiliation, she started to suck on the rubber toy while he fucked her.

I was devastated. They'd not only managed to omit me from their proposed drunken "threesome"... but then the greedy prick was monopolizing her mouth with a sex toy, so I had no chance of even being a participant.

I sat there, staring them in the face as he slapped her ass and drove his cock forth and back, charging ahead ever deeper into my wife's womanhood. Here I was, on my own romantic honeymoon, reduced to nothing more than a living breathing headboard.

Her ass started to bounce back into Brett's body with renewed vigor. A fast and steady slapping sound of two bodies coming together over and over drowned out the crackle of the fire and the beating of my breaking heart.

Alex sucked at the sex toy like she was under the spell of an evil witch. Her tongue twirled and spun around the rubber head. And somewhere behind her, the real thing was resting deep and happily in the womb of the woman I loved.

Brett grinned at me, and the fire light dancing off his features made him look like the devil. It was too much for me. I couldn't participate in this. I wasn't even a participant, but I wasn't going to be a witness to my own cuckolding.

I eased out from beneath my wife's head. They didn't even notice that I'd slipped out. They didn't ask me a single question, or offer a single word. The world spun. I was very drunk. More that I initially thought.

Their moans followed me from the living room as I stepped into the bedroom on unsteady feet. I gazed at the bed I should be sharing with my wife in this beautiful cabin. I looked back into the living room. I could see them in profile. My wife on all fours, completely nude. Her athletic body silhouetted against the fire, was fucking like an animal— as though this was everything her body had been built for. Every mile she'd ever run, every sit-up she'd done, every yoga class, and every rep had all been for this. She threw her head back and moaned louder. Brett's hands moved up her back and held her by the shoulders. His body matching her tempo. The way they fit together was almost perfect.

I knew that I needed to stop this, but my brain was so fuzzy from the liquor, it was like I was seeing this all through a cloudy veil. It was a veil I couldn't remove from my body. Imagine trying to throw a punch underwater. That's how I felt, not just physically, but mentally. My thoughts processed too slow to be effective. My mouth formed words too slow to be persuasive.

But my feelings were sharp as a tack, and I knew that this was wrong, and I knew that I was hurting. There was nothing that I could do to stop this. Not this. It was bigger than me.

I shut the door and laid on the bed. But sleep didn't come. Not for a long long time. I stared out the window. The snow continued to plummet from the heavens, mocking me, and making me a prisoner to this situation.

Outside of the door, the fucking continued. It went on and on. I got up several times, paced. A few times, I even peeked. That was an even bigger mistake.

When I cracked the bedroom door, I saw that the fire had mostly burned itself out. The fire is slowly dying... and your wife is still goodbying. In the hellish glow of the fading red embers, I spotted Brett on the couch. My wife was on his lap. She had his hands pinned above his head. He didn't seem to mind. She was riding him. Her body slid smoothly up and down his. His massive cock disappearing again and again into her body. They were kissing long and passionately.

In those long seconds, I never saw their lips part. They never came up for air. Their mouths were so engrossed in each other's, locked in place, I knew in my gut that this night was never going to end, even after the morning came.

I watched my wife's hips buck faster, her bounces moving in long quick strokes, up and down. Her hands keeping him there, like her prisoner. Her mouth tasting his, their tongues rolling and playing together.

As I turned to shut the bedroom door, I heard him. "I'm going to cum," he whispered.

"Yessss..." she hissed. "Do it."

What followed, I can only describe as the worst sound in my life. It was the sounds of their simultaneous moaning. Brett's grunting was more urgent than ever, and my wife's was excited and desperate. It went on for a painfully long time. Then silence followed.

That silence only meant one thing: He had climaxed inside of my wife.

I lay on the bed, folding up on myself. I stayed like that for a long time, pretending to be asleep. My wife never came in for bed.

Outside, the snow continued to fall...