Chapter 5: Hubby
: The Cuckold's Secret
The Winslows' home was a study in understated elegance, a sanctuary of quiet luxury that belied the storm of desires and deceptions brewing within its walls. The grand foyer, with its polished marble floors and gleaming chandelier, was a stark contrast to the cozy, cluttered office where Emory had first been propositioned by Dr. Ellen Winslow. The air was thick with an expectant tension, a silent prelude to the debauched dance that was about to unfold.
Emory arrived at the home exactly when dr Winslow had instructed her too. She had a unique task ahead of her, one that both filled her with dread and excitement. The house was imposing, a grand structure that seemed to loom over her as she approached the door. The doorbell chimed, a melodic sound that seemed out of place given the purpose of her visit.
The door opened, and there he was, Matt Winslow. He was dressed casually, in shorts and a t-shirt, looking every bit the mild-mannered, unassuming husband. But Emory knew better. She knew the dark desires that lurked beneath his plain exterior.
"Emory, right? Dr. Winslow's patient," he said, extending a hand.
His voice was warm, friendly, the picture of a man welcoming a guest into his home. Emory took his hand, her own hand trembling slightly.
"Yes, that's right," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She had met Matt Winslow before, at various campus events and charity functions, but she had never been alone with him. She had never been in his home. And she had certainly never been there with the intention of fucking him.
Matt led her into the house, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. Emory could feel the heat of his touch through her dress, could feel the weight of his gaze on her.
She tried to remind herself that this was just a job, that she was doing this to help Dr. Winslow. But as they walked through the house, the air grew thicker, the tension more palpable. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, could feel the heat pooling between her legs.
dr Winslow had given a very “unique” and unusual plan to have Emory seduce her husband. She had snuck out to be with her bull, and Emory had a very specific scenario she had to play out. Matt was unaware to everything - his wife’s affair, and Emory’s true reason for the visit. He was under the impression that Emory was there for a unique and strange treatment he had never heard of, that she had to do on her own in her home.
He led her to the living room, where he had set up a chair.
“So, this is where you’ll be sitting. You’ll be alone, with the door closed. You’ll have a timer, and you’ll be doing a series of tasks for me. Understand?” Matt said, his voice filled with anticipation and a hint of curiosity.
Emory nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew what she had to do. She had to follow dr Winslow’s instructions to the letter. She had to seduce Matt, make him desire her, and then have him beg to be her fucktoy. And Matt had no idea of this plan.
Dr Winslow was away with her bull while her husband were at home.
"Yes, I understand," Emory replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt a wave of nerves wash over her as she took in the chair, the closed door, the timer on the side table. This was real. This was happening.
Matt handed her a small remote control. "This is for the timer. When it goes off, that's your cue to start the next task. Understand?"
Emory nodded again, her hands clutching the remote tightly. She could feel the weight of Matt's gaze on her, could feel the heat of his desire radiating off him. The truth was this treatment was all a ruse Matt was believing in. The real treatment was Emory’s task to seduce him and make him her fucktoy while Dr. Winslow was off with her lover.
Emory sat down on the chair, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat of Matt's gaze on her, could feel the weight of his desire radiating off him. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She had to seduce him, make him desire her, and then have him beg to be her fucktoy.
She looked up at Matt, her eyes meeting his.
"Okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her body heating up as she prepared for what was about to happen.
Dr Winslow had warned Emory that her husband was a pervert. A shy horny man with little charisma. And in that moment Emory could see he was looking down her shirt. He quickly glanced down at his hand, and then back to her chest. She could see his cheeks flushing, a hint of the pervert that Dr. Winslow had warned her about. Emory took a deep breath, and slowly began to unbutton her blouse. Matt's eyes widened, his gaze fixed on her fingers as they worked the buttons, one by one.
“What...what are you doing?” he stammered, his voice a barely audible whisper.
Emory stood up nervously. Her hands shaking. “Um I thought Dr Winslow said you’d help me get setup since she can’t make it today?” Matt stuttered, his eyes darting between the open blouse and Emory’s face.
“Oh, she did, didn’t she?” Emory smirked, her fingers working the last button. She let the blouse fall open, revealing her black lace bra underneath. Matt's eyes widened, his breath hitching as he took in the sight of her.
“Y-yes, she did,” he managed to stammer, his voice barely a whisper. “But I didn’t realize it was this kind of treatment.
Emory let her blouse slip off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor behind her.
“it’s a sexual confidence treatment.” She lied kinda. “I have to be more comfortable with my body in strange places. Please help. I have no idea what I’m doing.” Emory’s voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes locked onto Matt’s. There was a glint of confusion, of vulnerability, in her gaze. But there was also something else, something raw and hungry. Matt’s eyes were glued to Emory’s chest, her pink bra containing her perky b cup breasts. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest like a wild drum. “I-I don’t know if I can do this,” he stammered, his voice barely audible. He had an erection but was surprised at the scene unfolding.
Emory wasn’t a confident or an experienced woman. She was shy and naive. But here she was, taking the initiative and making him feel uncomfortable and aroused at the same time.
Matt's eyes darted between hers and her exposed chest. He could see her nipples hardening under the sheer material of her bra. He could feel his cock straining against his shorts, eager to get out and touch her.
"Emory, I don't think this is appropriate," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He was trying to be the responsible adult, but his body was betraying him.
“please Mr Winslow. I need help. I need this treatment.” Emory lied per Dr winslows orders. “I have … strange and unusual kinks and fetishes. This is how she’s told me to process them.” She could see the struggle in his eyes, the war between his moral compass and his primal desires. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage.
“Please, Mr. Winslow. I need this. I need you to help me.”
She stepped closer, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch his shirt. His breath hitched as her fingers grazed his chest, and she could feel the heat of his body through the fabric. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and lust.
“Like….like what?” Matt stammered, conflicted but horny, his own fucked up perverse thoughts in his mind.
“you…you won’t judge me will you?” Emory said sitting on the couch as Matt nervously did as well.
Matt’s hands trembled as he sat down, his eyes darting between Emory’s exposed breasts and her face. He was trying to be good, trying to do what he thought was right, but his body was on fire with lust. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this, the last time he had been this turned on.
“I-I won’t judge you, Emory,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel the heat of her body, could smell the faint scent of her shampoo, and it was driving him wild.
“You promise?” Emory asked, her voice filled with a mix of hope and fear.
Matt nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I promise."
Emory took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall away to reveal her perky, full breasts.
"I…it’s a lot of things.” Emory said nervously per what Dr Winslow had told her to say. “I like…men who cross dress. In lingerie…
,” Emory's voice trailed off, her face flushing with embarrassment. She couldn't believe she was saying these words, let alone to her professor's husband.
“I—I like to see them…wear it, prance around…like a fucking peacock,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Matt's eyes widened, his breath hitching in his throat. He had never heard such filthy words come out of Emory's mouth, let alone with such conviction. He could feel his cock twitching in his shorts, eager to get out and play.
His perverse fantasies were now coming true before his eyes. He had always dreamed of seeing a woman like this, of hearing such filthy words come out of her mouth. But he never thought it would be Emory, his wife's student.
Emory felt a rush of excitement and nervousness as she said the words, revealing her deepest, darkest desires. She had never admitted them to anyone before, let alone to her professor's husband. But she saw the hunger in his eyes, the way his gaze was fixed on her naked breasts, and she knew that she had him.
“really?” Matt said quietly , his eyes wide with surprise and lust. He couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. “I never would have guessed. You seem so...innocent.”
Emory blushed, her nipples hardening at the feel of his gaze on her bare skin. “Well, I am. I’ve never done anything like this before. But I’ve always had these...fantasies. Dark ones.” She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper.
“it’s not that weird.” Matt said trying to console her. “In fact I…uh…I like wearing lingerie.” Matt’s voice wavered, his cheeks flushing red. He couldn’t believe he was admitting this to Emory, but the sight of her bare breasts had him so turned on, he couldn’t think straight.
“You do?” Emory’s eyes widened in surprise. “Like... when?”
Matt swallowed hard, his cock straining against his shorts as he thought about the times he had snuck into Dr. Winslow’s room, when she was out, and tried on her lingerie. He had never told anyone about this, not even his wife.
But here he was, pouring his deepest, darkest secret to her pretty little mouth. He could see the shock in her eyes, the disbelief, but also the hunger, the lust.
"Yeah," he forced out, his voice thick with arousal. "I like wearing her lingerie. I like the way it feels, the way it makes me feel."
Emory bit her lip, her breath hitching as she processed his words. She had never imagined that her therapist's husband, this pathetic, beta man, would be a secret cross-dresser.
“in fact I, I have on a pair of her panties right now.” He said sheepishly, looking down trying to hide his face as he admitted this, his face red with embarrassment.
Emory’s eyes widened in shock, her pussy throbbing with desire at the thought of this pathetic, beta man wearing his wife’s, her therapist’s, lingerie. She could feel her own panties dampening with arousal. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions, but her body reacted instantly to the raw, filthy scenario.
“Can I see?” Emory said, her voice barely above a whisper, but filled with lust and command. She watched as Matt hesitated for a moment before slowly unzipping his jeans , his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. He stood up and shimmied out of his jeans, revealing a pair of pink lace panties that were clearly too small for him. Emory's eyes widened as she took in the sight of her professor's husband, dressed in his wife's lingerie, his cock straining against the delicate fabric.
“Fuck,” she whispered, her pussy throbbing with desire. “You look...fucking ridiculous, Matt.”
Matt flinched at her words, but Emory could see the way his cock twitched in response.
“but I….i like it.” She said, her hands shaking as she built the courage to touch his hairy cock thru the lace thong . She could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric, could see the pre-cum staining the material. She bit her lip, her breath hitching as she brushed her fingers against his length, feeling it twitch and grow harder.
"Fuck, that feels so good, Emory," Matt groaned, his hips thrusting forward, desperate for more contact.
Emory smirked, her fingers cupping his balls, feeling their weight, the softness of the fine hairs surrounding them. "You like that, don't you, Matt?
You like having your little cock all wrapped up in your wife's lingerie?" Emory taunted, her voice a low, husky whisper. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, could see the sweat beading on his forehead as he thrust into her touch.
"Fuck, yes," Matt panted, his hips jerking, desperate for more friction. "I fucking love it, Emory.."
Emory chuckled, a dark, wicked sound that sent shivers down Matt's spine. "Good boy," she purred, her fingers tightening around his cock through the lace.
“we … we can’t do this tho…” Matt meekly tried to protest as her hands rested on his below average hairy panty clad cock . But the look in Emory’s eyes was feral, her grip firm, her words dripping with lust and command.
"Shut the fuck up, Matt," Emory growled, her voice low and husky. "You're a fucking pervert, aren't you? You like parading around in your wife's panties, don't you? You like feeling like a little bitch in heat."
Matt's breath hitched, his cock twitching in response to her filthy words. He couldn't deny the truth in her words, couldn't deny the raw, primal desire that was coursing through his veins.
with that she began to suck him thru the thong ,slowly bringing her head down to his crotch, her tongue licking the pre cum stain on his undies.
He could feel the heat of her breath on his cock, could feel the wetness of her tongue as it traced the outline of his length through the fabric.
"Fuck, Emory," he gasped, his hips jerking forward, desperate for more contact.
She smiled up at him, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight, before taking his entire length into her mouth through the lace. She bobbed her head up and down, her tongue swirling around his cock, the lace rubbing against his sensitive skin.
Matt's breath came in short, ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. He could feel his orgasm building, could feel the pleasure coiling in his balls, ready to explode.
Emory grinned, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight. She knew she had him right where she wanted him. She knew she was in control. And she loved it.
"You like that, don't you, Matt?" she taunted, her voice husky and low. "You like having your little cock sucked through your wife's panties?"
Matt let out a strangled moan, his hips bucking against her face.
Emory looked up at him, her eyes locked onto his, as she continued to suck his cock through his wife's lace panties. She could taste his pre-cum, could feel the heat of him against her tongue. She was in control, and she knew it. She loved the power she held over him, loved the way he was squirming and moaning beneath her.
She pulled back slightly, her lips wrapping around the tip of his cock, and then she sucked hard, her tongue swirling around the head. Matt let out another moan, his body shuddering with pleasure.
"Fuck, Emory," he gasped, his hands fisting in her hair.
"I'm close. I'm so fucking close."
Emory smiled around his cock, her eyes watering slightly from the intensity of her sucking. She looked up at him, her gaze filled with a mix of lust and triumph. She had him right where she wanted him, begging for release.
"Not yet, baby," she murmured, her voice a low purr. "Not until I say so."
Matt whimpered, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. Emory could feel the tension in his body, could sense the pleasure coiling in his balls, ready to explode. She loved it. She loved the power she had over him. And she couldn’t believe how hairy his dick was and how cute it looked in the stained panties. She made a small “mmm mm mmm” sound to encourage him to keep thrusting his little cock into her mouth. It was weird, but she kinda really liked being in control of him and making him feel good. She had never felt so powerful.
Matt was panting and moaning. His hand had a death grip on the back of her head as he fucked her mouth, his hips jerking and thrusting in a wild rhythm.
"Fuck, Emory. You’re so good at that. Your mouth feels so fucking good on my cock," he groaned, his eyes squeezed shut.
Emory looked up at him and smiled. She was enjoying this. She could play him like a fiddle.
“what other sick little things do you like?” She said as his dick fell outve her mouth . She wanted to know what other sick desires were hiding within this pathetic beta male. She wanted to explore every part of his perversion.
“s-sometimes I like…” he said, leaning in to her, his cheeks bright red, his eyes downcast. “Sometimes I like to wear…my wife's…her heels.”
Emory raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Her heels?”
Matt nodded, a small, sheepish grin appearing on his face. “Yeah. I love how it feels, the way it makes me feel. I…I like to dress up completely, you know? Panties, heels, sometimes even a wig. I’ll even steal her friends panties and smell then while I touch myself and dress up.
Emory’s eyes widened in shock and lust. She hadn’t expected him to reveal such dark and twisted fantasies. But there was something thrilling about it, something primal and raw that turned her on.
"Fuck, Matt," she said, her voice filled with a mix of shock, lust, and command. "You're a fucking pervert, aren't you?"
Matt nodded, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and arousal. "Yes," he whispered. "I am."
Emory's pussy clenched with desire as she processed his words.
“show me…?” She said , the words barely a whisper, her voice thick with lust. She could feel her own panties soaking through, the ache between her legs intense. She wanted to see this pathetic man, her professor's husband, dressed in his wife's heels.
Matt hesitated for a moment before standing up and shuffling over to the bedroom door. He opened it to reveal a walk-in closet, filled with Dr. Winslow's expensive wardrobe. He glanced back at Emory, a mix of embarrassment and arousal on his face, before disappearing into the closet.
Emory waited, her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short gasps.
She could hear Matt rummaging around in the closet, the sound of hangers clinking and clothes rustling. She couldn't believe what she was about to witness. Her pussy was throbbing, her panties soaked with desire.
After a few minutes, Matt emerged from the closet, a pair of black, thigh-high stiletto heels dangling from his fingers. He looked almost comical, his thinning hair, slight paunch, and pale skin a stark contrast to the sexy, dominatrix-like footwear. But there was something about his desperation, his embarrassment, that turned Emory on even more. She wanted to know every dark little secret, fantasy, and fetish he had.
She wanted to explore every twisted, perverted corner of his mind. And she wanted to do it while he was at her mercy, while she was in control.
Matt stood before her, holding the heels in his hands, his face flushed with embarrassment and arousal. "Um, I... I don't know how to put them on," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
Emory smirked, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll help you," she said, her voice thick with lust and command. She stood up and walked over to him, her hips swaying with a confidence she didn't quite feel.
She took the heels from him, her fingers brushing against his as she did so. She turned him around and pushed him gently until he was sitting on the bed.
"Lift your feet," she commanded, her voice firm and authoritative. Matt complied, his heart pounding with excitement and embarrassment. Emory slipped one foot into a shoe, then the other. She adjusted the straps, tightening them around his ankles. She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with lust and power.
"Stand up," she ordered. Matt stood, his legs wobbling slightly in the heels. Emory smiled, her eyes never leaving his.
She ran her hands up his legs, over his thighs, and up to his hips. She felt the heat of him through the lace of his wife's panties, could see the outline of his cock straining against the fabric. She bit her lip, her breath hitching as she took in the sight of him, dressed in his wife's clothes, her therapist's clothes. She felt a rush of power, of control, and she loved it.
"You look fucking ridiculous, Matt," she said, her voice a low growl. "But I fucking love it."
Matt's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal.
"I-I'm sorry, Emory. I...I don't know why I do this. It's just...it's a fantasy. A secret one."
Emory's heart pounded as she took in the sight of him, her professor's husband, dressed in his wife's heels and panties. She couldn't believe she was turned on by this, but she was. She couldn't deny the raw, primal desire that was coursing through her veins.
She stepped closer to him, her hand reaching out to cup his cock through the lace. "Shh, baby," she murmured, her voice thick with lust.
"It's okay. I know your little secrets now."
She could feel his cock throbbing against her hand, desperate for release. She tightened her grip, her thumb tracing the outline of his head through the lace. He let out a soft moan, his hips bucking into her touch.
"I want to see it," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want to see your tiny cock, Matt."
He bit his lip, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. "You do?" he stuttered, his voice barely a whisper.
"Yeah, I do." She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. “And I have a feeling this is just one of many perverted secrets you're hiding, isn't it, Matt?" He couldn't deny the truth in her words, couldn't deny the raw, primal desire that was coursing through his veins.
Emory stepped back, her eyes locked onto his as she slowly began to unbutton her blouse. Matt's eyes widened as he watched her, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never seen her like this before, so confident, so in control.
"What are you doing?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
"I'm undressing," Emory said, her voice low and husky. "Because I want to see your tiny cock, Matt. I want to see it all by itself, not hiding behind your wife's lingerie."
Matt's breath hitched, his cock twitching in response to her words. He watched, mesmerized, as Emory slowly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her smooth, pale skin inch by inch. She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and stood before him in her pink lace bra and her jeans . Matt's cock twitched in his wife's panties, desperate for more.
"What...what are you doing, Emory?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, couldn't believe the raw, primal desire that was coursing through his veins.
Emory smirked, her eyes never leaving his. Matt's breath hitched, his cock twitching in response to the sight of her naked tits.
He couldn't believe the sight in front of him - Emory, the good girl, the shy freshman, standing before him in her bra and jeans, her lips curled into a wicked smile.
"I'm taking off my bra, Matt," Emory said, her voice low and husky. "I want you to watch. I want you to see my tits, my hard nipples. I want you to see how much I want your tiny cock inside me."
Matt bit his lip, his breath coming in short gasps.
“I’ll make you a deal baby.” She said , finding her confidence within her. “you get to see my tits if you promise to show me your little dick, and let me fuck it.”
Matt flushed a dark red, and stumbled over his words, “I-I don’t know, Emory. What if someone…”
She cut him off, “don’t worry, Matt. We’ll lock the door. No one will know.”
He looked at her, his dark pupils nearly swallowing his irises. He nodded slowly.
Emory unhooked her bra, revealing her firm, perky breasts. Matt’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.
“so for every dirty perverted fantasy you confess to me I’ll take off another piece of clothing…” Emory teased, a wicked grin playing on her lips as she brazenly shrugged off her bra, freeing her pert breasts. Matt’s eyes were glued to them, his cock straining against the lace of his wife’s panties.
Emory’s nipples were already hard and pointed, the cool air in the room making them ache with need. She ran her hands over them, pinching and rolling them between her fingers.
“like what you see, baby?” she taunted. "Fuck, yes," he breathed, his voice thick with desire.
"I love it. You have the most perfect fucking tits I've ever seen."
Emory smirked, her nipples hardening even more under his gaze. "Well, if you want to see more, you'll have to show me your little cock, Matt. And you'll have to confess another one of your dirty little secrets."
Matt swallowed hard, his cock twitching in anticipation. "I... I wear her wigs too. Her friends' wigs. I put them on and touch myself while I look at myself in the mirror. I imagine— "
"Imagine what, Matt?" Emory interrupted, her voice a low purr.
"You like to imagine your tiny cock sliding into your wife's friends' mouths, don't you? You want to see her swallow your load, don't you, Matt?"
Matt's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, but his cock twitched in response to her filthy words. He bit his lip, his eyes casting down to the floor in shame, but his body was screaming with desire.
"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I do."
Emory smiled, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight. She began to toy with the button of her jeans. “What other fucked up gross fantasys have you never told anyone?”
Emory cooed, her fingers inching lower, unzipping her jeans. Matt’s eyes widened as she began to wiggle out of them, revealing her black lace panties, damp with arousal.
Matt’s breath hitched, his cock throbbing in his wife’s panties. He had never seen Emory like this, so raw, so uninhibited. He was a trembling mess, his perverse desires bubbling to the surface.
“I…I like to…” He stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I like to suck on my wife’s friends panties after they’ve worn them.
I imagine it’s their pussy juice on them. I like how it tastes.”
Matt’s confession sent a shockwave through Emory. She bit her lip, her pussy throbbing with a mix of disgust and arousal. The sheer perversity of his confession was turning her on like nothing else. She couldn’t believe how much of a sick fuck her professor’s husband was.
“Fuck, Matt,” she growled, her voice thick with lust. “You’re a fucking pervert, aren’t you? You fucking love it.”
Matt nodded, his eyes downcast, but his cock straining against his wife’s panties.
“Yes,” he whispered. “I love it.”
Emory's pussy clenched with desire as she processed his words. She had never heard such filthy, depraved confessions, but they were turning her on like nothing else. She could feel her own panties soaked through, her arousal dripping down her inner thighs.
"Fuck, Matt," she growled, her voice thick with lust. Tell me more. Please.”
Emory stepped closer, her hand reaching out to cup his cock through the lace.
“tell me every gross thing you like.” Emory said, her voice a husky whisper as her hand squeezed his cock through the panties. "I want to hear it all, Matt."
Matt looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of shame and arousal. He took a deep breath before confessing, "I...I like…watching girls pee.
I love the sound of it hitting the toilet, the smell, the sight of it all. And sometimes, I'll…I'll drink it. I'll take their used panties and press them to my face, and I'll inhale their scent, their flavor. I love it, Emory. I fucking love it. In the toilet or when they pee their pants.”
Emory's breath hitched in her throat as she listened to Matt's confession. She couldn't believe the things he was telling her, the perverted thoughts that were swirling in his brain. But as much as she wanted to be disgusted, she found herself growing more and more aroused.
The thought of this pathetic, beta male indulging in such depraved fantasies was turning her on in a way she never thought possible.
"Fuck, Matt," she said, her voice barely a whisper but filled with desire. "You're a fucking sick fuck, aren't you?" "Yes," he admitted.
Emory bit her lip, her pussy throbbing with need as she processed his words. She stepped closer to him, her hand reaching out to cup his cock through the lace of his wife's panties.
“what if before i take these jeans off i pee right here in front of you in them. In your marital bed. And then you can peel them off me as you confess your next fantasy.
How does that sound, Matt?" Emory taunted, her voice thick with lust. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, could see the desire in his gaze as he looked down at her, his cheeks flushed red.
Matt's breath hitched, his cock twitching in his wife's panties at the thought of Emory peeing in her jeans right in front of him. He had never done anything like this before, had never even imagined it. But the raw, primal desire that was coursing through his veins was too much to resist.
"Fuck, yes," he panted, his hips thrusting forward, desperate for more contact.
Emory raised her eyebrows, a smirk playing on her lips.
"What, you like the sound of my piss hitting the toilet?" she teased, her hand still on his cock. "Or do you think it'll be hotter seeing me squat right here and just let it go?" She ran her other hand down her stomach, her fingers teasing the waistband of her jeans.
Matt's breath hitched, his cock throbbing in response to her words. "Fuck, yes," he groaned, his hand fisting in her hair. "I want to see it all, Emory.
I want to see you squat and piss in your fucking jeans right here in front of me." Matt's voice was ragged with desire, his cock straining against Dr. Winslow's panties.
Emory bit her lip, her eyes locked onto his. "You sure about that, Matt? 'Cause once I start, you ain't gonna be able to stop me." She teased, her fingers working the button of her jeans.
Matt nodded eagerly, his eyes glued to her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Yes, please.
I want to see it all." Matt's voice was a desperate plea, his face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. He couldn't believe he was saying these words, couldn't believe the raw, primal desire that was coursing through his veins. But he wanted it all. He wanted it all so badly it hurt.
Emory smirked, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight. She loved seeing him like this, loved knowing that she had him right where she wanted him. She loved the power she held over him. She took a deep breath, her chest heaving with excitement and anticipation.
"Okay, Matt.” She said as she crawled back on the Winslow’s marital bed - then same bed she had been fucked by Dr Winslow in just days earlier.
she laid back and arched her legs, spreading them to give Matt a view. She bit her lip, her eyes meeting his as she began to pee.
Matt watched in awe as the dark golden liquid began to pool in her jeans, spreading across the denim. The sound was loud in the quiet room, the scent of her piss filling the air. His cock strained against his wife's panties, desperate for release. That's so fucking hot," Matt groaned, his eyes glued to her as she continued to pee, soaking her jeans and the bed.
Emory looked up at him, a shy grin playing on her lips.
"Like what you see, baby?" she asked, her voice a sultry purr.
Matt nodded, his eyes wide with disbelief and arousal. "Fuck, yes. That's the sexiest thing I've ever seen."
Emory's grin widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She spread her legs wider, giving him a better view of the growing wet patch on her jeans. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her, could see the way his cock was straining against his wife's panties. She bit her lip, her breath hitching as she began to rub herself through the damp denim.
“You want to touch me, don’t you, Matt? You want to feel how wet I am.”
Matt nodded, his eyes locked onto her, his cock throbbing in his wife’s panties. “Yes, fuck yes, I do.”
Emory beckoned him closer with a crook of her finger. “Then come here, baby. Come taste it.”
Matt stumbled forward, his legs wobbling in his wife’s heels, his eyes never leaving her as he crawled onto the bed. Emory spread her legs wider, giving him a clear view of the dark stain spreading across her jeans.
“You can touch, smell, and peel me outve these piss soaked jeans on one condition. You confess another one of your fucking disgusting perverted fantasies to me.” Emory ordered, her eyes locked onto his as she slowly spread her legs wider, giving him a better view of the growing dark stain.
Matt nodded eagerly, his eyes gleaming with lust and desperation. "Anything," he breathed, his voice a ragged whisper. "I'll tell you anything you want to hear."
Emory smirked, her fingers tracing the outline of her piss-soaked jeans. "I want to hear about the time you snuck into your wife’s friends house and stole her used panties, Matt.
Tell me about that while you're peeling these jeans off me." Emory smirked, her voice holding a dark, wicked edge.
Matt hesitated for a moment, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and arousal. Emory was sheepish but curious, enjoying the power she held over this man.
His hands touched her for the first time. Meekly on the front of her tummy while he fumbled with the button of her piss soaked jeans. As he struggled with the zipper he began to tell the story.
“Um, it was this woman…Molly . Dr. Winslow’s intern. She was in her mid 20s” He looked at her for confirmation and Emory nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “Well, one day when they were all out to a happy hour to celebrate her med school graduation, I saw her leaving early. I followed her home, you know, just to make sure she got home safe. But when I saw her apartment was empty…I…I don’t know what came over me, but I broke in.”
Matt’s voice was barely a whisper, his cheeks flushed a deep red. Emory felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine as she listened to his confession.
She couldn't believe the things he was telling her, but it was turning her on like nothing else. She had never heard such filthy, depraved confessions before, and she was loving every second of it.
"So, what did you do?" Emory prompted, her voice husky with desire. She could feel the heat of his hands on her belly, and she knew that he was about to peel away her jeans. She couldn't wait to feel his touch, to see what this pathetic, beta male would do next.
Matt hesitated for a moment before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper. "I went into her bedroom, and I found her panties.
They were just...lying there, on her floor. I picked them up, and I could smell her on them. Her scent was...intoxicating. I couldn't help myself. I put them on, and I...I touched myself. I came so hard, just from the smell of her."
Emory's heart was pounding in her chest as she listened to Matt's confession. She couldn't believe the things he was telling her, couldn't believe the raw, primal desire that was coursing through her veins. She could feel her own pussy throbbing with need, her panties soaked through with arousal.
She loved hearing his filthy confessions, loved the power she held over him. "You're such a fucking pervert. You touch yourself in your wife's friends' underwear? That's fucking disgusting."
Matt flinched at her words, his cheeks darkening with a mix of shame and arousal. "I know it is," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "But I can't help it. I love it. To this day I still swipe mollys panties, and many others whenever I can.” In his embarrassment and arousal, his hands finally managed to get the jeans unzipped. Emory spread her legs wider, eagerly anticipating his next move. Matt's face was levels of red, and he was breathing heavy as he tugged at the jeans, revealing more of Emory's smooth thighs.
“Look at you,” Emory taunted, her voice thick with lust, “touching yourself in their fucking panties. God, that’s so fucking hot. What else did you do, Matt? Did you do more than just touch yourself?”
Matt’s breath hitched, and he hesitated for a moment before continuing.
He felt so ashamed, yet so aroused, by the things he was admitting to Emory. She was young, beautiful, and seemingly innocent, yet here she was, encouraging him to confess his darkest desires.
"Yes," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes...sometimes I do more than just touch myself. I...I put on their panties, and I imagine it's them. I imagine them sitting on my face, their pussy right in front of me. And I...I lick them.
I lick their cum out of their fucking panties," Matt admitted, his voice shaking with shame and arousal.
Emory's eyes widened, her breath hitching in her throat as she processed his words. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, couldn't believe the raw, primal desire that was coursing through her veins. She had never heard such filthy, depraved confessions before, but they were turning her on like nothing else.
Matt's hands shook as he slowly peeled the piss-soaked jeans down Emory's legs, his eyes locked onto hers.
“once I even made brownies with my cum baked in for the sorority she advises.” Matt spoke softly, his hands shaking as he slowly pulled off Emory's jeans. She was spread eagle on his bed, her pussy glistening with arousal. “I left them out on the counter of the kitchen with a note that said, ‘Treat yourself girls,’.” He added, a small smirk playing on his lips, his embarrassment forgotten in the haze of his lust.
Emory's eyes widened at his confession. “Fuck, Matt,” she growled, her voice thick with desire. “You're a fucking sick fuck, aren't you?”
Matt nodded, his cheeks flushed red with shame and arousal.
Emory was speechless, staring at him with a mix of disbelief and desire. She couldn’t believe how depraved and filthy this man was, her professor’s husband. But there was something about his confessions that turned her on like nothing else.
She spread her legs wider, giving him a clear view of her glistening pussy. Matt looked down, his eyes widening at the sight of her. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so inviting. He couldn't take his eyes off her, couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch her.
He brushed his fingers against her outer lips, feeling the heat and dampness of her arousal.
“I think I want to have sex with you, Matt.” she said as his fingers gently explored her soaked pussy. She had never said those words before, had never felt such raw, primal desire. But here she was, spread eagle on her professor's husband's bed, his fingers exploring her most intimate place.
Matt's eyes widened in shock, his fingers stilling for a moment before continuing their exploration. “Emory, I…I don’t think that’s a good idea. Your professor and I…we’re married.”
Emory smirked, her eyes filled with a mix of lust and mischief. “I know, Matt. I know you’re married.
But I don’t think it matters to me right now. I want you to fuck me, Matt. I want to feel your cock inside me. I want to see how disgusting you are in person. You know, like your wife does.”
Matt's breath hitched, his fingers stilling on her pussy as he processed her words. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of shock, desire, and guilt.
"Emory, I… I can't. I love my wife."
Emory laughed, a low, husky sound that sent a shiver down Matt's spine.
She reached down and grabbed his hand, guiding it back to her pussy.
"You think this is how your wife fucks you, Matt?" she asked, her voice thick with lust. "You think she's up here, fucking like this?"
She ground her hips against his hand, her clit rubbing against his fingers. Matt's breath hitched, his dick throbbing in his wife's panties. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, knew he should be stopping, but he couldn't. Not with Emory grinding against his hand, not with her eyes filled with lust and desire.
"No," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
"She hasn't fucked me in years. She doesn't even want to touch me anymore."
Emory's pussy clenched at his words, a dark thrill running through her. She could feel the power she held over him, the desperation in his voice. She wanted to use him, to take advantage of his perverted desires and his pent-up lust.
"Then fuck me, Matt," she purred, her voice thick with lust.
"I want to feel your tiny cock inside me. I want to be the one your wife won't fuck."
Matt hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. Not with Emory looking at him like that, not with her pussy so wet and ready for him.
He reached down and began to pull his wife's panties to the side , his cock finally free after what felt like hours. Emory's eyes widened as she took in the sight of him, her breath hitching in her throat. This was so real. She lay on the Winslow’s marital bed, naked save for her cum and piss soaked pink thong, as this perverted man, husband of her professor, climbed on top of her of her. He was still dressed in his wife's heels and a pair of panties, his cock straining against the lace. He looked ridiculous, but there was something so raw and primal about the sight that it made her pussy throb with need. Emory could feel the heat of his body, could see the desire in his eyes as he positioned himself between her legs. She spread her thighs wider, inviting him in, wanting to feel him inside her.
Matt hesitated for a moment, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked down at her, his eyes taking in every inch of her naked body. He had never seen anyone so beautiful, so inviting.
Emory's breath hitched as she felt the head of his cock pressing against her opening. She was nervous, her body trembling as she anticipated the pain and discomfort of her first time with a man other than Nick. But she was also excited, her pussy throbbing with need and desire.
She looked up at Matt, her eyes locking onto his. "Fuck me, Matt," she growled, her voice thick with lust. I want you to fuck me like the pathetic, beta male that you are."
"But first," she whispered, her fingers digging into his back. “Confess one last final most preverted fantasy.
A really good one.” Emory whispered as Matt’s head was already resting on her shoulder.
Matt looked up at her as if he was about to confess a crime. He knew when he confessed this last fantasy it would be the final push that will make her let him fuck her.
“I... I’ve... I’ve fantasized...about...my wife…Dr Winslow….Ellen. With….wel with another man. A black man” Matt confessed, his voice shaking with shame and arousal.
Emory’s eyes widened in disbelief, but her pussy throbbed with lust.
The thought of Dr. Winslow, her therapist and mentor, with another man, was somehow the hottest thing she had ever heard. “That’s so hot. I can almost see her, on her knees, taking his big black cock in her mouth while you watch, your tiny dick hard and throbbing in her heels.”
Matt’s breath hitched, his hips thrusting forward, his cock sliding deeper into Emory’s wet folds. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned. “I want to see her do that, Emory.
I want to see her take his big black cock in her mouth, her lips stretched wide around his girth as she sucks him off.” Matt panted, his hips grinding against hers, his cock driving deeper into her.
Emory gasped, her fingers digging into Matt's back as she realized that her therapist and mentor had a secret life filled with perverted desires. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, but the dirty talk was turning her on more than she had ever thought possible.
Matt's thrusts became deeper, more desperate as he imagined his wife with another man, a man with a cock bigger than his own. He continued describe his fantasy as he awkwardly thrust into her pussy.
His cock wasn't very large, but he was eager and desperate to get off. He wanted to share this dark, twisted fantasy with Emory, to see the effect it had on her.
"I...I want to watch her choke on his cock, Emory. I want to see her gag and struggle, her eyes watering as she tries to take him all the way down her throat. And then, I want to see her take him in her pussy. I want to watch her ride him, her tits bouncing as she fucks herself on his big, thick cock. Him bare inside her. Breeding her . Fucking her like a goddamn animal.
Emory's thoughts were racing as Matt's small, desperate cock slid deeper inside her. She could feel every inch of him, every vein and ridge. It was a tight fit, and the slight discomfort only fueled her arousal. She was in control, even if she wasn't the one moving his cock. She had him right where she wanted him.
"Fuck, Emory," Matt panted, his hips thrusting erratically as he tried to find a rhythm. "You're so tight. So fucking wet."
Emory smirked, her lips brushing against his ear.
"Tell me more, Matt. I want to hear every filthy detail. Paint me a picture with your words."
Matt's hips stuttered, his body tensing as he tried to hold back his orgasm. He took a deep breath, his eyes locked onto Emory's. “I want to see her on her hands and knees, her ass in the air. I want to see him behind her, his huge cock slamming into her. I want to see her scream, her tits swinging as he fucks her like an animal. And I want to see her come. And k want to see her wear her bridal lingerie for a black man.” Matt added, his hips now fully thrusting into Emory’s tight, wet pussy.
Emory’s eyes rolled back as she heard his words, his cock hitting deep inside her, the slight pain mixing with pleasure.
“Yeah baby, tell me more,” she gasped, her fingernails digging into his back.
“I want to see her beg for his cock. I want to see her on her knees, pleading with him to fuck her, to use her like the dirty little slut she is,” Matt groaned, his voice hoarse with desire.
“I want to hear her beg for his cum, to feel his hot load inside her, filling her up while I watch, my tiny cock hard and throbbing in my wife’s heels.”
Emory's breath hitched as she listened to Matt's confession, her body trembling with a mix of shock and arousal. She couldn't believe the things he was saying, couldn't believe the raw, primal desire that was coursing through her veins. She had never heard such filthy, depraved words before, but they were turning her on like nothing else.