Chapter 3: The Doorbell
The knock came like a hammer on glass. Sharp, three times, cutting through the wet silence of the bedroom.
Jan's eyes snapped to the front of the house. She set the phone down slow, the screen still glowing with the live post. She looked at Brett, still sprawled on the bed, the camisole twisted up around his ribs, the steel cage heavy between his legs.
"Up," she said.
He moved before he thought. Rolling off the mattress, his bare feet hitting the hardwood, the skirt riding high on his hips. The garter clips caught the light.
Jan came around the bed, the strap-on still jutting from her hips, the silicone slick and dark. She took his chin in her fingers and turned his face to hers.
"You going to answer it, or do I have to put your hand on the knob for you?"
"Jan, I can't. I can't open the door like this."
"Like what? Like the married sissy you told me you were? Like the man who posted that ad?" She tilted her head. "You wanted a real man to use me, use you. He's here. You gonna keep him waiting?"
Another knock. Harder. The sound traveled through the house, up through his bare feet.
Brett's throat worked. He walked.
The hallway stretched long and dark, the bedroom light spilling out behind him. He reached the door and put his hand on the lock. The cold metal bit into his palm. He turned it.
The deadbolt clicked.
He pulled the door open.
The man was broad, filling the frame. Dark skin, close-cropped hair, a jaw cut sharp enough to shave against. He wore a black t-shirt that stretched tight across his chest and loose jeans that did nothing to hide the thick line pressing down one thigh. He took Brett in with one slow sweep of his eyes, the lace, the cage, the trembling legs in those stockings.
"You the one that posted the ad?" His voice was low, rolling.
"He's the one," Jan said from behind Brett. She came up close, her hand flat on Brett's hip, pushing him aside. "I'm the wife."
The man smiled. Wide, white teeth. He stepped inside without being asked.
Brett shut the door with a click that sounded obscenely loud.
The man moved with easy ownership through the living room, into the bedroom, and stopped at the foot of the bed. He turned and looked at Jan, and his gaze was hungry and slow. He looked at Brett, and that same gaze turned mocking, almost fond.
"You flirted with me all afternoon," he said to Brett. "Sent me that video of you in the skirt, fingers in your ass. Thought you'd be wetter in person."
Brett's mouth hung open. "I didn't. I didn't send anything."
"He posted the ad himself." Jan crossed her arms, the strap-on tilting up. "Before I even got the phone."
The man laughed.
The laugh died in the man's chest. He took a step toward Jan, then another, and his hands came up to her hips like he owned them already. He pulled her into him and kissed her, deep and slow, his tongue working into her mouth. Jan's arms went around his neck and she kissed him back like she'd been waiting all night for exactly this.
Brett stood by the door, frozen, watching his wife melt into a stranger's arms. The man's hands slid down her back, over the corset laces, and gripped her ass through the black trousers. Jan moaned against his mouth.
"Been thinking about this since I saw the ad," the man murmured against her lips.
"Then stop thinking." Jan's hands came up and grabbed the back of his head. She pulled him in harder, bit his lower lip, and her hips rolled against his. "Fuck me, right here. Fuck my married pussy."
Brett's breath caught in his throat. The steel cage pressed hard between his thighs, achingly tight. Jan's eyes flicked open over the man's shoulder and landed on him, dark and gleaming. She held his gaze while the man's hands worked the button on her trousers, while he pulled them down her thighs, while she stepped out of them one leg at a time.
"She's wet for you," Brett heard himself say, voice thin and strange.
The man glanced back at him, a slow grin spreading. "Yeah? Married pussy gets this wet for a stranger?"
"Get on the bed," Jan said. Her voice was raw. "On your back. I want to ride you while my husband watches his wife get bred."
The man didn't wait. He shed his shirt in one pull, revealing a chest of dark muscle, then his jeans, then black boxers that did nothing to hide the thick slab of flesh behind them. He climbed onto the bed, lay back, and his cock stood up against his stomach, thick and long, veins ridging the shaft. Brett counted the inches without meaning to. Ten, at least.
Jan followed him onto the bed, straddling his hips. She took his cock in her fist and stroked it, once, slow, her tongue wetting her lips. The man's hands came up to her corset, found the laces, and pulled. The satin loosened. Her breasts spilled out, full and heavy, and the man groaned.
"Look at you," he said. "That's a wife who's been starved."
Jan lowered herself. The head of his cock pressed against her, spread her open, and she sank down with a shuddering gasp. Her eyes rolled back. Her fingers dug into his chest. The man's cock disappeared into her inch by inch, and Brett watched it vanish into his wife's body, watched her take all of it, her thighs trembling, her mouth open.
"Oh, fuck," she breathed. "That's so deep. That's so fucking deep."
The man gripped her hips and started to move her, slow at first, a lazy grind that made her gasp on every stroke. His hands worked her waist, her breasts, pinching her nipples until she whimpered. Brett stood at the foot of the bed, cock locked in steel, watching his wife ride a stranger's enormous cock like she'd been made for it.
"Tell me who you belong to tonight," the man said, voice thick.
"You. I belong to you tonight. This married pussy belongs to you." Jan's hips picked up speed. She rolled and slammed down on him, taking him to the root, and a wet sound filled the room. "Your BBC is stretching me apart. You're going to wreck me for my husband, aren't you?"
"Fuck yes I am."
Brett's knees buckled. He sank to the floor by the bed, unable to look away. Jan's eyes found him there, on his knees, and her mouth curved into a cruel smile.
"You like watching, don't you, sissy? Watching a real man fuck your wife?"
"Yes," Brett breathed. "Please. Don't stop."
The man laughed and flipped Jan onto her back, driving himself in with a deep, brutal thrust. She screamed, low and long, her legs wrapping around his waist. He fucked her hard and fast, his balls slapping her ass, his cock plunging in and out of her slick, stretched cunt. Jan's hands clawed at the sheets.
"I'm going to breed this married pussy," he growled. "I'm going to come inside you so deep your husband's dick never feels the same again."
"Do it. Please. Fill me up. Make me your BBC slut." Jan's voice broke into a moan. "Cum in my pussy, please, I'm begging you, breed me, breed this married cunt."
The man's rhythm stuttered. He buried himself to the hilt and held, his body shuddering, a deep groan tearing from his throat. Jan cried out as he emptied into her, her legs clamping tight around him, her hips grinding up against his. She came with her eyes locked on him, then her gaze slid to Brett, and she smiled, spent and shining with sweat.
"Come here, sissy." She gestured weakly to the foot of the bed. "Lie down. I want you to taste it."
Brett crawled onto the bed on hands and knees. The man pulled out of Jan with a wet sound, and a thick rope of his cum leaked from her. He rolled off, breathing hard, watching. Jan straddled Brett's face, her wet thighs closing around his cheeks, and lowered herself until her cunt pressed against his open mouth.
"Eat it," she said. "Lick every drop out of me."
Brett's tongue slid into her. The taste hit him, salt and bitter, his own wife's slick mixed with a stranger's seed. He lapped at her greedily, tongue working deep, and Jan groaned above him, grinding her hips down onto his face.
"Yeah, that's it. Good little sissy. Eat your wife's cream."
The man watched from the pillow, his cock stirring again. He reached down and stroked it as Brett ate Jan out, slowly getting hard. When he was thick and standing again, he slid down the bed and positioned himself behind Brett.
"You posted that ad, didn't you?" He ran a slick palm down Brett's ass, over the crack. "Begged for a real man to use you. Said you wanted your sissy pussy filled."
"Yes. Please." Brett's mouth worked against Jan's cunt between words. "Please fuck me."
The man pressed the head of his cock against Brett's hole. Brett yelped as it pushed inside, thick and unyielding, stretching him wider than Jan's strap-on ever had. But the lube of sweat and Jan's wetness coated him, and the man pushed deeper in one long, slow slide.
"Oh God," Brett gasped.
"Look at that," the man murmured, gripping Brett's hips. "Married man's ass taking every inch of a BBC. That's a good little sissy slut, isn't it?"
"Yes. I'm a sissy slut. Fuck me." Brett's voice dissolved into a moan as Jan pulled his head into her cunt again. "Fill my sissy pussy. Please. I'm begging you."
The man fucked him hard, deep strokes that made the bed shake, while Jan rode Brett's face above him. The room filled with the slap of bodies, Jan's moans, Brett's choked cries. The man gripped him harder, drove in deeper, and came with a groan that ended in Brett's name.
Hot seed flooded Brett's insides. He cried out against Jan's cunt as the man pulled out, leaving him gaping and full. Jan came down off his face, collapsing beside him, her hand finding his painted lips, wet with her and a stranger's seed.
"Good boy," she whispered. "Good little wife."
Brett lay there, shaking, the cage aching between his thighs, a stranger's cum dripping out of him onto the sheets his grandmother had given them for their wedding. He turned his head and looked at Jan. She was smiling, soft and real.
"Happy anniversary," she said.