Under Her Cuntrol, Part 3. - Sex Stories

Under Her Cuntrol, Part 3.

... still wasn't any movement downstairs, so I knocked on the door to hear Martin coming down the stairs. I heard him shout, "It's Jeff."

I often wondered how Sue felt at that time. When Martin opened the door, he looked very nervous. Sue was still upstairs, and I heard her say, "Don't let him in yet." She was rushing to get dressed, but I was back in the house.

I can still see her as she cluttered down the stairs. How was she going to explain why she was upstairs, coming down partially clothed? She must have panicked, rushing to get her clothes on. When she came downstairs, she was barefoot; she hadn't had time to put her tights back on, just her wraparound skirt, her bra (not fixed properly), and her blouse.

Without any regard to how she looked, Sue wasn't embarrassed; having been fucked by Martin had emboldened her, or was she still high on arousal? Standing in front of me, no tights, bare feet—was I not supposed to notice how she'd rushed down and left her strappy sandals in his bedroom?

But there were more important things for Sue to attend to: were we going to fight? Sue stepped between me and the guy who had just fucked her! I'll never forget the look on her face. Sue has a temper at times; she could tell I knew that. Martin had just fucked her, so she went on the attack. Sue stood there, facing me down. I couldn't help looking down and seeing her bare feet. How do you explain that to your husband? She tried to say she'd been upstairs ironing a couple of ...

... shirts for Martin. WTF? How the hell does that work? Do women take their tights off to iron a couple of shirts?

There was nothing I could do about it; the deed had been done, as had Sue; that was obvious. It was a clock I couldn't turn back, even if I wanted to. All I wanted in those unsettling moments was some reassurance, some affection, maybe a touch in the groin (or a knee in it) from Sue to let me know, "Don't worry, we're fine," something, anything to assure me that fucking Martin won't cum between us.

I wasn't just anxious; I'd been left out; it hadn't gone according to plan—well, not according to my plan. Martin was supposed to give me a heads-up about where and when he planned to fuck her. I was pissed off at him, and he knew it. I felt betrayed, or worse, humiliated, more so seeing Martin smirking at me, hiding behind Sue. She was protecting her lover from any angry response I might have.

The humiliation I felt, that aggressive look on Sue's face, was a clear message: "So what? What are you going to do about it? You're too late. Martin has fucked me, and you encouraged him." As angry as her face was, there was an undercurrent too; it felt like she was close to laughing at me, or maybe slapping my face. I was melting in submission to her.

While all this was going on, unbeknownst to me, she was dripping with his cum again! I found out later, when she came home, that this wasn't the first time he'd fucked her. Sue admitted Martin had been at her house two days ...