Jenn froze. Marcel was next to her in a step. He took her arm and guided it into and around his elbow, like they were a date. Jenn grabbed the railing with her right hand. She was trembling so bad, she could not have made it up the stairs by herself.
Joe's heart was pounding in his ears almost as loud as her high heeled shoes clip clopped down the upstairs hall. His heart was in his throat as the bedroom door closed behind them. Upstairs, Jenn stood there, petrified as Marcel slid the clothes hangers back and forth along the wood pole. He was talking, but the words escaped her.
"This ought to do it." He said as he dropped several garments on the bed. Jenn sat down on the bed; shivering, not knowing or wanting to figure out the next progression of events. She looked over. There was one garment. It was a dark grey silk button front dress. It was her *******'s. Somehow it had been misplaced into her closet?
"That ... that ... that's not mine; she started to say..." Her words trailed off. She thought better of it. "Does he know I have a fourteen-year-old *******?" Her ******* chilled. "Maybe he doesn't know..." her mind screamed as she timidly reached for the dress. She pulled it over and covered herself with it as she looked up, questioningly at him.
"Put it on." He said. "I'll watch the door for you." It was more of a whisper. It was more of a hiss. She almost couldn't hear it; but the words till stung. She looked around; like he might turn his head or give her some privacy. He had the look of a cobra. He was in front of the door. She had no way out. She turned her back to him. She held the dress in front of her as she began unbuttoning her blouse.
The cobra turned his head, incrementally from side to side. His eyes indicated; "No." Jenn put the dress down and began unbuttoning the blouse. One by one, she pushed each button through the eyelet. It almost didn't dawn on her quite what she was doing until the last one was undone. "Turn around and face me, you magnificent creature."
She hesitated. She turned to face him. She gulped and tried to think of her ******* as she arched her back and slid the shirt over one shoulder; then the other. She tried desperately to bring the garment around in front of her to keep covered. Their eyes locked.
Marcel held out his hand; palm up. Jenn extended her arm and laid the garment in his hand. He threw it over his head; not caring where it landed. He grinned. Her long stemmed coral pink nipples peeked over the top of her quarter-cup bra like two new born sparrows waiting to be fed. Her first instinct was to reach up and cover herself, but his evil gaze told her to keep her arms down. She held the pose; not wanting to wonder what was next.
She caught his gaze drifting down to her slacks. His eyes had some strange Machiavellian grip on her she could not escape. She grabbed the gray dress and started to slip it over her head; thinking she could keep the bra and take her slacks off underneath the dress.
"No fucking way; Miss Stephenson..." That stare needed no explanation.
Holding the grey dress in front of her, she reached behind and unhooked the bra. With her dress in front of her and her arms pinning the bra against her, he was willing to give her this millisecond of reprieve. He held out his hand again; palm up. Jenn locked eyes with him again as she handed him the garment. She sat there on the side of the bed with her arms down in humiliation. The cool air-conditioning made her very aware of what he could see. She felt her nipples rise and harden from the change in temperature. The humiliated woman shuddered waiting for the next order.
Trying not to stand, Jenn undid the sash of her slacks. She tried to bend over to hide herself as she scooted up enough to slide the silk slacks past her knees. She bent over; more to hide herself than to pull the garment out away from her boots.
"Up." She heard him whisper. "Stand."
Jenn was shaking as her knees straightened and pushed her body up from the bed. She couldn't help but cross her arms over her breasts. "The rest." He said. "Take off the rest."
Jenn put her hands over her face and bent over; almost in half at the words. She didn't know if her knees would hold her up. "I've got to get through this. Get them out before they realize I have a *******." She thought.
Still bent over, Jenn reached up behind her; put her thumb between her hips and the fabric and pushed down. Once past mid-thigh, the wispy garment floated to the floor. Without thinking, she stepped out of it. Again, Marcel held his hand out; palm up. Jenn felt the cool air waft between her legs; robbing her labia of what little moisture might have been there as she bent over to pick up the filmy cover. She handed it to him; trying to summon all the dignity she had as she looked into his eyes. Jenn stood there; naked except for her high-heeled boots and wire rimmed glasses.
She turned to reach for the dress. "Never mind. I'm out of the mood for the dress right now." He said.
"He's going to fuck me." Her mind screamed. Jenn's mouth opened in anguish and her knees started to buckle at the idea. "At least my husband can't see." Her mind seemed to say.
"On second thought, you are too delectable a creature to not be shared with my partner. I remember hearing you say you had dessert ready. Let's go get some. You are a wonderful cook and I am famished." He started to extend his arm out again at his side. Jenn's mind was numb as he guided her forearm around his elbow.
"Wait a minute. You are just too sophisticated and classy a woman to run around just like this." He said as he looked at her. He went over to her make-up table and came back with a strand of pearls and wrapped it around her neck. "That's better." He said.
Joe had been wondering what was going on in the upstairs bedroom. It had been quiet for quite a while now. "He's trying to fuck her." His mind screamed. He was ready to grab a kitchen knife and fly up the stairs. Then they heard the door click as it opened. They heard Jenn's high heels click a few times before the door shut again. Joe and Emil sat up as the clip-clop of her high heels got louder. They stopped for a second or two at the top of the half flight of stairs.
From there, Joe could see Jenn's ankles and part of her calves. "She's changed into a dress." He thought. As each clip-clop brought more of the couple into view, the more of her legs he saw, until he could see her legs past the hem of any dress he knew she had. Joe had some inner sense that there was a hesitation in her steps. Joe's heart almost stopped when he realized she was naked. There was no hem above her thighs where there should have been. His mind went into an additional gear of rage. He watched in mounting indignation as more of his naked wife came into view.
Jenn's mind was spinning out of control; trying to cope with her own humiliation. Now she could see her husband was about to go out of control.
"It's okay, honey. We'll get through this." She didn't say it out loud. She tried to mouth the words subtly and relay it with her eyes and a weak smile she did not feel.
"Mrs. Stephenson has graciously offered to serve us dessert. Aren't you men famished?"
Emil had the smile of a serpent. You couldn't see one. You could feel it; the mocking, menacing look in his eyes, knowing he was about to be treated to something better than crème brule.
The men sat in the living room. In a semi-circle in front of the fireplace were a long brown leather sofa and two leather chairs on each side. Between the fireplace and the sofa was a long glass coffee table. Marcel sat in the center of the sofa. Emil sat in one of the leather chairs to his right and Joe was opposite Emil on the other chair.
The men's heads all turned towards the kitchen door as they heard the clip clop of Jenn's heels approaching. She had a medium sized tray with three large wine glasses filled with chocolate Crème Brule. The Africans smiled as the dessert arrived, but it wasn't about the Crème Brule. They were enchanted with the jiggle of Jenny's long-stemmed coral pink number two erasers that bobbed like manometers a half count off of the clack of her high heels.
Nobody was behind her, but she stooped; bent at the knees to offer the cups of dessert to each of the men. She served Emil first. He may have been the farthest away. Next was Marcel. She wouldn't look at him. Last was Joe.
When she approached him, she heard Marcel's voice. "No bending the knees. Keep your knees straight. Stand with your legs farther apart." The humiliated woman did what she was told. She moved her feet about shoulder width apart.
"Now bend over. Serve your man." Jenn had her legs spread past shoulder length. Her eyes were watering as she bent over at the waist. Her cheeks were burning as she felt her breasts swing free and down. "Look at that Emil. Isn't that about the best sight you have ever seen?" Emil grinned like an eight-year-old with a pillow case full of Halloween candy.
Jenny's eyes met her husband's. "Please don't do anything, hon. There's nothing we can do. We can get through this. We'll be alright." She whimpered. Her tears dripped down her face and onto her breast.
"Well, Mrs. Stephenson, I'm finished with my dessert, now it's time for yours." Jenn turned; put the now empty tray on the fireplace mantel and turned to face Marcel. She couldn't help but cross her hands helplessly over her breasts in nervousness. Marcel extended his arm towards her and wagged his finger for her to approach him. The few steps it took to close the distance took so long, her boots made no noise. Maybe her heart was pounding so hard neither she or Joe heard her boots.
The room was silent except for the water recycling through the fish tank. Jenn stood before him; naked except for her wire rimmed glasses, her boots, her grey silk stockings and double strand of pearls that hung almost to her belly button. They jingled slightly; telegraphing her humiliation and embarrassment.
The three men had had their close look at her. Jenn, in some strange moment of insanity had shaved. She had a narrowed "landing strip above her cleft. From the top of her cleft on down, she was bare. The landing strip was a thing of beauty. The reddish brown tangle was thick and curly in the center. From there it thinned out in number and hue. It went from the reddish brown to an almost clear blonde at the edges. The curls were sparse and almost clear at the edges. They looked like the down on a new baby's face; like Hawaiian fern in the cloud-covered mountain forest that never sees the light of day.
Jenn's body had been tanned and toned from hours at the beach and jogging trails. Her gravity defying long-stemmed pink nipples were triple-framed by the pink areoles, the alabaster white breasts surrounded by her bronzed torso. In the same manner, her shaved labia were framed first by the white bikini line; then the bronzed and freckled abdomen and legs.
Marcel let his legs part. Silently, Marcel pointed: "Down." She took the two steps towards him. Slowly, Jenn sank to her knees between his.
"What do you think desert is going to be?" he whispered. Jenn still had her arms crossed over her breasts. She turned to her husband; looking for some kind of assurances or emotional support; some sign that this would be okay. "Tell me what to do." Her eyes screamed at him. She tried to tell herself she could learn to live with anything as long as her husband knew this wasn't her decision.
She turned questioningly back towards Marcel and looked up into his eyes; hoping for some sign of mercy. She saw none. She looked down at his crotch. It was huge. It was ... moving.
"Tell her what to do, Joe. She doesn't seem to have a clue. Is she a good cocksucker?" There it was. There was no mistaking what was expected of her. She knew; but the words hit her like a hammer. It was so cold when said. Perhaps in the middle of the night; perhaps with enough wine; perhaps in an exceptional mood of passion, she might have. But in front of her husband and in front of two total strangers, she didn't think this would be possible.
But Jenn was beat. She had no escape. She had no realistic plan of escape. She tried to put her mind in a different place; shut herself out of the situation and watch this woman she didn't know. Perhaps her mind could step back and sit on the raised hearth of the fireplace and just watch in indignation. She would watch this whore of a woman who had put on the quarter cup bra and thong for her husband. She had it coming. Marcel was looking at Joe; waiting for him to mimic his words to Jenn. All Joe could do was raise his hands; palms up in resignation as he looked at the floor.
"Tell her you fucking pussy. She needs your fucking approval. You can't just watch her do this for your sake and later tell her you didn't approve. What the fuck is it? Do you want her to do this or not? We aren't forsing her. His words were barely a whisper, but they hit the couple like a clap of lightning.
"Jenn; hon, I ... I ... we ... we ... have no choice. We ... we ... we have to cooperate." His head dropped.
"Fuck you; you weenie. What kind of fucking business man are we dealing with that can't tell his own wife how to behave?" There was a long silence as the men got up to leave. Emil almost gagged. He was so close to the treat of his life. But then he caught it; that wicked gleam in Marcel's eyes as he passed the couch.
Joe cleared his throat. "Please don't go gentlemen. I ... I ... I want you to stay. We want you to stay. My wife wants you to stay. I will tell her." The men stopped, still standing with their backs to the couple. Marcel didn't turn around.
"Why would we stay?" he said; trying to hide his gloating.
"Jenn, honey, I ... I ... I ... want ... want you to ... to ... to suck these gentlemen off..." His words trailed off into a whisper. It was a whisper that Marcel and Emil could hear. It was a whisper that felt like her husband had kicked her in the head and knocked her over. If he hadn't said it, perhaps she would have said: "Please don't leave." She couldn't have spit out the rest, but it would have been understood.
She was still hoping her subconscious mind could take a back seat and just watch; but she couldn't get back and watch. Once the men returned to their original seating, she watched as her hands nervously reached for the clasp on Marcel's belt. She watched as her hands slid the belt loose from the buckle. Who was this that pulled the brass snap open? Didn't she realize what was going to happen? The room was silent as she took the hasp and slid the zipper down his fly.
Marcel reached his left hand up over the back of the sofa. He pushed his right hand down on the arm rest of the sofa to bring his butt up off of the cushion. Jenn did it without hesitation; like when somebody extends their hand for a handshake, nobody thinks about putting their hand out to meet the other.
Jenn just reached up and grabbed the waistband of his Levis and tugged them down past his thighs. Luckily she had turned her head sideways as the pants came free. She would have been slapped in the face with a monster she had never even dreamed existed. As her head was turned, she could see the expression of her husband.
His eyes registered astonishment; perhaps at the size of the thing between Marcel's legs; perhaps that his wife seemed so willingly complicit. Was she reluctant? Was she embarrassed? Her expression did not give any indication of her emotions. Jenn pulled away. She turned towards him. The pants would not come off unless the shoes came first. Jenn pulled back; thankful for the reprieve as she reached for his shoelaces. Slowly she untied and unlaced the tops of his shoes. With perhaps more effort and care than needed, she took each shoe; each sock off and arranged them neatly beside him at the foot of the sofa.
Once his feet were free, she tugged his slacks off and folded them neatly over his shoes. "Anything to procrastinate" her mind screamed. Perhaps she was procrastinating again. Perhaps this was an unintended gesture of erotica. She stood, walked into the kitchen and filled a porcelain bowl with warm water. When she came back into the room she had another tray. It had several washrags, the bowl of warm water, soap and hand lotion.
"What the fuck is she thinking?" her husband's mind screamed. He watched her set the tray on the glass coffee table behind her. She dipped a washrag into the water and wrung it out.
She glanced over at her husband. Her eyes seemed to indignantly say "You understand we seem to have no choice in this matter." as she grabbed the shaft in her left hand. Softly she rubbed the warm wet cloth in her right hand over the tip. She looked up at him; looking for some response.
"My husband has spent most of his free time the last several years working on these ideas he is trying to patent." She said as she straightened it up against his abdomen. "If ... if ... if I do this, I desperately need to know that we have a deal." She whispered; unsure whether to look him in the eye or keep her focus on cleaning him.
Was she cleaning him? Was this a form of foreplay? At some level, Jenn must have been trying to emotionally connect with him as she ran the moist cloth up the side of it. She lowered it to face her and again slowly caressed the top and sides with the cloth. She ****** herself to meet his gaze; trying to read his thoughts. Was he excited? Was he in rapture? Was he just a two timing crook who would fuck her and run? She had to know. Each time she finished a sentence, she looked up at him again to make eye contact. Each time she touched him; each time she rubbed the warm wet towel across the soft skin, she felt it jerk and jolt. Every movement brought an increase in the girth and length. "This will never fit." Her mind screamed.
"Mister Okanda; can't ... can't ... can't we go back upstairs? I beg you not to ******* me in front of my husband." She whispered while looking imploringly into his eyes.
"Miss Stephenson; I'm sure nobody is forsing you."
"Joe; your beautiful wife here seems to feel we are making her do something against her will. She may even think you don't approve. Tell her again, Joe. Tell her nobody has to do anything. She doesn't have to suck my dick. I don't have to help you get all your funding. We are all free souls here."
Joe was silent. He couldn't bring himself to say it any louder; especially with his wife looking at him.
"Well, maybe we should go home Emil. I think we can go back to the hotel and get this kind of action for a fraction of what this agreement could have turned into. Emil smiled and bent over to get up. Marcel bent over to reach for his clothes.
"Jenn; hon; this could make or break us..."
"That's not good enough, you turd. She needs to know you're okay with this. She needs to know this is what she has to do. She needs to know that you want her to suck my dick. Emil is over there. He wants to see my thing go in and out of her mouth. He wants to see her mouth open when it happens. He wants to see all that stuff go into her open mouth. She needs to know she has to swallow it. How can all this happen with her long hair in the way?"
"She needs to know that you will keep her hair pulled back so Emil can get some good pictures; to see her sucking on me."
Joe was appalled. Perhaps if he hadn't been around. Perhaps if he had found out later what she might have done to help get the patents; to keep from losing the farm, maybe he could have forgiven her for it. But with the words slapping him across his face, it was hard to speak the words of consent.
Jenn had put the washcloth down by now. She was staring at her husband; unable to comprehend that he would actually consider telling her what to do. On the other hand, maybe she didn't need to be told. She knew they had no options. She turned and reached for the bottle of hand lotion. She looked at her husband; waiting.
"Jenn, honey. We ... we ... we have no choice. I ... I ... I ... I want you to do what he says. We are so close to getting the things we want ... I ... I ... I ... will ... will ... hold your hair back so you don't get it into anything."
It may not have been the exact words Marcel had wanted to ******* out of him. In the end, it was a sign of capitulation from both of them. He watched as the light seemed to go out of Jenn's eyes. She looked hard at him; searching for signs of compassion or regret. She looked up at Marcel. She tried not to let the tears flow, but she couldn't help it. He could see a couple of tears streak down her cheeks; off of her chin and down over her breasts.
Resigned, the reluctant wife was giving up.
Jenn held the thing in her left hand as she looked up at Marcel for his reaction as she laid her cheek against the side of it. She kept her eyes focused on him as she slid her cheek back and forth; massaging the length of him. Her hands had been covered with lotion. She had coated him with it too. He was smooth as a baby's butt and smelled about the same.
She squeezed it firmly. She moved her hands along the shaft; slowly squeezing and releasing to find another spot. She kept eye contact with him, watching his expression. She released her grip and slowly ran her fingertips up and down his shaft; barely touching him. She wrapped her left hand fingers as far around the girth as she could. She took the loose skin and pushed it down to the base and squeezed tightly as she pulled her closed grip back up towards the crown; turning her grip slowly. She watched him. Next she gave him a few quicker pumps while her right fingers squeezed the very tip. As she was pumping him she lowered her face; her lips almost touching and blew her breath on the end while maintaining eye contact. She could see his eyes flicker. She could see his head go back. She felt the flash. Emil was right beside her now. Was he taking stills or was he taking video?
Jenn's face turned crimson. "Where would these pictures end up?" she wondered. Jenn leaned her left armpit over his thigh for support and barely held on to the base with her left hand. She had her chin just above his thigh; watching his expression. She had her thumb and forefinger gently wrapped around his shaft. She had her thumb against the canal along the bottom of his shaft. She stroked him; loose and soft going down; hard and tight pulling away towards the crown and twisting as she went. She heard him groan. Her hair was now hanging over his shaft so the camera could not capture the whole scene.
She felt her husband come up beside her to her left. She felt him reach around her right side and gather her hair and pull it back; exposing her face and the monster shaft to Emil's camera on her right. The camera probably had sound recording capacity too. It was close enough to catch the "gurgling" and "slacking" sound of the coated shaft sliding through her fingers. The camera was surely catching her face in the same frame with the monster phalanx as her hand slid slowly up and down it.
"It's fucking time. Show us what your tongue can do."
Jenn looked up at him as she put her lips against it. She let her lips touch it. She left them there, gauging his expression for approval. She kissed the end softly without breaking eye contact. She watched him blink. The serpent's stare was disappearing. She could feel the monster in her fingers jolt. She extended her tongue and tentatively swirled it around the circumference of his crown.
"Good fucking God! Where did she learn that?" Joe screamed to himself. They had been married close to 20 years. Anytime the situation came up, she slid away from him and turned over. It wasn't that she wouldn't give him a handjob, she just wouldn't use her mouth. Everything was fine when he did it to her, but she wouldn't reciprocate. "It just isn't right." She would say as she would shiver at the thought. It had been a festering issue in their marriage. It had been normal with all of his other girlfriend; some many years younger than him. Most of them preferred to do this as it kept the possibility of pregnancy away.
He watched her in wonder. How had she learned to act this way? He watched her hardly believing what he was seeing. Jenn opened her mouth as far as she could. With her eyes focused on Marcel, she squeezed her lips together; her cheeks hollowed and she pulled away from him with her lips, stopping before the tip came out. She would tighten her fingers as far around the base as she could get them. She would pull the "O" towards the tip as she again brought her lips loosely back over the edge of his crown. She did it very slowly; very sensuously; watching his expression the whole time.
She did not look to Joe like a woman deep in humiliation, anguish or reluctance. She looked like the tender caring wife he had known for twenty years. Joe was torn inside; wrongly reading her humiliation and desperation as erotic rapture.
Jenn knew she had no way out; no escape. Get them both out of this house before they somehow discover they have a *******. She had to do something for the sake of her husband's work. She tried to shut her mind to what she was doing. She was forsing her motherly nature to kick in; to abandon everything she thought to be right.
Emil watched, bursting with excitement; knowing he was next. Never before had he ever seen a woman with the pink nipples the size of hers. Never before had he seen a woman of her age, who had aged no more than a teenager. He was mesmerized with her.
Emil watched as she pulled out on the loose skin of Marcel's penis. She pulled it until it all collected at the edge of his crown. When she got that far, she opened her mouth and moved it back against the crown; never breaking eye contact with his evil partner. Now as she brought her hand back and forth along the shaft, she used a twisting motion.
This time she pulled back far enough to get her mouth off of him. "I need a second to catch my breath." She said as she twisted her head sideways to break the strand of spittle and semen that connected her to it. He could see the embarrassment in her expression that the strands had connected them. "I ... I ... I ... I'll get used to it. Just give me a little more time." She whispered as she looked first up at Marcel, then to each side at her husband and Emile.
Her furtive glance caught the outrage in her husband's eyes. She could see Emile was excited and anxious. Both expressions bothered her. She turned to grab the washcloth. She used it to clean the clear mucous from her fingers and the end of him. "It's starting; it's going to happen." Her mind screamed. "Do I have to swallow?" she wondered. "Can I just finish him with my hand and let it go on the floor?" she wondered.
Jenn's humiliation caught up with her as she felt her husband's hands repositioning themselves; trying to keep her hair away from her face. It was humiliating enough to have him in the same room. This was beyond humiliating; having him hold her hair back so everybody could watch her suck the thing. She used her free hand to wipe the tears from her eyes and push her wire frame glasses back up the bridge of her nose.
Jenn changed the focus of her eyes. She focused on the angry colored crown just inches from her lips. It reminded her of a cobra; the curl of semen looking like the forked tongue. With her distraught imagination, it was not hard to visualize the eyes, mouth and tongue flickering at her.
She took another last breath to calm herself. Softly she kissed the end and looked up at Marcel to see how it would go over. The exchange of glances and tender manners of his wife was not lost on Joe. He watched in exponential outrage at the exchange. "Look like you're fucking outraged." His mind screamed to her.
"What the fuck is she doing now?" her astonished husband wondered. Joe watched as she turned her head almost straight up to watch Marcel. She extended her tongue out as far as she could and flattened it. The very tip curled up, like a spoon to brace the end of him and to catch what she knew to be coming. Something was happening.
The two seemed to be on the same wavelength. Jenn had felt the monster in her left hand start to throb even more; like the rails of a train when it is about to run over you. She felt the thunder coming. With the first blast, Jenn had squeezed her thumb hard into the canal along the bottom of his shaft. She felt one blast; like an earthquake. She let them build up. She could feel him moan before she heard it.
He grabbed her head; trying to ******* his shaft clear down her throat. Somehow, Jenny knew this was coming. She used both hands; one above the other, like the grip on a baseball bat. She braced her wrists against her open jaw; preventing him from shoving the creature all the way in. Instead, she relaxed the grip of her thumb; slightly, letting the first convulsion out. She had miscalculated. She thought it would dribble harmlessly out onto the edge of her outstretched tongue.
Instead, the first geyser exploded over the top of her lip; up her nose; into her eyes and over her forehead and into her hair.
"Open up! ... Farther." Jenn was humiliated. Her pink pearl nipples were arching almost straight up as she tilted her head back. She released again, but not completely. The next eruption caught on the roof of her mouth and almost chocked her to death. She struggled not to turn away in disgust. Her eyes were closed, but she could feel the streams of fluid filling her tongue and mouth. She would soon have to swallow in order to breathe.
"Do I have to breathe with my mouth open? Do I close my mouth and swallow everything? Without any direction, Jenny closed her lips over the tip to contain the eruption; to keep it from getting all over her. They wanted to see the eruption and they had. Jenn released her strangulation grip on the canal and let the fluid empty into her. She swallowed to keep from gagging. Finally she blocked the tip with her tongue as she took breaths through her nose.
"Don't forget to lick him clean. Get everything." The words hit her like a hammer. Her husband was now telling her what to do without being ordered. She could feel the outrage and anger in his voice.
"Where did you learn to do that; hon?" It was an angry voice. "This isn't your first rodeo, is it?" he said in an angry whisper. Who have you been sucking off? Have you been doing something I don't know about?"
Jenn let go of the penis in her hand. She was sitting on the floor; the high heels of her boots spread to her cheeks toutched the ground. She put her hands over her face and laid her face on her knees. She sobbed in humiliation; knowing her husband had guessed right. Marcel wasn't the first.
"Tell me; cunt. When did this start?" Joe's hurt and humiliation was coming out as anger now.
Jenn's back shuddered as she sobbed. Her words were almost unintelligible. They were muffled with her hands.
"Get the fuck over here Emile. You're next." Joe said; taking over as the aggressor for Marcel. "Get the fuck up, young lady. You aren't done yet."
Jenn felt the hands of her husband pulling her up to a standing position. He turned her around; facing away from Marcel, but still between his knees. Jenn would not remove her hands from her face. Her sobbing was getting worse. "I ... I ... I'm so sorry you had to find out like this, hon." Jenny stammered.
Joe's eyes and head motion let Emil know he was to stand in front of Joe's sobbing wife. When he was there, Joe looked down at the coffee table. "Move it over behind you." He told Emile. Emile wasn't sure where this was all going, but he wasn't about to complain.
"Bend over and sit on Marcel, you cock sucking bitch." He told his wife. Jenn sobbed as she bent over. Her long pearl necklace dangled away from her body. Her beautiful breasts swung free except that she used her hands over her face to also shield her breasts. Jenn lowered her hands to Marcel's thighs, trying to feel the spot she was expected to sit on.
"He's not hard yet. Give him some encouragement that only you know how to do. Jenn sobbed in humiliation. She reached around with her right hand, searching for the giant phallus. She backed up once she founded it and bent her knees; feebly trying to sit on his lab.
"Get it hard bitch." Jenn straightened her fingers out. Softly; daintily she ran the long narrow fingers of her right hand along the soft shaft. Marcel wasn't ready, but the strange twist in events was starting to excite him.
Jenn was standing with her butt in the air. Her head was almost to her knees as she ran her fingers softly along the quickly growing phalynx. Soon she could tell he was back to full strength. "I had no fucking idea how good you are, hon. Now you're going to fuck like you like it."
Jenn's back shuddered to echo her sobbing. "P ... p ... please, Joe; don't treat me like this. I thought I had no choice in this matter."
"Shut the fuck up and sit. Guide him in. Help him out."
Jenn was openly sobbing now. Her pearl necklace rattled. Her coral pink nipples shuddered in humiliation.
She moved her legs a little farther apart, knowing what was expected. "I don't think you're quite in the mood, honey. You aren't really lubricated enough. Play with yourself." Her hands went back to her face.
Marcel was enjoying this. Gently he took her right hand and brought it down. He took her hand and closed her fingers to make a fist. Then he took her index finger and pointed it straight out. Jenn was too humiliated to resist. With her head down close to her knees, Marcel took her index finger and touched it against her slit.
"If you don't want it to hurt, make yourself ready." Her husband said. Never in her life had she played with herself; let alone do something like this in front of her husband.
"W ... w ... why are you doing this?" she stammered.
"I had no fucking idea how good you are at sucking cock. After all of your high and mighty coy attitude with me, I can see you've put somebody else into orbit with what you know. Now sit on it. Show us how much you like it."
Joe went over and stood against her. He pushed her finger gently but firmly against her opening. He put his lips against her ear and whispered: "Maybe you'd like to save a little of the entertainment for your ******* to fill."
The words hit her like a lightning bolt. He knew her so well that he knew how to hurt her. Not that he might have actually done it, but he was so angry, he wanted to annihilate her ego.
"Okay; okay; okay..." her words trailed off.
Jenn reached up behind her. With her head down she slowly inserted her index finger. It disappeared from view; slowly, like a submarine dives. You don't realize it at first, but it slowly disappears from view. Jenn pushed slowly until one whole digit disappeared. Then she tried to move it back and forth; like she was tunneling around for something. She groaned. Was it in disgust with herself? Was she moaning in anguish or rapture. None of the men cared. It was exciting to them.
"Mmmmmmmmmmm." Jenn turned her head from side to side. The men could hear the "Squish; squish," air and moisture as it went in, out and around her finger. Jenn put her left hand against her knees; still bent over. Her other hand went back over her face. She wiped her nose; then her eyes.
"You ready?" Jenn nodded. It was like the bid in an auction. You had to already know the answer to perceive the motion.
"Yesss." Came the anguished whisper.
Marcel repositioned her. He spread her legs outside of his. He put one hand on each of her hips and guided her down.
"Help." Joe said.
Jenn looked down for a split second as she used her right hand to locate his shaft. With her legs splayed over his, she started to sit down across his thighs. Her right hand steadied the tip of his monster phallus at the opening. She groaned in humiliation and anguish as she moved down and the monster disappeared between them. "He's going to fucking ******* me with that thing." Her mind screamed. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think something of that length and girth would ever fit in her. She struggled to keep from screaming. Finally she felt her thighs against his.
"You're not done yet Miss Stephenson." Her husband sneered. "Emile; it's your turn to shine. Get over here." Emile was giddy. He moved to stand in front of Jennifer. He had already removed his clothes in anxious anticipation of whatever was to happen.
"Jenny, honey, babby. Show us what only you know how to do so well. She could feel the heat of Emile right in front of her. She didn't have to open her eyes to know what was millimeters from her face. She recognized the smell. It was not an unclean smell. It was a savage smell. There was something alien about this smell.
"Sit." Joe said. Without questioning anything, Emile sat down on the glass coffee table. His more than six foot frame seemed to take up most of the area around Jennifer. It was an awkward position.
She was sitting on Marcel's lap. He was sitting on a couch that was at least 24" high. His thighs put her butt up another 9" that left her body foot higher? She had to bend over with her head down, pretty much between her legs to reach his monster phallus.
"Jenn reached out with her right hand to stroke him; to asses the situation. Emile scooted the coffee table a little closer so he was easier to reach. Never the less, it was an awkward angle.
"I ... I ... this is very awkward. Can't I take care of the two of you separately?" first she looked up at Emile. Then she looked over at her husband. "P ... p ... please, hon; can't you allow me any dignity? Aren't I doing this for both of us?"
She couldn't bare to look at him. Hearing no answer, she knew it was a "No."
Slowly, Jennifer struggled to lean forward. She brought the immense shaft up to her lips. She kissed it tenderly; too tenderly to suit her husband, who watched in a blind rage. Jenn looked over at her husband who was now the one to appease. She kept her gaze locked on him as she opened her mouth and covered the head. She pulled back and swirled her tongue around the head in front of her.
That is when the key clicked in the lock and the door opened. "Hi, Mom and Dad. I'm home early. Our camp out got rained out. My cell phone is dead and Sally's mom brought me home.
But that; as they say, is another story...
