The Theft of Our Lives

Disclaimer: This is a multi-chapter story that reads more as a series of vignettes connected by an underlying thread for continuity. It’s my attempt at the well-traveled premise of a boss exploiting a family. While not present in every chapter, the story contains various sex acts between adults, including but not limited to adultery, incest, cuckolding, interracial, lesbian, and non-consensual sex in the form of blackmail and coercion. The story and all characters are fictional. Any resemblance to businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. In real life, all non-consensual sex is immoral, illegal and not condoned by the author. All characters are 18-years-old or older. All rights reserved.

THE NEIGHBOR

Don and Audrey Stanley have been our neighbors for the dozen years since we moved into the suburban home on a quiet cul-de-sac.

It’s a nice upper middle-class neighborhood, and they’re good neighbors — always there to help when needed, but not constantly in your face either. I guess they’re somewhere in their early 60’s, have two grown children who visit occasionally, and are generally good people, or so it seems to me and my wife.

Don is semi-retired, but still has a business interest in imports, while Audrey is a retired nurse. They are active for their age — swimming, playing tennis, or walking around the neighborhood. Don is a good height at six feet while Audrey is average at 5’4″ but looks especially petite standing next to my statuesque wife.

Emma and I assume they were probably fit and attractive in their youth, and still look surprisingly good, other than the paunch Don developed around the waist over the last few years. Both are blonds, although gray is taking over for the most part.

Commendably, I suppose, Audrey refuses to color her hair, preferring to go gray naturally.

Maybe it’s just typical male hormones, but Don has a habit of admiring my attractive wife whenever he thinks no one is looking. I even caught him peeking through a knot hole in the fence once or twice when Emma tanned in her modest one-piece bathing suit, getting some sun by the backyard pool.

It seems harmless though and isn’t overt, so I always overlook it. I can’t really blame him. Emma is nearly 20 years younger and very pleasing to the eye, even in her admittedly conservative bathing suit.

For her part, Emma appears to be adjusting to life remarkably well considering the tumultuous drama in Hank’s office, the debauched weekend yacht cruise, and the radically deleterious change in our lives. Initially traumatized, she’s resilient and has bounced back faster than I expected.

Honestly, I don’t know if Emma is in denial or just wants to forget the whole horrible turn of events, because she doesn’t really talk about it much. I do reassure her I love her for her sacrifices for our adult children, and I think she sincerely takes that to heart.

All in all, her mood has been light and upbeat, until one day about a week after the cruise when I was at work.

Emma was home as usual, and Kerri and Kellen were in classes for most of the day. At 18-years-old and a senior in high school, Kellen is involved in one sport or another. Since it’s spring, the sport is baseball. It seems our kids inherited their mother’s natural proclivity towards athletic endeavors.

Kerri, our charming, fit 19-year-old daughter, is also an active participant in sports, participating in volleyball as a freshman at the local junior college. At present, she has a limited class schedule and a generally short day, with only the volleyball team as her primary interest.

It was just noon when Hank called Emma on her cell, catching her off-guard and breaking her self-deception of the previous few days that her life was returning to normal. Initially startled to see his name, she understands our arrangement is all-demanding and swiped the phone open.

“Hello Hank,” Emma greeted warily.

“Hi hon, how’s my girl?” my boss asked, his familiar tone unsettling my wife.

“I’m fine, Hank,” Emma replied, pretending the term of endearment was acceptable.

“Hey, I hope you kept that bathing suit from the cruise?” Hank asked eagerly.

My wife felt a lump form in her stomach, terribly scandalized even thinking about the practically non-existent bikini. She wanted to throw it out, along with all the other disgracefully skimpy clothes when we returned but knew better.

“Yes, I still have it,” she answered with false cheer.

“Great, I’ll be there within 15 minutes. Put it on and meet me at the door,” he ordered then hung up.

“Oh, um, okay,” Emma groaned, unable to imagine wearing the barely-there strips of cloth in our house, even if no one was home to see it, and opening the front door in the skimpy thing seemed completely out of the question.

Unfortunately, she was in no position to disobey Hank, heading for our bedroom to change out of the comfortable shorts and t-shirt she wore at the moment.

In an odd twist, Emma was relieved she followed Hank’s order to shave her pussy every day. She didn’t want to do it, as it was a constant reminder of her servitude. It was also inconvenient, but she certainly didn’t want to be caught in violation of the rules if Hank pulled a stunt like this morning’s surprise visit.

Managing to get the thin white cloth comprising the top over her large areolas granting at least a modicum of support for her bodacious breasts, she then slipped on the thong bottoms and winced. There was simply no protection of her vagina from leering eyes.

Emma’s protuberant labia pressed through the fabric even when not aroused. They were obscenely obvious, creating what the less modest called a ‘cameltoe.’ The thong was so tight there was really nothing to prevent the detection of her overtly visible pink slit

“How did I allow myself to be seen in this thing on the cruise?” my startled wife bemoaned, gawking in the full-length mirror at the over-revealing bikini.

It was a rhetorical question, since Hank was clearly the reason, and she certainly wasn’t offered a choice.

Turning to the side, a broad expanse of her pale side boob left the top looking even smaller. Emma turned further, embarrassed by what she thought of as her mammoth ass in the thong — a mountain of flesh covered by nothing. The fleshy cheeks aren’t really that large, just mature, but her insecurities led her to believe so.

“At least it’ll just be Hank,” she carelessly reassured herself when suddenly the doorbell rang.

Quickly, Emma slipped into the white stiletto heels that came with the bikini, knowing he’d approve. The heels firmed up her calves and thighs making her long legs look awesome, bolstering her self-confidence. Not surprisingly, she pulled her hair into the ubiquitous ponytail she always wore, heading downstairs to let Hank in and deal with his special request before anybody came home.

Opening the door hurriedly and ushering Hank into our house before any of the neighbors could see him, or even worse see her, Emma nearly fell to the floor at the sight greeting her in the doorway. Standing there was Hank, and standing next to him, was our neighbor, Don Stanley.

“Ohhh! Oh no, Hank, please?” Emma squealed her shock and embarrassment, scrambling to cover herself as best she could with her hands and arms, while flailing about the foyer in a panic at the thought of her neighbor seeing her in such an indecent get-up.

To an objective observer, I’m sure it was comical, but to Emma, every shred of her dignity was stripped away in an instant and her body flushed accordingly.

“Hi Emma, look who I just met,” Hank said nonchalantly, as if nothing was amiss. “I was getting out of my car when Don introduced himself. I told him I was Ray’s boss and needed to stop by to drop off this envelope. He said you’ve been neighbors for a long time so I figured you wouldn’t mind if I asked him to join me.”

Emma couldn’t say a word, still in a daze from presenting herself at the door to our long-time neighbor wearing practically nothing. My shy wife is a conservative woman by nature, and she’d never knowingly expose herself to Don or anyone else in such a way.

“Don and I were just talking about what great neighbors the Tyler family are,” my boss proceeded matter-of-factly. “Always willing to share everything, and always available to help a neighbor in need.”

“Do you mind if we come in?” he asked considerately but didn’t wait for an answer, breezing past my dumbfounded wife followed by a grinning Don Stanley.

Emma continued to cower, trying desperately to find some way to cover her near nakedness from the bulging eyes of our neighbor, who didn’t even bother to politely look away. Her tits, her cameltoe — everything was available for observation by Don’s beaming eyes, and he gratefully took advantage.

“I have this envelope of pictures for you and Ray from our recent yacht trip. I think you’ll find them revealing and quite entertaining,” Hank explained with typical innuendo. “I bet Don enjoys them too.”

My circumspect wife had difficulty comprehending what Hank was saying when it dawned on her just what the pictures likely showed. She was unaware of the hidden cameras on the boat, especially preoccupied as she was with more pressing matters, but imagined the type of photos the envelope contained.

In fact, there was a series of well-placed cameras throughout the yacht, including the staterooms, capturing us all, but particularly our wives, spending most of their time naked, or nearly so, on their backs or prancing about drunkenly fucking Hank and his associates.

Spotting a family portrait on the entryway wall Hank studied it.

“Are those your kids, Emma?” he inquired easily.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a picture of them. What an attractive pair. They must have a tremendous future in front of them,” he said, cleverly reminding her of our indenture and the deleterious result of refusal in seeking assurance of Emma’s obeisance.

Hank then said something sending a chill up Emma’s spine.

“Is this lovely young lady Kerri? She’s the oldest, right? The one in college? A pretty coed, alright. Very pretty,” Hank complimented with a salacious tone sounding more like a threat to my protective wife. “I definitely see a lot of her mother in her looks. I’d love to meet her someday.”

The implication of his comment was not lost on Emma, frowning but not otherwise reacting, while throughout the pleasantries, Don simply couldn’t take his eyes off my nearly naked wife, his tongue figuratively wagging he was gawking so much.

Apparently, Don fantasized frequently about Emma over the years, but the formfitting one-piece bathing suit she wore when spying on her in our backyard through the knothole in the fence was dowdy by most standards. With her sensible clothing and modest temperament, he assumed seeing her naked, or even in a bikini, was a pipe dream.

Quite frankly, the older man couldn’t imagine her dressed, or undressed, as it were, in her current scandalous outfit.

“Emma, why don’t you go to the kitchen and get Don and me something to drink?” Hank suggested without expecting any resistance, and he received none.

Emma promptly turned towards the kitchen, unthinkingly revealing the entirety of the fleshy white globes of her ass — her full cheeks drawn taut by the stiletto heels rippling sublimely as she scurried away. It didn’t dawn on Emma the sight she presented our grinning neighbor.

“Hurry now, maybe Don and I can look at the pictures until you come back, unless you can think of something else to do,” my mirthful boss tormented with the prospect of our neighbor seeing the photos.

Horrified at the suggestion, Emma hustled towards the kitchen with the two men enjoying immensely her ass jiggling in the unstable high heels.

“Here we are,” Emma entered the living room a moment later, returning with two beers as the only drinks she could grab quickly, her big jugs bobbling in the thin strips of her top every bit as much as her ass with each step.

My self-conscious wife noticed Don had every intention of tracking her moves, disappointed that the normally respectful gentleman didn’t excuse himself, or at least avert his eyes at the sight of his nearly naked neighbor in such a harrowing situation.

A quick glance revealed the tent poking at the zipper of Don’s pants and Emma realized the old pervert was just as lecherous as any other man Hank forced her to service.

“So, should we look at the pictures, Emma, or can you think of something else to entertain us?” Hank asked solicitously, pressing forward with whatever demented agenda he had for the day, and it occurred to Emma his ‘introduction’ to our neighbor was no coincidence.

‘Hank probably planned the whole thing just to humiliate me,’ she speculated, knowing that degrading her in front of someone she viewed as a family friend was just his style.

Now, he’d use the threat of the pictures, or worse, the insinuations about our ‘pretty’ daughter’s future, in coercing her to perform some disgusting act for our longtime neighbor.

“Oh, I’m sure Don doesn’t want to see travel pictures. I’m sure we can think of something else, maybe some TV?” Emma offered pleasantly as a plausible dodge, still uncomfortable standing in our living room half-naked but doing her best to conceal her humiliation despite her deep blush.

“No, TV won’t due, especially daytime TV. So many soap operas with wives cheating on their husbands,” Hank jabbed purposely, reminding Emma of her sordid acts, even if forced, and genuinely cruel that way.

“Don, can you think of anything Emma can do for your entertainment?” he asked, his eyebrow raised mischievously.

By this point, Don was horny enough to dispense with propriety, as the unbelievable view of Emma in the scant bikini, with her big boobs jiggling and her pussy lips pressing against the material of her bottoms sending him over the top and exactly where Hank wanted him.

“Well, Emma, that must be a new suit. I’ve never seen you wear one quite like it,” he hesitated only briefly, inching towards blurting out his impossible dream as encouraged by my boss.

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Emma acknowledged derisively, uncertain what else to say.

“I’m just thinking, you know, that maybe you could show me those incredible breasts,” Don said brazenly, uncertain of her reaction despite Hank’s assurances.

‘There, I said it,’ he crowed silently at his temerity, knowing he couldn’t let a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity slip away.

“WHAT?!!! You want me to do what, Don?” my shocked wife squawked, appalled at the lewd suggestion by our demented neighbor.

“I mean, you’re hardly wearing anything anyway, it wouldn’t take much to lose that top,” he argued, pleading immaturely with a nod at her prodigious chest overflowing the sparse cloth in literally every direction.

“What about your wife? What about my husband? I can’t take off my top!” Emma complained uselessly.

“Well, let me worry about Audrey, and I’m not planning on telling Ray, unless you are?” Don answered thoughtfully, his tone dismissive of her feelings or vehement objections.

Emma simply glared at our neighbor with a strange mix of anger, disgust, and despair, with the last emotion the result of knowing he’d ultimately get his dream fulfilled.

“Look Emma, let’s be honest. I’ve wanted to see your big tits for so long, I can’t worry about that right now,” he crudely explained, almost apologetically. “There always so under wraps in those sturdy bras and modest clothes. I just gotta see ’em.”

“Jeez, you’re pathetic, Don,” Emma replied with pitiful disdain and a shake of her head at his human frailty.

“Perhaps you’re right, dear, but please, take off your top,” Don half-begged, and half-demanded.

“Emma, you heard Don. Fulfill an old man’s fantasy and show him huge whoppers. Hell, he can see most everything you’ve got anyway,” Hank intervened crudely, adding his imperative to the argument with a healthy dose of reality.

Stunned by the turn of events, my disheartened wife felt sick to her stomach. What was at first an inappropriate request by Don was immediately converted into an order by Hank, meaning she had no other choice.

Dismayed, but conceding her position, in our own living room and with unsteady hands, Emma grudgingly reached behind her back, slowly tugging the end of the string and undoing the knot holding the cloth to her chest before the wide-eyes of our longtime neighbor.

‘Whew, whew,’ her breathing grew shallow at the thought of what she was doing, and so did Don Stanley’s.

With the back string loose, the top stayed in place, held only by the string around her neck and the pointed tips of her nipples — the crinkled buds standing erect with nervous tension despite the relatively warm room, and acting as hooks supporting the two sparse triangles of fabric.

Don’s eyes were laser beams on her every movement, and had my wife looked she notice a definite twitch in the front of his pants from his excitement.

Instead, seeing no choice other than to continue, Emma pulled on the neck string allowing the skimpy top to immediately fall away from her chest and drop to the ground. Flustered and disquieted by her nudity, her full, rose-tinted nipples were now completely exposed to our neighbor’s bulging eyes.

“Ohhh, oh my god, they’re so big!” Don irrepressibly exclaimed, issuing an astonished gasp upon seeing his lovely neighbor’s impressive melons for the first time.

Emma didn’t bother trying to cover her shame, or her bare breasts, now pleasantly on display before the fascinated retiree. She knew it was pointless. She’d just have to live knowing Don ogled her naked tits, and resigned to that fate, she simply put her hands at her sides.

Truly in heaven and not one bit shy, Don openly gawped at Emma’s unbelievable jugs, as Hank smiled with his pleasure at providing such a precious vision to his salivating new friend of convenience. Truthfully, my boss didn’t give a shit about Don Stanley, but he made for a useful tool in further my wife’s embarrassment and humiliation, so he was happy.

“I told you they’re amazing,” Hank adolescently agreed with Don obvious assessment of her giant, fleshy tits, confirming irrefutably this spectacle was pre-arranged and that he’d already personally scrutinized my ostensibly respectable wife’s generous chest.

“I’ll say! Her nipples are spectacular, and her boobs look incredibly firm, I mean, considering they’re so huge. They don’t have nearly as much sag as I expected,” Don noted auspiciously, objectifying Emma as if not even in the room.

“You really do have phenomenal tits, Emma. I mean, seriously, what a set of knockers!” he juvenilely complimented my wife in final recognition of her presence.

Saddened and offended, Emma shifted anxiously in her distress, barely tolerating the belittling way he critiqued her breasts while disregarding completely the years of friendship they shared as longtime neighbors.

‘How can I live next door to the Stanley’s after this disgrace?’ she questioned forlornly. ‘How can I look Audrey in the eye, or even be civil to Don? It’s all so humiliating.’

“Shake ’em. Make her shake ’em,” Don practically begged Hank, understanding his benefactor held the power to make my stricken wife grant his every wish.

Emma shot an unhappy look at Don, before turning to my boss with a pleading expression. As expected, she found Hank unmoved, and didn’t wait for his obvious answer.

Defeated and blushing profusely, my demoralized wife placed her hands on her flared hips, pushed out her heavy breasts with an embarrassed pride, and shimmied her shoulders forcing her jello-y melons to sway animatedly across her chest.

“Holy shit!” Don sighed, his hungry eyes tracking her wobbling globes across her torso, and Emma squirmed uncomfortably at her exposure before the captivated gaze of our ‘good’ neighbor.

Don didn’t really understand the level of control Hank held over my acquiescent wife, but at the moment didn’t really care, not so long as he enjoyed the benefits of her willingness to do as she was told.

Growing bolder, he expeditiously took the lead from his new benefactor, and exercising a firm tone directed Emma to bend at the waist, understanding now that Hank’s direct intermediation was no longer necessary, at least not while in my submissive wife’s presence.

“Just wanna check their ‘hang time,'” Don explained gleefully, his remark beyond crude, making Emma cringe.

Hank remained silently commanding and bewildered at how this was possibly happening in the privacy of our own living room, my sullen wife yielded once more.

Reluctantly, Emma complied with the lewd demand, placing her hands on hips and bending at a 90° angle from the waist, just as Don desired. The degrading act left her enormous breasts freely hanging beneath her torso, and with her face pointed towards the ground, she was unable, or probably unwilling, to look at the disparaging duo from her degrading position.

I’ve inadvertently seen Emma in this position before, unknowing of my presence, because there’s no way she’d voluntarily undertake such a disreputable, overtly demeaning pose with anyone looking.

It makes for an impressive image, and even Don hadn’t imagined seeing her this way in his wildest fantasies, of which she was learning he had many. His late-thirties neighbor housewife, so long an unattainable dream, was bent at the waist stripped to a thong bikini bottom with her ample tits swinging pendantly at his command.

Disrespectfully, the disgraceful old man stepped to the side for a better look in profile.

“Truly marvelous. Now, Shake ’em again,” he marveled, before treacherously demanding more.

“Oh please, Don, haven’t you had enough?” Emma questioned our insistent neighbor’s demeaning request.

“Never. I’ll never get enough of your big tits, Emma. Now, shake ’em again, damn it,” he replied forcefully.

Unenthusiastically, Emma capitulated, and with a similar shimmying motion as before, my red-faced wife’s suspended melons shook and danced impressively, undulating dynamically to Don’s endless delight.

‘I’m just a piece of meat in a butcher shop window,’ she bemoaned inside, with the intolerable act so degrading that watery tears welled in her green eyes.

Adding physical insult to her emotional injury, without a word, Don palmed Emma’s dangling left tit in his modest hand, cradling the supple melon, lifting and weighing it as he would a cantaloupe at the grocery store.

“Heyyyyy!” she decried, startled by the bold act.

In truth, it wasn’t unexpected, as Emma saw the direction things were moving. Still, she cried her protest aloud, immediately jerking upward before recognizing the futility and returning to her position, permitting our neighbor of a dozen years to fondle and bounce her precious breast in his warm hand.

“Ohhh, yesss,” our enraptured neighbor blurted his unrepentant joy, truly in heaven feeling Emma’s giant, spongy tit, with the generous bulk of her massive boob spilling over his hand.

Emma’s eraser tip nipple pressed into his palm as Don lightly squeezed her gelatinous globe between his fingertips, relishing the soft skin and impressive density. It was obvious the man truly admired my beleaguered wife’s breasts, and despite his despicable treatment, he truly admired her beauty too.

Our ‘considerate’ neighbor didn’t want to hurt Emma, not really, and he didn’t even want to possess her body. He simply wanted access and have her previously forbidden body available. Don had lusted for my modest wife’s voluptuous form for so terribly long, never expecting this dream to come true. Now that it had, he desperately wanted to savor it.

Stroking her elongated breast a few times, Don’s fingers trailed over the curved surface until the tips were at her nipple, wherein uninvited he abruptly gave the swollen bud a good pinch and a firm twist.

“OUCH!” Emma cried angrily, sharply pulling away in reflexively returning to an upright position and signaling her disapproval with a cross expression.

“Damn it, Don. That hurt!” she chastised our neighbor, protectively soothing her offended nipple by running the pads of her tender fingers gingerly over its inflamed surface.

“Oh, I forgot to mention, Emma’s nipples are super-sensitive. Of course, that just makes ’em super-responsive, and super-fun to tease,” Hank chuckled aloud as Emma fumed, enlightening our neighbor about his extensive experience playing with my large-breasted wife’s perceptive nubs.

Enthralled and obviously unconcerned about charging up his lovely neighbor’s rubbery bud, even now growing steely hard and wrinkled from his taunting tweak, Don’s demeanor reflected no regret whatsoever at tugging and twisting my miserable wife’s stiffening nipple.

“That’s it! Don, isn’t that enough?” Emma insisted, her admonition intended as a rhetorical question, with her glaring countenance indicating she’d debased herself enough for our lecherous next-door neighbor.

Don’s response was to look at Hank.

“Ok then, she doesn’t want to do that anymore, Don. Let’s look at some photos instead,” my boss stated plainly after a moment of silence, dangerously pulling the envelope from under his arm and shuffling through the many 8×10 full-color glossy pictures.

Hank recorded everything we did on the yacht from the moment we arrived — Emma shuffling nervously in the same scandalous bikini she currently wore, dipping into the spa, letting Ted feel her up and then fuck her face, and dancing with Ike before he and Ted double-teamed her on the bench.

Every nefarious activity throughout the long night in the stateroom was captured in hi-definition detail — lewd acts I heard live as they occurred but only imagined in my lonely bed. There were shots of my well-respected wife on her knees giving head to three grinning businessmen twenty years her senior on the yacht deck, before leaving with a face dripping of congealing semen.

It was all on film, well over one hundred shots of excellent quality with close-ups and long shots showing all the action. Emma’s face was plainly recognizable, even with a cock in her mouth. My presence locked in my cage was also confirmed, signaling not only my knowledge of her infidelity, but also my cuckolding by the superior men.

A horrified look filled Emma’s eyes when he pulled a single photo from the envelope. She didn’t know exactly what the photos showed, but Hank’s earlier mention of the cruise was all she needed to know.

“Don, check out this one of Emma and Ray enjoying the coastal sunshine,” he offered, handing him the picture with Emma eyeing the image from where she stood.

It was a picture of Emma entering the water of the pool in her indecent white bikini, still opaque above the clear water but definitely dressed in a manner unlike anything Don expected of my sweet wife in front of other people. Her face was easy to see in the photo, leaving no doubt as to her identity.

The shot was wide-angle, enough to include me and my cohorts in cuckoldry in the frame — proof of my presence, but we were only seen from the chest up, so our nudity and cock cages weren’t visible. Still, it appeared I had knowledge of Emma’s nearly nude ‘exhibition’ for other men while watching with apparent approval.

That’s how it looked anyway, like I was sharing my half-naked wife with fellow business associates, proud of her curvaceous physique.

‘Ray and Emma Tyler are a little less stuffy than their conservative image,’ Don thought, fixated on the photo.

“I have some more, let’s see,” Hank advised, digging through the envelope.

“No,” Emma interjected in a panic. “I’m sure we can think of other things to do.”

What Hank showed Don made her look like an exhibitionist, and that was plenty enough. She didn’t want Don seeing what really happened on that yacht.

“Are you sure, Emma? There’s a lot more,” Hank pressed with a taunting smile.

“Y-yes, Hank, I’ll be happy to do, um, well, whatever,” my wife conceded apprehensively, afraid to say something in error giving him any more ideas.

Ever since Emma stripped nude in his office the first day of our indenture, Hank revealed a sadistic taste for psychologically torturing my unfortunate wife, and he took perverse pleasure putting her in embarrassing and humiliating situations.

It may not have been part of his plan when he began blackmailing us, but he apparently realized how much fun it was watching her squirm, seeing her anguish and distaste at the things he made her do, especially with me as captive witness.

Hank got off on it almost as much as he did fucking Emma or watching her fuck someone other than her husband. He made a game of thinking up new ways for her to suffer emotionally, especially knowing she unwillingly experienced powerful orgasms from the sexual activity, and even with me as witness to her infidelities.

“Okay Don, do you have any other ideas?” Hank asked, emboldening our entranced neighbor.

Don instantly returned to Emma, so focused on her fully exposed chest he hadn’t paid much attention to her bikini bottoms, other than watching her delectable ass walking towards the kitchen earlier to get the beers.

“I don’t know if I’ve seen a smaller bikini bottom in my life, Emma. Tell me, are you, um, shaved down there?” he peeped, not holding back but struggling through his excitement to get out the incorrigible words.

Disconcerted with intense humiliation, Emma knew the bathing suit didn’t offer much modesty, but scrambled to recover, trying her best to act casual despite the extremely inappropriate question.

“Well, Don, like many women I do a bikini trim,” she murmured with utter shame.

“I don’t know, Emma, looks like more than a trim. I pretty sure I can see your pussy lips,” Don retorted unabashedly.

“Jeez, Don, I can’t believe you. Show some class,” Emma scolded, dazed by Don’s frank response and not liking the direction the visit was going, but also not wanting to return to the photos.

“In all my dreams, Emma, I never pictured you shaved. Now, tell me, are you completely bald, or do you leave a landing strip?” he asked with a smarmy grin.

Don’s bold question was truly disgusting. It was so personal and over the top, but standing there topless with next to nothing on, Emma wasn’t in a position to deny the obvious, so simply stood with mouth agape, too frozen to respond.

“I’d love to see it,” he added ambitiously, and Emma instinctively knew it wasn’t a request.

As usual, Hank did nothing disabusing her of any other notion.

Staggered and bowing her head in shame, she correctly assumed pushing back wouldn’t change the final result. Her lone act of defiance was forcing Don to say in no uncertain terms what he wanted, hoping to make him somehow remorseful and reconsider.

“So, what are you saying, Don?” Emma asked, looking directly in his eyes with a bravado she didn’t feel, sensing our lecherous neighbor was too far down the path of depravity to do anything but follow his fantasy to its natural conclusion.

“Take off the bottoms, Emma dear, and show me your pretty little pussy,” Don suggested with a devious smile, taking up the challenge with his response coming easily.

“Show me your, um, ‘bikini trim,'” he gibed without sympathy, with his lust overwhelming his morality.

Left speechless and devastated that such words came from the mouth of our kindly neighbor, my reluctant wife was backed against a wall, and despite her near nudity already, this wasn’t easy for her, knowing Don as a longtime family friend and even pseudo-grandfather figure to Kerri and Kellen.

This next step would expose her shaved pubic mound to him, but intimidated by Hank’s presence, she bowed her head, avoiding Don’s eager eyes while hooking her thumbs into the side strings of her bikini thong. Making no ceremony of the act, she steadily lowered the bottoms off her hips, past her thighs to her ankles, before kicking them to the side and timidly raising her head hoping to muster some semblance of pride and self-esteem.

The moisture in her eyes betrayed her failure to do so.

Emma stood haplessly before our older neighbor, completely naked except for her wedding ring and the white stiletto heels, which she regretted wearing as they only accented the roundness of her ripe, full ass.

To Don’s glee, my wife’s nude cunt was positively without a hair.

“I thought so. It sure didn’t look like you were hiding a landing strip,” Don commented with satisfaction.

Emma stood naked in her own home before two men, neither of whom was her husband, praying no one came home early. Kerri wasn’t due until around 2:00 p.m. and it was only 12:45 now.

Don gazed at my uncomfortable wife’s bald snatch for a long moment, then settled his eyes on the entire package.

“Wow, Emma, you have a killer body. I always knew it, but it was so hard to tell in that frumpy bathing suit you wear in your backyard,” he admitted, confirming he spied on her while she sunbathed.

I doubt he cared, but Emma learned more about our debauched neighbor with each revelation.

“Turn around, slowly, and let’s see that great ass again,” Don directed with a twirl of his finger.

Broken and once more on display, Emma simply rotated deliberately in a circle. Her ass cheeks, tightened by the high heels, rippled in a delectable manner as she turned.

“Stop. Hold it there. I need to check this out,” Don ordered when her back was fully towards the men.

Standing immediately behind my tentative wife, he planted a big hand on each of her fleshy butt cheeks, clutching and squeezing their ample padding with admiration. The contact with his warm palm, and the ease of his growing control alarmed Emma, glad she wasn’t facing the men as her tears flowed freely.

‘How can Don be so horrible? Doesn’t he know how this makes me feel? How dehumanized?’ she sobbed inside, thinking like the rest of our family he was a decent man, and we were all friends.

“Ohhh, wowww! Really unbelievable! What an amazing ass, almost as great as your tits,” Don marveled, groping my heartsick wife’s plump, muscular globes.

“Present, Emma,” Hank’s brusque voice rang out authoritatively.

“Huh?” Emma’s eyes popped wide, not expecting the order but springing into her demeaning presentation pose with Pavlovian efficiency, squaring her shoulders and crossing her fingers behind her neck with elbows wide.

“Trained and everything,” Don gaped at her unquestioning compliance.

Unrelenting and intoxicated by the opportunity to explore the enticing body of his mature neighbor, he shifted his hands to the swell of Emma’s broad hips and extended his foot, lightly kicking the inside of Emma’s ankles.

“Spread your legs a little farther, dear,” he commanded, and Emma obediently did until shoulder-width in distance.

“Now, bend at the waist, but keep your legs braced at the knees,” the joyous man instructed, picking up on his benefactor’s power and using it for fulfilling his dreams.

“Oh, no, please not that, Don. It’s so, um, exposed. So, embarrassing,” Emma objected, finding strength in her remaining dignity to balk.

‘WAP,’ Don slapped her left buttock hard with the flat of his hand before she got another word out, making Emma wince in enforcing his demand.

“Owwhhh,” Emma whimpered, but did his bidding, bending at the waist with hands still held at the back of her neck.

My commandeered wife was emotionally in turmoil, now in the classically submissive, highly demeaning, and yet terribly erotic inspection pose for a woman. With her legs spread there was no hiding her womanly charms from the full view of our neighbor’s prying eyes.

Emma’s puffy cunt lips, perceptibly parted in forced arousal from the unwanted depravity of her absolute surrender, were openly available for scrutiny. The wrinkled bud of her clenching anus peeked discreetly between the spreading crack of her ass.

My traumatized wife was inconsolable with shame, while Don was all smiles. This was going better than he ever imagined when Hank approached him the other day, proposing to grant Don a special request at the expense of his lovely neighbor.

Hank stood to the side observing, wanting nothing from Don, with his reward my wife’s distress. He really is a sick bastard, even he had to admit it.

Don bent at the knees and put his face up close enough to Emma’s pussy to smell her essence, feeling the warmth emanating from her rudely exposed pink slit.

“You really do shave your twat clean, don’t you?” he bluntly posed his question in rhetorical form, not expecting an answer and getting none, just continued sniffles from my wife.

Coarsely, he next pulled her butt cheeks apart looking unobstructed at her crinkled asshole.

“Please, don’t look there, Don, it’s indecent,” Emma wept, her plea a high-pitched whine for compassion simply music to the grinning man’s ears.

“All the way to your anus. Very thorough,” he complimented, as insensitively as any man she’d ever met.

Emma shuddered at the disgusting comment, her world crashing around her at the intrusive examination.

“I assume this is at Hank’s request, or have you always done this for Ray?” Don probed shamelessly, proving as heartless as any of Hank’s favored cronies.

“Yep, that’s all for me. She had a thick, full bush. I’m sure that’s what you imagined, eh Don?” Hank responded on her behalf, as words became difficult to find for my overwhelmed wife.

“Pretty much, Hank. I certainly didn’t expect my ‘respectable’ neighbor to wear her cunt completely bald,” Don replied, mocking my wife’s notable outward appearance.

“You should have seen it before Mrs. Ogawa shaved it that first time. The hairs were curly and downy soft, but I like ’em shaved, so there you go,” Hank contributed additional detail, shamelessly enlightening our neighbor about the quality of Emma’s furry nest.

‘Did Hank really need to tell Don his secretary shaved my pussy?’ Emma bemoaned internally, listening to the men banter about her newfound hygiene regime with despair.

The mention of Hank’s preferences only demeaned her further, signaling my wife’s lack of free will over even something as personal as intimate grooming, and reducing her to nothing more than an attractive, big-titted bimbo for their amusement.

“I’d love to do that,” Don gushed emphatically. “Maybe one morning I can give her a shave?”

“Maybe Don, maybe,” Hank said without commitment.

Emma said nothing, simply maintaining her lewd pose in tears, with her body wavering under her emotional overload as our corrupt neighbor placed his hand on Emma’s proffered rump, eliciting another squirm of discomfort while caressing the supple surface open-handed.

Slipping over the curved flank into the crevice of her ass, my horrified wife flinched visibly when Don’s middle fingertip lightly grazed her crinkled rosebud, but then mercifully continued its naughty journey across her perineum until slipping into the hollow between her legs.

“Ohhh,” my wife peeped at his intolerable touch, but obediently stayed still as his warm palm ran inquisitively over her sacred vagina.

Heat emanated from the entrance as our erstwhile neighbor cupped her forbidden mound with a familiarity he didn’t deserve, enjoying the bald smoothness of her soft skin and the gentle tensing of her cleft with his proscribed contact.

“Annnhh, oh don’t, umm, don’t do that!” Emma begged, jolted from her misery when Don suddenly drew his trailing finger upward along her moistening slit and then back down to her absolute mortification.

Don realized his distressed neighbor’s warming pussy was highly responsive to his manipulations, regardless of her dire shame and anguish, realizing she had a deep sexual core regardless of her proper outward appearance.

“Uuunnnhhhh, oh no, please, don’t do that,” an involuntary sigh escaped her trembling mouth as his hand slid across her flowering pussy lips, gasping for breath before repeating her quiet, desperate utterance for mercy.

“Emma’s not as modest a woman as she pretends. Kind of slutty even. She’s juicing up pretty easily,” the smiling gray-haired man snarked callously, reveling in his ‘seduction’ of my wife with a few mere brushes of his warm palm across her susceptible vagina.

“It is interesting but appears to be a recent phenomenon. She was less responsive the first time I touched her and nothing like now,” Hank observed casually, referring to Emma in third person while speaking directly to Don. “I am training her to be a slut, so maybe it just comes naturally with all the stimulus of late.”

Aghast at hearing them speak, Emma nonetheless submissively held her position. The ordeal was so beyond anything she’d yet experienced, even after the sordid events on the yacht, as our longtime neighbor’s curious fingers deliberately explored her vulnerable pussy with extreme intimacy, separating her labia and brazenly plying along the open chasm.

“Huhhh, humm, huh, Don, please, nu-ohhh,” she exhaled, mewling helplessly against his invasion of her most private sanctum with a lament of sorrow and despair.

Emma sensed her interior moistening with every stroke of Don’s scrutinizing digits along the slippery crease, and she rightly feared he had a more sensitive destination in mind, with her wiggling bottom acting in unwanted invitation for him to investigate further.

“Ahhhhh,” my wife suddenly gasped when the impertinent fingertip located the desired treasure of her clitoris.

Just now peeking from beneath its protective hood in search of added stimulation, even throughout her suffering Emma recognized its appearance was increasingly easy to induce, as her developing sexual response grew more highly attuned with each step in her descent to becoming the wife slut and company fuck toy Hank intended.

“Gotcha,” Don crowed, swirling his slickened finger pad around the awakening morsel, coaxing it to life and inspired to see how far she’d submit to his manipulations.

“Huh, um, Don, you’re not, huh, going to,” Emma queried nervously, with her voice trailing off before she finished asking the question, already fearing the answer as his aggravating fingertip continued teasing and poking her agitated little flesh pearl.

“Don’t be bashful, Emma, I just wanna watch you get off. I’ve always wondered if you’re squealer,” the old bastard encouraged supremely, working her responsive nub with increasing vigor, and alternating between provoking jabs or pleasant rolls of his fingers over the preening button.

“Huh, huhh, uh-huh,” my affected wife’s breathing became ragged with his insidious efforts, but she stayed in ‘Present’ mode despite the tremoring in her arms and legs, sending her pendulous jugs dancing in rhythm to her movements.

“C’mon Emma, cum for your old friend Don. Just let it go,” he wooed almost compassionately, incorporating a gentle swiping action over the spastic clitoris, now swollen and twitching with a mind of its own.

“Ohhh, oh please, I’m, uh, it’s, so embarrassing,” Emma complained breathlessly, but the roll of her hips timed to the simultaneous stimulus spoke otherwise of her need for release, and Don knew he had her on the precipice.

Hank stood by watching with interest at this twist in Emma’s downfall. The entire set-up was somewhat spontaneous, but highly entertaining, and his conniving mind understood the sheer humiliation of her nudity, and then her unwanted orgasm at the hands of her kindly neighbor, was so shameful it made for one more brick removed in her defensive wall of morality.

“Ohhh, ohhhhh, unnh, ahhh, oh damn,” she squeaked unwillingly, her broad, womanly hips jerking fitfully accompanied by the loud squishy sounds of Don’s fingers sluicing across her flowing cunt, driving sparks of sensation in her clit and finally putting her over the top.

“Oh Don, n-noooooh! I can’t, oh stop, oh stop, I can’t, uh, cu-cummmmm,” my wife cried, quaking in place with our neighbor jiggling her sex button and launching her into the most upsetting yet compelling climax she’d yet experienced, with the undisguised shame of her body-rocking orgasm before her audience driving it to even greater heights.

“Holy shit, she’s gushing!” Don exclaimed gleefully, his hand coated with her oily vaginal effluent as Emma bounded through a second minor tremor, even after he backed off letting her ride through the shuddering ripples on her own.

“Ahhhhhhhhh,” her continuous drone expressed her release through circled lips, and her powerful body went limp as the strength drained out of her extremities with the waves of ecstasy diminishing over the next minute.

Relinquishing her ‘Present’ pose out of necessity and dropping to her knees vanquished, Emma sobbed in place on our living room floor at her disgrace for another full minute, her shoulders slumped and breasts heaving with her tears, but even then her demeaning performance was not yet concluded.

“Stand up and turn around, Emma. You’ve got me so hard, and I’ve wanted to do this for twelve long years,” Don ordered, still in command with the words taking a moment to penetrate her fogged mind.

“Emma, I need you to wrap those massive jugs around my cock and give me a tittie fuck,” the deviant man explained, now sitting on the couch with his prick rock hard in his pants.

“What? Seriously?” she groaned, stunned and dismayed, it was all she could say after a long pause comprehending his desire, which was not at all what she expected.

“I’ve wanted to see your big tits for so long, I’ve even jerked off about ’em. I can’t pass up the opportunity for you to wrap those puppies around my cock,” he explained succinctly without apology in a TMI moment.

As he spoke, Don unzipped his pants before sliding them off, popping his solid pole from the restraint of his briefs to stand fully erect. He was average in size, but even in his 60’s had no problem getting hard, especially with his neighbor’s bountiful wife naked before him as inspiration.

No little blue pill needed here.

“C’mon Emma, wrap your big fat knockers around my hard-on,” he implored crudely, adding the nature of his demand to express his seriousness. “I’m not asking!”

Emma glanced at Hank, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

It wasn’t what my boss wanted, despite how fantastic her tits truly are, but it was Don’s fantasy, so he let him have his fun. Besides, he noticed how uncomfortable it made Emma — so highly self-conscious about the size of her ample breasts and the way men always focused on them, as if the rest of her body was just a vehicle for showing them off.

Confounded and taken aback by what she considered a silly, almost juvenile request, my bewildered wife slowly shuffled to kneel before Don at the edge of the couch cushion.

“Put ’em around my cock, and push them together with your hands,” he instructed, followed by the obvious question he was unable to resist and had held suspensefully all these years.

“How big are they, anyway?” Don impudently asked the eternal question my wife loathed but was unable to escape. “What size bra holds those big girls?”

“37DD. I wear 37DD bras, okay?” she replied with a hint of disgust in her tone, as throughout her adult life men found it difficult not to stare at Emma’s chest, quickly averting their eyes when she’d catch them.

Still, she never realized Don was so obsessed with her boobs. His fixation and bizarre demand really caught Emma off-guard, expecting he’d want to fuck her pussy, particularly when so vulnerably bent over only moments ago. In her wildest imagination, she didn’t think he’d request to fuck her titties.

Staring briefly at Don’s hard prick, my analytical wife quickly realized it was nothing special. It didn’t look bad, bobbling before her eyes reflexively in its excited state, but nothing to write home about, as the expression goes.

Rationalizing she’d done much worse things, the reality it was our longtime neighbor making this ludicrous act making it so difficult. Even then, Emma dutifully leaned forward, sliding the older man’s stiff pole between her two giant globes, pressing them together with her hands from slightly beneath.

“You do it, Emma. Fuck me with those great big titties,” Don specified, jerking his hips up and down getting her started before instructing her to take over.

Embarrassed by how absurd it felt as much as anything else, Emma took over the action, awkwardly using her shoulders to gently glide her breasts up and down Don’s turgid shaft. The was no lubrication but her breasts were soft, and Don’s cock was smooth, so none was really needed.

I know Emma’s never given a ‘tittie-fuck’ before, although she confided once some previous boyfriends had asked, but I never did, knowing her sensitivity about her large chest and its attraction to men.

Don tugged lightly on Emma’s left nipple once or twice, giving it a sharp pinch to her displeased squeak, then simply leaned his head back watching his lovely neighbor squeeze her fat melons around his rigid staff stroking up and down, unable to imagine a better sight in all the world.

Insightfully, he was so excited about his fantasy come true he knew he wouldn’t last long, so after about a minute, made a final demand necessary to complete his dream.

“When the head pops between your tits, lick it,” he suggested egregiously. “Just stick your tongue out and lick all around the knob. I want to see Mrs. Tyler’s tongue on my cockhead so badly.”

Don’s use of her surname reminded Emma of her betrayal of our fidelity, how disgraceful an act she was performing, and how she knew I’d find out because Hank would certainly tell me if she didn’t. Additionally, it creeped her out thinking that all these years kindly Don Stanley fantasized about ‘tittie-fucking’ her while she licked his cockhead.

Frankly, it was just too damn bizarre, but she smartly sensed from his breathing she’d easily bring him over the top, so when his purple crown appeared from the middle of her mashed together cleavage, she dropped her mouth, swiping at it deftly with her tongue.

The waving knob was a moving target and difficult to time at first, but with repeated attempts she got better at it, slathering the flat of her tongue over the sensitive tip each time it showed itself.

The surface was smooth and spongy, but Emma recoiled reflexively at the notion if was Don’s cock. She detected a salty flavor from the precum dotting the tip, but in truth it was much like all the other stranger’s cocks Hank required her to taste of late.

Don was beside himself, with the warm, wet sensation of Emma’s tongue on his cockhead more than he could handle. The mere vision of Ray Tyler’s lovely but reserved wife, naked on her knees licking his crown while sliding between her big jugs was all it took to cause Don to erupt.

“Ohhh! Oh, Emma, here it comes. Ahhhhh!” he cried ecstatically, and the first spurt of white cum shot from the tip catching her right on the lips and into her partially open mouth, ready to lick him again when he went off.

“Uggcck,” Emma groaned distastefully, and a sour expression overtook her disgusted face.

The next jet soon splashed on the bottom of her chin, with another crossing her chest as she instinctively pulled away from the ejaculate, but not before two more quick spurts fired across the top of her tits.

Awed and in disbelief it was true, Don was done, and looking at his prize, he was thrilled. Emma looked just as he’d always fantasized — her quivering mouth dripping his cum, and little rivulets of translucent spunk trailing off her chin covering the tops of her incredible tits in a sticky glaze.

“Lick it off your face! Lick it off your tits!” he excitedly told my cringing wife. “I want to know you’ve swallowed my cum, Emma. I always want to know that whenever I see you.”

Emma grimaced at the prospect and hesitated. Certainly, she’d swallowed plenty of other men’s semen in the past few weeks, but somehow the idea was different with Don, our once-respectable next-door neighbor. It was disturbing and distasteful, no pun intended.

Still, after a pause, she did what he asked, licking her lips of his dripping ejaculate as far as her tongue reached. Warm and salty, it was also runny and thin, even more so than some of the other men she had sampled.

‘Maybe that’s what happens with older men,’ she thought in a disconnected aside.

“Get it all, Emma, lick it off your tits,” Don advised manically.

‘He really is obsessed with my breasts,’ Emma thought strangely before fulfilling his request. ‘All these years living right next door, and I had no idea he lusted so much for my chest.’

Gathering up the pearly cum with a dip of her tongue to the tops of her alabaster melons, Emma left behind only a glistening trail of saliva. Finishing by scooping the remaining jizz off her chin, she then slipped her coated finger into her mouth and swallowed the last of his awful cum.

“You should see her suck her nipples,” Hank teased, and Emma shot a nasty glare at him as he finally spoke up.

“What a great idea! Do it, Emma, suck your nipples clean,” Don concurred, reveling in his sense of power and acting the part of an eager college kid in a way he hadn’t felt in forty years.

“Jeeez, Don,” my wife scoffed incredulously.

It was the only thing she could think to say, but otherwise stayed silent. I know for a fact she hated everything about the idea but bit her lip instead of reading him the riot act, as she would under any other circumstance.

Bitter and dispirited, Emma fulfilled Don’s wish as he sat with eyes alight in wonder at the coming spectacle. Perching her right tit from beneath with her hand, my ashamed wife took her erect nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the wrinkled bud, and even nibbling it gently before repeating the erotic act with her equally hard left nipple.

“Well Don, I hope I was able to make your fantasy come true?” Hank inquired mirthfully as the miraculous afternoon’s proceedings drew to a close.

“Oh, hell yeah!” our retired neighbor yipped enthusiastically.

“Well, maybe we can do it again sometime. I’m sure as your good, longtime neighbor, Emma will be happy to make more of your dreams come true,” my magnanimous boss promoted presumptuously.

“Anytime! I’d still love to shave her pussy and, well, I bet she’s one helluva fuck!” Don yammered eagerly, spewing his deepest desire and clearly unconcerned what my wife thought of him.

The words rang in Emma’s ears, and I’m sure she didn’t appreciate Hank volunteering her future services. Mostly though, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

‘Dear god, Don wants to shave my pussy, and then fuck me,’ she groaned internally about the intolerably personal act.

In the back of her mind, she feared the day would soon come when that was exactly what Hank would have her do.

As Don stood, pulling up his pants and tucking in his shirt, the back door opened, and a voice called out.

“Mom, I’m home,” Kerri chirped as she arrived home from college.

‘Oh, my god, I can’t let her see me this way!’ Emma thought in a panic.

Scrambling to pick-up the two bikini pieces and racing towards the coat closet, she kicked off the stilettos, tossed in the bathing suit, and grabbed a house coat, somehow managing to throw it on just as Kerri entered the living room.

“Hi Mom,” she greeted, then noticed the two men. “Oh, hi Mr. Stanley.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know your name?” our curious daughter asked politely to Hank.

“I’m Hank Allenby, your father’s boss, and you must be Kerri,” he answered graciously, extending his hand. “I must say you’re every bit as pretty as your picture.”

Kerri simply smiled at the compliment — all girls like being called pretty, and our daughter is no different.

“I stopped by to drop off these pictures of your parent’s trip on my yacht. Would you like to see them?” Hank offered, waving the envelope and scaring my wife half to death.

“I’ll just take that, Hank!” Emma interceded just in time, as Kerri or Kellen were the last people she wanted seeing the dirty pictures of her scandalous behavior.

“Okay, Emma. I can always show them to her later,” he remarked dismissively in a not so veiled threat. “I’d best get going. I’m sure we’ll see you again soon, Emma. You too, Kerri.”

The last words hung in Emma’s ears frighteningly, forcing a deep gulp and creating a knot in her stomach.

“Pleasure to meet you, Don. Hopefully, we can do this again sometime,” Hank bid while offering his hand. “Maybe next time you can introduce me to Audrey, and she can join us.”

Emma stayed calm on the outside, but inside was roiling emotionally at the prospect of Audrey knowing everything, and possibly even joining in.

“My pleasure, Hank, or maybe Kerri can join too,” Don replied, unable to keep the grin off his face, with the obscene suggestion slipping past our unknowing daughter but making my wife pale with doubt and fear.

**********************************

After Hank’s visit to our home and unsavory introduction of our once-respected neighbor Don Stanley to my wife’s unfortunate role as indentured sex servant, over the ensuing weeks my uncompromising boss stepped up his assault on Emma’s dignity and virtue, taking advantage of her at any opportunity.

The insatiable pervert fucked her in his office while I watched. He fucked her by our backyard pool when Kellen and Kerri were in class, once again while I watched from poolside with Don no doubt spying from the knothole in the fence.

Hell, the sonofabitch even fucked her in our marital bed more times than I care to think about, always with me there to watch in benign witness to his desecration of our happy marriage.

Worse for me and her self-respect, every time they fucked, Hank brought Emma to powerful, teeth-rattling orgasms — the kind she never had with me.

My modest wife grew more sexual over time, developing a hair-trigger response to the constant stimulus and sex, achieving orgasm quickly and sustaining multiple climaxes until finally Hank was spent.

Truthfully, it was her orgasms more than the actual sex that undermined her mind and spirit. I think they bothered her more than they did me. After weeks of adulterous fucking in every position imaginable, Emma still couldn’t accept her body succumbing wantonly to unwanted sex with a man she detested.

Sadly, routinely trapped in my unforgiving steel cock cage, I grew terribly aroused seeing my beloved unhappily submit her beautiful body to his use. Try as I might in placing her terrible plight before my own, I simply couldn’t help myself.

Naturally, considering his level of cruelty and need for vengeance against me for my act of theft, more than once Hank shared her with a client, or prospective client, or anyone gaining his favor. Ever the host and showman, my creative boss enjoyed creating little motifs designed to embarrass me and humiliate my abashed wife.

A favorite scenario was for her to ‘pop in’ to visit me at work dressed in typical housewife fashion — nothing sexy or elaborate, while he was meeting with a client.

I would step into the office with Emma and introduce her to the client as my wife and mother of our two grown children. A brief bit of small talk and the next thing you knew, Emma’s top was off, and she was on her knees sucking off the lucky man or letting him feel her bare tits before fucking both Hank and the client.

Hank always made it as shameful as possible, telling the client falsehoods about how Emma was an ambitious gold-digger so desirous for her husband’s success she’d do anything to advance his career.

On other occasions, he’d characterize Emma as a nympho who couldn’t keep her panties on while cuckolding me mercilessly because I couldn’t satisfy her with my small prick. I’d strip right there to just my cock cage, leaving me red-faced and ashamed even as I swelled against the unforgiving metal watching Emma reluctantly play the disreputable role of cheating spouse.

Of course, our ignoble clients were always fascinated by Emma’s big tits, and even more so by the special thrill of fucking an Allenby executive’s oversexed wife in front of her husband. I doubt they cared whether she was doing it willingly or not, but it closed the deal every time, and business was very good.

As with every encounter, including with Don Stanley, when I’m not present at her debasement Emma, always tells me everything afterward in excruciating detail. It’s the deal we made from the beginning of our travails and my forthcoming wife doesn’t hold anything back, even the most perverse tale of woe.

In an odd twist, I’m actually grateful for the truth no matter how difficult to hear, or how arousing, as honesty between us is the last bastion of faithfulness we’re able to maintain. It’s important we travel this road together, so that I can give her support, and share her emotional pain and misgivings.

As we quickly discovered, that first time Emma ‘tittie-fucked’ Don wasn’t the last opportunity Hank leveraged in letting our lecherous neighbor access my now available wife’s enticing body. Within a week, Hank invited Don to fulfill his fantasy of giving Emma her morning shave.

In addition to that horrifying prospect, it became the old man’s shot at learning of my cuckoldry while seeing her naked in my presence. Hank really got off on me as witness to the perverse ways he used Emma’s abundance of comely flesh to our shared disgrace.

‘Knock, knock,’ the rap on the front door sounded shortly before I left for work. Emma was just about to step into the shower.

“Don, what can I do for you?” I greeted him curtly, not yet knowing why he was there but disgruntled by his sudden early morning appearance after what my wife told me.

“Hi Ray, actually, it’s what I can do for Emma. Hank asked me to help her out this morning,” he announced his intention quite simply.

“What? Wait,” I called when he breezed by me like he owned the place, marching up the stairs uninvited as I followed with trepidation.

“Don, what the hell! What are you, um?” Emma squealed in shock, as surprised as me and dressed only in her bathrobe as our impertinent neighbor barged into our bedroom straight to the bathroom without pause.

“Hank wants me to assist you this morning, Emma,” Don explained, cutting her off summarily, holding all the power with my boss as his benefactor.

“Assist? Oh no, Don, not that!” she questioned, initially clueless before the light came on and crying in dread. “Oh my god, nooooo! You can’t. Please, this is our bathroom, for goodness sakes. It’s private!”

“I don’t know, I can’t think of a better place,” he answered simply, relishing her horror in an expression of sadistic glee I didn’t think possible for the outwardly august gentleman.

“Ohhh please, not here. Not in front of Ray,” Emma begged hysterically at the audacious demand, futilely hoping for mercy and a reprieve from the appalling prospect of our longtime family friend shaving her pussy with me as witness.

“That Hank Allenby is a heck of a guy. He just wants me to give you some help is all,” the old man gibed, ignoring his violation of our marital sanctuary knowing my boss had his back. “Now, get the robe off and get in the tub.”

“Ray, you can stay and watch, if you’d like,” Don offered boldly with uncharacteristic cockiness, brashly removing his clothes without any shame whatsoever.

Trained to recognized Hank’s suggestions as truly orders and understanding this directive was really his intent, I assumed it wasn’t an invitation, and so I stayed to watch my mortified wife’s further humiliation.

Emma also knew better than to object despite Hank’s absence, so with a proverbial deer caught in the headlights look in my direction, she reticently undid the belt, letting the robe slip off her shoulders to hang on a hook behind the door, standing fully nude before our neighbor’s appreciative eyes.

Don was now naked himself, turning on the water and signaling Emma to join him.

Without further instruction, she tenuously sat on the edge of the tub, spreading her tremoring legs. She dearly did not want to do this act, whether I was present or not, but she also didn’t want to be nicked, so granted Don full access to her tender vagina.

Not surprisingly, Emma was clearly nervous, shaking visibly no doubt in part from the awful thought of our longtime neighbor performing the intimate act of her personal grooming, but also pragmatically due to the legitimate fear of injury to her sensitive parts by the older man’s unsteady hands.

“Don’t worry, Emma,” Don assured. “I told Audrey you shaved your pussy and she allowed me to practice on her pretty little snatch. I’m really quite good, and she loves it.”

Emma blanched at the revelation, as did I — Audrey knew.

Don probably told her everything about his previous visit and our service to Hank. Apparently, she’s a very accepting wife, or just as depraved as her husband.

“Well now, such a stubbly pussy, so let’s get started,” Don observed with an embarrassingly close-up examination of my wife’s nettlesome mound.

Biding his time, he conscientiously lathered Emma’s most private female anatomy, gliding his palm nimbly along the rounded surface, certain to apply the lubricating cream thoroughly, even into the narrow creases astride her ruffled labia.

The vile old cretin wasn’t sure if he’d ever get this opportunity again, so wanted to be sure to enjoy it, occasionally casting a glance at me standing in the bathroom doorway to be sure I saw his every improper touch.

I have to say, I was happy to not be trapped in my cage, because watching my neighbor prepare my wife’s vulnerable cunt was an extraordinarily erotic sight I never guessed I’d see in my life.

Emma cringed openly at his touch making no secret of her disgust, but dutifully kept her legs spread wide allowing him to get the shaving cream into every fold of her pussy.

I’m sure she felt terribly exposed, offering our neighbor a prime view of her pink gash and flaccid petals. For his part, Don took full advantage in examining her readily available snatch with admiration, even gratuitously parting the fleshy lips with two fingers to peer into her dark, steamy cunt hole.

“Oh, please, Don, that’s so personal,” Emma squeaked her distress at the invasive peek, aghast at his callousness and terribly embarrassed by his open inspection of her precious vagina, especially with me standing just feet away.

From the evil gleam in his eyes, I knew Don was enjoying her suffering every bit as much as Hank, maybe as some form of twisted payback for the years of unfulfilled longing for her body.

“Hmm, mmm, ohh,” she mewled little sounds of despair and humiliation, unable to vociferously object for fear of word of her resistance reaching my boss.

Don then took the razor and very deliberately gave my addled wife a very clean shave, working sure-handedly along the curve of her mound from the top of her pubic bone, down along the tender skin of her vulva, and gingerly pulling her floppy labia aside for complete access.

“Spread your cheeks a little, dear,” he requested before traveling the path over her perineum to finish at her anus.

“Oh, good lord, help me,” Emma whispered at the outrage, but reluctantly complied by pulling her meaty flanks apart revealing the wrinkled roseate button.

After a few strokes of the razor along the deep valley splitting her bottom, he was done with the blade, but not the offense to my breathless bride. Thorough and attentive to the end, he gave Emma’s pussy and butt crack a meticulous rubdown to be sure it was smooth enough for his tastes.

Our dissolute neighbor even went so far as to indelicately slip his middle finger fully into my startled wife’s moist slit.

“Ahhh,” Emma gasped, squirming in her seated position at the invasive probe as he briefly explored the soft inner walls of her velvety cunt in an act having nothing to do with checking the completeness of his work.

“Ummmmmhh, aahhh,” she exhaled discontentedly at the intrusive fingering, and despite the warmth of the water, a chill ran through her at his boldness.

A look of pure satisfaction filled Don’s glaring eyes when Emma’s large tits shimmied across her chest, sloping marvelously to the sides with her nipples drawn tight in reaction to the intimate way he casually felt her up.

“Ohhhhh, uhhh,” a low, unstifled moan carrying an entirely different quality soon issued from deep in her diaphragm.

Finally, and possibly just in the nick of time judging from my faltering wife’s throaty response, he was done, standing to reveal our excited neighbor sporting a tremendous erection.

“Rinse time,” Don cheerily directed, turning on the shower and carefully placing Emma under the spray, momentarily pressing his upright cock in the crease of her bare bottom causing her to jump and sending her tits bouncing gloriously, as is so common with my buxom wife.

Our helpful neighbor rinsed the soap off Emma’s body assisted by his wandering hands, paying particular attention to her plentiful, slippery breasts and placing her in an awkward position by indecorously turning her to face him and reaching between her legs to her supple pussy mound.

“Mmmh, mummmmm,” she released a girlish peep of surprise, but it was soon replaced by a conceding purr of arousal.

As usual in her easily stimulated state, the intimate touching of her most private places, especially by this most familiar of family friends, had an illicit erotic impact on Emma, whose sighs of recognition of the unwanted stroking of her flowering labia and slick pussy seam involuntarily increased along with her lust.

“Uunnnhh, ohhhhhhh jeeez,” Emma moaned lightly, hanging her head in shame suffering the troubling effect of his explorations as her juices flowed freely easing his taboo manipulations.

“Silky smooth. I hope Ray likes your pussy this way as much as I do,” he teased with pride, gliding his perceptive digits along her heated gash towards her denuded mound testing the supple skin and the quality of his work.

Without a reply from my wavering damsel in distress, Don split her swelling cunt lips imparting a cursory tease of her awakening clitoris at the apex, twirling his fingertip in place while simultaneously tugging her hardened left nipple seeking to force an orgasm under another man’s hands in the presence of her neutered husband.

“Nuuoommm, nohhhhh,” she groaned her feeble protest with breathy weakness, and her broad shoulders slumped with her body shivering perceptively, sending her big green eyes into a fogged half-mast reflecting her diminishing capacity to resist the erogenous touching by our curious neighbor.

“Huh, ohh, don’t Don, don’t make me, huh-huh,” Emma’s voice was a whisper, wanting and yet not wishing for the inevitable conclusion of his toying but knowing her decision was made by her body and her dignity be damned.

“Now, now, Emma, look at me with those pretty green eyes and cum for your old friend Don. It’s okay, I know Ray likes watching you with other men,” he wooed my susceptible wife with the treacherous truth he’d certainly learned from Hank, keeping his badgering fingertip on her sparking clit and sensing her pelvis convulse as she began her orgasm.

“Ahhh, ahh, oh gawwd, yesss!” my wife of twenty years gasped, her dazed face fixed on her tormentor, and her statuesque torso roiling with her contractions as the climax came over her shuddering body with the power of sudden bolt of lightning.

“That’s it! There you go, Emma. That’s how a good little wife-slut cums in front of her husband,” Don urged, denigrating her and me with the reverse effect of heightening the experience at the awful reality she was gradually becoming the loose vixen Hank demanded.

Emma struggled in her psyche with her failure to resist the compelling orgasm even as her sharp breaths lessened, her body relaxed, and her mind slowly cleared of the fog under the warm flowing water of our shower.

“Ok, my turn. Lather me up,” Don instructed happily after another minute, turning my docile wife to face him with an erection harder than a baseball bat as he handed the liquid soap to Emma.

The water discreetly washed away Emma’s tears, but it was obvious she was crying from the way her slumped shoulders jerked. With only a moment to regroup, she servilely poured soap into her hands to wash Don’s chest and arms.

Don stood still, anxious with anticipation studying the graceful movement of her body, the swaying of her loose tits and the ripple in her thighs and arms as she performed her inglorious task.

“Get everywhere, Emma,” Don admonished gently before she spritzed more soap into her hand and journeyed lower, finally arriving at his stiff cock and heavy ball sack.

“Do that area extra well,” he advised suggestively.

Regretfully but without objection, Emma took Don’s hard-on into her gentle hands to clean, sliding one soapy hand along the tensing shaft while using the other to lather and coddle his hairy scrotum.

“Hmmm, that’s nice, sweetheart, better than my Audrey,” he complimented disturbingly after a minute of her ministrations.

The very idea this was respectable, big-titted Mrs. Tyler from next door completing the salacious act was nearly enough to put Don over the top. Instead, panting and obviously flushed, he pushed Emma even harder.

“Don’t forget the backside,” the gray-haired pervert panted, obviously flushed but egregiously exercising his twisted vicarious authority, demanding an even more disturbing cleansing by Emma, who paused a moment before realizing his meaning.

“Ugh, seriously?” she questioned with disgust.

Nonetheless, still facing him she slipped her hand up beyond Don’s hanging balls to run her lathered fingers into the crack of his ass. Reaching his sphincter, she bent at the knees, kneeling on the shower floor for a better angle and get more comfortable.

“Clean it good, Emma. Be thorough, dear,” the bastard practically giggled with elation.

Emma’s exploring fingers tentatively probed his forbidden orifice, drawn tight in his excitement, but soon relaxing enough for her to wiggle a finger past the elastic ring while still languidly stroking his rigid shaft with her other hand.

“Uunnnhhh, yes, that’s it, oh my, that’s nice,” Don gushed euphorically, his head tilted back slightly as my lovely wife teased his asshole, sliding first one and then two slender fingers into his snug anal canal.

Subserviently fulfilling her reprehensible duty, Emma kneeling unfortunately set Don’s cock at face level, and it was easy to see where this was going. She volunteered nothing, however, working his stiff cock and nasty asshole in unison.

“Farther in, Emma. Massage my prostate,” he ordered through ragged breaths.

Attentively, Emma inserted her extended middle finger deep into the steamy channel until feeling the gland at the tip, then swirled her digit around as best she could in the confined chamber.

“There, yeah, right there!” Don approved rapturously.

It was a filthy picture, and about to become more so.

“Suck me, Emma, suck an old man’s cock,” he murmured as casually as if asking for a cool drink of water on a hot summer’s day, his excitable staff bobbing just inches from her mouth.

Fresh off her own orgasm and adjusting to the unsettling notion of what she was doing, Emma understood the best way to get this vile performance over quickly was to do as our nasty neighbor required.

With sorrowful emerald eyes directed at Don just as per her training, Emma’s hand slipped to cup his full balls at the base of his hard staff. Then, I watched my subjugated wife obediently open her mouth and take the head of our neighbor’s cock between her plush red lips, closing around the swollen knob respectfully.

From where I stood, the impression of Emma’s tongue gliding around the bulbous crown several times was unmistakable, followed by her slowly lowering her mouth down the hard shaft, taking inch after inch as her tongue slid along the underside of his rigid pole.

“Awwwhhhhh,” Don sighed without restraint.

To my surprise, when Emma hit the base she stayed there, working his pole from the inside, applying suction from her cheeks, with the bulbous head lodged inside the entrance to her throat. Her constantly moving tongue tantalized the old man’s pulsing tool, but more remarkably, she massaged the sensitive crown with subtle contractions of her throat.

I was learning my industrious wife always had a new twist in her magic bag of oral tricks.

From a distance, I helplessly observed my sweet Emma kneeling in our shower naked probing Don’s asshole, leisurely soothing his prostate while playing with his full balls and giving him head. Her lustrous chestnut hair was unbound and plastered to her head with the water from the shower.

If the scene wasn’t so lewd and erotic, it would be extremely upsetting, but I knew it wouldn’t last long as our heavily breathing neighbor wasn’t going to withstand much of this treatment.

Opening his eyes, the sight greeting Don pushed him over the edge — his milquetoast neighbor’s big-titted wife with her pretty mouth fixed to the root of his hard shaft, his wet gray pubic hair flat against her upper lip gently gliding her long, slim middle finger up his rectum tickling his prostate while in her other hand corralling his ball sack.

Throughout, Emma’s dancing tongue and suctioning cheeks plied his hyper-stimulated cock within her mouth.

“Ohhh, Emma, I’ve, uh, dreamed of you, ah, this way for so long,” he huffed contentedly, revealing his most lurid fantasies about my full-bodied spouse she never believe roamed his mind before Hank literally forced her to her knees.

The moment Don and my angelic wife’s searching eyes met, he lost it.

“Awwwgghhh, uunnnhhh!!” the ecstatic graybeard barked a loud growl and shot his warm seed directly down Emma’s throat, amazingly not flinching at all although her eyes fluttered with revulsion at the mere thought of swallowing our good neighbor’s foul semen.

Instead, she simply stayed in place, flexing her throat muscles ferrying Don’s cum jetting into her stomach, ingesting it as she would any other meal. I suppose Ted’s face-fucking her on the yacht taught Emma that trick.

“Ohhh, yes, uh, suck it, Emma, nurse my cock, doll!” he implored my accommodating wife with erstwhile approval. “Aaawwnh, drink it down. Ahhh, swallow old Donny-boy’s cum.”

Don couldn’t have had too large a load because he finished quickly, despite my thorough wife considerately milking his balls drawing out every drop of his aged sperm and continuing to tease his prostate. Ultimately, pulling to the flared knob of the softening tool, she licked away any excess with her artful tongue.

By the time his deflated cock fell from her lips connected by a solitary strand of saliva, it was glistening clean, but it was her next move that really caught me off-guard.

With the head completely out of her mouth, Emma extended her tongue and flicked the eye of Don’s cock with the tip getting every trace of residual jism. There was no denying the truth – my depraved boss had turned my lovely, reserved, late-30’s wife into a talented and highly accomplished cocksucker.

Returning to real world after another moment, Don smiled at Emma, graciously helping her to her feet like the gentleman we’d always believed him to be but belying that sentiment immediately with his words.

“I’m impressed, Emma, you have a wonderful mouth. All these years, I assumed you were just a pretty face with a big set of tits. I never imagined you sucked cock so well,” he indecently praised my abashed wife, lauding her skill appreciatively with the backhanded compliment. “You could teach Audrey a few tricks, and I always thought she was damn good.”

“You’re a lucky man, Ray,” he congratulated, fondling her breasts one last time.