Sex Stories by Letter ] [ Sex Story of the Week ] [ Story Forums ] [ Adult Personals ]
Sex Toys & Videos ] [ More Sex Stories ] [ Submit Stories ] [ Links ] [ Webmasters ]
Archived Sex Stories

Our Happy Slave 2


Our Happy Slave (2/?) {Redman} {FFM fd md Rom}
(c) October 2000

Authors Note: I would be interested in any comments or
corrections that readers might care to share with me.
I can be reached at

Also, this work is not intended to be read by minors.
If you are not legally an adult in your country or
culture, please do not read it. This story is a work
of fiction. Everything in it is a product of my own
imagination and does not represent the way that anyone
of any age should be treated or to represent a norm of
acceptable behavior.
Our Happy Slave 2/?
Things were going too well. I kept looking over my
shoulder, waiting for the other proverbial shoe to
drop. I knew I should be more cautious, go slower, but
I was just feeling too smug.

That's when I walked into it. I came home one day and
my wife greeted me at the back door, kissing me with
lust on her lips and passion oozing from her liquid
hips that moved to music blaring from our den. I
couldn't tell if she were inviting me to dance or to
fuck but I suddenly wanted to do both. As soon as we
came up for air I took a great big whiff. I could
smell that she was wet, even over the perfume that I
had given her. When I had presented it to her on our
anniversary, I told her to wear it when she was ready
to screw until she was blind. It would be our little
signal. About as subtle as a pre-frontal lobotomy.

What more could a man want than to be met at the door
by a lusty, beautiful woman? I had been thinking about
getting home and slipping between her thighs all day.
I had barely been able to keep from going to the
bathroom and tossing off hurriedly and shamefully. Not
that it would have been the first time, but I was
trying to save my energies for tonight's curtain call.
What more could any man want?

The downfall of many a man though, is greed and in
this regard I am perhaps more guilty than most. As my
wife grabbed my tie and her hips swayed as she began
backing me into the boudoir, her finger came up to her
lips, demanding silence. I happened to glance into the
den where I glimpsed our naked slave Connie tidying
up, humming happily to herself. She being at least
partially responsible for my good mood, my eyes
lingered longingly over her slim thighs, her blond
hair, her round, delicious bottom moving to the music.

There are moments when a man knows instinctively, one
second too late, that he has just plunged his dick
into a buzzsaw. This was my moment. One second ago my
randy wife was dragging me off to rape and pillage my
bones and the next moment I was stopped short, staring
into the face of a women who imagined herself scorned.

My first thoughts were of body-integrity preservation.
I did a quick scan to make sure there were no sharp
objects within her reach. Something must have amused
her as she stared into my deer-in-the-headlights face,
though, because her look softened. For just a moment I
felt the relief of a death-row inmate when the phone
rings, but the slight lifting of her eyebrow told me
that although I was out of immediate danger, my
torture would be slow and severe.

We have been married for quite some time. I know this
woman well, love her well in all her moods. I knew
that when her eyebrow stayed raised and she lifted her
chin defiantly that a challenge was given, a gauntlet
was thrown down. The spice of our union was the
struggle of two wrestlers, equally matched, struggling
for dominance. Occasionally one of us would appear to
give in, but each retreat, each advance, was
strategic. It's what made me love her most.

Her challenge had been made with only a glance. Hell,
not a word had been spoken since I walked in the door,
but I still knew. I nodded acceptance, having only the
vaguest notion of the stakes or the rules. God, I love
a good game!

My beautiful wife released my tie, casually. She began
to move around me to the den and then stopped and
straightened the tie. She looked up at me with that
knowing look all women give men that makes them feel
that they are hopelessly out of their league.

She headed back towards the den, her hips swaying,
enticing me with the now-forbidden fruit. I was sorely
tempted to declare surrender and beg her for a pity-
fuck, but I knew that it would squander all my
political capital if I were to show such weakness. So,
like a man trudging off to the gallows, I followed.

As she slinked into the den, I hesitated at the door,
uncertain and hesitant. She placed her arm
possessively around Connie and nuzzled her ear,
whispering something. Whatever the game was, Connie
would somehow be a piece. But, a piece of what rank?

I saw Connie's turn toward me and her eye's lit up,
seeing me for the first time. As she ran toward me, I
was sorely tempted to stare at her wiggling, naked
body as she came to hug me. Luckily I was able to
focus enough on my darling wife long enough to see
those expressive eyebrows shoot up in challenge and a
warning of danger. I understood in a moment this game.
We had played it often. I would lose the moment I
showed too much attention and affection to our nubile
little temptress. My wife's goal was to force me,
through weakness of will or lust into one lingering
touch, one look of desire held too long. She was
telling me I had crossed the line when I gazed lustily
at Connie when she herself was trying to seduce me. I
would lose, and lose big, if I made the same mistake

"Master, oh master. How was your day?" Connie greeted
me while pressing her entire body invitingly along
every inch of mine. She kissed me on the cheek,
placing her head on my shoulder with a sigh.

What do you do when your nerves are wired and a naked,
squirming women rushes into you and you know you just
can't touch? After catching myself almost
instinctively grabbing her precious ass, I hugged her
back simply as one would an elderly relative and
patted her on the head, asking her how her own day had

Sweet innocent Connie was oblivious to the fact that
she was skipping joyfully through a minefield. "I had
a wonderful day, master. I'll tell you all about it
after you relax and unwind a little," she said as she
rather dreamily loosened my tie. As she struggled
somewhat with the knot, I saw her lightly bite her
lower lip and I knew that I was in trouble. Connie
always did that when she was just beginning to be
aroused. If she began to rub her twat against my leg
as she often did, we were both in BIG trouble.

I held my breath and gritted my teeth as she wrestled
with my tie. My penis was betraying me, inflating like
a helium balloon at a birthday party when a reprieve
from a most unlikely source rescued me.

"Connie," my wife's voice sounded throaty and as dark
as whiskey, "Come sit with me on the sofa." What an
interesting development I thought as I eased myself
into a reading chair to better see whatever startling,
surprise attack my wife had up her devious sleeve.

It was Connie's turn to be ensnared by the authority
of my wife's focused attention. With only the
slightest of glances in my direction out little slave
immediately crossed the room to sit demurely by my
wife's side. If she had not been naked and if I did
not know she was already aroused, I would have thought
she were sitting for tea.

After a pregnant moment, my wife reached across and
drew Connie's mouth to her for a steamy kiss. She
kissed her hungrily, like a sailor being recalled from
leave. She pulled the girl possessively to her and her
hands began to explore naked, willing flesh. I was
amazed when her hand almost immediately flew to those
luscious, lower wet lips of our beautiful plaything.

Oh, what a wicked wife I have! She knows my worst
weaknesses and my most fierce desires. It was all I
could do to not throw off my clothes and dive wantonly
into the scene of unbridled desire that lay before me.
When Connie's hands dove between my wife's skirt it
was as though I had been stabbed in the chest. When my
wife responded by opening her legs wide, pointing her
cunt directly at me, I gasped out loud. I could see
her red panties, slick with moisture as the air began
to thicken and the room began to fill with the tangy
aroma of women in lust.

When she quickly disentangled and swiftly pealed off
the delicate barrier I knew exactly what she would do.
Like a Cy young pitcher she hurled the damp, silky
things at my face. I heard her cackle wickedly as I
immediately snagged them out of the air and brought
them to my nose for a deep, lingering sniff that left
me drunk with the pungent wetness of my spouse.

When I looked up drunkenly from her panties, I saw a
four-armed beast caressing itself. The two gorgeous,
unrestrained women struggled to see which of the other
could thrust their fingers further between their
flaying legs. I honestly do not know which of these
amazing women began to orgasm first, I only know that
my balls and penis ached to watch them as every muscle
in their delectable bodies tensed at once.

As the tension in their bodies slowly faded I tried to
weather the storm of my own urges. I knew that if I
could just hold on a little while, I could survive
this test. My wife had always been a one-shot woman.
She had always love to fuck; it is what we did best.
But, she had never been inclined to repeat
performances. I had always longed to eat for hours,
bringing her to climax repeatedly. She was always
satisfied with one, bone-rattling orgasm and what I
had just seen had been a doozie. Imagine my amazement
when my luscious, orgasmic wife looked at me with a
leering grin and dug back in for another go.

What a change I was witnessing! When Connie had moved-
in next door to us with her good-for-nothing husband,
my wife and I had been settled into a comfortable rut.
I knew that I loved her and I knew that she loved me.
We had a boring/satisfying monogamous relationship. We
screwed 2.3 times per week and spent very little time
with each other otherwise. Then two things happened:
we had our fifteenth wedding anniversary and she began
to befriend Connie.

Some men have a mid-life crisis and go crazy, ruining
their marriage and their lives. I developed a sense of
my own mortality and threw myself obsessively into my
wife's arms. I took up massage and began to rub her
feet and back every morning and evening. We went for
long walks and fucked like minks. I dawdled over her
and began to take better care of the house and myself.
We both dropped thirty pounds and we continued to fuck
like skinnier minks.

My wife has always had a vivid sexual imagination and
it wasn't long before she began to tease me that our
new, young neighbor was making me randy. I encouraged
her, teasingly, because although I knew that she would
never admit it, my wife had a decidedly BI-streak. All
of her favorite fantasies centered on lovely, young
women. Lovely, submissive young women.

Connie wasn't beautiful back then, but she had all the
raw materials. What she lacked was someone to love her
to make it come out. Abused and neglected as a child,
she had married the first slob that came along to
escape. We had known that he was abusive. She and my
wife had been speaking for six months, but when I saw
him dragging her across the lawn by the hair something

I got his attention when the handle of my pitchfork
met the back of his head. He was looking pretty groggy
there on the ground, until I put the business end down
solidly on his family jewels. As I explained to him
that he was no longer welcome in our nice little
neighborhood, I leaned on the pitchfork ever so
slightly while he squealed and begged. I think I got
my point across, because we've never seen him since.

But that left a frightened, confused waif with no
visible skills or means of support on our doorstep. My
wife was too kind-hearted to run her off; we had ended
up with several stray kittens in exactly the same way.
I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut and my
opinions to myself. But damned if once out from under
the oppression Connie didn't begin to shine. She began
to clean up and to come out of her shell. Before long,
an effervescent personality began to bubble. Everyone
in the house was effected.

One day my wife sent Connie to the store with a long
list. I knew the fight was coming.

As soon as she was out of hollering range my darling
wife wheeled on me and lashed out. "You don't need
another wife running around here jumping up and down
on your dick, so just get that shit out of your mind
right now."

My wife thinks she knows me so well, and in a sense
she knows my mind but not the range of my imagination.
"Why, snookems, I don't know what you mean."

"Don't give me that shit, I can see through you like a
pane of glass."

"Honey, you're the only wife I've ever had and the
only one I've ever wanted. We'll grown old and gray
together and change each others diapers every day."

"Well, what am I gonna do? I can't kick her out and if
I let her stay I'm gonna come home one day and find
you fucking her brains out and then I'll have to kill
you both."

"Yes, dear. That's how I see the situation too. What
do you intend to do?"

My wife loves it when I'm honest and agree with her.
The edge had been taken off her anger and she began to
rub against me. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I
don't want to kill her. She's kinda cute, if you like
that sorta thing. And I don't really want to kill you
either," she said as she rubbed my penis through my
jeans. "You have your uses sometimes."

"There's a solution short of murder," I whispered as I
began to rub her sensitive nipples, "but I just know
your not going to like it." Though she tried
everything in her considerable power to persuade me to
share my idea, my better sense kept me silent. Plant
the seed and let it grow.

When she dug it out of me a week later that the
solution was to allow Connie to stay as our slave, we
had another, louder and more prolonged fight. I
graciously allowed her to win. We both agreed that the
idea was ridiculous - preposterous. The weeks went by
and Connie continued to blossom under our love and in
the safety of our home and my wife slowly warmed to
the idea.

That, in a rather lengthy nutshell, is what has led
many months afterward to my current excruciating
dilemma. I sat in my reading chair nine months later
with balls the size of oranges as my wife and our
lovely slave wiggled their lovely cunts all over each
other's fingers for a second time. I moaned and moved
my hips to the rhythm of their fucking fingers. I knew
that if so much as a fly landed on my crotch, I would
shower the world with a torrent that was entrapped
within my poor, throbbing testicles.

When Connie quickly followed with another jarring
orgasm, I didn't know whether to applaud her or curse
the spasm that almost sent me over the edge. I saw a
look of wonder and desperation in my wife's face when
minutes later our little slave convulsed again,
clamping so tightly on my wife's hand that had the
hormones not been as thick as concrete, she might have
been in pain.

I found renewed hope when Connie, after recovering
briefly, dove between my wife's legs and began to eat
her with loud, exaggerated groans. I could see the
need in my wife's eyes. She began thrusting her hips
violently and with two hands pulled her slave into
her. Her legs came out straight, like a divining rod,
quivering, and pointing toward a deep, flowing well.
Quickly she came again, like being battered by a
cyclone. Her skin was flushed completely and she
jerked as though electrocuted. When she collapsed I
thought, "This is what it will look like when she

I found myself panting in the silence. It was easily
the most intense, profound experience in my life. I
had not cum, but I felt emotionally ravaged. Moments
drifted by like notes in the air and time hick-upped.

I saw a little movement. Connie stretched out my
wife's leg like a limp, rag-doll. She straddled it and
as she began to rub herself upon my wife's ankle. I
saw a thick sheen of glistening juice coating her
ankle. She began to slowly rock on it in the most
sensuous, obscene fashion ever witnessed. I don't know
how I looked away from this fascination, but my eyes
drifted upward to my wife's crotch only to see that
our little Connie's head was slowly bobbing,
continuing to lick at my wife's battered cunt.

I didn't know whether to stop her or to join her. With
every bob of her heard it felt like she was fucking my
wife with my dick from across the room.

As my eyes continued upward, they locked onto my
wife's. Her eyes were soft, and liquid. There was
brokeness there. I saw her deep love for me and I knew
that something unnamed that had stood between us was
gone. I had not touched her and yet my heart ached
with the wanting of her. I yearned to hold her and
tell her that I understood.

One hand drifted to Connie's wet sweat-soaked head and
I thought that the moment would end. Instead, I felt a
tightening. A tightening in her and a tightening in
me. I felt my wife's eyes blaze at me and I knew that
she was offering me a sacred glimpse of her soul,
broken open for me to see. She came again, softly like
a whisper. Like a virgin, trembling.

When she had done, she clasp both hands on Connie's
face and drew her from her lap. When they kissed, as
soft as schoolgirls, they were both crying. She looked
into the girl's eyes and saw some answer there, just
as she had seen in mine. She drew Connie to her breast
to cradle her and our slave look back at me with a
look that was filled with unfulfilled passion.

"Go to him, dear. You both need release," I heard my
wife say in a raspy croak. The words sounded
exhausted, devoid of any force of themselves and yet I
was suddenly set on fire. I felt the orgasm welling up
within my hips, undeniable and fierce. As Connie
crawled across the floor I tried to hold it back. As
she tore at my zipper I attempted to contain it. I
lost all control as the top of my head achieved
orbital velocity. I exploded, forceful and frantic.

I am not a young man anymore, but when I looked down
at our little slave, she had my cum covering her
cheeks and neck. She looked at me with the glassy eyes
of a desire that would not be denied. I stood up on
wobbling knees and began to remove all of my clothes
as she lay back with her hands playing slowly between
her thighs. By the time I removed everything, my dick
was stiffening again.

I fell on top of her brutally. In one thrust I pinned
her like a butterfly. She fluttered desperately,
violently, pulling me further inside. She was moaning
and crying and every so often she would laugh out loud
with joy. I rocked into her savagely, proudly. As I
arched my back, ready to cum again - ready to roar to
the moon - I looked into the deep, languid eyes of my
wife and I knew that this couldn't end like this.

My wife and my slave lay exhausted, seemingly unable
to move. I had not cum a second time and even though I
was desperate for release I knew that there was one
more thing I had to do. Prying her clutching legs from
around me, I stood and then carried my simpering slave
to the couch. I laid her on the sofa and placed her
head in my wife's lap. As I crawled between her legs
and penetrated her once more - softly, gently - my
wife weakly stroked her fevered brow. I fucked her
with long, loving strokes while we all cried in each
other's arms. I came with a shutter and a whimper.

Whatever game had been played here, I think we all had
won. Nothing else was ever the same afterward.


Sex stories by alphabet: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z


© 2003 Sex Stories Archive. All rights reserved.