Michael

Benji called me again the following Friday, and Clare was a little disappointed that my sexual exploration into my bisexual side was told to her rather than shown to her. I tried to do justice to the encounter as I recounted the forceful pounding which my fuck-buddy had imparted before leaving me a sweaty, horny mess on the double bed I shared with my fiancée.

I gave Benji oral the following Wednesday, and he fucked me two days later, an hour before Clare arrived home. The following Monday, I serviced him twice, as he wanted a "quick blowjob" before his "board meeting" and then ploughed my arse twelve hours later, celebrating his success.

He had a wicked sense of humour to him. After every orgasm in our flat, he left a message in an envelope for Clare as a "Report Card." These said things like "your boyfriend is a great cocksucker" and "I just fucked Jon in the ass as he needed dick." He also gave me a mark out of ten; my fiancée loved them, as they were cheeky, and yet degrading to me.

But, for every single fuck, Benji always left me wanting more. His seven inch prick was thick and moments after he departed, if I hadn't already climaxed, I would wrap a lubed fist around my shaft and orgasm strongly.

We had a chance meeting in the local supermarket a few weeks - and almost two dozen encounters - after we first hooked up. It was at the weekend, and Clare and I were arguing over the fresh desserts when I saw Benji and his family walking towards us. His wife had an air of a kept woman about her, and the young children were impeccably behaved. Our eyes met, and he gave a slight inclination of his head. I didn't want to acknowledge him in public, as we had both asked for absolute discretion.

A couple of minutes later, he tapped me on the shoulder, holding a bottle of wine. I turned to face him and he smiled. "Clare, this is the guy who left you those notes."

He sighed as my fiancée beamed. "Really?" She squealed. "Ahh, I love ..."

"I've only got a few seconds," he interrupted. "My wife is holding a soiree later, and I am going to need to nip into the office for an unexpected emergency."

"How do you know?" Clare suggested, and Benji rolled his eyes.

"What time?" I asked.

"Ring me at seven thirty from an unknown number. I'll be with you around at 8pm." He looked at Clare. "Your missus can watch but no touching."

"We could handcuff her to a chair," I muttered.

"I like it."

"I am not being restrained," Clare moaned.

"You are, if you want to be a witness to me sodomising your boy. It's your choice." He grinned and slipped away towards the checkouts with his bottle of expensive Merlot.

She shook her head once more. "How many times have you screwed on the bed, with a well hung bull, and I've been tied up, or cuffed, or whatever? What's good for the gander is good for the goose!" She grunted in annoyance and flung the packet of tiny cheesecakes into the trolley.

"This is not fair," she muttered and flounced down the dairy aisle, looking for her favourite brand of yoghurt.

After shopping, we had a wonderful afternoon at the cinema, followed by a meal at a local pub. Clare emotions swung wildly between being frustrated and annoyed, to being excited and playful.

At seven o'clock, I went to the bathroom to prepare myself. As I finished douching, I picked up my phone and called Benji with the "Hide My Number" option.

"Sorry love, Benjamin Chapman," he answered the phone in a gruff voice and paused. "You what? You've done what? OK, plug the hole and get a chair out ready for me. We'll fill the A55 and make sure you get a deposit." I sniggered as he had a one-side conversation for the benefit of his dinner guests. "I'll be fifteen minutes ... just be ready!"

The phone went dead, and I smiled at his humour. Benji was a tease. I positioned a dining chair by the side of our double bed and retrieved two pairs of handcuffs from our drawer. I knew Clare would complain, but these were Benji's rules.

It was him exhibiting his power and control once more. I plugged my butt and waited with Clare in the lounge. She peered out of the window as eight o'clock neared. I could hear the excitement in her voice. She had seen her fiancée plundered before, but this felt different.

Benji swept into our flat ten minutes later and clicked his fingers at me. "C'mon. I got moaned at when I left. Bloody wife's friends. Morons, the lot of them. I needed to escape. And my wife's on the rag this week and she doesn't take it up the tradesman's entrance. Not like you!"

"Right, Clare." I pointed towards the bedroom and Clare crossed her arms when she sat on the chair.

"I'm not being handcuffed," she said firmly. "It's not happening."

"I can go," Benji replied. "I can leave right now or you can be a good little girl and do as you are told." Clare's cheeks burnt and with a rise of the eyebrow, she reluctantly permitted me to fasten each wrist to the chair. "I have not allowed anyone to witness me ploughing one of my fuck buddies. Not even my wife has seen this. So stop your bratty sulking and enjoy the fucking show. It's a rare and special privilege, that is for tonight only. It is not a right."

Clare scowled once more; she didn't appreciate being ordered about in her own bedroom. Benji ignored her silliness and discarded his T-shirt and jeans with a quick motion. I knelt on the floor and took his semi-erect cock in my mouth. "That's good," he grunted. "Here is a guy who loves to suck dick. Such a wonderful cocksucker. Such a fucking faggot!"

The words smashed into my ego. My cock rose as my lips swirled across the top of his corona. I sucked his prick and swallowed his pre-cum. My hands glided over his muscular thighs, and I gripped the base of his shaft as I bobbed on his dick.

Clare writhed. Her cuffs clunked as she struggled with her binds. Benji placed his hand at the back of my head and pushed his manhood deep into me. My nose nestled into his fur of trimmed hair as my throat gagged under the weight of his dick.

"You see this? Your fiancé deep throats cock. And it gives him a stiffy. He is so hot for dick." My throat scorched in pain as held me in that position and I squeezed his buttcheeks as his cock trembled. It was all I could do to keep my gag reflex in check.

He withdrew his dick from my mouth. He didn't have to say a word as I climbed onto our bed and presented my plugged ass to him. The accountant grinned. "You see that? So desperate to get dicked. Such as a slut. So well trained!"

I was. I needed to please. A hunger. A desire. A desperation. I wanted to submit. I needed Benji to satisfy my need and plunder me. Take me, use me and violate me, in front of my fiancee.

Claire groaned. My cheeks burnt with shame. My cock bounced with anticipation. He reached to my butt and slowly withdrew the plug stretching my hole. Clare watched with rapt attention as he unfurled a condom over his slick prick and drizzled the lubricant I had left out for him. "That's good," Benji muttered as the head of his dick entered my body.

I gasped as he filled me, and I arched my back, like Benji had taught me. My hands curled into fists and my frame shook as he buried his prick into my butt and slid against my prostate.

I grunted with the pressure. Intense pressure that gave waves of pleasure and satisfaction as Benji slammed his cock into me. A warm bliss that wrapped itself around my body as my fuck buddy roughly took me.

He was playing to his audience. He grunted and groaned loudly as he rammed his prick into me. Taking and owning me, as I willingly subjected myself to him. In front of my fiancée, who cooed as the dominant man plundered her partner.

My submission swelled throughout my soul. I adored every thrust, loved every abusive comment and felt every slap on my arse or pull on my waist as he ravaged me. I bucked my hips in tune to his aggressive rhythm and buried my face in the pillow as wave after wave of lustful tension swept across my body.

Benji grunted. "Ahh yeah, such a fag here." He pushed his prick deep into my butt and his cock quivered to unleash several surges of cum into the tip of the condom.

Clare squirmed. "So hot," she mumbled.

"He's not done. Strap your dildo on and fuck him a bit more. I've never known a bottom who claims to be straight, to be so greedy!" He unfastened Clare's handcuffs, and she reached for the middle drawer. "Although he ain't straight, of course. He'd take a dozen dicks and still want more."

Clare ignored him. She frantically donned her strapon harness and slid a six-inch dildo behind the 'O' Ring. Benji drizzled more lube onto my butthole as my fiancée prepared to plunder my backside and then passed the bottle to Clare.

He enabled this. And he watched, sat in the chair as Clare lined up the rubber dong at the entrance to my hole and pushed.

I willingly accepted the full length of Clare's fake prick, opening my butthole as drove the dildo deep into my bowels. She reached around my waist and grabbed my rock-hard cock and laughed.

"He's a slut for anal!" Benji commented. "You can fuck the cum right out of him."

"I'm trying," Clare muttered and slammed the toy deep into me once more. No hesitation, no pause, no respite. My fiancée drilled her cock into me, smashing our bodies into each other in a frantic rhythm.

My ass was ablaze. My prostate simmered under the pleasure driven into me by my submissive nature and my dominant partners. I wanted it more than ever and gasped with every thrust into me.

Clare's meaty strapon was sheer heaven. I groaned, louder and louder, into the pillow as the pressure inside my balls grew and a sweeping orgasm swept throughout my body as if it had been dowsed in cool liquid. Cum poured from my prick onto the bed as I loudly squealed and gasped.

"You better get cleaned up, boy!" Benji called as I collapsed onto the wet spot on the white sheet. I hummed and Benji smacked a palm into my exposed bottom. "I told you to clean up, boy!"

Breathless, I rolled off the mattress, stripped the bedclothes from the bed and walked into the bathroom to wash myself. Benji had left when I returned. "He's quite a cool fuck buddy," Clare muttered, tucking the new white sheet into the bed frame. "But you need to find one who will fuck me."

"It was hard enough finding someone who wanted no-strings sex, and who hadn't lied. Or was a nervous wreck."

"Ahh, come on!" Clare mused and slid on the bed alongside me. We kissed, and I wrapped my arms around her lithe body. "Seeing you fucked by another guy is so hot. I want to see it again."

"You're never satisfied," I moaned.

"And that's why you are a little cuck," Clare whispered, and she bit my ear lobe affectionately. "Make sure I get to see you plundered again. Or I will plan and scheme with Victoria."

I didn't doubt her threat.

As the spring progressed towards summer, Clare's company extended her temporary assignment in Manchester by another month, and then another three months. I saw more and more of Benji. It was the same use-and-go transaction, but he would send a brief text message when he would come around, do the deed and just leave.

The only exception was when we met for lunch, which we did on a monthly basis. He was keen to ensure that I was content with the arrangement we had. I found it reassuring that he wanted to do that, and I promised him that I adored our play, and would say so if I wasn't. Clare and I trusted him in the bedroom, and we liked him as a person as well. However, he had a couple of strict red lines, and he would not screw around with friends or other women. I was his cocksucker, butt slut and "freeuse whore" but I was not his mate, and he was not interested in pursuing a friendship.

I visited Sienna each month, and the following waxing appointments hurt a lot less, as I had less hair to remove. I felt better about my hairless self. Clare dared me to go commando for the week, and it felt naughtier with no hair.

With Clare spending every weekday in Manchester, I had a lot of evenings to myself, and I used my bike to explore the countryside around Bristol, venturing as far as the Cotswolds or Mendip Hills.

Benji was a member of a local cycling group, and I didn't have the equipment or the stamina to join them, but he gave me a couple of printouts of some shorter rides that they had ridden, which were ideal for my fitness levels. An evening riding forty kilometres was the upper end of my abilities.

In early September, Clare had to stay in Manchester for the weekend to help with an office migration, and I took advantage of a cycle ride deep into the Cotswolds. It was a beautiful day in Southern England, and having a beer and a pub lunch underneath the cloudless sky was enjoyable.

As I finished, I received a text message from Benji. "Are you out cycling like you said you would? If so, send location."

I used my phone to send the exact GPS location and received another text a minute later. "Good. Cycle to the spot below and wait for us. Be naked."

I really was his bitch. But that was part of the fun.

The remote location was at the end of a track and was about ten kilometres away from the pub. The six miles would have been a relaxed, pleasant ride, but the message had sent my mind into somersaults.

"Wait for us." Who was "us"? My cock strained my skimpiest pair of lycra shorts, as I followed the navigation app on my phone to pass through the tiny villages and hamlets to the mouth of the narrow dirt track, which stretched into a line of trees and into the countryside beyond.

I couldn't see or hear anyone, and I cycled as quickly as I could to the red marker on the map. A small one room outbuilding was at the very end of the bridleway. I looked into the brick shack, through the open doorway, and saw just an empty room containing a stone floor.

It was cold and slightly damp inside the abandoned brick-built shed. Outside, I could hear the gentle, hypnotic bubbling of a nearby brook, and the wind whistling gently through the trees, but it was fairly secluded. I couldn't be seen from the road, and, according to the map on my phone, the track was not a public right of way.

I parked my bike inside the brick building and removed my lycra shorts and shirt, folding them onto my riding saddle. I placed my helmet on the floor and I stepped into the bright sunshine to enjoy the warmth of the rays on my entire body.

Our flat didn't come with a garden, and the odd visit to a naturist beach aside, it was a rare experience to lie down in the grass au naturel and soak up the powerful glow from the Sun.

I dozed. The heavy lunch was soporific, and I slumbered in the direct sunlight. "We could just piss on him?" A voice spoke, and I looked up to see the cloudless sky replaced by three men in cycling lycra.

Benji was in the centre and had his dick in his hands. "I need a wicked piss, and I'm going to pee where your face is in three ... two ... one." I rolled over in the grass, missing the incoming stream of straw yellow urine by a fraction of a second.

He chuckled as the liquid sprayed into the compressed grass, with splashes hitting my bare body. He had two strangers with him. They were all taller than me. One - a middle-aged black man - towered over everyone and was about 6ft 3in. His pale blue and white skinsuit exhibited his bulging muscles underneath the full length lycra. He had short hair and a touch of fashionable stubble on his face. He smiled as he ogled me; he wasn't menacing, but he had a devious smirk within his grin.

The other man wore bright red lycra bib shorts that showed his muscular pectorals and rippling chest. He looked to be the eldest in the group and had short styled hair on top of a beaming smile. They had come with Benji for fun. "You weren't joking, Benji," he said. "You really do have a naked slut on-call! Does Amanda know?"

Benji laughed. "She doesn't know about him. She wouldn't care too much if she found out, but I ain't telling her."

"Paula would break my fucking nuts."

"Which is why it is not going anywhere," Benji said forcefully. "That's why the phones, cameras and bikes are in the hut. Your wife, Darren, she's knocked up and you ain't getting shit." He turned to the tall black cyclist in the pale blue lycra and nodded. "And your missus is filing for divorce. Here is a guy who will give you the relief you want. Just as I promised in the pub. Use him. He wants it. He needs it. I'm going to. Don't tell me you don't want a little fun?"

Darren licked his lips. "But ain't it, a bit, y'know?"

"It's the twenty-first century," Benji said dismissively. "Enjoy his tight butt or his wondrous mouth. He's the queer, not you. I've been doing him for the last six months and he gives great satisfaction" My fuck buddy, standing topless in the sunshine, pushed his lycra skinsuit further down his thighs. "Don't you, boy!"

I nodded at him with my cheeks burning. "Ahh, go on then," his white friend said, and unhooked his bib straps from his shoulders to present his hairless semi-erect cock to my face.

"Nice one, Darren," Benji replied. I grabbed both cocks in my hands and stroked them both. My lips wrapped around the head of Benji's dick and I sucked the tip gently, tasting the remnants of his salty, musky piss.

"That's one eager slut!" Darren muttered, almost spellbound in wonder as I fellated his friend.

I smiled at him. "Of course." I moved my lips onto his semi-erect cock, and sucked it until it was hard. I adored the sensation of the growing cock. It expanded as I sucked harder, filling my mouth.

Benji tapped me on the top of my head and I swapped onto his thick, smooth dick. It swelled under my touch until Benji grunted in satisfaction and I bobbed on his delightful prick. "What gets you off?" Benji asked his friend.

"I love it when Paula sucks on my balls, but she doesn't do that no more."

"Boy, suck on Darren's sweaty balls!" Darren laughed and stripped free of his shorts. Wordlessly, I looked up at his hanging balls between his spread legs. I smelt his masculine scent and craned my neck to run the tip of my tongue over his smooth testicles.

Slick, sweaty, disgusting. And lovely. My lust was in overdrive as I tenderly sucked his ball in between my lips and ran my tongue over his hairless bollock.

I took turns, bathing his sensitive orbs in my mouth and swirling patterns with my lips and my tongue over his balls. Salty and dirty, yet so delightful. I had never been so gentle and so loving when giving oral pleasure to another man, and his grunts and gasps showed he appreciated it.

His cock bobbed against my forehead as my lips whirled across his soft, velvety spheres. My hands gripped his buttocks, and I squeezed his muscular behind. But he loved the velvety touch of my tongue as it glided effortlessly over his spit-covered testicles.

His cock was twice as hard when I slipped my mouth over his engorged head and skidded my lips down the shaft. He grabbed the back of my head and drove his prick down my throat.

He face-fucked me.

A stranger who I had known for five minutes, had rammed his sweaty prick into me after I had sucked on his sweaty balls. My cock strained. My mind became hyperactive with slutty thoughts. "Suck my balls again!" He squealed, and I lifted his slick cock onto my forehead and I took his balls in my mouth.

Ten seconds of sucking. A dozen rolls of my tongue over the lustrous skin and his cock twitched as he came. Several waves of cum hit my forehead and were powered directly into my short, black hair.

Darren groaned, panting as my mouth detached from his prick. "Good?"

"Amazing! Wish my wife did that!"

I took Benji's semi-erect prick in my mouth and felt it grow once more. My cock throbbed with urgency and anticipation.

I bobbed on Benji's dick. Quickened. Hurriedly. Feverishly. I craved his creamy load, and he knew it. I was a horny little slut, and he hit my mind with a barrage of humiliating insults.