7 - Cuckqueaned by Kira Cake #5
She starts to move. Slow at first, rolling her hips, finding the angle she wants. Then faster. The bed creaks beneath them. The sounds they’re making fill the room—skin against skin, her moans, his grunts.
I stand there, naked and forgotten, and watch my husband fuck another woman.
Jenn moves behind them, getting low, angling for a closeup of where they’re joined. I can see the screen on her camera—my husband’s cock sliding in and out of Kira, wet and glistening.
Something starts to tighten in my chest. The room feels too bright. Too real. I’m watching my husband fuck another woman, and there’s a camera, and I’m naked and this was supposed to be a fantasy, but now it’s happening, and I can’t—
My hand goes to the collar around my throat. I press my fingers against the leather. Feel my pulse beneath it.
This is a role. You are safe. This is a role.
I breathe. Once. Twice. The tightness loosens.
Kira looks at me. She’s still riding Connor, still moving, but her eyes find mine. She points down at her right foot, the one nearest to me.
“Kiss my feet.” She rolls her hips, makes a sound of pleasure. “I’m making your husband feel good. Thank me.”
I kneel down. The floor is hard against my knees. I lower my mouth to her foot—the arch, just above the heel she’s still wearing. I press my lips to her skin.
“Good girl,” Kira breathes. “Keep going.”
I kiss her foot while she fucks my husband. Jenn moves around us, getting the shot—my masked face pressed to Kira’s heel while Connor’s hands grip her hips above me.
This goes on for what feels like forever. Kiss after kiss. The sounds of them above me. My lips on her skin.
Then Kira lifts herself off Connor and moves onto all fours. She looks back at him over her shoulder.
“Fuck me from behind while your wife watches how good it feels.”
She points at the floor in front of her. I kneel there, my face inches from hers. Connor is behind her now, pulling off his shirt, stepping out of the rest of his clothes. Finally naked.
He positions himself. I see his hands on her hips. I hear her breath catch.
Then he pushes inside her.
I’m inches away from Kira’s face. I watch the micro-changes as my husband enters her—the slight parting of her lips, the flutter of her eyelids, the way her jaw loosens. She’s not acting. This part is real.
My husband. Inside this more beautiful woman. I’m soaking wet.
Kira’s hand touches my face. She moves forward, closing the inches between us, and presses her lips to mine.
I freeze. Just stay there, mouth closed, unsure what to do.
She kisses me again. Her tongue licks across my lips. She pulls back just enough to smile—she can sense my hesitation—and then she does it again, pushing her tongue into my mouth this time.
I feel her face pressing against mine rhythmically. The rhythm of my husband pounding into her from behind. Each thrust pushes her forward, pushes her tongue deeper into my mouth. Her lips are soft. She tastes like expensive lipstick and something else, something warm.
Her tongue explores me. I’m frozen for another moment, then two. Then, slowly, I respond. My tongue touches hers. Tentative. Testing.
She moans into my mouth—whether from me or from Connor, I can’t tell. Maybe both.
I’m kissing the woman my husband is fucking. I’m tasting her while he’s inside her. Every thrust moves through her body and into mine through our joined mouths.
I’ve never kissed a woman before. I’ve never wanted to—but when Ashley asked if it was okay, I said yes with barely a thought. Right now, with Connor’s sounds behind her, and her tongue in my mouth, and my knees aching against the floor, I don’t want her to stop.
She must have sensed how much I liked it, because she stops.
She pulls away and lies back on the bed, spreading her legs. She looks at Connor. “Let your wife taste my pussy.”
Connor moves toward me. I open my mouth like a vacant doll, and he pushes his dick into it. I taste him. I taste her. The combination is strange and intimate—his familiar salt mixed with something muskier, sweeter.
I hear Kira laugh from the bed. “You’re going to be tasting it quite a lot very soon.”
I’m trying to concentrate on the cock in my mouth, but my mind keeps jumping ahead to what I agreed to do later. Clean her pussy of my husband’s cum. Lick him out of her. The thought makes me dizzy—with dread, with anticipation, I can’t tell anymore.
I touch the collar with one hand. Feel the leather against my fingertips.
This is fantasy. It’s a role.
I refocus on the cock in my mouth. I can do this. I am doing this.
Kira laughs again. “That’s enough,” she says. “Stop. She’s had enough dick for now. It’s time to give me your cum.”
Connor stops immediately. He pulls out of my mouth without looking at me and moves to the bed, lining up over Kira.
“Hold my legs.” She snaps her fingers and looks at me.
I climb onto the bed. Jenn shifts position—she must have expected me on the other side—adjusting to get the right angle. I kneel beside them and take Kira’s ankles in my hands, pushing her legs back toward her shoulders so my husband can get deep inside of her.
From here I can see everything. Connor positioning himself. The head of his cock pressing against her. The way she opens for him as he pushes forward.
He starts to fuck her. Hard, now. No more teasing. His hips snap against her, and I’m holding her legs in place so he can go deeper, harder. I’m helping him fuck her better than he’s ever fucked me.
“That’s it,” Kira moans. “Right there. God, your husband’s cock is perfect.”
She’s looking at me when she says it, making sure I hear every word.
Connor’s breathing is ragged. His pace is increasing. I know these sounds—I know what they mean. He’s getting close.
“Inside me,” Kira says. “I want to feel you come inside me.”
I’ve been looking at Kira, but now I shift my gaze upward to Connor’s face. What I can see of it, anyway—the black latex hood covers most of his features, but his mouth is exposed, his jaw, the lower half of his face.
I can see it. His lips quivering. The tension in his jaw. The way his breath is coming in short, ragged bursts.
He’s going to cum. And it’s going to be intense.
I’ve seen this face before. In our bedroom, in our shower, in the back seat of his car. But never like this. Never while he’s inside another woman. Never while I’m holding her legs back for him.
His hips stutter. He drives deep and stays there, grinding against her.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, Kira—”
His whole body shudders. I watch his face twist with release—the way his mouth falls open, the way his head drops forward. He’s coming inside her. I’m inches away, holding her legs, watching every second of it.
Kira moans beneath him, her back arching off the bed. “Yes. Give it all to me. Every drop.”
He pulses inside her. Once. Twice. Three times. I can see it in the way his body jerks, the way he grips her hips like he’s trying to anchor himself.
Then he’s done. He collapses forward, breathing hard, his forehead resting against her shoulder.
Kira looks at me over his shoulder. She’s smiling.
“Your turn,” she says.
Connor pulls out slowly. I watch him slide out of her—wet, softening. A trickle of white leaks from her onto the sheets.
He moves aside, collapsing onto the bed next to her. Still breathing hard. Not looking at me.
Kira spreads her legs wider. I can see everything—her swollen lips, the cum starting to drip out of her. My husband’s cum.
“Clean me up,” she says. “Use your mouth.”