DITW 12-11: Of Optic Glass & Tuscan Artists (Patreon)

Devlin’s low animal voice grumbled near her ear. “He wants you to show him. He knows you’re wicked and he wants you to show him.” He thumbed her bursting nipple again, sending off sweet fireworks. Her breaths were quick and shallow, and her heart raced at the rhythm of lust and need. Though it was Devlin talking, he wasn’t wrong. Josh wanted what Devlin said. That’s all Josh wanted right now. That was why he was here. To see. To know.

She nodded, still struggling against the chains of virtue and modesty. Her body was far ahead of her mind. Her body was all in; chambered and ready to fire. She was turned on, and though it had been stiff and laggy at first, the arousal was hot now and growing hotter.

But her mind still struggled. This act of stark betrayal performed before the man she loved weighed down the passage like a heavy anchor. Her body urged her to charge ahead, show off, give the performance Josh craved, but her mind never trusted anyone or what they said. And she knew she couldn’t trust Devlin Stone. He’d showed her; he’d earned her wrath.

Her pants stayed unzipped, her panties askew from Josh’s hand, the crotch snugged against her sex, which throbbed with need right now. She felt the spate of her desire spreading, soaking her panties, preparing for penetration by an oversized cock. Devlin handled her bared breast, both men watching her, both men under the spell of a sexuality she didn’t know existed before this summer. All it had taken was application and look what it got her.

Josh watched her with that hurt look on his face, the one he showed when she pushed him around sexually. One time Devlin had said Josh drew the bullies to him, that Devlin hadn’t sought Josh out. Maybe Josh did enjoy subjugation; she knew it made his dick hard as a rock, and he’d worked hard to outsmart her and bring her into this luxury suite trap.

She said, “Aren’t you ashamed? I can’t even help it, Josh. My body has needs.”

Josh’s eyes fluttered with whatever joy he could find in such harsh treatment. It was though it was him submitting. But it wasn’t—he was in control. Josh led the show. She submitted to him.

Submission to Josh seemed right. Submission to her husband—the sin is the penitence—was righteous. Victory was everything, but victory could be measured in different aspects. If she submitted to Devlin, the submission was to a proxy. Devlin was Josh in this moment; Devlin was a man who didn’t exist. Josh was her friend and husband and so much more, and she would perform for the man she loved. And that would be the true triumph.

She wanted to smile, wanted to kiss him, but feared she could dull the sharp edge of her instrument. Josh’s kink required a steady hand and a sharp blade; precision was key. No smiles. No compassion.

“You certainly have needs,” Devlin said.

She stepped rearward to rest her back on the wall, Devlin stepping along with her like they danced. She never let her eyes leave Josh, luring him into a dark performance for his pleasure. Her hips pressed forward, her pelvis tilting, and Devlin wasted no time claiming the real estate of her exposed flat stomach, sweeping his hand across the bare skin above her opened fly and her panties. Her eyes still stayed on Josh, steady and sure (while Josh’s trembled). She communicated to him she would allow this man who’d bullied him in his tenderest time to do what he wished to her body. Josh’s chest rose and fell at a quicker pace, his cheeks sinking, his jaw dropping.

“I’m going to let him do whatever he wants, Josh. You’re going to watch.”

Josh’s legs twitched. His thighs flexed. She knew if she peeped in his underwear right now, she’d see a steady stream of clear excitement streaming from his rock hard dick.

Devlin’s face loomed close to hers, smirking. “Even take her mouth with mine, stick my tongue in her mouth.”

She turned her face away in disgust, trying to stay connected to Josh.

Devlin sniggered, his hand running up and down her bare stomach, getting very close to dipping inside her panties.

She said, “I need it. And you want it. We’re perfect, aren’t we?”

Josh looked his lips, his eyes widening in horrified awe.

Devlin said, “Tell her you want it, Josh. Tell her.”

Josh raised his chin, showing defiance and bravery. “Show me,” he said.

“He wants it,” she said, eyes narrowed on Josh’s, showing him confidence.

Devlin came closer again, this time not to attempt to kiss her, but to whisper in her ear. “I told you I’d make him beg you for it.”

She scoffed and moved her ear away from him, putting her hand over top of his, pushing it toward her pussy, guiding his fingers to dip under her panties. “I’m so wet,” she whispered.

Josh’s Adam’s apple went up and down in draggy jumps. He couldn’t swallow. He was frozen by the sight of her leading another man’s hand into her underwear, guiding another man to touch that most private part of her; the most private part of Josh’s possession. He nodded, eyes blazing with terror.

She shoved Devlin’s hand further, inhaling sharply feeling his big fingers wriggle through her sopping sex. The pleasure was unexpected; she’d been so focussed on Josh, she’d forgotten how good this would feel. She grunted and mewled, rolling her hips against Devlin’s fingers. Knees flexing, up and down, humping Devlin’s hand, his two middle fingers spreading her labia. When he slipped a finger inside, she froze and shuddered, held his hand in place there and humped it harder, eyes on Josh the whole time. “His fingers are so big.”

Josh almost crumpled, and she couldn’t help laughing. She recovered quickly, turning the laugh into moans of pleasure. Josh stepped aside, eyes tugging away from her for a moment to locate a seat, pulling one away from the table where she thought she’d be sitting across from benny Chan this afternoon. He dragged the seat out and sat down, eye-locked and aghast again.

She said, “I hope he doesn’t make me come,” sly and seductive and definitely hitting some kind of sweet spot in Josh’s psyche, given the rise in his spirits, the blush on his cheeks, the new wildness in his eyes.

“That would be terrible,” Devlin grumbled, stroking his finger in and out of her pussy. Shallow, not deep; perfect. She was wet and elastic right now.

When Devlin drew his finger out, then ran two combined fingers inside her, she sighed with ecstasy, letting Josh know in a husky whisper, “He has two fingers inside me.”

Devlin uttered a growl of appreciation, saying to Josh now, “She has such a tight little snatch.”

She grunted disapproval, but Devlin and her own theatrics meant for Josh had her unable to pull from the draw of Devlin’s pleasure. She ended up grimacing, squeezing Devlin’s wrist, but her hips were undeterred from fucking against Devlin’s slow thrusting.

“Don’t worry,” Devlin said. “Josh already knows how much I love your pussy.”

She grimaced again, puling away from the pleasure for a second, enough to put a hand on Devlin’s broad chest and push away. Devlin laughed as his hand slipped out from her underwear. Devlin showed Josh the shine on his fingers, holding them up and wiggling them.

She said, “Did he say something like that to you?”

Josh shook his head. “Don’t listen to him, Kimmy. You know better than to listen to him.”

Devlin loosened the knot on his tie, then ran the tie out from under his collar, taking its length in one hand and looping it around the palm of the other, like a prize fighter taping his hands before a match. He watched her, smiling a wicked smile, eyes sparkling. She knew what he intended, and then was unsure if she should accept it before Josh. Would it look too familiar? Or would it send Josh into orbit with passion?

And did it matter? Josh knew she’d cheated. He would never say it aloud. But he knew.

Why fight it anymore?

Devlin came close till they were face to face, him looking her over, enjoying himself. Without looking over to Josh, he said, “She likes to get tied up. You know that?”

Josh squeezed his thighs together, then let them go. He looked like he was enjoying the worst case of stomach cramps he’d ever had.

But she would stick with denial.

“You have an active imagination.” It would almost be enjoyable for Devlin to fuck this up, to state some of her worst crimes. She might welcome it. She dared him to try her with her eyes. Try me.

Devlin unfurled the tie then roped it around her neck, pulling her to him so their chests touched. “I want that tongue,” he said. “Don’t deny me, Kimmy.”

She didn’t turn away this time, just stared at him with a small measure of contempt and a lot of indifference. She eased her face closer, put her lips on his and kissed him, long and slow and seductive, putting her hand on the back of his neck, stroking his hard, angular jaw. Devlin was surprised, but he didn’t flinch, getting what he wanted when he thought it would be much harder.

No tongue, though—she pushed away from him.

“I kiss my husband,” she said. “I put my tongue in my husband’s mouth.”

Devlin smiled the whole while, tossing his tie to Josh’s lap. Josh batted it to the floor.

She said, “There’s only one reason you get to be in this room with my husband and I.”

Devlin said, “And what’s that?”

She dipped her chin, looking between his legs. “Pull it out. Let’s see it.”

Devlin cocked a hip. “That’s all I am to you? After all we’ve shared, it comes down to my huge dick?”

“You love it more than I do. You love it more than Josh does. Let’s see it. I know you’re dying to whip it out.”

Devlin sneered. “Josh does love it, doesn’t he?”

She chuckled too. Couldn’t help it. Josh had a certain obsession she couldn’t deny. Couldn’t blame him for either.

Then Devlin said, “You know you love it, Kimmy. You know you can’t get enough of it.”

“It’s really sad when your whole persona revolves around your oversized dick.”

Devlin showed her a mean laugh, amused at her, downplaying how close she’d come to something he probably thought about some times when no one was around. She showed him her own smile, a smug, commandeering one.

Devlin slowly drew down his zipper, looked to the right, saying,“Josh, you know she got herself a replica, right? She fucks herself behind your back with a rubber copy of my dick when I’m in Kingston.”

He pulled out his cock, tugged it, dropped it and let it hang; this huge flaccid pound of brownish flesh swinging left to right between his parted legs.