DITW 12-17: Sins (Patreon)

Kimmy’s expression transformed as Devlin’s huge size spread her wide. Josh tried to watch two things at once: his wife’s soaking and supple membranes parting to accept Devlin’s oversized organ, and, at the same time, his wife’s face as she endured agonizing sexual pleasure. Her jaw slackened, her neck arched, and her mouth fell agape and her lips puckered while she drew in a long, gasping breath. She couldn’t take Devlin in one whole stroke, and Devlin had to draw his cock out and then try again, going a little deeper this time. Josh watched his wife’s face again. A transmogrification. From pure beauty to something artfully monstrous. A religious painting capturing the perfect representation of lust; one lurid painting of a polyptych decrying each of the Seven Deadlies. And though Kimmy was guilty of them all, lust was her richest sin.

Devlin teased her with short strokes, his extreme girth challenging Kimmy’s pussy, bullying her pink interior. Then Devlin repeated his earlier gloat in Kimmy’s ear, loud enough for Josh to hear: “I told you I’d make him beg.”

Kimmy moaned, her chin raising higher. “You did. You made him beg for it.”

“Release. He wants release, and we’re going to give it to him.”

Kimmy’s head bowed forward and her fingers closed, her hands forming loose fists against Devlin’s stomach as he pushed deeper inside her. She drew her knees up higher to give him even better access.

Devlin humped in and out of her in slow and steady increments, not even halfway buried in her, only warming Kimmy up, stretching her out and getting her prepared.

Was it always like this? Was it always so slow between them? Devlin said it had been a while. When they were fucking regularly, did they have quickies? Quickies at the office, doing it fast at Kimmy’s desk, hoping Tami wouldn’t come back to reception and catch them; doing it in the stairwell; a quickie in Devlin’s Mercedes; a quickie on some fertilizer bags in some shipping warehouse. . . . The truth was unavoidable, and it sank his heart and furrowed his heavy brow. Of course they had. They’d had sex. They’d had sex more than one time. They’d had it fast, they’d had it slow. Devlin bought an apartment around the corner from the office. He wants to make a stronger establishment in Toronto, Kimmy had said. Bull shit. Devlin Stone wanted a place to fuck Josh Waters’ wife behind Josh Waters’ back.

He’d been a fool this whole time. He could say he was a reluctant fool, but that was a lie. He could have prevented all the things that occurred with Kimmy and Devlin but he did the opposite. He permitted it. Permitted it in hopes some day what he witnessed now might transpire.

Pure hatred—he was also a great sinner—burned his timid submission like fuel for a fire, stopping him from choking off, closing up, extinguishing something incredible that he knew now he’d stacked all the driest kindling for. This fiery spectacle was his own making, his own facilitation. So he would enjoy its bitter poison, let it wither his system while sending him off into a sexual orbit; pleasure and destruction; a smoky opium den of rapturous demise. And he would accomplish what he came for. The hate burned hot in his heart, allowed him to bear baleful witness, allowed him the boldness to say, “Show me everything I missed. Don’t hide it from me. Show me. Show me it all.”

Kimmy’s whimper this time was different. One of pleasure, yes, but one of iniquity, too. The sound gave him courage; gave him hope.

The sin was the penitence, but the lies, however, were yet unpunished.

Devlin grumbled a sound of satisfaction, not just a momentary, fleeting thing, but something profound and established. Like Devlin had done much work as well to end up on this bed so Josh Waters could watch Devlin Stone fuck Kimmy. Devlin wanted this, had made it happen with Josh’s help.

And it was incredible to witness; a horror show, a complete tragedy, and yet, one so lurid and terrible to arouse Josh in a way nothing else could. Nothing could be wore than what he watched, but his cock ached and throbbed and twitched, and something slick and greasy slithered around his heart. It brought him joy and shame, passion and disgust, euphoria and fear; a razor’s edge of sexual destruction and sexual exultation. This was unattainable; the rarest of elements. The cost was astronomical, but so was the value.

Devlin’s hand gripped her skinny waist, as if to steady her. He said, “You want me deeper?”

Kimmy nodded, her mouth agape and trembling. Devlin sunk his massive cock deeper into her pussy, and Kimmy’s feet bowed, her toes curling.

“Kimmy likes it deep,” Devlin said. “Loves it. Don’t you, Kimmy?”

Again, she nodded, biting her lip now. Devlin’s cock sank deeper still.

“She likes it because it’s too much. Too much stimulation. Kimmy loves too much anything.”

This one, Kimmy didn’t like as much, and Josh saw her brow furrow above his tie-blindfold. A strange and secret smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Devlin not knowing it all like he assumed. Cocksure. Arrogant. Kimmy let him inside her despite her disdain for the man. Kimmy lay on this bed now because her husband asked her to. Pride swelled in his chest. A million conflicting emotions writhing and wriggling in a nodule over his heart, an existential, anfractuous burrow alive with wrath and war and struggle for dominion. But there were no more regrets.

“No,” he said. “No, she doesn’t.” It didn’t even sound defensive. Only contradictory. And knowing. This was another facet of Kimmy revealed, one he only suspected now confirmed, but it afforded a richer picture Devlin could never comprehend.

Devlin ignored him, deciding action was a better plan. He gripped Kimmy’s waist tighter and shoved more of his thick cock inside her. Kimmy squawked with pleasure and pain, arching her long neck, pushing her pussy toward the intrusion; wanting it. Devlin gave her more.

Then he resumed the fucking; back and forth, sawing his beefy member in and out of Kimmy, her pussy clinging to his bulk, the thin membranes rolling in and out with each thrust. Their sexes shone with their mutual excitement, their combined lubrication aided by Josh’s own vigorous oral labor. The three were intertwined in this moment, drawn inexorably tighter like a wet knot.

“It’s hard to take, at first, Josh,” Devlin said, “but grit produces pearls,” as his hand slipped lower from Kimmy’s waist and over her tummy, down between her legs. His fingers rolled over her clitoris and her legs shook.

Josh looked at Kimmy and Devlin’s pink union, his bully’s monstrous cock deep inside his wife and giving her undeniable pleasure. And something else. No condom. Kimmy hadn’t even requested one. Hadn’t demanded one. Were they exclusive? What were the words used when they’d discussed a contract for exclusivity? Had they begun their affair with caution, using condoms?

Fuck. Was this why Kimmy went back on the pill?

At that thought some kind of inner trap door dropped opened and his guts and heart and assorted viscera fell out his proverbial asshole. The reality of this horror hit him at last. Kimmy was an organized betrayer. A pragmatic one. Their tryst was not some sort of one-shot, some sort of fall to the power of momentary passion. It was calculated. It involved the complicated levers and gears of calculated betrayal. And somehow, regret still didn’t loom out of the mist, try to turn his ship over. Kimmy was showing him her sin, allowing her husband to command the bridge, providing him the facility to steer them through a storm and find safer waters. She didn’t want Devlin. She wanted Josh. This was for him because he wanted it, had asked for it. Now he folded, somehow chuckling, tears of pain and, yes, joy blurring his vision for a moment. Maybe the plan was right. Maybe he could restore more order than he’d ever thought. The urge to laugh loud and obnoxious, to bellow manly gales of insane humor tickled his fancy, wishing he wore a Hawaiian shirt and smoked a stogie right now. Kimmy’s submission granted him sudden armor that made him invincible to his bully’s blows.

But still, there was that awful betrayal. That calculated derision she’d bathed him in when she’d planned an affair with the worst person in the world.

From his folded position, he lurched forward, feet still on the ground, his elbows on the bed, his face near Kimmy’s, her eyes shielded from his by the blindfold. He said, “Did he seduce you?”

Devlin smiled, looking at Josh over Kimmy’s naked shoulder. Kimmy’s brow furrowed again and the corners of her mouth turned down.

He asked again: “Did he?”

She shook her head no.

“What was it? Was it greed?”

Devlin still smiled, and he nodded now, picking greed as Kimmy’s sin.

Kimmy’s brow furrowed further, and he didn’t like his plan of action. This was emotion, ugly male ego seized by sick jealousy. Kimmy’s greatest sin was sloth; a lack of care, the abandoning of the hard work of their marriage, a failure to struggle for its value.

The teary vision came again, and he palmed his forehead, running it back over the new haircut he’d sported at Kimmy’s urging. She’d atoned for that already. Hadn’t she? Her begging trip to Rome on his heels, unable to exist in his absence; Kimmy’s trip to Mecca. That was her supplication. He’d told her not to speak in Rome. Not to utter the words then he wasn’t prepared to hear. And today, getting fucked by Devlin from behind for her husband’s enjoyment was an atonement as well. Even her sloth could be forgiven.

An act of grace that powered his heart like fresh batteries: he kissed her smooth brow, right above her forehead. Soft. Gentle. The kiss of a saint.

As he retracted, returning to his front-row seat, Kimmy’s chin tucked down to her breastbone in the pose of crying. Submission to forgiveness. Granted reprieve by her noble husband.

His own selfless act wowed him. The tension in his neck released and the blood flowed faster and harder. The room seemed brighter.

Devlin slowed, his dark brow lowered and furrowed; the unhappiness lifted from the sinner and transferred to the fiend. He pulled his cock all the way out, gripped it and batted its substantial heft in wet blats on Kimmy’s tawny-pink sex. Each meaty slap got her twitching, putting her ass back, wanting the pleasure that thing gave her returned.

The room dimmed again, and his brow lowered like Devlin’s.

Devlin said, “Kimmy’s got the best pussy. Some girls, they want nothing to do with this”—more sticky cock-smacking—“some like it, some love it, but no woman can take it like your wife, Josh. No woman wants it like she does. Her little pussy was made for my cock.”

Horror set again, looming like a speedy autumn dusk, returning the gloom to his heart. Not all of Devlin and Kimmy’s intimacies had been revealed. There was more to come. More for Devlin to illuminate. More sins to discover.

Devlin kissed Kimmy’s shoulder, humping his hips against her back so the wide dorsal side of his cock ran it’s wet berth back and forth over Kimmy’s anus and sex. Kimmy humped her hips in time with Devlin’s thrusts, eager for more and more. This wasn’t enough for her husband to see. Kimmy wanted to show him the whole thing. And not because he’d asked for it, not because he’d already bore witness, but because she liked it. Really liked it.

Devlin untied her wrists and freed her hands. Devlin ran his knuckles up her bare back to her neck and rubbed her collar. Kimmy gathered her hands in front of her and smoothed where the tie had sunk into her. But she didn’t yet removed the blindfold.

Devlin growled near her ear. “Let’s get you on your back. You’re ready for more. Let’s show him. Let’s show him how you like it best.”