When I met Wendy, all I saw was a sweet girl.  Well, a sweet girl with a huge chest and enormous ass, who wore tight sweaters and jeans.  But I was turned on by her extreme curves, in fact so much that I was willing to put up with the way she treated me.  After our first date she went from sweet to bitter, making lots of demands.  She didn’t want me trying to paw her, or expecting sex, and she told me not to complain when she watched other guys.  I was stunned.  When I pointed out that, if we kept dating it would be natural for us to have sex, she said I was too eager and that I acted like she was an inflatable sex doll.  Instead of normal sex, she decided, I could show my respect for her by giving her oral sex and not expecting anything in return.

Right then I should have run the other way.  Why didn’t I?  Well, I’m not tall (a few inches shorter than her), not strong, and not great looking.  I’d never had much luck with girls and — Wendy got me to admit — was still a virgin.  She, on the other hand, was extremely confident and unwilling to compromise.  Other guys loved to look at her full figure, which she was happy to show off.  So, instead of breaking up, I foolishly agreed to her demands.  That same night she let me see her naked (WOW!) and took me to her bedroom.  Wendy was definatly the boss and made me strip for inspection.  Her attention immediately went to my immature penis.

She laughed and told me, “Now I really don’t want you trying to climb on top of me to get into my pussy.  Look at that little dick.”  She stepped closer and ran her soft hands down my chest.  When her fingers passed over my nipples I gasped and started to get an erection.  “Oh, so you like having your titties played with, like a girl?”  Wendy teased me that way some more, until I was moaning loudly.  “Let’s see what kind of stamina your teenie weenie has.”  She turned and pressed her doublewide ass against my crotch, then wagged her hips side to side.  “Do you like that, stud?”

I moaned my approval.  Wendy chuckled at how easily she had taken control of my libido.  Then she turned back to me and grasped my member, enclosing it in her hand.  Suddenly she was stroking it vigorously, her free hand returning to my chest, toying with first one nipple and then the other.  In just under a minute I grunted and shot my meager reserve of cum into her persuasive palm.  I groaned in defeat and let my shoulders slump.

Wendy thought my lack of control was hilarious.  She laughed so hard her big bust shook.  Then she grinned evilly and spread my ejaculate over the fronts of both her tits.

“You’ve got a choice, Mr. Premature Ejaculation.  You can lick my jugs clean right now or you can get your clothes on and leave.  If you don’t know how to do what I tell you, I never want to see you again.”

I was shocked but too much under her seductive spell and too weak willed.  That was the second time I should have left but again I stayed.  Not only did I remain there, but I leaned forward and lapped one of her nipples, getting a taste of my own spend.  I gagged a bit but didn’t stop.  Wendy sat on the edge of the bed and put her fingertips on my shoulders, pressing down to signal that she wanted me on my knees.  As soon as I was kneeling she leaned forward and pulled by face against her other pillowy breast, getting the sticky mess on my nose and lips.  I had to lick up the rest and suck both her nipples.  Then I had to lap clean the palm of her hand.  All of that got her hot and she swung her plump legs up and stretched out comfortably on her back.

“Okay,” she said and pointed to her crotch.  “Get your face on my snatch and show me what else you can do with your tongue.  You said you’re a virgin but I’m sure you’ve jerked off to porn flicks and magazines.  Right?”  Shamefaced, I admitted that was true.  She went on, “Then you have some idea how to take care of a girl with your mouth.  Start by licking my big pussy lips and when I’m ready for something else I’ll give you more instructions.  Imagine you’re in one of those pornies you love to whack off to.”

I began licking, startled by the strong taste.  I hadn’t watched that much porn.  It had just been a few times when I was desperately horny.  Even so, I knew Wendy would always look down on me for it.  At the same time, my revelation reinforced the idea that I wouldn’t have any luck with other females if I did leave her.  I guess that over the next hour, while she coached me through giving her three noisy orgasms, my fate was decided.  By the time I got off her bed to fetch her a can of beer, I was trapped.

Our sex life went along like that.  Wendy warned me not to jerk off in secret anymore.  That restriction, along with all the times I saw her naked, touched her while giving her head, and washed her back and legs in the shower, keep me desperate for release.  She loved to tease me, even stroking my penis but always stopping short of giving me an orgasm.  Wendy also made me masturbate in front of her, sometimes with a pair of her soiled panties around my organ.  Again, I wasn’t permitted to finish.  I began to associate the feel and smell of her unwashed lingerie with my arousal.  She was turning me into a fetishist.

Wendy also got off on regulating other aspects of my life.  When we went out to eat she selected my meals, sometimes really rubbing it in by choosing for me from the childrens’ menu.  Or she would order me items that didn’t go together and then insist that I ‘clean the plate’.  When we had a cute waitress Wendy would scold me in front of her, or talk openly about how useless I was.  At bars she would either not let me drink, or order me a girly drink, like and Apple-tini, or something with a paper umbrella in it.  Guys stared at such a voluptuous woman paired with a dork who would drink a sissy concoction.  Once she even ordered me too much booze and got me drunk, then insulted me until I was sniffling and wiping my nose on my sleeve (at her insistence).  Everyone watched me like I was a total idiot.

Back at her apartment she made me do all the housework, sometimes in the nude, never with more on than the humiliating briefs — several sizes too small and in bright colors — that she bought me.  Actually, I should say she picked them.  I did all the buying.  She got a chuckle out of making me pay for items she used to demean me.  Another of those items was a chamois for me to use to buff her boots.  Wendy had a few pairs when I met her but quickly acquired several more with the aid of my credit cards.  She especially liked one pair, in gleaming black leather, with four inch stiletto heels.  She made me polish them while she had them on, sometimes sitting on the couch watching TV for an hour or more while I knelt and endlessly rubbed them, stealing peeks under her short skirts, feeling my neglected desires mount.  Soon I was thinking about her panties AND boots obsessively.

What else?  She made me get on the bed naked while she gabbed with her girlfriends on her hands-free cellphone headset.  I had to massage her feet, kiss her legs, press my nose into her moist pussy, or do whatever else her whims dictated.  If she called several of her friends it might go on for hours.  Once she wore those boots to bed and had me using the chamois on them, alternating that with masturbating with her worn panties around my small dick.  I had rub my nose into her snatch so that I was breathing her scent in the entire time.  It was maddening and took me one step deeper into her control of my life.

Then she surprised me with the news that she had decided we should get married.  I didn’t know what to say.  The way she mistreated me was destroying my already weak ego, but how she had gotten me addicted to her body, panties and boots prevented me from saying no.  Like I mentioned earlier, there were chances for me to get her out of my life.  If I’d been stronger, even a little, that might have happened.  Instead, I immediately said yes to her intention of marrying.  In fact, I still remember, I answered her with grateful enthusiasm.

Three weeks later we had gotten the license and were in a small church.  On her side of the aisle were Wendy’s rowdy friends.  The females were all showing plenty of cleavage and leg.  The men all looked like they would beat me up at a word from my bride.  On my side of the aisle I had no friends.  Wendy had decided that she didn’t want any of my ‘loser buddies’ to be there.  Not that there would have been many of them, but I went along with her decree.  I had a few aunts and uncles.  Up front were my domineering mother and my wishy washy dad.  They looked like an older version of Wendy and I.  The picture that put in my mind, of being henpecked for decades as my father had been, was frightening but I was too cowardly to back out on my wedding day.  Anyway, I told myself, once we were married she had to treat me better.  Right?

Wrong.  At the reception Wendy danced with other guys.  Danced very close.  When I got upset she told me it was okay because she had dated them and, if they had already slept together why couldn’t they dance close.  My mom even danced that way with a few of them as my dad sat and watched with a pained look on his bland face.  My new bride insisted that I dance with her girlfriends.  They wanted to dance VERY close, and kept me aroused the entire time.  At the end of the reception Wendy was slightly tipsy on champagne and gave all the guys long deep kisses.  I felt gueasy watching that, knowing they were she was rubbing her tongue all over theirs.

Then it was time for us to go back to her place to — I hoped desperately — consummate our marriage in the traditional way.  If I could at least get that much, maybe there was hope for our future sex life together.

At Wendy’s apartment, which she insisted on calling it even though I had been paying the rent for months, she ordered me to strip.  I got undressed with a mixture of hope and fear.  Wendy slipped out of her wedding gown but kept on her white garter belt with its half dozen sexy garters, along with her shiny white stockings and cream colored heels.  She put the little white pillbox hat that was part of her bridal outfit back atop her head.  The hat had glitter on it and a net veil which she lowered over her eyes.  Seeing her like that, naked except for those items, looking like both a bride and a maddeningly desirable sex object, her overblown curves on show, left me weak with need.

She turned her back to me and said, as placidly as if she were asking me to hand her the TV remote, “Kiss my ass, you sexual zero.”

“I… what?”

“Kiss my ass.  Or are you too feeble minded to get even that right?  Start with those big soft cheeks you love to touch and work your way to the deep valley in the middle.  Then you can work your way to my a-hole.  Is there any part of that you don’t understand?”

“B… but, honey, it’s our wedding night.  I thought we would, I mean, that we might, you know…”

“What?  Screw?  Did your nothing dick get bigger while I wasn’t looking?  Did you learn to keep from shooting as soon as you get started?  No, you’re not getting any sex tonight.  Or any night.  Not unless you want to count having your mouth all over my twat as sex, because you’ll be getting all of that you can stand, and more.  Or maybe you want to count ass kissing as sex.  Because that’s what you’re going to do right now, unless you want me to have this marriage annulled, throw you out on the street, and tell everyone what a pussy licking, small dicked, wimp loser you are.  Is that what you want, you jerkoff?  Should I tell everybody how touching my boots gives you a stiffy?”

“N… no.  P… pl… please, Wendy.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to be difficult.  I’ll do whatever you say.  I’ll… do what you told me.”

“Say it, wanker.  Tell me what you’re going to do right now.”

“I’m… going to… kiss your bottom cheeks and…”  I hesitated.  “And then I’m going to kiss your, um… a-hole.”  I swallowed hard.

“That’s right.”  She grabbed my ear, twisted it violently, making me cry out in pain, and tugged downward.  I dropped to my knees.  “Now do it, you weakling.”

With tears brimming in my eyes, I craned my neck forward and planted my lips on her broad pink bottom, kissing the pliant flesh firmly so there would be no doubt that I was cooperating.  My new bride laughed and backed up a step.  Her ass filled my field of vision.  To my shock I got a rampant hard-on.  I continued kissing, covering both her plump cheeks.  Then, feeling dizzy and confused, I moved toward the central divide.  Her earthy scent filled my nostrils as I orally worshipped the inner sides of her buttocks.  Then, unable to stall any longer, I put my face against the meridian of her well-padded rump and, with my hands on her full desirable hips, pressed my features into that prison of flesh.  My mouth found its target and I kissed hard, over and over, as she purred with satisfaction and gave her backside several inviting wiggles.

“Go on,” she instructed.  “Finish the job.  Get your tongue inside me.”

Did she mean…?  OMG, she did.  Revulsed, yet so far gone already that I could see no alternative, and afraid of more physical punishment like that unexpected ear twisting, I jabbed my tongue into her tightness, as deeply as I could manage, and worked it back and forth.  She moaned her approval and didn’t stop me for several long minutes.  Suddenly she stepped away and turned to look down at my crotch.  Not only did I still have an erection, but without meaning to I had put my hand down there and was squeezing it rhythmically.  Wendy scowled.  Then she grinned.

“Well,” she declared.  “If you’re allowed to have fun that way, even though I forbade it, I guess that means I can do whatever I please.”

She turned and took her cellphone off the dresser to hit a pre-set number.  “Hello, Tank?  Yeah, it’s Wendy.  Looks like my new idiot husband is a complete flop on our wedding night.  How about you come over to my place and we can show him how it’s done the right way.  Ten minutes?  I should what?  Tank, baby, that’s a wild idea.  Yeah, I’ll be in bed on my back, waiting for you.  I never took back your spare key, right?  Guess I knew somehow that you’d need it again.”  She laughed.  “See you in ten, lover.”

I was still on my knees, the taste of her ass on my tongue.  She fell back onto the mattress and lewdly spread her curvaceous legs.

“Tank wants you to go down on me so I’ll be wet when he gets here.  He’s got a huge cock and he’s afraid he’ll hurt me with it if I’m not all lubricated.  And he wants you to get me ready so you’ll understand your place in this threesome, right from the start.  Isn’t that considerate of him?”

“B… but, Wendy.  Darling.  I love you.”

“Yeah, and I love you.  I love having your face against my pussy and your tongue giving me foreplay.  Get down there and get busy, idiot.”

Close to tears, I laid between her heavy thighs and did what she said.  I kissed her mound and then began to lap her thick nether lips.  She grunted happily and told me not to dare bring her off, because she was saving that for when Tank got there.  At her instruction I also used plenty of saliva to get her prepped for the man who was going to screw her on OUR wedding night.  I was sick and afraid.

I heard the lock turn, the door open, and then the door slam.  Heavy footsteps came directly to the bedroom.

“Hey, sweetstuff,” Tank said cheerfully.  “Why don’t we get that shrimp out from between your legs and put something substantial there?”

She laughed and gave me several hard blows with her heels.  “Go on, jerkweed.  You heard the man.  The real man.  Get off the bed and make space for someone who knows how to screw and has the equipment to do it.”

As I stood up, ashamed to be seen naked by another man, Tank was already undoing his shirt.  He barked at me, “Get down there and untie my shoes, good-for-nothing.  You don’t want to make your pretty bride wait for her fun, do you?”  When I didn’t answer he snapped at me, “DO YOU?”

“Nuh… no Sir.”  I dropped to one knee and clumsily undid his shoelaces, fearful that he would kick me.

Tank stepped out of his shoes and undid his trousers.  Then he stripped the rest of the way and I saw that Wendy’s claim about his penis had not been exaggerated.  Even limp he was larger than I was with an erection.  There must have been seven inches hanging between his hairy, muscular thighs.  Then he stepped to the side of the bed and she got up on one elbow to lick his waiting member.  At once it began to rise impressively.  As my new wife fitted her mouth over the thick head it reached an alarming nine inches.  My lower lips was trembling and I had to fight back tears.

“Come on, Tank.  I’ve missed that big stick for way too long.  Shove it into me, you damned bastard.”

He was only too eager to comply, not caring at all that it was her marriage night and I was her husband.  Tank got on his knees and set the end of his cock against her pussy, which was wet from my efforts.  He eased in several inches which were greeted by her loud sighs.  Then he buried the rest in her, up to his plum-sized balls.  Wendy squealed with pleasure and writhed her hips as much as the impalement allowed.  Tank began pumping, without technique or even concern for her pleasure, but the dimensions of his rod made up for any and all deficiencies in his style.  She moaned gratefully and met his downstrokes with upward thrusts of her broad hips.  The two of them went at it like animals, slamming their bodies together, on and on, his staying power more than I could have dreamed of possessing, until at last they exploded into twin orgasms.  Their climaxes were long and violent before subsiding into mellow afterglows.

Tank rolled off her and looked straight at me.  “Yo, wimpboy, get me a cold brew.  Hurry up.”

Still naked, I raced to the kitchen.  Wisely, I grabbed a can of beer for Wendy as well.  They accepted them, popped the tabs, and clanked them together in a crude toast.

“To screwing,” offered Tank.

“To screwing YOU,” amended Wendy.  “Because I’m sure as sheepshit never going to let my worthless husband put his baby-sized dick into me.  In fact, why don’t we make this a regular thing, Tank?  I mean, I’ve got my jerk-off new husband to pay the bills.  Did I tell you he likes to pull his tiny pud?  He does.  I make him do it in front of me but I almost never let him squirt.”  They both laughed.  “But really,” she went on, “I need a huge cock like yours all the time.  Come on, Tank.  We were always good together before.”

He belched unapologetically.  She giggled as if he had made a witty remark.  Wiping his lips with the back of his powerful hand, Tank told my new bride, “Sure.  Why the hell not?  Like you said, we make beautiful sex together.”

They kissed passionately.  Then Tank got a bright look on his usually dull face.  “You know what?  I just figured how to seal the deal and like, at the same time, show your patsy husband where he fits into all this.”  To me he threateningly said, “You, pussyface.  Get your mouth back on my woman’s snatch and eat her again.  I want that big mess of paste I left all cleaned up.  Understand?”

“But I can’t…”

His brutish features scowled at me.  I didn’t need him to say anything out loud.  In seconds I was back into my usual bedroom role, my face where I wanted my dick to be, about to eat out Wendy.  Only this time she was filled with another man’s thick, strong-tasting cum.  Trying not to gag, I got my lips and tongue on her and working.  It made my stomach heave but I managed to do it.  They kept me at it for a quarter hour while they kissed wetly and he pawed her breasts.  Finally, satisfied that I had been shown my place in the new order of relationships, Tank permitted me to stop.  He drained the rest of his beer in one long swallow and commanded me to bring another.

That’s the way it’s been ever since.  My wife openly cheats on me with him and loves doing it.  She teases me endlessly and only lets me finish about once every three weeks.  To make sure I don’t enjoy those rare occasions she always watches as I jerk myself off into my hand, halting me several times before allowing me to unload my testicles of their burden, and then delights in having me unhurriedly lick up and swallow my goo, all the while taunting me about what a failure I am and how disgusting my habits — the ones she demands I practice — are to her.

Often she goes out with Tank.  They like to lock me in her closet with her boots and several pairs of her used panties, items that elevate my sexual desires to uncomfortable levels.  Then they come home half drunk and screw wildly as I cower behind the door and listen.  Everytime, however, they remember to release me so I can crawl over and slurp up the generous supply of their mixed fluids from Wendy’s body.

My wife told my Mom about the way things work between us.  My mother not only approved, but told her to make sure I do all the shopping and housework, ideas that Wendy adopted at once.  She also told my wife not to be afraid to slap me in the face when I deserved it — or if she just felt like doing it.

I’m not allowed to go out on my own or to have more than a few dollars in my wallet.  Wendy lets me carry one credit card, which is expired.  I’m not allowed to eat anything out of the refridgerator without her permission.  She even has a ‘bad boy chair’ in the corner that I have to sit in, with my pants down around my ankles, whenever she wants to humiliate me for some minor infraction of her everchanging household rules.

My life is miserable as I pass the months being cuckolded and treated like a spineless nobody.  Our second anniversary is only two weeks away.  Wendy says she has a big surprise planned for me.  I’m terrified to discover what it is.


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