For Her Pleasure: Feeding Liza's Desires and My Own

When my wife started dating other guys, I discovered how sex was more mental than physical

Licensed DepositPhotos

A Psychosexual Tale of Aching for His Hotwife

Liza knew what she was doing.

“How do I look?” Her voice was syrupy and my cock throbbed, absolutely throbbed when she stretched on our bed.

“Nice.”

She gave me the look, smiled, and turned to accentuate the shape of her ass. “This was a nice idea. Cute plaid skirt.”

Buying it pained my credit card, but I knew it would make Liza’s heart pound with pleasure as she anticipated wearing it for John, a former decathlete who stayed in shape and had a nice gig with his management consulting firm.

“He’s going to love it.” Liza ran her tongue over her lips. “I just hope he doesn’t stretch it too badly when tearing it off me.”

Liza was my wife. I was her husband.

“The room?” she asked.

“Paid for. The inn by the lake. You have the master suite. I’ll be adjacent. I ordered wine, too, and paid for your dinners.”

“The kids?”

“They’ll have their sleepovers. All arranged.” My fingers moved over my zipper. “Please, darling.”

“You deserve something.” She smiled. “You’re so good to me.”

“May I—” I unsnapped my jeans.

“Did I give you permission?” she remarked, spreading her legs.

“No.”

“Do you need chastity?” She cooed.

“Not now. Not this time. Please.”

Liza didn’t want me to orgasm until I was in the room next to her and John, listening to them kissing, fondling, and progressing to wild and unabashed fucking.

“You may enjoy this.”

Her pussy was naked beneath the dainty skirt and I lowered my face, placing my mouth and nose against her and feeling the moist heat and sensing her aroma. I wanted to lick her vagina so badly but we had gone on enough of these dates that I knew she might orgasm from the anticipation. I held off.

“What will he do to you?” I stood.

Liza was serious. “Keep your mind off of it, Harold. Don’t get distracted.”

Yes, she was going to get fucked the way she wanted. But she was also controlling my cock and passions. It was her way of doing two men at once.

Later, I tried to rationalize after dinner. If I snuck off and had an orgasm now, would she know?

Liza was in the kitchen putting food away and could feel my vibration while I washed the dishes. “It’s the cock cage for you.” The one she pulled out locked and unlocked with remote control.

---

I hadn’t met John personally the way I had met some of her dates, but from the photos I could tell he was taller than me, just about six feet and a few years younger. His arms and legs looked strong and I imagined how his body would be while entwined with Liza’s thick thighs, her lovely wide ass, and her ample tits.

Liza would kneel, looking up at him, her mouth open and—

They sat in the dining room, enjoying dinner and the sun setting over the lake as I carried the suitcases up to their room and my bag to mine. Being Liza’s cuck meant continually forcing images out of my head but I lived a life inflamed.

She wore tight jeans that poured over her ass and a blouse revealing her shapely breats.

Being denied sex whenever I wanted, or living under controlled sexual pleasure became more appealing to me than having the freedom to do whatever I wanted when I wanted. Liza called the shots. More accurately she supervised my sexual needs for her pleasure and mine.