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Coming home - A Cyber Exhibition
I was on the road for several days shuttling kids to their various summer activities while my husband stayed behind to work. After 3 days of dropping one kid off here and another there, I had about had enough of playing chauffeur and was ready to be home, sleep in my own bed, not live out of a suitcase and not eat another overpriced unhealthy fast food meal. When I arrived home the trash was taken out, the dog was washed, the weeds were whacked, all the usual male domestic chores were done, but what surprised me was the the floors were vacuumed, the dishes done and put away, the laundry I hung up to dry was put away, the grocery shopping was done…all the chores I typically do as the woman of the house were also done. (Before the bra-burning femi-Nazi’s come out of the woodwork, the stereotypical division of labor was something I wanted. I prefer toxically masculine alpha males (protector type not asshole type) and sensual, feminine women - Yin and Yang. I prefer my husband to be bigger than me, 6 inches or more taller than me so I can wear heels and not feel insecure. I had a very lucrative career before I got married and I was the one who decided to give it up to be a housewife and stay at home mom. I wanted my husband to lead me and our family. I like chivalry. I like feeling useful. I like feeling protected. I like having my door opened and my husband knowing what I want and ordering for both of us in a restaurant. So to paraphrase Ava Peron, don’t cry for me California, I won the husband lottery and since I let him fuck other women, I’m pretty sure he feels like he won the lottery too.)
I was pleasantly surprised that all the energy I thought I would have to expend dealing with neglected chores could be refocused on relaxing and alone time without the kids. I jumped in the shower and rinsed off the grime from the road trip eager to get my dopamine fix. I dried off and came out of bathroom to him standing in the middle of our bedroom nude and erect. I knew what was expected of me, what he wanted me to do and what I wanted to do to him. I looked into his eyes as I slowly dropped to my knees and took his cock in my mouth. I can’t articulate the psychology of why, but I know very well how turned on men get when a woman blowing them looks into their eyes and my husband is typical in that respect.
I closed my eyes and went to work. In and out; swirling my tongue around the tip causing his engorged member then when I hit the sweet spot it would lift higher and seem to swell harder. I took in as much as I could fit. I felt his hand gently swept my hair off my face and stroke my hair as I serviced him. Before I met him, I never enjoyed sucking dick, I didn’t balk at it per se, it just wasn’t my thing. I don’t know what changed, maybe it's that being used by him makes me feel sexy, maybe its the smile on his face, maybe its the fact that it makes me feel extra girly, I can’t really explain why I don’t particularly like sucking cock but I LOVE sucking HIS cock. I’d probably be better at it if it didn’t turn me on so much because I’d be more likely to finish him off but I can’t help it. It makes me so wet and I need him inside me so usually he gets half and half because I need to scratch that itch but I’ve heard no complaints so…
As I pulled back, taking his dick out of my mouth, I opened my eyes and saw a little string of spit and pre-cum connecting his tip with my bottom lip, I waited half a second, licked the shaft and then let the cool air to circulate so he would feel the evaporative cooling. Then with much wanton abandon, I plunged him deep into my warm mouth. I understood by the way he hesitantly started to thrust he was desperately trying to hold back from taking over and fucking my mouth. I knew the temperature change added to what he was experiencing.
I slowly raised my gaze from his cock, up his chest to his eyes, and saw our TV on in the background. Oddly, the sound was off and it wasn’t playing the news channel our TV is typically tuned to. Instead I saw a woman on her knees giving a blowjob and instantly recognized me looking at me. I was confused. Why was I on the TV. I saw our laptop on the dresser below the TV. I looked back at the TV. The rest of the screen showed an SLS chatroom and next to our handle was a little green camera icon with a purple circle with a number 14 inside of it, it changed to 16, 17. In that moment I realized he was live streaming me on my knees sucking his dick…on full display…my first thoughts were more feelings like the awkward embarrassment of being the only one naked in public (like the nightmare probably everyone had growing up), shock and the need to cover up. My second thought was, “Did I shave today? Yes, thank God.” My third thought was, “It's cold in here." Normally, I hate being cold but at least my tits look extra perky with my nipples as hard as the rock on my finger. The number continued to rise. I wondered who was watching, hoping it was a herd of nubile unicorns or at least some attractive couples but I knew the vast majority of viewers would be single men (even if their profile said 'they' were a couple) or at least men who were online alone.
My husband had put me on display without discussing it with me. Now, I’m not particularly shy, I like nude beaches, I’ve done nude photoshoots with multiple male photographers and modeled g-string bikinis but those were things I anticipated. This was unexpected, much more intimate and caught me off guard. He was sharing my submissive service with numerous strangers. He wasn’t stroking my hair, he was moving it out of the way so our audience could see the expression on my face as he enjoyed my mouth. I felt the dampness increase between my thighs. I’m not into swinging with men. I prefer the soft kisses and curves of a woman when we play, so it wasn’t the thought of the men watching that made me wet. It was the combination of my husband taking control, not giving the the choice and being the center of attention generally. He pulled me up and led me to my side of our bed, bent me over and gently spread my thighs. He buried his saliva covered cock in my now very wet pussy. I arched my back when he entered me and I felt his hand between my shoulder blades keeping me pinned to the bed as he took what he wanted - what I wanted him to take. I came so fast. The waves of orgasm crescendoed and as they subsided my thoughts return to the men watching me. Knowing they saw the look on my face as my orgasm came and went. I turned my head away to be alone with my private thoughts. My husband gently but firmly grabbed a fist full of hair and turned my head back towards the camera. I knew he was giving our audience a more intimate, personal experience ensuring they wouldn’t see some girl getting fucked, they would see this girl getting fucked. Porn is so much more real and intense when you see their faces. The same reason SLS profiles that show people overall get better results than those just show a set of tits. Maybe I’m the odd girl on SLS who wants to look into potential playmates eyes and see their soul, I really have no desire to just see dick pics, but I digress.
I saw the little number now read 25. I couldn’t see what people were writing, the lines moved up the screen faster than I could focus, but I could see the purple text indicating there were a lot of whispers coming in fast. I always thought it was funny because the people sending them could see us from head to toe. They had to know we were across the room not close to the computer. They had to know we were not going to stop fucking, walk across the room and go type a reply. Maybe some of it was their need just to express themselves, be more involved in it in some way. My thoughts returned to the pounding my husband was giving me…another wave was coming…the people watching were going to get a second chance to see the look on my face as it crested. He kept going and increased the tempo to milk every last second and force every bit of intensity and every possible second out of my orgasm. All men, even good men, have egos and some like my husband have a hint of primal cruelty they normally suppress. I think its those things and the fact that he wants to pleasure me that fuel his goal of making me pass out from being orgasmically overwhelmed. He has come close several times but his goal eludes him. Failure has not stopped him from trying.
Once he was sure, my body had given up its last orgasmic contraction, he pulled out, flipped me on my back and I unconsciously spread my legs to receive him. He pushed back in slowly at first, then his pace quickened…he firmly squeezed a tit with one hand and with his other hand slipped his thumb in my mouth gliding it along my lower teeth he pulled my mouth open giving him a seductive view of my open lips, soft tongue and the depth of my mouth, the warm wet, soft mouth his cock was in deep in moments before. It was like he was making sure of his options, cum inside me or pull out and explode in my mouth.
I started to buck, chasing that third orgasm….it didn’t take long. I came again. His pace quickened and after a few hard pushes inside he abruptly pulled out and exploded between my tits with a stream that went down my belly. A second eruption landed from where the top of my panties would sit to the top of my slit. He plunged back into me for the last pulse of cum. He knows I prefer him to cum inside me. It’s not that I mind cum on my tits, or anywhere else for that matter, its just that I like the little slippery feeling as as the day goes on. The little reminder of what I did, that I was useful and had fun. But this wasn’t about me and my afterglow, this was about him and our audience enjoying watching him cum all over me.
I wondered how many of our audience were jacking off to the image of me, I was sure it was most of them. It was weird. I wasn’t angry, I was satiated. I felt useful and was pleased he thinks I’m attractive enough to show off. I don’t understand all of the feelings. My mind told me I should feel violated or debased or ashamed, having been exposed, laying there covered in cum but instead I felt feminine, sexy, even a little proud.
He walked to the laptop sitting below the TV and signed off. I asked him to get me towel to wipe off with. He laughed and said it was against his religion. I laughed too and said, “No really, get me a towel, I just washed the blanket and don’t want to get it all over.” He walked back back to me, looked at his accomplishment and smeared it all over my tits and belly and said, I’m not going to get you a towel but I’ll get the camera.” He was joking about getting the camera or maybe he just changed his mind. He got some wet paper towels. “I even made sure to wet them with warm water…because I’m generous like that,” he teased.
He grabbed my hand and led me back to the shower. The water was still warm. After I rinsed the cum off my chest and belly he turned me around facing away from him and pulled me back into the streams of water and got my hair wet. He grabbed the shampoo and as he lathered my hair whispered, “thank you,” in my ear. “What for?” I asked. We both laughed.
That was a week ago. Yesterday, as he was leaving for work I approached him at the door for our ritual goodbye kiss and after my kiss he quietly said, “I’m going to turn you into a porn star again.” “What should I wear?” I asked expecting the answer to be “nothing,” but instead he said, "I left it on the bed." I smiled and couldn’t wait for him to leave so I could run back to our room and see what he picked. It was a very short nightgown, if you could even call it that, made completely out of the thinest see thru mesh lace and a pair white thong panties. This was not an outfit one actually wears to sleep in, it was an outfit specifically designed to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination and for raw unadulterated fucking. I felt the dampness materialize between my thighs and knew what was in my future.
Disclaimer: Some of you were probably on the other side of the chat screen when I was originally exposed or saw the sequel with me in my mesh nightie (which I obviously knew about in advance,) so you know this "story" is a reasonably accurate accounting of what happened. I willingly consent to my husband's decisions - period. Some call our dynamic old fashioned, trad-wife or taken-in-hand. I call it practical (albeit sexually charged) and it works for us. It is something I asked for and something that I could choose to withdraw if I wanted to but I don’t. I chose, and continue to choose, to give him that authority. Please don't try this with your lover unless she (or he) has unequivocally given you broad dominion because without her consent it's immoral and likely illegal where you live.