Kent and I were both excited as two teenagers on a prom date as we motored our way through the dark, quiet suburban streets toward David’s house.
Like so many of our fifty-something friends, our married love-life had begun to suffer from too much work, and too little spontaneity.
Until we began surfing the net together, and sharing our fantasies, and discovered we both shared a fascination with bondage, bisexuality, and death.
We also discovered David on the net – full of hormones, and fantasies of being forced to submit to the twisted pleasures of a dominant man and woman.
Pleasantly for Kent, and I, David wasn’t just interested in exploring his submissive fantasies, oh no, he wanted to be forced into bondage, abvsed, fucked and hung. Not only that, he had carefully thought through a plan that allowed all of us to scratch our various itches.
My heart was pounding away with excitement – and I struggled to keep myself from slipping my hand between my legs as we drove slowly down the street, checking the addresses. I could see the bulge of my husband’s cock beneath his sweat pants, and knew that Kent was as aroused as I was.
David raised the overhead door as we pulled into his drive, our harsh headlamp beams illuminated him standing at the rear of his garage. Just as we’d instructed, he was standing naked on the concrete floor, slim and young, his dick pleasantly hard, and curving upward toward his waist.
In one hand, David held a pair of handcuffs. In the other, coils of thick rope, with a noose dangling from one end.
Kent stopped the car, slammed the gearshift into park and turned off the ignition. With a guttural sound, deep in his throat, he leaned over the console to kiss me, forcing his tongue into my mouth, while at the same time tearing open my blouse to expose my breasts. My buttons rattled off the window and dashboard.
What a good hubby, playing along exactly as we’d planned.
I slid out of my seat – David took note of my billowing torn blouse and bare chest as I shut the door. I slinked out of my skirt, tossing it onto my seat through the open window, and turned to face him, slowly drawing a fingertip up and down through the folds of my shaved pussy.
Kent’s door shut with a loud thump. He stood by the front tire, his sweat pants dr@ped over the rear-view mirror, staring first at David, and then me, pumping at his fine, thick, well-veined cock.
David’s face and chest flushed as I walked slowly around our car. “How nice,” I thought, laying myself across the hood in front of him, my legs spread crudely, like the slut I’d told him to expect.
Kent grabbed David by the hair and neck, and forced his face between my legs. “Lick that pussy!” he growled, and I felt the coarseness of David’s tongue working inside me, his nose pressed against the hard button of my clit. I dr@ped a leg across his shoulders, and squirmed wetly into his face.
Kent’s face was red, angry, and consumed with a dark lust, as he wrenched David’s arms behind his back, locking his wrists into the handcuffs, while David gasped for air between my legs.
“Where’s the note, slave?” Kent growled.
David raised his sticky face and gasped, “On the stool,” then lowered his head, sucking my cunt into his warm mouth, swirling away with his tongue.
Kent snatched the handwritten yellow page from the step-stool, muttering as he read, “Tired of living…can’t go on…deserve to die…”
Kent put the note on the edge of the workbench, and turned to David, bent over our car with his face in my crotch.
“Good job, butt boy” he snarled, digging the strong fingers of one hand into David’s hip, while running the large dark head of his cock up and down between David’s tight white buns with the other.
Grasping David’s manacled wrists, Kent forced himself into David’s ass. “Here’s your reward, slave,” he grunted. David groaned and whimpered between my thighs as Kent’s long, thick dick pushed into him.
Kent snorted with each thrust, pushing David’s bare feet up off the cement floor with the force of his strokes, driving his face into me as I ground myself into David’s mouth like true trailer trash.
Kent’s hips slapped against David’s ass, and I played my role, gasping “Eat me, lick that pussy, take that cock, swallow me slave!”
I was well on my way to a shuddering orgasm when I felt the rough scratch of David’s rope on my belly. Kent was forcing the noose over David’s head as he licked at me.
David’s eyes widened as Kent pulled him away from me, toward the short stool in front of our car. Kent had one end of the rope over a rafter in the garage, and pulled until David was teetering on top of the stool, naked on tip-toe, spluttering away in front of us.
I knelt in front of Kent, fondling my breasts, and the wetness between my legs, licking at his heavy balls, while Kent knotted David’s rope around one leg of the work bench.
Reaching out with one hand, I caressed David’s thighs, moving my hand up and down his legs, cupping his balls and stroking his hard dick.
I pumped away at my husband’s cock with the other, sucking Kent’s balls into my mouth. With my hand cradling his testicles, I felt David’s orgasm begin to build, and looked up from below Kent’s waist as David forced the stool from beneath his feet with a loud screech as it scr@ped along the concrete floor.
I pumped away at David as he hung himself, his sticky semen splattering into my hair and face as he choked and gurgled. Kent’s own sticky cum pulsed onto David’s thighs and my face. Kent grunted as David porpoised, the noose closing beneath his jaw, his tongue protruding stiffly between his blue lips, as his eyes fluttered and rolled, and his hands clenched and pulled against the cuffs.
The next morning, we sat our sunny kitchen, lingering over our breakfast. Kent and I looked at each other, and smiled with happy memories of our date night, as we read the sad news in our paper.
A tragic suicide in a quiet, suburban development. Shocked neighbors told the reporter that he seemed so normal, “Such a polite, quiet young man.”
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