Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
However, everything good ends, and eventually, we finish. His cock dribbles off after I give it a few more teasing squeezes, and he pulls out of me with a loud squelch before pulling out the dildo as well. But Trig doesn’t stop there. He brings the dildo to his nose, sniffing it a bit, before taking a long, lascivious lick of the rubbery pink plastic.
“Trig!” I gasp, my eyes going wide. Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised because my boyfriend’s done this before, but I’m always shocked anew at the rampant filth. He merely chuckles though, those blue eyes gleaming as he licks the dildo again.
“You know I love the taste of your ass, honey,” he rasps. “And this is one way to get it: on a dick.” Then, he sucks the tip before lapping at the sides of the pink toy, thoroughly coating the plastic in his saliva while tasting my slime and ass sweat. I know it’s gross. I know it’s disgusting. Yet, I love it so much and my nipples tingle all over again, my pussy still dripping with Trig’s come as I watch the debauchery. This man is Heaven-sent, with his wicked ways, godlike physique, and general tendency towards depravity.
And yet, something’s missing. That’s the worst part of this scenario. It’s not that I’m unhappy with our sex life, or that I’m not having multitudes of orgasms with each session. It’s something else that I can’t put my finger on, but what could it be? As I watch Trig continue to suck on the pink shaft, I play with my clit idly, trying to think. He’s already satisfied my craving for double-penetration, and we now have a stash of dildos exactly for that purpose. Yet, in my heart of hearts, I know there’s something more. I need two cocks, but one of them shouldn’t be fake. Instead, both of them should be real, pulsing, and veiny, with the ability to deliver sweet and salty sperm deep into my body. I want another man in our relationship … but will my boyfriend agree?
CHAPTER 2
Hunter
I hear the front door open from inside my study and pause, my hands still at the computer. It can only be one person, and that’s my sassy stepdaughter Raelynn. Or more accurately, Rae is my ex-stepdaughter because her mom and I were divorced years ago.
It’s a long story, actually. Christine Chambers is a woman that I met while walking in our local park. Any man would notice the beautiful blonde with her wavy tresses, sweet smile, and stunning figure. She was gorgeous, hands down, and I got her number that day.
We started dating, and Christine revealed that she was a divorced mom with a daughter in middle-school. I didn’t think much of it because I was too entranced by the woman herself. Christine was fun and sassy, with a great sense of humor and of course, a way about her in the sack. The woman was raunchy beyond compare, and soon, I could only think about the next time I’d be in that beautiful body.
After a year or so of dating, we got married, and Christine moved into my house with her daughter in tow. It wasn’t a big deal. Of course, my new wife moved into the master suite with me, and I was so busy enjoying my time with her that I barely noticed little Raelynn. Back then, Rae wasn’t much more than a mousy toothpick. She had frizzy brown hair, thick glasses, and mostly stayed in her room reading books. I didn’t really notice her comings and goings because this was someone else’s daughter and none of my business, even if Rae happened to be living in my house. As a result, it was a peaceful time in part because we hardly ever encountered one another.
But something with my wife went haywire along the way. To this day, I have no idea what it is. At first, it was just small things, like Christine’s dissatisfaction with her hair. Don’t get me wrong because my ex had a head of wavy, lush blonde tresses that the average American woman would die for. I was surprised by her complaints, but tried to be supportive by paying for fancy haircuts and professional blow-outs.
But it wasn’t just the hair. Soon, my wife wasn’t happy with anything, including our house; the car; her job as a real estate agent; her lack of a job, after she quit being an agent; or even the front lawn outside. Our lawn has always been a lush, emerald-green spread, but Christine set upon a with a fury to turn it into something “environmentally sustainable” and “native to the region.” Soon, we had a bed of weeds out front and I put my foot down then. I’ve worked long and hard for my house and home, and wasn’t going to be seen living in an untamed wilderness that literally looked like it had never seen a lawnmower.