My Free Night

MY FREE NIGHT by Throne My wife Gena had been cuckolding me for about nine months. I hated having her cheat on me with the guys she picked up but I had never been strong enough to stand up to her all during the previous three years of our marriage. My only consolation was that, when she was out man hunting and getting her booty knocked, I at least got an evening free to myself, when I could watch TV or read. It wasn't much but it was about all I had. If she didn't go out I had to be available every minute to wait on her, massage her feet, or run out on errands. It was rough for me, not only having her cheat but being cut off from sex with her myself. I was always horny. Gena made sure I stayed that way by dressing in tight clothes or hot lingerie. She's half Italian and half Greek, with an ultra-curvy figure and hot Mediterranean temper. I wanted her all the time but didn't dare to even hint that she should let me have my pleasure. Instead she would allow me to jerk off into my morning coffee once every 10 days or two weeks and then make me drink it. That was my sex life, along with providing her with all the cunnilingus she wanted, which was plenty. One evening she was getting ready to go out -- again. I had to run and fetch for her, taking clothes out of the closet and dresser until she found exactly what she wanted. That turned out to be a very tight top and equally close fitting slacks. Along with her 'fuck-me' shoes, the ones with the four inch heels and open toes, and her usual slutty make-up, plus her long, thick, black hair worn loose, she was a sexual fire waiting to be ignited. At last she was ready and I was already mentally lining up the shows I would watch, along with some reading time afterwards. I was actually happy, at least as much as a guy can be when his gorgeous wife is openly cheating on him, until she made her announcement. "I'm a little hungry. Maybe I'll have a snack. Get me that jar of salsa that's been sitting in the cabinet and open it." I did as I was told but when I set it on the counter she made a disapproving face. "No, I changed my mind. But you bought that a long time ago. I don't want it to go bad. Eat it, Willy." When I stared at her uncomprehendingly she said more forcefully, "Get a friggin' spoon and EAT IT. All of it. Now. Use that spoon I had earlier, for my pudding." I took the dirty spoon and uncertainly dipped it into the salsa, which was chunky and extra hot. In fact, it had a warning on it about how spicy it was. I ate the first spoonful and my mouth was on fire. She watched me closely as I consumed more and more. I kept waiting for her to relent and allow me to stop but she just kept watching, a twisted smile on her sensual lips, until I was done. My stomach was rolling. I had to cover my mouth as I let out a loud burp. Gena giggled. She said, "Let's see what else we can get rid of. Open the fridge. Yeah, right there on the door is a half a jar of black olives. Eat those." "B... but, Gena, you know I hate bl..." I saw that she didn't care. Rather than risk one of her infuriated face-slappings, I opened them and wrinkled my nose at the unwelcome smell. Then, lifting them out with the same spoon, I ate every one and she also made me drink the juice. That was followed by a few garlic pickles, again with their juice, and finally a quarter pound of stale double-chocolate fudge. I felt ready to throw up. Gena walked over to me and patted my tummy. "There," she said. "I've noticed how cheerful you get when I leave you alone. That's wrong. I want you to be unhappy if I'm not here. So, from now on, I'm going to make sure that everytime I go clubbing, we'll do something special before I go to keep your mind off your selfish wants. That's fair, isn't it, Willy?" I moaned from how ill I felt. "Y... yes, dearest. I'm s... sorry if I thought too much about myself." "No problem. Now have a fun evening. DON'T take anything for your stomach. And think about me, Willy. So long." She sashayed to the front door and out, the well-filled bottom of her slacks wiggling. I did think about her, all evening, about how she loved to be mean to me and how I would never have one of another 'Free Night'. I kept belching and tasting bile but didn't vomit. Instead I simply grew more and more miserable. Finally, after about four hours, she returned. I could tell from her disheveled appearance that she had been thoroughly and properly fucked, just the way she likes. I'm sure she could tell from my face, which was probably some shade of green, that I was still extremely queasy. "We're going to do one more thing to make sure that my date nights are completely about me in your mind. Bedroom time, little Willy." Holding my stomach I followed her, again achingly aware of how desirable her ass is. She sat on the edge of the bed and had me remove her shoes while she talked on her cell phone, with her friend Sophia, about what a fantastic bedroom romp she'd had. It turned out that Sophia had slept with the same guy. Both women enjoyed playing the slut, and of course Gena loved rubbing that role in my face. I was extra uncomfortable kneeling, but she let me stay there through her long conversation. Then she set aside the phone, stood, and peeled off her slacks. There was a wet mark on the crotch of her panties, in front of her pussy, which was shaved alongside its lips but had a dark patch of hair above. My wife threw herself back on the mattress and flung her legs lewdly wide. "The new thing we're going to do is -- " She paused for effect. " -- make you eat my cunt while it's still full of my latest stud's thick hot cum. If you know you're going to have to do that at the end of every date night, I don't imagine you'll be able to waste time with whatever it is you like to do by yourself. Not with THIS to look forward to." I shuddered. "Gena, please. Not that. It's -- disgusting. I can't lick up another man's cream out of your pussy." "Well, you sure can't lick up YOURS -- because you're not allowed to put your anorexic dick inside me. So get busy, wimp, and do it now if you don't want me to put my heels back on and see how hard I can kick you about twenty times." That threat was so extreme that I did what she had ordered, disgusting as it was. My insides were already rolling, and having to do that made it three times worse. It was horrible to taste her lover's slime and feel it slide down my convulsing throat. My wife, because she had already been satisfied, took what seemed like a half hour before she came. Even then she made me lap her through a long afterglow and even plant a dozen extra kisses on her labia, thanking her aloud after each kiss. And that's how it's been the three times since, when she goes out, with me gobbling down all the junk in the fridge, or having to wear her dirty panties over my head, with the smelly seat over my nose and a stocking over that to hold them in place. She says she has more ideas for how to keep my mind off 'wasting time'. She's making me figure a way for her to give me an enema with that same red hot salsa. I always spend my several 'free' hours anticipating with dread the new practice of slurping out the goo left in her pussy after unfaithful sex. The most recent time her pick-up date came twice inside her. She called it a 'double-helping' for me. My stunningly desirable wife gets a thrill from tormenting me. She discovered that last meager pleasure in my life and ruined it. Now, she tells me, she is thinking very hard about what ELSE she can do to assure that I focus only on her and never squander even a minute enjoying anything for myself. She's shopping on-line for some 'toys' to use. I dread to think what else she will do to me, the cuckolded husband she despises and gets aroused from hurting. 11910 1.27/512345