Trials of an Obese Wife

Chapter 1 Maurice

 

     “Ouch, you nicked me.  Be more careful, dammit.  Get a fresh blade,” said Maurice not trying to hide his irritation.  “That one’s dull.”

     “Sorry, but it’s new,” said Christine looking up at her husband from her position kneeling between his outstretched legs.  She was holding his cock in one hand and a safety razor in the other.   A pillow elevated his rear off the bed.  She had agreed to shave his cock and balls in return for the kind of sex she needed and desperately wanted.  Maurice had reluctantly consented after hard bargaining on Christine’s part.  Having to negotiate with his wife had not put the haughty French aristocrat in a good mood.

     “I don’t care.  Get another one.  It must be defective.”

     “All right, whatever,” said Christine climbing off the bed and walking into the bathroom.

     “How long does the post pregnancy conditioning program last,” asked Maurice picking up the remote?  He pressed the Play button then the Mute button for the High definition DVD player.

    “Twelve weeks, I start Monday.  A girl named Dina Kramer will be my training partner,” said Christine climbing back onto their bed. They were in the master bedroom of their recently acquired suburban Boston McMansion.  It was after ten.

     “I should have gone with you when you signed up,” said Maurice.  “But I couldn’t get away.  Jules fucked up the EMK account and I had to straighten it out.   I told him one more mistake like that and he would be looking for a new position.”

    “It wasn’t necessary. We’ve established my goals for the first four weeks,” said Christine. “It would help if you held your cock up and stretched your scrotum to remove the wrinkles.”

    “All right, be careful and watch what you’re doing.  This is taking entirely too long,” said Maurice looking displeased.

    “I’m sorry but this is a first for me.  Where did you get the DVD?” asked Christine glancing at the screen.

    “Jean Paul sent it last week in a bank pouch.  He got it in Budapest.   It’s first quality high definition video.  There’s a part at the end that should bring back fond memories.  I assume your goals include losing all the weight you gained with the baby.”

    “Definitely, I should easily be my pre-pregnancy weight by the end of the program,” said Christine washing the razor in a bowl of water. 

    “The water is icy cold.  Get some warm,” said Maurice grabbing Christine’s wrist to stop her.

    “Maybe you should go to a spa.  Why do you want them shaved anyway?  Being shaved makes you look homosexual.” She said as she climbed off the bed and rushed to the bathroom to refill the bowl. It was the second time she had asked why Maurice wanted his pubic region shaved.  He had never mentioned it before.  And while he was fair skinned and not particularly hairy, he had a normal covering of dark pubic hair Christine had enjoyed nesting her nose in when she sucked his cock.

     “Stupid question, it’s the fashion.  Gay is the new hetero.  Why do you shave your cunt?  It doesn’t make you a lesbian; although you’ve never hesitated to plunge your tongue into anyone’s pussy, shaved or not.”

     “I don’t shave it, at least not anymore, Brazilian bikini wax, one hundred dollars at the spa and it hurts like hell so I enjoy it,” said Christine resuming her task.

     “How does that work,” asked Maurice, his interest piqued by his wife’s mentioning it was painful.  Maurice considered himself a connoisseur of other’s pain.

     Christine immediately realized that her explanation had the potential to arouse Maurice.

     “I always use Miranda because she is the most thorough and as a consequence the most hurtful,” said Christine returning with a basin of warm water.

     “Tell me about her,” said Maurice.

     “She is Haitian, born in Port-au-Prince.  Her French is passable, not Parisian by any means.  At times, her patois is almost incomprehensible,” said Christine returning to the task of shaving her husband’s sex.

     “How black,” asked Maurice?

     “Very, her skin is the darkest ebony.  She does not like white people, especially French,” said Christine.

      “How can you tell?  You’re not French.”

      “No, but I speak the language and have a French husband.  You should see the way she smiles when she pulls the strips off.  The more agony she causes the greater the smile.  Because I am quasi-French, she goes to great lengths to increase my pain.”

      “How does she do that?” asked Maurice feeling his cock grow as he fantasized his wife’s sex being tortured by a half savage native.

      “She places the wax on my most sensitive areas, my clit or the opening of my vagina, and even my anus.  Instead of pulling the cloth strips off in one quick motion, she pulls them slowly to prolong and increase the pain.  Last time, she placed a strip on across my asshole, allowed it to thoroughly dry, the peeled it off a millimeter at a time.  I thought I would go mad with pain.”

      “Do you think she knows you enjoy her extra efforts?”

      “She must because my pussy runs like a faucet and my nipples get hard as emeralds,” said Christine.  “Plus I tip her generously.”

      “What an incredible slut you are.  Have you ever done anything with her?”

      “No, just the bikini wax,” said Christine.  “But I come home immediately afterwards and masturbate. My skin is still red and tingling.  I imagine she has coated my entire body in waxed strips of cloth and is ripping them off one by one as I scream and beg her to stop.”

      “Your body and bikini are an oxymoron,” said Maurice allowing the disgust he felt with Christine’s weight to show.

     “You’re being cruel.  I know I let myself go when I was pregnant but I was alone all the time.  You were in Zurich.  All I wanted to do was eat,” said Christine starting to cry.

     “Don’t start blubbering.  I’m sorry.  I was insensitive,” said Maurice looking past his wife at the television screen.  “Would you like me to do that to you after you lose the weight?”

     Christine stared at the screen before answering.  “Yes of course, but where?” She watched intently as four heavily muscled men whipped two girls suspended upside down from the ceiling of a large well-lighted room.

     “We have an unfinished full basement with twelve foot ceilings.  I’ve decided to construct a modern dungeon.  In fact since I have to be out of town next week, one of your tasks is to supervise the contractor installing the soundproofing,” said Maurice stretching his scrotum to remove the wrinkles.  “We’re paying a premium for a quick installation but I won’t stand for shoddy work.  Watch them carefully.”

     “But I was planning to concentrate on finishing the first section of my text,” said Christine referring to the graduate level college textbook on macro economic theory she was writing.  “See, much better.” She was gratified the safety razor slid easily across his ball sack.

     “All you have to do is show them the basement and inspect the result.  That shouldn’t be too difficult for someone with a doctorate.  The plans are on my desk.  Make sure I give them to you before I leave.  Once that’s complete, there’s a number for you to call to schedule the contractor who will perform the rest of the work.”

     “Why did you wait until now to tell me about this?”

     “It was going to be a surprise but my travel schedule has turned monstrous.  Therefore you’re going to have to take over.  I’ve been promised everything will be completed in three weeks.  Next month, the equipment begins to arrive.”

     “Equipment,” asked Christine as she methodically shaved her husband’s groin area?  Fortunately, Maurice, being a fair skinned blonde was not difficult to shave.

    “There’s a purchase order in the folder along with the plans.  Whittier & Cooper, Ltd of Shepard’s Market, London will be delivering and installing everything.”

    “That’s very exciting.  I didn’t know they had an office in the United States,” said Christine recognizing the firm’s name?  It was well known in European S&M circles that the venerable English firm provided top of the line dungeon equipment.  There most recent product line claimed to employ the most recent technology for creating unbearable pain with no permanent damage.

     Christine had watched a promotional DVD they sent Maurice.  After hours of various types of mind bending physical and sexual torture, the handsome couple had emerged unharmed to tout the company’s offering.  

    “Yes, mon cherie, upscale sado-masochism has arrived in the colonies.  Your countrymen with means have discovered the value of good equipment as compared to the junk they purchase at the local adult store.”

    “What did you order?”

    “A St. Andrews, a whipping bench, its all in the purchase order.  I chose recent designs to go with our home’s modern décor.”

    “Good, we’ll be able to enjoy it together,” said Christine.

    “Yes, as soon as you lose your rolls of fat.  It should be an incentive for you.  What do you think,” asked Maurice gesturing toward the television screen with the remote?  “Would you like to be in their place?”

     Christine felt terribly envious of the females.  It was a classic inverted position she had experienced with great pleasure.  She recalled the utterly helpless feeling of inversion with her legs spread in a wide V.  The reversal of the blood flow enhanced the sensation as the arteries reacted to gravity’s new direction.

     It left sensitive inner thighs and sex completely accessible to the whip.  Binding her arms behind her back so tightly her shoulder blades nearly touched added to the discomfort and vulnerability.  The arm binder make their breasts stand out making an inviting target for the whip.

     Christine’s nipples hardened as she recalled the last time she was hung up like a slab of beef and whipped senseless.  The crowd at the Paris club had been amused at her screams as well as her demands that Maurice whip her harder.  They had even applauded when Maurice urinated in her open mouth.  Her ability to swallow piss while hung upside down defied gravity.

     The crowd shouted their approval at the surprise ending when a hidden floor panel, directly underneath her, had moved aside to reveal a tank of salt water.  To her absolute terror, Maurice lowered her into the tank. Full immersion combined with the sensation of salt crystals contacting the hundreds of cuts left by Maurice’s whip resulted in a level of pain that sent Christine into an orgasm that only ended when she fainted.

      On screen the whips imparted a centrifugal force to the women’s bodies causing them to spin and sway wildly.  The frequent rotation produced dizziness and disorientation.  Christine would have welcomed taking one of the girl’s places.  If she thought there was any chance Maurice would agree, she would be on her knees begging him to do to her what was happening on screen.

     “Yes, you know I would,” said Christine wiping the excess lather off Maurice with a warm towel. 

     “This is definitely not consensual,” said Maurice.  “Probably, a couple of prostitutes they kidnapped off the street.”

     The two females in the video did not strike Christine as willing participants either.  Nor was it a safety conscience S&M performance in one of the EU’s fashionable sex clubs.  It was crude, bloody, and brutal, what one would expect from one of the former Soviet republics.  There was a savagery in the manner the female’s arms were bound behind their back.  Thick strands of hemp circled their arms from their wrists to their elbows.  The rope was tight enough to cut into their flesh.

     Their long hair brushed the stone floor as their bodies spun each time a whip landed.  Rope bound their ankles to a rough piece of lumber mounted on a swivel in the ceiling.  The arrangement permitted them to turn easily, sometimes in a blur.  They were both young with good figures.  The blonde was longer and leaner while the shorter brunette had large breasts that had begun to drip blood on the concrete floor.  

      “Russians,” asked Christine when the camera showed a close-up of one of the muscular men’s Slavic features?  They were identically clad in heavy work boots and abbreviated leather shorts.  The shorts exposed their buttocks and there were large bulges in the front.  Christine recognized the bisexuality found in Russian porn.  If the women don’t give you a hard on, watch the men.

      “Russians, Ukrainians, Kazaks, maybe even Chetiens, who the fuck knows.  But they know how to use a whip,” said Maurice.  “The Kazaks were always good with the knout.  They kept the serfs in line for the Czar.”

      “Yes, they’re good,” said Christine shuddering when she watched a close-up of one of the whips Turk’s head knots land on blonde’s inner thigh.  With the sound muted, she opened her mouth wide in a silent scream.  A red spot instantly appeared followed by a thin stream of blood. 

     “So take care of construction and we’ll soon have our own place to practice,” said Maurice.

     “What will we tell Michael when he asked what’s in the basement?”

     “Since he’s only three months old, I think we have time to come up with a satisfactory explanation.  Besides he’s a Chernier.  He must learn from an early age there are certain family traditions that are not to be questioned or spoken of” 

     “And what about Genevieve?  She arrives next week,” said Christine running her hand over Maurice’s skin to assure it was smooth.  She slowly stroked his cock resisting her urge to take it in her mouth.  Genevieve Roches was flying from Paris to live with the Cherniers.   She would be going to college and helping watch Michael while Christine was busy with her book and working out at the health club.

     “Genevieve is French and therefore unlikely to be surprised at what she finds in the basement.”

     “Will she participate,” asked Christine?

     “Probably, but she is primarily here to study and take care of Michael while you regain your girlish figure and write your textbook.  We are very lucky to have her.”

     “She’s the daughter of your mother’s sister who I might add has absolutely no experience as a nanny or taking care of an infant.  Turn up the sound, please.  I want to hear.”

     “Please, do we have to do through this again?  Who do you want, some stranger who might abuse Michael when we’re not around? You recall what happened right here in Boston with that English nanny who shook her charge to death.”

      “Yes I recall that but I would hope we would get someone with good references,” said Christine.  Her hand was idly stroking Maurice’s cock allowing her to enjoy its warmth and the satisfaction of making her husband become erect.  Not taking it in her mouth required every ounce of self control she could muster.

      “Do you honestly believe my mother would choose someone who couldn’t take excellent care of her first male grandchild she positively dotes on?  She would come and help you herself if father wasn’t ill.  Besides, the Roches are not only related but people with important banking connections.  Doing them a good turn is a wise move,” said Maurice pressing the Mute button then turning down the sound of the women screaming.

     Christine decided further argument was useless and was likely to make Maurice welch on her reward for shaving him.  “You’re right, of course.  I’m sorry.  Going to school and taking care of Michael should keep her busy enough.  Your mother said she was a good student and could help with my research.  The DVD definitely looks authentic,” said Christine staring at the screen as the sounds of the whip and the women’s screams filled the bedroom.  “Most of the time, they are such obvious fakes, no one suffering in the least.”

     “It’s definitely not a fake.  It was made in Minsk by the Russian mafia,” said Maurice. “Jean Paul assured me it was genuine.  If you watch closely you can tell.  It goes much further than any S&M film you can buy here.”

    “All done,” said Christine.  Jean Paul was Maurice’s younger brother who had recently relocated to Shanghai.  Collecting sado-masochistic pornography and antique instruments of torture were hobbies enjoyed by both brothers. 

     “Feels smooth,” said Maurice rubbing his scrotum. “Now, I suppose you want your payment,” said Maurice climbing off the bed and walking to the closet.

     “Yes, punish me,” said Christine quickly slipping off the bed and stepping to an open space in the oversized master bedroom.  She removed her nightgown, tossed it on the bed then assumed a wide stance facing the television screen.  Excited about what was about to happen, she bent at the waist slowing dropping the crown of her head toward the carpet as she reached out and grabbed her ankles.

     Immediately a handcuff snapped around her wrist and then her ankle.  Seconds later Maurice secured her other wrist to her ankle.

     “Wet, already, what a disgusting slut you are,” said Maurice laughing as he pressed the heel of his hand hard against her sex allowing his fingers to enter her vagina while his thumb pressed against her sphincter.  He was being rough but that was what his wife wanted.

     “What do you expect?  It’s been months since we had our kind of sex,” said Christine moving slightly so her vulva rubbed against Maurice’s hand.

     “It’s not my fault you chose to make a pig out of yourself while you were pregnant,” said Maurice inserting a second finger in Christine’s vagina while the first joint of his thumb entered her anus.

    “I only gained twenty seven pounds,” said Christine gasping in the pleasure of discomfort.  “You’re planning to fuck Genevieve, aren’t you?  You told your mother I disgusted you and you needed a fuck toy. So she obliged you by sending you one of the family whores.”

     “I see your nasty mouth needs to be shut up,” said Maurice withdrawing his fingers and walking away.   “Who I choose to fuck is my business.  French wives understand these things.  Don’t be so bourgeois American.”      

     Christine felt her excitement grow as she heard Maurice walk into the bathroom and search the dirty clothes hamper.  Her breath quickened as she heard the sound of him urinating.  He was making her a piss soaked gag.

     A particularly loud scream from the television caused her to lift her head.  Several cuts on the brunette’s breasts and thighs were bleeding and thin rivulets of blood were coursing down her body.

     “I flavored it for you.  Open,” said Maurice holding the soiled wet garment to Christine’s nose.  “We can’t have your screams wake Michael.”

     Christine allowed Maurice to stuff the pair of wet briefs he’d worn all day into her mouth.  The smell of male body odor and the taste of urine filled her nostrils as she stretched her jaw to accommodate the underwear.

     “Five,” asked Maurice holding the two-foot leather paddle out in front of Christine?  The oval shaped business end of the paddle contained three concentric circles of brass studs.

      Christine shook her head no.

     “Ten?”

     Again she shook her head.

     “Twenty.”

     Christine shook her head yes.

     “Twenty it is.  You are desperate for attention.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you? You won’t be able to sit down tomorrow.”

     Almost instantly her bottom exploded in pain as Maurice landed the paddle dead center on her buttocks.  She screamed into the gag as loud as she could.  Her saliva mixed with the urine and the taste filled her mouth.  Her bottom on fire, she inhaled through her nose desperately trying to control the pain.   She pulled on her ankles stretching the muscles of her shoulders and inner thighs.  The metal cuffs cut into her flesh.

    Three deep breaths later, she detected the sound of the paddle slicing swiftly through the air.  A loud splat filled her ears as once again, the nerve endings in her buttocks announced the pain to her brain.  Her hands desperately clutched her ankles as she repeated her breath control ritual making each breath last as long as possible.  But the third exhalation had to end and when it did, the well-used leather paddle swung around in an arc to flatten Christine’s buttocks.

     After the tenth blow, Maurice placed his hand on her bottom.  He closed his eyes allowing his sense of touch to enjoy the heat coming from her beaten flesh.  His hand slid easily over the perspiration covering her rear.  He listened intently to Christine’s almost inaudible whimpers. 

     “You deserve this.  Don’t you, Christine?” asked Maurice in a quiet voice?  “You allowed yourself to become fat and unattractive.  Your ass is huge and repulsive.  Yes, I’ll fuck lovely thin Genevieve.  I’ll let you watch as I slide my cock in her.  And if you’re a good girl and loose the weight you promised, I’ll let you lick my semen out of her cunt.”

     Christine nodded her head in agreement.  She’d known all along that was what Maurice intended.

     “Because you are a fat pig.”

     Christine again signified her agreement.

     “Oink for me, you bloated sow,” said Maurice delivering a fierce blow to Christine’s red and bruised bottom.

     Once she sufficiently recovered from the pain, Christine made a sound more closely resembling a grunt than an oink.

      “What, a pig that can’t oink properly.  Try again,” said Maurice putting his shoulder into the next blow.

      In spite of the firestorm on her buttocks she improved on her next attempt.

      “Better but not truly satisfactory, promise me you’ll work on your pig imitation,” said Maurice once more pressing his hand against his wife’s wet sex.  He had always been amazed at her capacity to exude lubricant when experiencing pain.  He wiped his hand on her lower back to remove some of the fluid.

     Christine slowly shook her head in the affirmative.

     “Now for the final eight, bend over further. Put the crown of your head on the floor.”

     The next blow almost knocked Christine off balance.  It took every ounce of willpower to maintain her position.  The impact was all the more excruciating because the over extended position allowed her vulva to partially absorb the force of the paddle.  Both her buttocks and her labia were on fire.

     After the twentieth blow, Christine collapsed to the carpet sobbing as she spit out the briefs. When she looked up, she saw Maurice bending over her to remove the handcuffs.  He had an erection.        

     ”Did you find the flavor of my jockeys enjoyable,” asked Maurice?

     “Yes, I enjoyed their taste and smell.”

     “What a disgusting fat piss-drinking whore you’ve become.  Oh well, you will find the cock that was in them all day delicious,” said Maurice sitting down on the bed.  Christine painfully knee walked to where she was kneeling between his legs.  She opened her mouth to Maurice’s cock.

     “Don’t rush.  Take your time.  Sample the aroma to start,” said Maurice lightly tapping the head against her cheek then placing it on her outstretched tongue.

     “Your cock always smells so good,” said Christine holding the spongy head against her nose inhaling its aroma.  She pressed the pink flesh against her nostrils as her tongue flicked over the underside of the shaft.

     “French cocks smell the best,” said Maurice.

     “Better than Italians or Germans?” asked Christine flicking his cock head with the tip of her tongue.

     “Definitely, French cuisine and cocks are recognized as the best the world over.  You were gaining weight before you got pregnant.  I want you to weigh what you did when we got married, no first met.”

     “I promise.  I plan on getting in terrific condition and staying that way,” said Christine transferring her tongue’s attention to Maurice’s smooth testicles.

     “Shaving makes them more sensitive,” said Maurice. “French men like their wives to be slender and attractive.  Don’t forget my sister’s wedding is in the spring.  I don’t want my friends laughing about Maurice Chernier’s fat American wife.”

     “They won’t. I promise.  I told Peter I would do whatever it took to meet my goals,” said Christine.

     “Peter, who is Peter?”

     “Peter Duchense, the club manager and owner.  Actually, he owns a whole chain of clubs in New England.  He’s assigned Lex as my personal trainer.  According to Peter, Lex is absolutely merciless when it comes to shaping up wives who’ve let themselves go during pregnancy.” Christine lifted Maurice’s stiffening cock so she could run her tongue along the ridge of skin on its underside.

     “They have my carte blanche to do whatever it takes to make you svelte once more.  They can work you till you collapse.  Throw cold water on you and start again.  They can even fuck you if it burns calories although I doubt they will be interested.  Fat women are not sexy.  They deserve to be treated roughly,” said Maurice reaching down to grab Christine head.  His slender tapered fingers embedded themselves in her dark curls as he took a firm grip on both sides of her head.  His hands squeezed her head causing her to gasp at the pain.

     “I know, Maurice.  I’m disgusting.  I deserve to suffer for being such a fat cow,” said Christine before taking a deep breath.  Knowing what was coming she tried to relax her throat.  Maurice’s hands held her head poised over his erect cock.

     “Say it then.  Admit what you’ve become,” said Maurice.

     “No,” said a suddenly defiant Christine stepping into one of the roles they’d played since right after they met.

     “Then choke on it, you ugly sow,” said Maurice.  Muscles in Maurice’s arms tensed as he forced Christine’s head down on his cock.  He guided it to the back of her throat.  Christine flattened her tongue and held her mouth wide open straining her jaw hinge.  When he sensed the large mushroom shaped head pressing into the opening of his wife’s throat, he applied sufficient pressure to slide the head past the opening.  For a man of average height and a slender physique Maurice was exceptionally well endowed and his cock reached inches into her throat. 

     Christine’s throat muscles contracted responding to the intruder.  Her stomach convulsed.  The guttural choking sounds caused by her gag reflex brought a smile to Maurice’s face.  He raised and lowered her head an inch or two taking pleasure not only from the sensations of having his cock embedded in his wife’s pulsating throat but also from her struggles as she attempted to breathe and control her involuntary muscle reactions.

     Maurice closed his eyes enjoying the warm saliva dripping from Christine’s mouth onto his manhood.  Repositioning one hand on her head, he used the other to clamp his wife’s nostril’s shut.

     Cut off from her air supply, Christine began to struggle.  Her body trembled violently as her lungs demanded fresh oxygen.

     Finally, on the verge of losing consciousness, Maurice relented and released Christine allowing her to gasp for air.  She made a loud rasping sound as she filled her chest with precious oxygen.  Her mouth and cheeks were smeared with saliva.  Dark curls were matted to her face.  Drool cascaded over her lower lip.  The desperate look in her large expressive eyes added to Maurice’s excitement.

     Maurice took pleasure from her absolute terror of suffocation.  It was the look of fear and the stories his friends had told him about the crazy American that first attracted him to Christine. When they first made love she had asked, “You won’t hurt me, will you?” When he replied, “Of course, I will hurt you,” she had smiled and said, “Good, Make me scream and I am yours forever.”

     “Say it,” repeated Maurice relaxing the pressure of his hands on his wife’s head allowing her to speak.

     “No,” said Christine.

     “Then keep choking until you turn blue.”

     Once again, he forced his cock into her throat.  Keeping it there while she struggled.  Taking her to the point where she was on the very edge of losing consciousness before he relented and allowed her to breathe.

     They stared into each other’s eyes.  Saliva was dripping from her mouth and nostrils onto his pubic area.  Her beautiful face displayed not only her fear and pain but also her yearning to be treated that way.  Her lips had grown puffy and her large breasts rose and fell as she fought to replenish her air supply.

    Christine felt light headed and disoriented from the lack of oxygen to her brain.  She also realized she was aroused.  Her sex screamed for the attention of her hand but that would enrage Maurice.  This had to be all about him and nothing for her.  He would take a cane out of the closet and beat her black and blue if her hand strayed to her pussy.

     “Say it,” said Maurice knowing the answer would continue to be No until she was too exhausted and terrified to refuse.

      Once again, Christine endured the cruel lack of oxygen made worse by the pressure of Maurice’s cock pressing against the lining of her throat.  The time he added to her misery by placing his hand around her throat and squeezing hard increasing the pressure on his embedded cock. 

      “Say it,” repeated Maurice allowing her to gasp for breathe.

      “I’m a fat stupid American whore,” said Christine her will finally broken.

      “Again,” demanded Maurice.

      “I’m a fat stupid American whore,” said Christine.

      “Yes, you are.  Now, come here and open your ugly mouth and stick out your tongue for your reward,” said Maurice.

      Christine moved up on the bed lying on her back beside Maurice.  He rolled over on top of her taking hold of her nipples and flattening them between his thumb and forefinger.  In acute pain, she opened her mouth and extended her tongue.

      “First, tell me you want it,” said Maurice.  “And make me believe you.”

      “Please, Maurice, I want you to spit in my mouth.  Do it for me, please.”

       Maurice smiled as he allowed a large gob of spit to slowly fall on his wife’s tongue.  She did not move holding it there.  He added several more gobs of sputum.  He could tell from the look in her eyes how much she yearned for this form of degradation.

       Maurice waited a few seconds before saying, “Swallow it.”

       She gulped down the slimy liquid.

      “How utterly depraved you are, my dear wife.  Finish me.”  Maurice said rolling onto his back.

       Christine returned to sucking Maurice’s cock.  This time he laid quietly, eyes closed, his arms by his side as his wife’s mouth made love to his manhood.  From experience she knew the techniques that would bring him to a quick and satisfactory orgasm.  It was only a few minutes before she felt his body jerk then relax as he slowly exhaled.  Semen discharged onto her tongue.  A loud sigh of male satisfaction filled their bedroom.  She sucked his urethra as she gently raised and squeezed his testicles seeking to milk as much as possible of the fluid into her mouth.  When the supply was exhausted she passed his semen over her taste buds savoring the flavor until finally she swallowed. 

     “Good night,” said Maurice turning off the television then rolling over to go to sleep.