Beaty and the Bombshell

[This story is a flash-forward scene in Trophy Husband]

—

I was in agony.

Amanda had told me that since we’d been back in the U.S. and fucking all our girls, I had become substantially less sensitive to her–something she was not fond of, per our agreement. The solution to this problem, she enforced, was a hard reset.

I wasn’t allowed to cum for a week.

I had been given a fresh supply of semen volume and testosterone-boosting supplements, and it didn’t help that Amanda held firm to her law that I was not allowed to wear clothing in the house. She and Kiya refrained from teasing me too much, but they still had plenty of fun at my expense. They remained in clothing for my sanity, but still enjoyed the occasional grab of my ass, or brush of the hand against my cock. The true torture, though, was that Amanda would hold my package between her feet, and instruct Kiya to pump my morning wood with her small hands until it leaked every morning before they left for work, leaving me writhing in bed with cum trickling down my shaft. I was not allowed to finish myself and had to sit in bed until the cum dried, or Amanda would extend my chaste period.

It felt like I was going to die. My cock, unceasingly plump and heavy, dangled between my legs and slapped my thighs with every step around the house. Every so often, I would think about my wife, or Kiya, or our girls, and I would get hard instantly. During these moments it would pulse up and down with my heartbeat, and freely dribble cum on the floor. I practiced breathing exercises to calm myself down, but they had little effect. Mostly, I just kept myself busy around the house. I couldn’t even say how many times I cleaned the bathroom. I kept the laundry meticulous, and the dishes were never dirty. I even scrubbed the baseboards and the ceiling trim.

Truly, the most excruciating part of the whole ordeal was my balls. They were so full of cum that they bulged with massive veins, and the weight of them ached painfully. After a few days of complaining, Amanda let me wear underwear during the day to ease the effects of gravity on them, but once we went to bed, I was to be naked again.

Amanda had told me that Miranda and Alexis would be the lucky girls to relieve me after my celibacy, and I was looking forward to seeing them again. I daydreamed about Alexis’ flexibility and was haunted by Miranda’s chest and mouth. It was worse since I had to imagine what Miranda felt like, since she had only milked me during our last session, and hadn’t let me fuck her. I hadn’t seen them since the wedding, and Miranda had told me that I needed to ‘pay her back with cum.’ Alexis had developed a cum fetish as well, and I was bursting at the seams to give mine to them.

The day finally came, and after Amanda and Kiya left for work, I jumped into the shower, shaved and scrubbed, and quickly got out. I checked my phone to be certain I would be there on time—Miranda had sent me a text the night before telling me to arrive an hour before noon in loose shorts. She had also sent a tasteful picture of her massive breasts, causing me to lose sleep tossing and turning while I thought about them, my hard, leaking cock a nuisance to the bedsheets.

Once I was presentably fuckable, I hopped in my car and sped over to her house. I got to her door just in time and rang the doorbell just before eleven. She opened the door almost immediately.

She was as beautifully curvy as ever, a thick blonde bombshell wearing a dark blue, one-piece lingerie set. Her breasts were attempting to split the fabric at the seams, their weight and size almost overpowering the feeble cups that supported them. Her cleavage was deep and alluring, forcing my eyes to stare, my mouth to salivate, and my cock to drip.

“You’re almost late. I figured you’d be early.” Miranda quipped.

I looked up at her amused eyes and pouted.

“But I wasn’t late,” I whined.

“I know. Come in, sweetie. You look ready to eat.” She grinned ravenously and welcomed me inside.

Her house was just as fancy as I remembered, and it made me equally as nervous as the last time I had been there.

“Let’s go to the living room.” She said and began walking past the foyer.

I followed without a sound, watching her jiggling, round ass that ate the lace sway as she stepped. She stopped, and we found Alexis sitting on the couch, adorned in a matching two-piece blue lingerie set. She was tall, petite, blonde, and her panties clung to her prominent hip bones as she lounged, her toned abs flexing beneath small, pert breasts. She stood up and posed for my benefit next to Miranda, and they grinned devilishly at me.

I gazed back, dumbfounded and erect, the loose shorts Miranda had requested doing their job in not letting me hide it. When they stepped towards me, I flinched. They laughed, evidently enjoying their effect on me, and approached me nonetheless. Alexis grabbed my cock as Miranda pressed her chest against my side, trying to bury my arm in her cleavage.

“He really hasn’t cum for a week, huh?” Alexis murmured, feeling my steel flesh through the thin fabric.

“I–I will right now if you keep going.” I stuttered, feeling precum gather at my tip.

Miranda shook her head with a broad smile, her tongue on her teeth.

“Not yet.”

I shuddered, and Miranda stripped my shirt off as Alexis dropped my pants to the floor. I hurried to kick off my shoes, and Alexis abruptly fell to her knees and took me deep into her mouth.

“FU- UCK–” I yelped as my cock slid down her open throat.

She forced her face against my pelvis and gagged, her tongue wetting my balls, but Miranda abruptly grabbed her hair and yanked her off.

“I still haven’t felt this cock inside me yet.” She chided the young girl playfully.

“Sorry.” Alexis smiled sheepishly.

Miranda grabbed my arms, sat on the floor, and pulled me on top of her as she fell into the plush carpet. My cock rubbed against the soft lace between her thick thighs, and it was already wet.

“Be a good boy and fuck me,” she said grabbing my head.

She forced my face into her pillowy breasts and slid her other hand between us.