It’s live! My new erotic short story Cuck’d for Christmas is available for purchase on Amazon, and to celebrate here is a sexy little excerpt. Enjoy!
Marissa gazed down at her husband’s head tucked neatly between her silken thighs, spread just enough on the bed to allow Thom access to her hungry pussy. Thom’s brow wrinkled beneath the beads of sweat forming there, nose nestled in Marissa’s smooth mound. His committed tongue stroked little starbursts of pleasure across her clit, eliciting tiny whimpers from Marissa’s throat that begged for more…more…
…far more than Thom could give her.
More than once Marissa found her gaze drifting back to the TV Thom insisted on always keeping on in their bedroom. The Weather Channel had promised a white Christmas and they had delivered on that promise a day early. Christmas Eve, and the moving storm front, promised to stall holiday traffic across the county.
“You okay, babe?”
Marissa gave a little start when she realized Thom was watching her beneath heavy-lidded blue eyes. She found herself looking him over as she so often did these days—his sandy blond hair swept sweatily to the side of his clean-shaven, almost boyish face, his broad shoulders and lean, ropey muscles that rippled as he pawed hungrily at the insignificant organ between his legs.
Thom waited on bended knee like a puppy waiting for a command, forever concerned about her pleasure. Ordinarily he did wonders with his tongue and mouth and fingers, making Marissa cum until she trembled in orgasm before satisfying himself with her cunt. How could she tell him that tonight he simply wasn’t enough?
“I’m fine,” Marissa said, grateful for the excuse of a police siren that lilted distantly on the icy night outside. “I just can’t remember if I locked the door or not. Could you run down and check for me?”
She wondered if her husband put voice to the lie, if he sensed the undulating need swelling in the pit of her belly. But in typical Thom fashion he just sighed and rose naked from the bed.
“Sure, be right back.”
Good old, predictable Thom—non-confrontational, non-aggressive, a pacifist in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom.
When she was alone Marissa threw herself back on their bed. What the hell’s wrong with me? She told herself it was the stress of the holidays that kept her from focusing on their play, but Marissa knew it was much more than that. Five years or marriage and Thom had never made her come, at least not with that puny thing between his legs—more veins and head than any real meat.
Thom knew it, too, and that only seemed to make it worse, to add to his masculine shame. Sure he stepped it up other ways sexually, but in the end Marissa was never quite sated. And tonight all of that pent up need seemed to pool in the pit of her belly like overflow from a flood. If Thom ever asked her what she wanted for Christmas Marissa might have said, “The most mind-blowing fuck of my life!”
But Thom never asked, and Marissa could never bring herself to tell.
Marissa looked down at her naked, thirty year-old body, her tits heavy and flushed with the need burning her from the inside out. Long black hair curled in ringlets around her breasts and she gave one of the silver rings spearing her nipples a harsh tug she felt deep in the folds of her cunt. Her back arched. Reaching between her legs she found her slit, still wet with Thom’s saliva, excruciatingly empty. Not for the first time Marissa imagined someone other than Thom filling that void.
A strange scuffling noise downstairs pulled her from her fantasies of bigger cock.
When he didn’t answer Marissa reached for her discarded robe on the floor, too aware of the sticky dampness coating her thighs.
“Thom, I swear to baby Christ you’d better not be fucking with me.”
What am I talking about? Thom never fucks with anyone.
Marissa padded barefoot down the hall, robe swinging open behind her as she descended the stairs. She always went all out for Christmas—garland, lights, presents, and, the show-stopper, the fresh cut Christmas tree she and Thom had picked out together a few nights before, fully loaded with ornaments, ribbon, twinkling lights, and displayed in full-view in front of the bay window. The smell of pine needles and fresh-baked gingerbread cookies still cooling on the kitchen counter filled her nose when she rounded the corner.
Standing in their living room near the fireplace was a man. Firelight twinkled in his dark eyes as he drew Marissa in with his gaze. He looked Latino, a head taller than her husband and thick with muscle that bulged beneath the orange jumpsuit he wore. One powerful arm hooked around his throat held Thom’s naked body at bay.
“No sudden moves lady or I’ll snap this vato’s neck right here.”
Marissa couldn’t move if she wanted. Panic threatened to cripple her right there in the living room. Danger crackled on the air like electricity, sending a cold chill rippling through her.
“Take anything you want.” She struggled to keep her voice level. “Just don’t hurt him.”
“Fresh clothes,” the stranger growled, his voice tinged with an accent. “Rapita chica! Go!”
Marissa raced back upstairs, arousal replaced by adrenaline as she tore through the dresser drawers looking for something that might fit the intruder. He was so much bigger than Thom, especially through his chest. None of Thom’s shirts would fit. In the end she settled on a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else.
A flash from the television caught her attention. Clutching Thom’s sweats to her chest, Marissa eyed the words emblazoned across the bottom of the screen.
Manhunt Underway for Escaped Inmate