Picturing Her Night Out-2

Trish flipped the camera to selfie mode. Her pretty face came on screen, dark hair messy and eyeliner a little smudged. From her bare shoulders and the mirror in the background reflecting her toned ass, he knew she was completely naked. She shifted her position and then angled the phone so he could see over her shoulder — to the profile of his wife whose lips energetically slid up and down five inches of the stranger’s nine-inch brown cock.

Trish smirked and ended the video.

Brad replayed it again, watching the reveal of the dress and Betsy’s back over and over. Her blonde head bounced rhythmically, her bare shoulder hunched slightly, and her wide flat ass sat on her calves and feet. She looked dick-achingly sexy like this: naked, kneeling, and sucking cock. Sucking someone else’s cock. The disparity of her softness, like the small curve of her love handles, to the hard muscles of the guy’s chest and abs was depravity exemplified. He continued until the video arrived at the profile view of her mouth, plump lips encircling the tanned shaft. Like the previous segment, Brad played and replayed the scene of his wife’s depraved act of wanton sexual deviancy.

After ten minutes, his entire groin and fist were soaked in slippery precum. He had kept bringing himself to the edge and backing away, fighting between succumbing to what he had and wanting to know more — to see how much further she’d gone.

Not bothering with a text, he video called his wife’s phone.

“What?” Trish panted, her blissful face coming on screen. For a second, Brad was taken aback. Trish’s toned and naked body straddled her husband’s as she energetically fucked herself onto his massive and thick cock. Her jiggling boobs were smaller than Betsy’s but much perkier, with pale pink nipples that contrasted his wife’s darker ones. But the differences didn’t stop there, extending to defined abdominals, tight hard-at-work thigh muscles, and a fully shaved slit. “I’m busy.”

“Sorry, I…” Brad gathered his thoughts, forcing his eyes and ears to ignore and drown out the sight and sounds of Trish and Dale fucking. “Please, I have to… can I please talk to Betsy?”

“Talk to her or watch her, ungh, finally get fucked by a real cock?” Brad stayed quiet but it was obvious from the wet faps of his jerking fist which one he really meant. “Mmm… that’s what I thought. Admit it, you baby-dicked loser. I want to hear you admit that you want to see your wife getting railed by a dick that puts your pathetic pecker to shame.”

“I want it,” Brad groaned.


“I want to see my wife fucking a real cock.”

“Keep going.”

“I’m a small-dicked failure whose wife deserves better than he can give.”

“Fuck, yes!”

“She should have cheated on me years ago for being such an overweight loser with a baby-dick.”

“Ah! Ah! Fuck! Nngh!” The muscles of Trish’s trim body tightened, abs clenching and thighs straining, as she tensed and scowled and came. Her orgasm was fast, powerful, and intense, and she snapped open her still blazing eyes once it passed, meeting Brad’s through the phone. “Come on, Dale,” she said and dismounted her husband with a grunt. “Let’s show this loser how a real cock fucks his wife.”

Trish reentered the guest room, and the sounds of two bodies slapping together hit Brad’s ears before he even saw them. “Hey, Betsy,” Trish hummed and turned the camera toward the bed. “Your husband wants to watch.”

“W-what?” Betsy gasped. She lifted her gaze to the camera, her face twisted half in shock, half in pleasure. “Oh, god. Honey, I’m so sorry.”

Brad exploded. His wife lay naked on her back. Her bare boobs floppy on her chest, her soft stomach a touch flatter in the horizontal position, her large thighs spread wide apart to show her trimmed muff of coarse brown hair. The vision of her like that was enough to push him over the edge as it was. But then there was the other half of it all. The equally naked well-built man between those thick legs, the muscles of defined and impressive pecs and biceps, and the hefty brown sausage pummeling Betsy’s slit, buried deep and jackhammering in and out with fast and powerful thrusts. That image rocketed the building cum inside of Brad outward, globs of it spewing up and drooling back down onto his belly, shaft, balls, and thighs.

Yet even after all that, he still remained hard. His small pecker rising like a distant mushroom cloud. Breath heavy, he resumed his stroking.

“Don’t apologize to him,” Trish sneered. She held the phone toward the couple on the bed, but Brad caught her reflection in the mirror across the room. She was bent over at the edge of the mattress, Dale taking her from behind. She tossed her head back and bit her lip before turning back to Betsy. “He should be apologizing to you.”

“But I’m… cheating on him.”


Brad audibly groaned, and his wife whimpered and clenched at the bedsheets, twisting them in her fists. Her cunt must have been drenched from how easily the stranger’s big brown cock fucked into her. With every impact of his hips, every plunge of his dick into her depths, her body shook and quivered, rippling with eroticism. She never looked hotter.

“Tell her,” Trish said with a gasp and a smile. “No, better yet, show her. Keep the camera on your pathetic little dick and tell your wife what you told me.”

Soft brown eyes hazed with arousal met his own lust-clouded ones. Fingers pumping at his aching cock, Brad lovingly and longingly stared at his wife… and then flipped his camera around. Betsy squealed and arched her back, thrusting her hips toward the stranger’s shaft. “I deserve to be cheated on,” Brad said, his chubby stomach and tiny pecker filling the screen. “I’m sorry you’ve had to settle on my tiny dick all your life.”

“See?” Trish said, her snarky voice brimming with fulfilled delight. “His pitiful little prick loves it.” She bowed her head, dark hair covering her face as she enjoyed her husband’s cock ravaging her. “God, you should have fucked Dale’s groomsman when you had the chance. Instead of wasting another year on this baby-dicked shit.”

Betsy whined and Brad groaned, a flash of heat enveloping him.

“You like knowing that don’t you? That I almost got your wife to cheat on you at my wedding.” The pace of Brad’s fingers on his short shaft answered for him, and Trish grinned maliciously through the mirror. “I know she felt his big dick during the slow dances, and it made her all horny. He almost got her back to his hotel room… but then she slipped off to you. At least that night led to me finally getting her to admit what a fucking disappointment you were.”

A strained moan rolled past his wife’s lips; the sound of embarrassment dosed with arousal. Brad echoed a similar hum and panted, “It did?”

“Uh-huh,” Trish said, her response laced with pleasure and barely audible behind the heavy sounds of fucking in the guest room. Brad descended into a tailspin of depravity hearing that one of the best sexual nights of his life was the lowest for his wife. “Tell him, Betsy,” Trish urged. Brad’s eyes rolled into his head over his dark fantasies stepping into reality. “Look at him beating that failure of a cock. He wants to hear it. He needs to hear it. Tell him.”

Through the camera, his wife watched him stroking his prick. She took in the messy and sticky state of him, subconsciously compared his pudgy gut and diminutive sized cock to the muscled body and fat brown sausage ravishing her, absorbed her husband’s excitement over her illicit and carnal betrayal. Her reluctant and shameful expression melted into one of serotonin-drenched surrender.

“It’s true. I tried to deny it for so long but that night, nnghh, you left me so unfulfilled.” He imagined Betsy lying on the hotel room bed after he conked out, awake and horny. He wondered if she fingered herself, thinking not about his useless dick but that groomsman’s cock that pressed against her as they slow danced. “When I talked to Trish about it a few months later, she said, oohhh, she said she always suspected you sucked in bed.” Betsy’s eyes fluttered. “I told her, ah, I told her that she was right and… she doesn’t know this but… it turned me on admitting it.”

Trish and Brad simultaneously cried out in pleasure. The perverse sounds wrapped heavy chains around Betsy’s core and dragged her further under.

“Every time she said something about you from then on, I listened to her more. Agreed with everything she said about you.” In the mirror, the dark-haired devil flashed a self-satisfied smile, delighting in knowing she had helped chip away at their marriage and lead Betsy down this path. The one that ended with her right here, on her back with her thick thigh spread and another man’s cock in her hole. “I never wanted to admit how small your cock was but after Trish’s wedding and now Vikram,” Betsy gasped, a powerful thrust from the at last identified stranger rocking her body, “I can’t keep pretending. It’s so small.”

“It feels good to finally hear her say it,” Trish hissed. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Brad groaned, his cock-slimed fingers fapping frantically. Even with how sexy Betsy looked — naked, her styled hair splayed out under her, a big dick stretching open her pussy — her humiliating words turned him on more than anything else. “She wasted so much time on my pathetic prick.”

“I really did,” Betsy agreed. “It makes me almost regret marrying you.” That simple statement edged Trish just far enough. The manipulative minx rolled her eyes back into her head and came on Dale’s dick. Under other circumstances, witnessing the way his wife’s best friend’s muscles tightened and became more defined when she orgasmed might have drawn Brad’s attention, but at this moment, all that mattered to him was the insults spewing forth from Betsy’s mouth. “I can’t believe until now the only dick that’s been inside me has been that tiny thing.”

Trish had collapsed forward onto the mattress following her climax. Dale still hammered away at her, but her cheek now lay pressed against the soft sheets, and she held the phone up at a lower angle. The change placed Betsy’s body mostly in view but left Vikram’s hard physique and powerful fuckstick off screen. It also gave Brad a close-up view of his wife’s heavy tits, her large thighs, and most importantly, her lust-ridden face. He couldn’t see the dick that was bringing her to levels of pleasure he never could, only the pleasure itself. Vocalized in her stinging statements and cries of passion.

“I used to think I liked it. But that’s just because, nnnggh, I didn’t know any better.”

“I knew you were a virgin when I asked you out,” Brad blurted. The secret thoughts he had buried for so long came gushing out of him. All the insecurities and self-doubt spilling out in an unending stream like precum. “I didn’t want you to have experienced another guy because I knew my shrimp dick couldn’t compare. It’s also why I didn’t push you for anything sexual for so long.” Brad grunted, just the thought of what he was about to say nearly bringing him to the peak. “It wasn’t because I was nice. I just wanted us to date long enough that you wouldn’t break up with me once you saw how small I was.”

For a handful of seconds, the only sounds were an amused, “Wow,” from Trish and the rhythmic slaps of four bodies in the midst of carnal delights. Then, Betsy glanced at him with the eyes of a woman changed, a hint of that disdain he always saw in Trish glowering in his wife’s gaze. “I should have, you baby-dicked loser. At least now I know what a real cock feels like, and I’m never going back to your small, pathetic, shrimp-sized dick.”

Betsy gasped, turning her eyes away from her husband and toward the cock filling her pussy. “God, he’s so big.” Vikram’s speed had reached a fevered pitch and she groaned and panted, barreling toward something Brad could never give her. “I faked every orgasm I ever had with you,” she said, her breath fast and shallow. “You never made me cum once.” Her thick thighs spread even wider, and Brad could make out the barest glimpse of her lower lips wrapped around a brown shaft. “But this big cock is about to.”

Brad’s fingers were a manic blur on his slimy prick. He twisted and writhed on the bed, drowning in the sick perversity of witnessing his wife about to experience her first-ever penetrative orgasm. And it was going to be with another man. One with a dick that put his to shame. Betsy’s squeals and cries reached a speedy clip. Her nose scrunched and her eyes clenched. Her body jiggled and bounced from the power of Vikram’s fucks. She opened her mouth, sucked in a breath, and–

The camera flipped around, Trish’s sinister face grinning at him from against the sheets. A scream of pure bliss and pleasure erupted from off screen. “Sorry, loser, that’s something you’re never going to get to see. Don’t call back.” Betsy’s wail of ecstasy cut off as Trish ended the call.

Brad came.

Hours later, the chime of his phone woke him from his cum-covered slumber. He had passed out after his second orgasm, his deflated dick barely peeking out from a nest of stuck-together pubes. I’m extending my stay, The message said. I’ve got years of cocks to catch up on but don’t worry, I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures for you to finger your tiny dick to. A shrimp emoji ended it.

Placing his phone on the dresser, Brad rolled over after responding with a thumbs up and closed his eyes. His marriage would never be the same and he honestly couldn’t wait for Betsy to eventually return home and degrade and demean him right to his face. In the meantime, he was glad at the very least that he’d keep getting pictures of his wife’s continuing nights out.

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