Cheesecake

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I respect and appreciate my readers. That's why I'm going to put this at the top. This Valentine's Day story is a cuckold tale. I know that many of the people who enjoy my other stories may not like this one. It is vastly different from the other stories I've written for this site (except, of course, To Have and To Cuckold), so please don't take them into consideration when deciding if you should read this. Our time is precious, and I respect everyone's. So, that is my warning.

A guy emailed me and asked if I could pen a story containing his fantasy. I found it interesting enough to take the story on. I won't name him (in case he doesn't want to be named), but I wanted to thank him for allowing me to get inside his head for a while. He was patient with me and my questions and didn't take offense when a few of them sounded "judgy".

He helped me out in a big way, both with the story and with understanding a relationship that is completely different than what I have. Thank you.

For those of you still with me, thank you for reading. Feel free to comment.

***

Marcus pulled his hips back, allowing his dick to fall out of Irene's pussy. His rigid staff was slick and glistening with her juices.

"Don't stop!" she whimpered as she lifted her head and looked at him with pleading eyes.

She looked so sexy in the moonlight. Here she was, laying on her back in the bed of his truck. A thin sheen of sweat seemed to make her skin glisten angelically.

She was no angel, though. Right now, she was the picture of debauchery. Her red polished fingernails dug into her thighs as she gripped her raised legs and held them open. Small, pink panties dangled from one of her ankles as her sandals hung in the air. Her hairless pussy gaped in surprise at the sudden absence of the cock that was just hammering away inside of it. The thin sundress, which had buttons all the way down front, was completely undone and opened. This left her taut stomach and braless, erect nipples exposed to the warm night air.

With a look of frustration, Irene cried, "Baby, I'm close! Why are you stopping?"

Marcus teased her by tapping the head of his dick on her clit. A ragged breath escaped her lips as she looked down between her legs. Seeing his fully erect cock bouncing on her pussy sent a shiver through her.

Looking back up at him, she ordered, "Put it back in."

"No." he said defiantly. "Not until you say it."

"What?" she shrieked.

"I want to hear you say it."

"Say what?"

With a knowing grin, he simply answered, "You know."

She gave him an incredulous, unbelieving glare, hoping he wasn't really doing this NOW. She did know what he wanted to hear; what his big fat ego wanted her to say. And worse still, he was not above using her current state as leverage to get his ego stroked.

"Ugh!" she groaned in exasperation as her head fell back. The orgasm that was right there was slipping away. In desperation, she whined, "Please, Mark. Just..."

"Not until you say it."

While she panted heavily and weighed her options, her pussy was pulsing with the promise of what it was owed. Instead of the satisfying explosion that it was expecting, there was an empty feeling where a dick should have been.

She wanted to rebel. She wanted to resist. This was blackmail, goddammit! Extortion of the highest caliber! Only a cruel and heartless person would use an orgasm as a weapon. He was nothing more than a terrorist, no different from the likes of ISIS.

The dignified thing to do would be to push him off and pull up her panties. Her self-respect demanded that she use the U.S.'s stance on negotiating with terrorists. Sending him home with blue balls would teach him! He can see how much he overplayed his hand while he is jerking off in front of his computer to porn.

There was only one problem with that plan; and it was a big one.

SHE. WAS. RIGHT. THERE!

Her body was practically humming. All week long she'd been anticipating this little rendezvous. Her body needed this. It needed it!

As the raging inferno inside of her threatened to cool, she let out sigh. Then, she surrendered.

"You're better than my husband." she mumbled.

With a smirk, he said, "Say it again."

"YOUR DICK IS BETTER THAN MY HUSBAND'S!" she yelled, her voiced filled with a mixture of lust and irritation.

Placing the bulbous head of his cock right at her wet entrance, he asked, "Does he fuck you like me?" Then he slipped it inside and watched her vagina swallow it. He didn't push any further though. He just stood there playing "just the tip" using small, baby thrusts.

This was agony! He wasn't going to be happy until she completely humiliated herself!

Irene was panting. She couldn't take it. The last bit of her defiance fell. With complete and vulnerable submission, she looked him eyes and honestly answered, "No one fucks like you, baby."

With a satisfied smirk, he suddenly lurched forward, cramming his cock into her slick walls. She grunted, "UHHHHH!" as her hands grabbed his buttocks to hold him in place. After a moment to relish the full feeling, she released him to do what he was here to do.

I just disrespected my husband for you. You'd better make it worth it.

As if hearing her private command, he grabbed her by the ankles, pulled them together, and slung them up on his right shoulder. This made her pussy tighten nicely around his cock. Then, gripping her thighs for leverage, he pulled her into him as he thrust forward. His cock forcefully filled her to the hilt before quickly retreating. Then it did it again.

And again. And again.

Slap! Slap! Slap! He pounded her with purpose, their skin colliding and causing the meat of her butt to ripple. Her cries permeated the night air.

There is a beauty that truck owners know of; one that is denied smaller vehicles. Truck owners aren't bound by the limitations of paved roads. They can travel to places that aren't on local maps.

Why did this matter? Because the open field that he found a couple of months ago was far off the beaten path. It was perfect for fucking the shit out of his married lover and allowing her to scream at the top of her lungs without fear of being discovered.

They were all alone without another soul for miles. No one would hear her cries of ecstasy.

"You want me to fuck you?" he asked as he looked down at her.

"Yes!"

"You like when I fuck you hard?"

"YES!"

"You gonna cum on my dick?"

"OH GAWD, YES!"

She was close; so close. He could see it; could feel it.

Her pussy was soaking wet and was leaving a white ring around the shaft of his cock. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but her mouth was open as she braced for his powerful penetrations. Moans of pleasure grew louder and more intense as her body succumbed to him.

"Keep...doing...that!" she begged between moans.

Her toes did not know if they wanted to curl inside her sandals or spread apart. Marcus turned his head slightly to look at her feet bouncing on his shoulder. Like any spoiled, upper-class housewife, her pedicure was marvelous. French-tipped toes on petite, smooth feet. To add to their overall sexiness, the left one had a tattoo of a rose. She'd gotten it on a dare long ago, back in her college days.

It drove her lover crazy. Her husband too; but he wasn't here right now. Marcus was.

Never stopping his thrusting, he worked the sandal off her tattooed foot and tossed it over her head onto the bed of the truck. Then, he took her big toe into his mouth and sucked.

That was all she wrote. Her head lifted and her hands balled up into tight fists as her body started to tremble uncontrollably. With wide eyes and clenched teeth, she loudly moaned out, "AUUGGHHH!"

Marcus felt her orgasm. Her hot pussy tightened around his shaft and seemed to flood with her juices. It was like she was milking his cock with wet velvet.

Watching her face contorted in pleasure was as sexy a sight as any man wants to see. Right now, she was the picture of what sex is supposed to be. Open. Vulnerable. Submissive. Powerful.

He was no longer able to maintain his own control. His body took ownership of itself, increasing the speed and force of his thrusting hips. A warm pressure started in his balls, but within seconds his entire cock was ready to explode

"Fuck baby. I'm gonna cum!" he panted in surprise at his helplessness to stop the runaway train.

Irene's brain wasn't working. She was still feeling the effects of her atomic pussy. The fact that he kept pounding her through her orgasm made it last even longer.

If she was thinking, she'd remember that tonight was the first time she broke one of her rules. It was a hard-set rule; one that she put in place for practical reasons.

Maybe it was the spirit of cupid causing her temporary insanity on Valentine's Day. Maybe, in the back of her mind, she secretly wanted this moment. She didn't know. All she knew was that she did something that she promised never to do.

Earlier tonight, after Marcus had eaten her out to an explosive orgasm, she stopped him from penetrating her when he was ready to. His eyes were filled with question marks until her intentions became clear. Then, a smile spread on his face.

She reached down between them and grabbed his cock. While looking him lovingly in his eyes, she carefully rolled his condom off. The rubber crinkled up in her hand before she tossed it out into the night.

"Do it." she commanded him after her promise to her husband was broken. "And don't be gentle about it."

And now, nearly a half hour later, Marcus gave a final grunt as he released his seed into her pussy.

***

She'd been quiet ever since they finished fucking. She dressed silently and sat passively in the passenger seat as he drove her home.

When they pulled up to the gate that separated her community from the rest of the world, the guard on duty started to walk over to the truck. It definitely didn't belong here, and his eyes were suspicious.

However, when Irene waved to him, recognition set into his eyes. She had to pretend not to notice the hint of judgement as he cast another pointed look at her driver.

With a tip of his hat, he turned back towards his booth. A few seconds later, the huge metal doors slowly started to part.

Her friendly smile disappeared once they were alone again. As the truck drove down the streets of her neighborhood, Marcus couldn't help looking around with a mixture of envy and antipathy.

Every house was an uber expensive carbon copy of the one before it. Striped, manicured grass. Perfectly trimmed shrubbery. An aura of snobby, nose-in-the-air entitlement. It was like everyone was trying to out-rich each other. The entire scene looked like a trailer for a "Stepford Wives" sequel.

He pulled into the circle driveway of her massive house and stopped right in front of the fountain. Without even a goodbye, she reached for the door handle of his truck and was about to get out.

"Irene, you okay?" Marcus asked after he lightly grabbed her arm to keep her from exiting.

Blandly, she answered, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"No, you're not. What's wrong?" He asked unconvinced.

"Nothing."

"Irene."

"DROP IT! OKAY?" she snapped suddenly, yanking her arm from his grip. However, she didn't get out. She just sat there with her face screwed up in anger. Finally, she looked at him and asked, "Why did you make me say those things about my husband?"

With confusion etched in his face, he said, "Wait a minute; that's what all this is about? Babe, that was just dirty talk."

"No, it's not, and you know it." she said incredulously. "I've let you call me your slut, your dirty whore, and your cock-sucking MILF. I love talking dirty with you. It's something I don't get to do with Oscar. But belittling him is NOT dirty talk; nor is it sexy."

"He's not even here to hear you say it!" Marcus exclaimed defensively. Then, unable to hide his contempt, he added, "He's at home on VALENTINE'S DAY, lying in bed and waiting for you to finish fucking me. That's not a husband. It's not even a man. It's a fucking Labrador!"

She was so stunned by his disrespect that all she could do was sit there and stare at him with incredulity all over her face. She was truly at a loss for words.

When she found the words to say, they were, "You're a real asshole. You know that? You don't know anything about Oscar, or my marriage!"

Marcus could only nod his head and make a disapproving sucking sound with his teeth.

The two sat in the truck and let silence overtake them. Irene was aware that at any moment, all she had to do was pull the handle on the door and free herself. She could escape into the safety of her house.

But she was planted in that seat. She didn't know why she stayed there. Maybe she was waiting for him to apologize; to say something that would make her feel better. Or in the very least be less hurtful

But, he didn't. Instead, he posed a question; the very one she didn't want to face.

"Why did you say it?"

Despite the question being a valid one, her response was intense. The breath from her lungs seemed to be caught in her throat. Words tried to form, but they seemed to trip over each other as they stumbled from her mouth.

"What? I...ah...I don't...what?"

For her, his seemingly innocuous question was like a voyeur invading her privacy by peering into her bathroom while she was showering. He peeked into the secret room of her mind and found her naked truth.

Her next reaction was defensive. "Because you were blackmailing me with it, that's why! I was about to cum, and you used it against me!"

Marcus looked at her and observed her body language. Her eyes and demeanor seemed to lack the conviction that her words were saying. This righteous indignation was all for show.

She looked terrified, like she'd been found out.

"You're lying. That's not true." He said knowingly.

Her face instantly filled with anger; or at least what was supposed to be anger. "Yes, it is!" She said indignantly. "You stopped right when I was about to cum, and you refused to continue unless I did as you commanded!"

Unless I did as you commanded. It's funny how the framing of a person's words can give insight to the inner workings of their mind.

With a confident smile, he chuckled at her, making her even more angry and defensive. "What's so funny?!" she spat.

"You are." He said simply. He stared at her intensely, as if challenging her. Then he let the lack of further words work on her while he studied her pretty face.

Just as he thought, she was anxious, and growing more so by the second.

After a contemplative breath, he said, "You said what you said because you wanted to say it."

Before she could jump into her premeditated list of denials that she told herself, he put his finger on her lips to stop her from talking. And just as he suspected, she shut up.

With a knowing smirk, he said, "You could have simply told me to take you home. I would have. I would never force myself onto a woman that didn't want me. But you didn't; instead, you chose to stay and do what I wanted. Why?"

"Because..."

He had her dead to rights, and she knew it. Her breasts rose and fell with each heavy breath that she took as she stared at Marcus with wide eyes.

But she never finished her sentence.

Leaning in close to her, he said, "I'll tell you why. Because you like me commanding you. It gives you permission to do or say the things that you secretly want to but are scared to." Then, almost nostalgically, he said, "You remember the first time we kissed? You wanted it from the first moment we met. I could tell. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. I had to relieve you of the guilt by taking away the choice."

"I...I..." she stammered.

"You what?"

After gulping, she said, "I have to go. Oscar's probably waiting for me."

Marcus nodded, but only as a gesture of acknowledging what she said. He didn't say anything, allowing the truck to fall back into silence. Moments ticked by with the two of them just sitting there.

Finally, he reached across her, grabbed the handle to her door, and opened it. Then, he gently lifted her chin with the crook of his finger and kissed her. No tongue; just softly touching his lips to hers.

When he pulled back, he looked her deeply in her eyes and whispered, "Tell Lassie I said hi."

"Marcus..."

He cut her off with another kiss. Then he said, "Happy Valentine's Day, Irene."

"Thank you." she said numbly.

He pulled back to his side and let her go. She gathered her flowers and chocolate and stepped down from his truck.

She stood there until his truck turned the corner of her street and disappeared. Then she finally let out the breath she didn't even know she was holding. Her hand went to her mouth, and her middle finger touched the spot on her bottom lip that Marcus kissed.

She could still taste him; feel him. And when she closed her eyes, his cologne smelled like he was all around her.

The butterflies in her stomach refused to be still. They were in a tizzy, making her feel like a schoolgirl who just found out that her crush liked her.

She missed him already.

Finally, she turned around and looked at her house. She wasn't sure if she was happy to be home, or disappointed. A part of her wished she could stay in Marcus' truck, go home with him, and spend Valentine's Day in his arms.

Irene quietly made her way into the house. Everything was dark, but she'd been living here for about 10 years. Honestly, she could navigate her way through here blindfolded.

She felt along the wall until her fingertips found the switch. With a flick of her wrist, her living room was bathed in light. Her eyes perused the tastefully expensive furniture of her life. Every lamp, chair, and table were handpicked by her to fill this family room with the ambience of class and comfort. Some of these pieces even came from overseas.

Looking down at the bouquet in her hand, she tried to decide where it would fit. The flowers were colorful and pretty, but the clash between them and her furniture made them unsuitable for residing here. Besides, they wouldn't last long anyway. Trying to make them a fixture in here would only turn their beauty into an eyesore to be removed later.

So, she flicked the lights back off and headed upstairs.

As she stood at the end of her darkened second story hallway, she became aware of the uncomfortable feeling of Marcus' cum slowly seeping from her.

She needed to wash. She couldn't go to her husband like this, reeking of another man. Could she? What would Oscar say about her sloppy pussy? She broke one of their hard rules tonight, and the evidence of it was ruining her thin, lacey Victoria Secret panties.

After tonight, she'd probably have to throw them away. It would be a shame since they were Oscar's favorite.

Unfortunately for her, in a house with two and a half bathrooms, she couldn't shower without her husband detecting her. As fate would have it, Oscar thought it was sweet to lovingly surprise his wife with a remodeled bathroom for Valentine's Day, complete with a Vanity. Construction for it starts tomorrow, but it was all taped off and prepped. And the bathroom downstairs...well, that was the half. It only had a toilet and a sink.

The only shower available was the one in the master bedroom.

Fuck.

As she crept into her room, she looked toward her bed. Her husband appeared to be asleep. With a sigh of relief, she placed her flowers and candy on the nightstand next to her side of the bed and slipped into the bathroom. She carefully eased the door closed behind her.