You Can’t Rewind Reality

What's going on?

I almost smile, because Larry showered with me before we left, and he watched me as I chose what I'm wearing now. He knows what panties I'm wearing. He watched Gunnar kiss me. He watched Gunnar finger me. He heard what Gunnar said, and I glance at him, saying nothing, my heart fluttering, my skin burning. On fire. Larry hesitates for a second, as if he's waiting for me to answer, his eyes on me, and I smile.

"I'm here because this is your fantasy, Larry," I say, my voice almost a whisper. "You've spent weeks and weeks making sure I watch those movies with you. Weeks and weeks telling me this is what you want." I smile as I turn towards Larry, move close, my arms around his neck, my body against his, pressed against his, feeling his hardness against me, and I move my hips, just a little, so that he knows I know how hard he is.

How excited he is.

"This is reality, Larry, and you've met Gunnar. He'd like to turn your fantasy into reality, with me, if that's what you want." I kiss him again, a gentle brushing of my lips against his, a flicker of my tongue. "It's my Valentine's Day present for you, Larry, if you really want to make your fantasy become reality." He's so hard against me, and I press myself against him.

"You can take me home instead, Larry," I breathe, my lips brushing his. "But if you take me inside that hotel room, you know your fantasy's going to become reality and you won't have to do a thing, and neither will I."

My nose brushes Larry's, and I want to moan out loud with excitement. I know what I'm doing to Larry when I whisper in his ear. "And you know why, Larry. Because Gunnar's a bull, and once we're inside that hotel room and he walks in, I'll do whatever he wants me to do, Larry. Anything he wants me to do, while you watch."

I reach down with one hand, between us, and brush his erection. "While he makes a cuck out of you, Larry. Is that what you'd like, Larry? Would you really like to watch Gunnar..." I roll those words across my tongue, thick and sweet. "...fuck me?"

"I... I..." Larry stutters.

My lips trace their way along Larry's jawline, all the way to his ear, and my next words are a whisper. "You've been fantasizing about this for weeks, Larry, haven't you? Months maybe, and you know you really want to watch him fuck me.You do, don't you, Larry? You really want to watch someone else fuck me in front of you. I know you do."

I like saying that. I enjoy it. Larry's been saying things like that to me for weeks and weeks now, telling me how he'd like to watch someone else fuck me, describing what he'd like them to do to me, and now I'm enjoying saying those words to him. There's a difference though, and that difference has a name.

Gunnar.

Gunnar is real. Gunnar is reality, he's not a fantasy, he's not a movie we're watching together, he's not whispers in the night. He's real, and Larry has to make a decision. I know the decision I want him to make. Larry has to decide though; does he want his fantasy to become reality, or will it remain a fantasy forever? If he doesn't want to, I won't ask again. It's tonight, or never, for Larry.

Larry knows that too, and he shudders against me.

"He's your Valentine's Day present, Larry," I murmur, my arms around his neck, my body melding to his. "If you want."

I slip the room access card into his hand. "But only if you do. If you don't, we can go home now."

"Maybe a drink," Larry chokes out.

"That's a good idea," I murmur. He does look as if he needs one, and I do understand. He doesn't want to say outright that he wants to go into that hotel room. If he said that, he'd be saying he wanted to be a cuck, and how many husbands really want to say that? I don't know, but I know Larry. He's scared.

He's scared, but he wants to.

He swallows, he reaches out, and he uses the access card to open the door. He leads me inside. He leads me by the hand, walking into that hotel room. I follow, and with every step, my excitement and anticipation grow. With every step, my labia slides, reminding me of how slippery wet I am, and that I'm wearing those bead panties that cover nothing. Every step I take reminds me of that.

"Just for a drink," he says, taking my coat. His hands are shaking.

"Just for a drink," I say, smiling, as he hangs my coat in the closet beside the door. His own coat joins mine.

"Let's... let's go in," he adds, his voice shaking. His hand is sweaty as he takes mine again, leading me deeper into the suite.

I gaze around. It's really a rather luxurious hotel suite. It should be for what I paid. Real paintings on the wall, not just prints. A black leather couch and chairs, what looks like real Persian rugs, and I know that because we have one in our bedroom. There's a beautiful wooden bar. The bedroom is an alcove off the room we're in, with louvered doors of polished wood. I part the louvers and look, Larry beside me.

The bed's huge, king-sized, with white linen sheets, the bedding already turned down. My heart beats even faster, because I know what will happen on that bed. On those sheets. Probably on the bed, although Gunnar could choose anywhere. I step over to the bed and press down.

"The mattress is really firm," I say, and I smile over my shoulder at Larry, suddenly breathless. Larry knows why I like firm mattresses.

Larry's breathing is hard, he's panting, I can hear him, and he has that piece of paper in his hand. The paper that Gunnar gave him.

"What does it say?" I ask.

"What?" Larry asks.

"The note Gunnar gave you," I ask, even more breathlessly. "What does it say?"

"Oh," he says, and he holds it up. Opens it. Reads. "Oh." He holds it out for me.

I take it and read. Gunnar's handwriting is a beautiful copperplate. "Larry, make yourself a drink, and sit down. Tiffany can look around, and wait for me wherever she likes."

"Larry, the bar's over there, behind us. Why don't you get a drink for yourself and sit down," I say. I don't add that he looks like he really needs a drink. I'm sure he knows. He's sweating. There's beads of sweat across his forehead.

"Okay," Larry says. He's breathing harder, almost panting. "Would you like a drink?"

"No thanks," I say, smiling, breathing a little faster myself. I turn back towards him, my arms vining around my husband's neck. My body is against his, and I can feel how hard his erection is. I enjoy his hands on my butt, gentle and loving. Somehow, I doubt Gunnar's hands are going to be gentle and loving on me. I can't wait for Gunnar's hands on me. Will he be rough with me? Will he take me hard? What will he do to me? I shiver, a little scared, but only a little.

"Tiffany?" Larry does sound nervous. His body trembles against mine. Is he scared? I don't think so. Is he nervous? Is he excited? Probably both of those? I really want to know what he's thinking.

"Larry," I murmur. "Do you really want to stay?" My lips brush his, teasing him, and I ruffle his hair with my fingers.

"I'm your wife. Do you really want to watch Gunnar..." I hesitate, and while I hesitate, I kiss him again, another brush of my lips, uncertain how to phrase it. "...you know. He's going to, when he gets here. You know that's what he wants to do."

I smile, but behind that smile, my insides spasm, and my sex almost pulses. That anticipation inside me flowers into an excitement that melts me.

"You've met Gunnar, Larry. He's such a bull. You know he is. You know if we stay here, he's going to do it to me right in front of you, and he's so big and strong."

Now it's me that's shivering, but I know I'm shivering with excitement and desire. I'm filled with desire, and if we stay, soon I'm going to be filled with Gunnar. "He's going to do it to me really hard, Larry. You know he is. Is that what you want him to do?"

I know all about bulls now too. I looked them up, and I know that's what Gunnar is. Gunnar's a bull, and Larry? Larry's a cuck, I know that now, too, and I think I know more about what Larry likes. A lot more about what excites my husband, and I do, I want to excite Larry. This is for him, as well as for me, and I'm sure I'm going to enjoy this now as much as Larry will. Maybe more. It's so exciting to tease Larry like this before Gunnar gets here.

I hope Gunnar takes a long time to get here. I hope Larry doesn't decide to leave.

My nose brushes Larry's. I look into his eyes, I tease his lips with mine, fleeting featherlight brushes, a flicker of my tongue. I'm waiting for him to answer, but he doesn't.

"Do you really want to watch him do that to me, Larry? You do, don't you? You'd like it if he's rough with me, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Larry groans at last, his fingers digging into my butt. I'm not sure, but I think that's the answer I want to hear. I'm here because I want to be, but I want Larry to want me to be here too. I want Larry to think that I'm here because I love him and I want to do what excites him. I do, but it excites me, too. A lot.

"I'm scared, Larry," I whisper, enjoying the way Larry shudders against me when he hears that. I am scared, too.

Larry's groan is wordless.

"You... I'll be here, Tiffany," he chokes out at last. I can feel his heart thumping. "I'll... I won't... I'll...."

I have no idea what Larry thinks he'll do, but I'm sure now that Larry's a cuck. We wouldn't even be in this room if he wasn't, and he saw Gunnar's hand on me. He ate those chocolate strawberries.

"Does that mean you want to do this, Larry? I whisper, my own heart thumping, and I move a little in his arms, move against him, melding myself even more closely to him, enjoying that rigid hardness I can feel through his trousers. "You really want Gunnar to...." I swallow. "...cuck you, Larry? With me?"

"I love you, Tiffany." Larry doesn't answer my question, which really is all the answer I need. Instead, he kisses me again, gently, so gently, holding me tight. Tight enough that his erection grinds against me through our clothing while his fingers knead my butt.

I wonder if Gunnar's fingers will knead my butt, or if he'll just fuck me.

"I love you too, Larry," I gasp, but I can't wait for Gunnar to arrive. I love Larry, but I want Gunnar to fuck me. I want Gunnar to be my bull tonight, right in front of Larry.

"I love you, Tiffany," Larry says again, and then he kisses me again. Another long slow gentle kiss, his mouth possessing mine, so sweetly. So lovingly. His tongue slips in, meets mine, dances with mine, and for a long moment I forget where we are, and what we're here for, at least until his lips part from mine.

"Larry," I gasp, my lips teasing his. "Do you really want to stay, or should we go home?"

We have time, I know we have time. Gunnar knows I want lots of time for Larry to think about this. About whether he really wants this, because I'm a good Chinese wife. I was a good Chinese girl, too. Not like Vicky. I never, not with anyone before Larry. Larry got what a Chinese husband expects.

What Larry wants now, though, I don't think that's what a good Chinese wife expects her husband to want her to do. Especially not on Valentine's Day. I shiver against Larry, and his erection pushes hard against me, sending more than shivers rippling through me. Larry's erection reminds me why I'm here. Why Larry's here, and I do want to make sure Larry really wants to be here.

It's like Gunnar said. There's fantasy, and there's reality. I know Larry's fantasies, I know them really well, but does he actually want to make them reality? I hope he does, I really do.

"Larry?" I murmur again, moving myself against his erection, just a little. Just enough to emphasize that I know how hard he is. "Should we go home now?"

"Guh," he chokes out, his hands pulling me hard against him.

"You know what's going to happen if we stay, Larry," I murmur. My nipples ache, but they feel better when I crush myself against his chest.

"I know," Larry manages to speak at last, his hands kneading my butt, harder now, no longer so gentle and loving, and I squirm hotly against him. Even more hotly.

"Mmmmmm." I squirm against Larry. He's so hard, but it's Gunnar's cock I want. I know he won't make love to me gently, not like Larry does. Gunnar's going to fuck me. He's going to use me. He's going to be my bull tonight, and I can't wait, and I really don't want to leave. I want Larry to stay. I want Larry to watch me. I want Gunnar to fuck me. I want to be everything I've never been in my life before.

Larry doesn't know that, but if he stays here, tonight, he will.

"You really do want us to stay, don't you?" I murmur. "You're so hard, aren't you?"

He groans as one of my hands caresses him through his trousers.

"I think I should get you a drink," I smile, twisting out of his arms, walking to the bar, and I pour him malt whiskey over ice, a large tumbler. He takes it from me, and gulps down the entire glass. I've never seen him do that before.

"Sit down while I get you another one, Larry," I say, smiling as he sits in one of those big leather chairs, and I pour him another one. Equally as large. He's watching me as I walk towards him. He's looking up at me as I slide onto that chair, my knees either side of him, straddling him, sitting on his lap facing him, handing him the tumbler.

He sips this time, but it's a large sip, and sitting here, he's not going anywhere in a hurry. I really don't want him going anywhere.

"Mmmmm," I say, smiling. "I think Gunnar will be here soon, Larry. Do you want really to wait for him?"

He looks at me wordlessly, and he nods, beads of sweat on his forehead. He drinks from that tumbler. Not a sip. A gulp.

My heart beat doubles in an instant, and my sex? That heat inside me fills me until my skin's tingling, everywhere, and my nipples swell and engorge to an aching rubbery hardness that pushes against the unlined material of that little black dress.

"Do you really want him to... to..." I can't say it myself. I want to say it, but it's so... I'm ashamed of myself, but I still want this to happen. Badly. I want this to happen so badly, and I know I'm a bad girl. A bad wife. A shameless wife. But I want to. Badly. "Do you want me to, with Gunnar," I gasp. "Really?"

"Tiffany," Larry groans, and he groans again when I reach down between us, and brush his erection through his trousers. He's bulging there, swollen and steely-hard.

"Do you really want Gunnar to... you know?" I gasp, saying it out loud, watching his face as those words roll across my tongue, so that I can almost taste them, and I think of tasting Gunnar. "I'll let him, Larry, if you really want me to." I lean forward and lick Larry's ear, savoring the groan that escapes him.

"You saw his hand in that restaurant, Larry. You saw what he was doing to me." My insides clench, remembering his finger pushing into me, so big and thick. So forceful. Taking what he wanted.

"Is that what you want, Larry, for him to come up here and take what he wants." My sex pulses at the thought of Gunnar taking what he wants from me. "He told you what he wants, he wants to take me right in front of you, Larry, and if he does, he's not going to make love to me, Larry. He's going to fuck me. In front of you. All night, Larry. He'll fuck me all night, any way he wants to fuck me. He'll be rough with me, too. He's a bull, Larry and he'll do it to me as hard as he wants to."

"Jesus, Tiffany," Larry groans.

He's so hard, and for a moment, I'm really tempted to unzip his trousers, sink to my knees on the floor, and take him in my mouth. I'm tempted, and I almost do. Almost, but I don't. If I did, that would spoil tonight for him, and I know it's going to be good for me. I want it to be good for Larry, too, and Larry's here. He's not leaving. My husband wants to be cucked, and I shiver with excitement. A shiver I don't even try to hide from Larry now.

I think I know what a cuck like Larry likes, and I know what I want. We're both going to get what I think we'll enjoy. Fantasy will become reality, for me, once Gunnar walks into this room, because I know what I'll get.

Gunnar's cock.

I'm not really sure what Larry will get, because I'll be the one being fucked. Larry will get to watch, and that just seems really weird to me, when he could be making love to me himself. I'm not going to overthink it though. I'm going to do it. Or, at least, I'm going to get done, and while we're waiting for Gunnar, I'm going to enjoy teasing Larry.

"Jesus, Larry," I murmur, my hands on his shoulders, leaning forward, my lips brushing his, tasting that whiskey on his lips. On his breath. "He's going to make you let him fuck me in front of you, Larry. Is that what you want him to do? Do you want him to fuck your wife?" My lips brush his face, feathering over his skin. "Tell me, Larry. Is that what you want? Is it?"

"Yes," Larry groans, saying it. "Yes, it is."

"Really? You want him to make a cuck of you, Larry?" I breathe, licking his ear, then I look into his eyes, my nose touching his. "He wants to, I know he does, he said he did. He's going to enjoy doing it to me in front of you, and he's going to rub it in, Larry, that he's fucking your wife. Do you want him to do that? Really?"

"Do you want him to fuck you, Tiffany?" Larry groans, one hand on one of my hips, and he sips from his tumbler. There's not much left.

"Mmmmm, I'm in his hotel room with you, Larry, waiting for him. It was you who opened the door and brought me in here, and you haven't left. You're still here, waiting for him, Larry."

I smile, and I whisper those next words. "And I'm here, waiting with you, Larry, waiting for him." I look at him, and I know my expression is serious. "Of course I want him to fuck me, or I wouldn't be here with you. I want Gunnar to fuck me right in front of you, Larry. I want him to fuck me so hard that he leaves bruises. I want him to fuck me however he wants to fuck me..."

Larry groans, and he shudders under me. "You'll let him do whatever he wants to you, won't you, Tiffany?" he gasps, and I know that's what he wants.

"He won't give me any choice Larry," I choke out. "He'll do whatever he wants to do to me, you know that. He's a bull, Larry. He'll make me." I am a little scared, because I know he will. He told me he would. "When he gets here, you can tell him he can do anything to me. Anything he wants. You'll tell him that, won't you, Larry?"

I really want that. I want to hear Larry tell Gunnar he can do anything he wants to me, and my insides clench. Vicky's told me about some of the things guys have done to her, and some of them sounded... scary. Some of them sounded painful, but Vicky said she enjoyed them. I wonder if Gunnar will want to do things like that to me, and I hope if he does, it won't hurt. Too much. I won't mind if it hurts a little. That can be exciting, although I've never told Larry that.

I'm not sure he'd understand. I'm not sure I understood until tonight, either.

"I will," Larry groans. "But I'm sure he won't hurt you."

"I'm not sure about that, Larry," I gasp, more than a little scared, but that fear feeds my excitement. "He's so big, he might hurt me even if he doesn't mean to."

"He'll be careful with you, Tiffany," Larry groans. "He's a... he's a bull, he knows... and even if he's big, you can take him."

"Mmmmm, I hope so," I murmur, my sex pulsing. Wet, I'm so slippery wet, so excited. I want to take him. More than take him.

"Do you think he's big, Larry?" I shiver with delicious anticipation. That anticipation is mixed with another little frisson of fear. Larry knows what I mean.

What if Gunnar's too big? I remember what that first time with Larry was like.

"He won't be," Larry groans

"I'm scared, Larry," I whisper in his ear. "What if he is too big? Would you still want him to... to..."