As soon as she sat next to him, Coach wasted no time. Within a second, he leaned in and took my wife, cupping her neck with one powerful hand and sliding the other up her dress. Sophia offered no resistance. At first, she submitted passively. Her body even trembled visibly as Coach pulled her to him, kissing her just roughly enough and with enough passion to cause a quiet, but high-pitched moan to erupt from her. Very soon, though, She began to worship Coach's muscles, moving her hands first up and down his forearms, to his biceps, and then feeling every inch of him she could reach as if she feared it would end before she touched every part of him.
I sat in awe of what was taking place. Every concern about being cuckolded and humiliated to the utmost degree dissipated when it happened. I wasn't upset or even jealous; in fact, I did not want it to end. The sock in my pants failed like a broken levy, and precum saturated my pants. Coach removed his hand from my wife's inner thighs and reached behind him for his wine glass; without speaking, he held it toward me. An excitement I had never experienced surged through me, which caused my heart to race and a grin to spread across my face. He acknowledged me! His focus may be on my wife, but he did acknowledge me! I couldn't stand the thought that I might miss something while in the kitchen opening the bottles and pouring, so I rushed to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of wine, hurrying back to the living room. I moved in as close as I felt was safe while I opened the bottle and poured my new master's glass. When I held it out for him, Coach released my wife for a moment and she fell back onto the loveseat gasping for air. Though I wanted to see whether Sophia was giving me any look of pity or guilt, my eyes were locked on the way Coach's bicep rose while he drank.
"Take off my shoes, boy," he commanded as he leaned back to rest with his hands behind his head. Flexing the boulders beneath his skin, he winked at Sophia, then looked down at me and chuckled. "Hurry up, boy." His command's only purpose was only to humiliate me; I didn't need any hurrying. Before he demanded my haste, I was already on the floor with one shoe off, pulling on the other. I didn't get back up. The smell of his socks was aromatic, and his large feet intrigued me at this point more than any other part of him.
I longed to touch the soft, black dress sock, but I feared touching him without permission. Almost as if he had read my mind and felt I deserved some consolation prize for losing my wife to him, he moved his feet across my face then used them to pin me to the floor. My hand jerked toward my cock, but was halted by Coach: "No, boy. Not without permission."
With that he reached toward Sophia once again this time pulling her body onto him. She straddled his perfect body and continued her worship. I lay content on the floor, loving every motion of Coach's feet, the perfect feel of his socks on my face. I couldn't see what he was doing to her, but her whimpers and moans were enough to convince me it was something I could never do. "That's right," he teased, "worship this muscle man." He kissed her again deeply. "You ever seen anything like that?" She moaned in response. "Huh? You ever seen muscle like that?"
"Never," she responded pathetically.
"Fuck no!" Coach affirmed her praise while doing something that brought on a series of shrieks. "You've never seen anything like this. Your fucking wimp-ass husband is worshipping my goddamn feet." She moaned more loudly than ever and Coach pushed my face further to the ground to show his superiority. Moving Sophia to the side just enough to lean forward and look down me, he offered the humiliation I longed for: "You wanna take my socks off, don't you?"
"Oh God." was the only exclamation I could seem to express.
"I asked you a question. Don't you?"
"Yes, Sir." I pleaded. "Yes, Sir. I do."
"Then beg," he replied, moving his left foot from my face and pressing it onto my neck.
As I begged, "Please, Sir, let me touch and worship your manly feet," "Oh God, I want to your feet so badly," he applied more pressure onto my neck until I could no longer breathe, much less beg.
Lifting the pressure from my neck, Coach gave me the command I longed for: "Go ahead, take them off." Though I longed for his feet, I removed them as slowly as I could. Uncovering his feet was like a sunrise that I did not want to hurry.
My submission to Coach had obviously aroused the interest of Sophia. She looked down at me as I began to tongue Coach's perfect feet. I licked them from heel to toe then ran my tongue in between each toe, savoring every moment. "I think he likes my toes better than your cunt," Coach said smirking down at me.
"He's never licked my cunt," admitted Sophia.
"Oh my God," Coach said as he reinserted a finger into my wife making her eyes roll into the back of her head. "What he's doing to my toes is nothing compared to what I'm about to do to your puss, babe."
She caught her breath, looked him up and down again, then looked down at me in comparison. "So pathetic," she said cruelly, "not man enough to lick my cunt, but you'll lick a real man's toes."
I hadn't been bothered by her submitting to Coach. How could she not? He was a god and Sophia, like me, was just human. I couldn't resist his power, beauty, and authority, so I couldn't expect her to be able to. But being ridiculed by my wife did bother me. A feeling of shame ran through me and showed in my visage.
Coach stood with Sophia still in his arms, then placed her down. My hurt feelings were overtaken by arousal as I looked up at them both, Coach towering over Sophia. He grabbed her tit with his left hand and held her hair with his right hand. "Apologize to your husband," he demanded. She looked at him with a puzzled look and he repeated himself, "Apologize to your husband."
Coach's hand guided her head down, forcing her to look at me. She didn't look afraid, as I would have thought; instead, she looked even more turned on. Sheepishly, she apologized: "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
Coach lifted her again and clarified our roles, "Your husband belongs to me. You belong to me. Not by force Ð even though I could force either of you to do whatever I want Ð but by your choice. Say the word, and I'll walk out the door. I'm counting to five. Either one of you can end this now. OneÉ twoÉ threeÉ fourÉ" He waited just a little longer before ending the countdown, knowing neither of us would dare speak. "Five." The final countdown sealed his ownership of both myself and my wife. "Now," he continued, moving his attention between Sophia in his arms and me still on the floor, "don't treat my property with disrespect. Treat your husband like a king. Treat your wife like a queen. Treat me like your fucking God!"
He walked Sophia to the couch and dropped her there. I followed on my knees, never taking my eyes off him. Slowly he peeled off his shirt. I had seen well-built men in magazines, on TV, at the beach, but no one came close to matching Coach's perfection. It was unreal how anyone could have such a sculptured body. The typical clichŽs, "six pack" or "washboard," couldn't adequately describe Coach's stomach. His pecs were even more massive than I had imagined and were complimented by a light coating of just enough hair. He didn't give us time to sufficiently admire his upper body before he quickly began to unbutton and unzip his jeans and pulled them down, simultaneously removing his underwear. As he reached down to pull off and toss aside his jeans, he cock swung between his legs. Not even erect, it was double the size and girth of mine. Sophia and I stared at Coach in amazement, and he clearly enjoyed our silent praise. He bounced his pecs, moved his hand up his abs, and tweaked his large nipple.
"I don't like to be the only one naked," he said and he plunged onto Sophia, grabbed the top of her new dress and ripped it off her with ease. I took his statement to be a command; so I undressed, careful to not touch my cock as I was commanded, and remained on my knees. Coach removed the panties, uncovering the rest of Sophia, then grabbed her waste and pulled it to his mouth. Burying his perfectly formed face in her crotch, Coach's tongue explored my wife's pussy, doing more for it than my cock ever did or ever could. She shrieked in a way that sounded almost like she was being hurt, but her face demonstrated otherwise. Clearly my wife had just been taken to a place I could never take her, and I loved watching Coach take her there. Without removing his tongue, he moved his arms under her legs with his hands on her back and swung her around, positioning himself in an upward, seated position, holding Sophia easily up to his mouth to pleasure her. He lifted his right foot upward, signaling to me that I had permission to worship him also. I grabbed his calf and pushed my face into his sole of his foot. I was in no way jealous of my wife. I was too content to worship his feet. The more Sophia reacted with spasms and shrills, the more vigorously he applied his tongue to her, and the more he toyed with me at his feet, slapping me with his foot, pushing me to the floor, and sandwiching my face between both feet. I was in this position, sandwiched between his feet, worshipping his muscled calves, when Sophia's shrills began to peak like never before. Coach grunted as he worked his tongue even harder. As her shrieks rose in tone so did the pressure of his feet on my face. It felt as if my head would explode from the pressure, when finally she reached her climax. Coach relaxed his gripped, which by now had made me dizzy. I began to wonder if her orgasms with me had been faked, this being her first, or if Coach had just given her an orgasm that trumped all others.
This thought escaped my mind quickly. Coach stood, still holding Sophia, and motioned for me to stand. I stood with my eyes on level with his chest, glistening with sweat. His cock was now fully erect, so thick and long I wondered how it could fit into anyone. He looked right over me and ordered, "Go and sit at the end of your bed. I'm going to fuck your wife there now."
I proceeded to do as I was told. Waiting on the I watched as he entered what was now for all intents and purposes his bedroom. Sophia straddled him and the two made out as he walked. He didn't put her on the bed. Instead, he lowered her slowly onto his cock. I watched hungrily as her vagina slowly engulfed this monster cock. Sophia's face showed a cycle of pain, then pleasure, more pain, then even more pleasure. When she finally took in the base of his cock, Coach lifted his right arm and flexed the giant bicep. "This is a real man," he said. "This is a real cock." He walked her to the bed. He leaned over onto it, and laid her down next to me with his cock still in her. He slowly fucked in and out of her. She explored and worshipped his body; if she was still in pain, it didn't show. She looked as if her part of her was engulfed in shear pleasure. Coach picked up his pace and looked at me, still seated as I was told. He seemed to pity me, looking at my boyish body and baby cock compared to him. "Your wife has a tight pussy," he teased. "That little dick hasn't opened it up at all. Does it bother you watching a real man fuck your wife? Doing what you can't?" I wanted so badly to touch my cock. His teasing and the sight of his huge, strong, beautiful body plowing into my wife had me more turned on than I had ever bed. I didn't respond, but looked at him pleading for more of his taunts. "Do you want to stop me? Come on." He plowed into Sophia hard. "Stop me. You're gonna let another man fuck your wife in front of you? Come on. Kick my ass and take your wife back." He slapped me on the face playfully, but still enough to leave a lasting sting and slammed into her again. "Answer me, boy? What are you gonna do?"
"Nothing Sir," my words fumbled out.
"That's right," his pace and force accelerated. "Why?"
"I don't know, Sir."
"Wrong answer, boy. Try again."
My mind raced for the correct response, "Because you're bigger and stronger than me, and I can't stop you, even if I wanted to."
Still fucking my wife, his hand clutched my neck applying just enough pressure to cut off my air flow, "Fuck yeah, I am a fucking monster, and I'd stomp your wimp ass into the ground, but that's still the wrong answer."
Returning my airflow to me, I tried again, "Because I'm really turned on watching this, and I don't want it to stop."
Coach grabbed my rock hard, oozing cock. His hand was larger than my entire cock, "Your leaky baby dick tells me that boy. That's still not why. Why won't you stop me from fucking your wife? Huh?"
He let go of my cock and grabbed my balls, squeezing them with such a force I literally began to cry. I wanted to answer correctly. I wanted to please him. He squeezed harder and shook my entire body by my balls. This made me realize the right answer. The reason this man could make me grade his papers, fuck my wife, take control of my home, the reason he held me literally by the balls was "Because you are superior to me, and you own me, Sir!" I cried out the answer cathartically.
He didn't answer, but confirmed my response by releasing his grip and slamming into Sophia. For the next thirty minutes I watched as he fucked her lying on her back, on her knees from behind, holding her in the air, on his lap, and then in a scissored position. All the while I stared in awe, not touching myself. At one point Coach, asked for a wet washcloth, so I retrieved it; then he asked for more wine, so I got that. I wanted so badly to get to touch him again, even if only his feet, but his attention was on fucking Sophia, and I didn't dare interrupt. I stopped counting her orgasms at ten. Each one was more intense than the other, until he finally brought her back to the missionary position, where he performed the grand finale. His body moved with such a motion that it was unhuman. He pulled his cock until the large mushroomed head almost completely emerged, then plowed it back in. My fascination with him intensified all the more. He fucked her like the fat of the world rested in her pleasure. Watching him was like watching an masterfully create. He was better looking, larger, more muscular, and stronger than anyone I had ever come in contact with, and now I added his sexual talent to his list of perfect qualities. During the final orgasm, she writhed in pleasure and exerted a high pitched, elongated shrill of pleasure. He brought her pitch higher and higher then began to grunt while he fucked her relentlessly. To control her spasmic body, he grabbed her hands and pinned her to the bed, "Open your eyes," he commanded. "Look at me while I finish fucking you. Look at the man that just took your virginity." She looked into his perfect facial features, the veins running down his thick neck, the powerful shoulders and arms that held her to the bed. Though it was her command, I obeyed as well. My eyes were transfixed on Coach's ass, legs, and feet, and the way they flexed each time he re-entered my wife. Sophia's body jerked violently and her shrill reached its finale. Her body went completely limp as she lay gasping. Coach grabbed her limp body and kissed her one more time. Laying her head gently onto the bed, he whispered, "Now you've been fucked."
Tears began to fill my eyes. What I had witnessed was so amazing my only reaction was to cry. With Sophia passed out, Coach moved up to the head of the bed and rested, leaning against the headboard. Perfectly at ease with me staring at him, he flexed his biceps, triceps, and pecs for me with a cocky look that aroused me as much as his muscles did. "Who owns, you boy?"
"You do, Sir" I replied without hesitation.
"Who owns your wife?"
"You do, Sir."
He hadn't cum yet, and his cock stood erect. "Good boy," he said grabbing his hard monster cock by the base. "Now it's your turn."
*** Part 7 to follow. Thanks for all the encouraging emails (f27s@aol.com), especially from the Alpha males. :) ***