Home Alone 3
By SmutWriterAI.
[google-translator]
Read Part 2 HERE!
*****
Part 3…
My tiny dick, barely softening, throbs in my loose grip, slick with the remnants of my earlier mess. I release it for a moment, slumping back in the armchair, the leather creaking under me. The house feels emptier than ever, silent except for the distant hum of the fridge. She’s out there, living her wild night, while I’m stuck here, chained to this chair by her dominance, aching for the next hit of humiliation.
I glance at the clock—it’s only been minutes since she hung up, but she said to stay hard. An hour? That feels like eternity in this state of desperate limbo. My hand returns to my dick, fingers wrapping around the pathetic length, stroking slowly to keep the blood flowing, the sensitivity making me wince. It’s not much, barely three and a half inches even when rigid, but it twitches eagerly under my touch, betraying how much I crave her control.
She’s my wife, but her body is a playground for real men while I watch from afar, invisible and inadequate.
To pass the time, my eyes drift to the coffee table where her dirty panties lie discarded from earlier. She left them there before heading out, knowing I’d be tempted. The black lace is crumpled, stained with her scent—musky arousal mixed with the faint tang of sweat from her day.
I pick them up, the fabric soft and damp against my palm, and bring them to my nose. Inhaling deeply, the aroma hits me like a drug: her pussy, potent and intoxicating, a reminder of what I can’t satisfy. My little dick hardens further in my other hand’s fingers, strokes quickening as I bury my face in the crotch, licking the salty residue where her juices soaked through.
The taste explodes on my tongue—tart, feminine, utterly degrading. I moan softly into the fabric, sucking on the gusset, imagining it’s her dripping folds instead of this worn scrap. Submission deepens with every lap, my mind flooding with images of her earlier fuck: that bull’s cum leaking from her stretched pussy, her moans mocking my efforts.
‘Why does this turn me on so much?’ I wonder.
The humiliation stings, tears pricking my eyes again, but I can’t stop. I stroke faster, the panties muffling my whimpers, my tiny dick leaking pre-cum that slicks my palm. An hour ticks by in agonising slowness—thirty minutes of sniffing, twenty of licking every inch clean, ten of edging myself to the brink without release, all to prove my devotion to her.
Finally, the phone buzzes on the armrest, shattering the silence.
My heart leaps, dick jumping in my fist as I fumble to answer the video call. The screen flickers to life, and there she is—my wife—on her knees in a grimy men’s bathroom, the stark fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows. Urinals line the tiled wall behind her, a faint drum of bass-heavy music thumping through the door like a heartbeat.
She’s back at the nightclub, it seems, her makeup smudged from earlier exertions, lipstick smeared around her lips. But it’s what’s in her mouth that stops my breath: a massive black cock, veined and thick, buried halfway down her throat.
She gags slightly as the bull, a towering figure with dark skin and rippling muscles, holds the phone steady in one hand, his other tangled in her hair. He’s filming from above, capturing every obscene detail: her cheeks hollowing as she sucks, saliva dribbling down her chin in shiny strings, pooling on the filthy floor.
Her curvy body is squeezed into a tight dress, hiked up her thighs, no panties in sight, her ass cheeks visible as she kneels. I feel pride in her boldness mixed with gut-wrenching envy. She’s exposing herself like this, in public, for me to see, turning our marriage into this voyeuristic game.
She pulls off with a wet pop, the black cock springing free, glistening with her spit, easily twice my size, even semi-hard. Strings of saliva connect her lips to the swollen head, and she smiles wickedly at the camera, eyes gleaming with cruel delight.
“Miss me, little dick?” she purrs, her voice husky from the deepthroating, laced with that commanding tone that makes my stomach flip.
The bull chuckles low, angling the phone closer so I get a full view of her tongue flicking out to lap at the underside.
“Look at this beauty,” she continues, gripping the base with both hands, stroking it slowly. “’So much bigger than your babydick. Bet you’re stroking that tiny thing right now, aren’t you? Aching to be a real man like him.”
Her words slice through me, humiliation blooming hot in my chest, but my hand moves faster on its own, pumping my pathetic dick with frantic need. Tears well up again, not from pain but from the raw intimacy of her dominance—even miles away, she owns me.
“Please,” I whisper, voice cracking, though I know she can hear. “Tell me how small I am. Make me feel it.”
The bathroom door rattles faintly—someone outside—adding to the exhibitionist thrill, her exposure risking everything for this tease.
She laughs, throaty and mocking, before leaning in again. “You’re nothing compared to this,” she taunts, eyes locking onto the camera, burning into mine. “A poor excuse for a man, while I get stuffed by real cock in a dirty men’s room. Watch and learn, cuck.”
With that, she engulfs the black cock once more, sucking furiously, her head bobbing with urgent rhythm. Slurping sounds fill the call, wet and vulgar, her throat bulging as she takes more, gagging but pushing deeper. The bull groans, his free hand guiding her, fucking her face shallowly while she moans around the girth, vibrations humming through the shaft.
I stare, transfixed, my strokes matching her pace—fast, desperate, the ache building unbearably. Her eyes stay on me the whole time, teasing mercilessly through the suction, mascara running from the effort. The music pulses louder, a door creaking open somewhere, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t care.
My tiny dick weeps pre-cum, balls tightening as the humiliation peaks, craving whatever twisted command comes next.
Her throat works that massive black cock like it’s her lifeline, taking it deeper with each bob of her head, the veins bulging against her stretched lips. I watch, mesmerised, as saliva cascades down the shaft, dripping onto her heaving tits barely contained by her dress. She moans around the girth, the vibrations making the bull grunt roughly, his hips bucking forward to shove more into her willing mouth.
“Fuck yeah, suck it deep, slut,” he growls, his voice low and commanding, but she doesn’t break eye contact with the camera—with me.
Those eyes, smoky and fierce, pin me in place, making my chest tighten with that twisted mix of love and shame. She’s doing this for us, turning our bond into this raw, filthy ritual, and I can’t look away.
My fingers fly over my tiny dick, stroking fast and slick with pre-cum, the friction burning, but I don’t care. Every gag she makes sends a jolt through me, her body rocking on her knees in that dingy bathroom, the tile cold against her skin.
The door rattles again—closer this time—and my heart hammers, imagining someone bursting in to see her like this, exposed and devouring cock in a public stall. She’s risking it all to humiliate me, and it makes my balls ache deeper.
“God, you’re so pathetic,” I think, but the words echo from her earlier taunt, blending with the wet slurps filling the phone speaker.
She pulls off suddenly, gasping for air, strings of spit connecting her swollen lips to the throbbing head. The bull’s cock stands rigid, slick and angry, twitching in the harsh light. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking at me through the screen, her breath ragged.
“You like watching your wife choke on real cock, don’t you? Feel that babydick of yours? It’s weeping for me, isn’t it?”
Her voice is a husky command, dripping with dominance that wraps around my soul. I nod frantically, though she can’t see it fully, my free hand gripping the armrest to steady the tremble in my limbs. She’s mine, yet she’s giving herself to him, and that betrayal stings sweet, deepening my submission.
Without breaking her gaze, she turns slightly, arching her back to hike her dress higher, exposing her bare ass cheeks, round and inviting. No panties, just like I suspected— her pussy lips still swollen from earlier, glistening faintly, but she wants more.
“Fuck my ass,” she orders the bull, her tone sharp and unyielding, eyes locked on mine the whole time. “Hard. Make it hurt so he can hear.”
The bull grunts in approval, his massive hand slapping her ass cheek with a crack that echoes through the call, leaving a red mark blooming on her pale skin. He positions himself behind her, the phone angled low now to capture it all: her puckered hole winking as he spits on it, rubbing the thick head of his cock against the tight ring.
I lean closer to the screen, breath hitching, my strokes slowing to savour the build. She’s offering this to him—to me—her most forbidden spot, while I sit here helpless, my tiny dick no match for what he’s about to do.
The vulnerability hits hard. I love her ferocity, the way she claims her pleasure without apology, even as it crushes my ego. He presses forward, the bulbous head breaching her ass with a pop, and she cries out— a raw, throaty moan that mixes pain and ecstasy.
“Yes, stretch me!” she gasps, pushing back onto him, her body quivering as inch after thick inch sinks into her tight asshole.
The bull doesn’t hold back. He grips her hips with bruising force, broad shoulders flexing as he starts pounding, brutal and relentless. Each thrust slams deep, his balls slapping against her wet pussy below, the filthy sounds—squelching, skin smacking—blasting through the phone like thunder.
Her moans turn loud and raw, echoing off the bathroom walls, “Fuck my ass harder! Deeper!”
She claws at the floor, tits bouncing free from her dress, nipples hard and begging for attention. The camera shakes slightly in his hand, but her face stays turned toward me, eyes watering from the intensity, locked on mine with merciless tease.
“Watch him ruin my shithole, cuck. This is what a real man does… He fucks me raw while you jerk that worthless babydick.”
Tears streak my cheeks now, hot and unbidden, but my hand pumps faster, trembling uncontrollably. The humiliation crashes over me in waves—her ass stretched wide around his girth, gaping slightly on the outstroke, slick with her spit and his pre-cum. I feel utterly helpless under her gaze, exposed in our quiet home while she’s bent over in a stranger’s bathroom, taking it like a whore.
My dick throbs painfully, balls drawn tight, the emotional intimacy of her control pushing me to the edge. She’s not just fucking him; she’s fucking with my head, weaving our love through this degradation, making me crave the pain as much as the pleasure.
“Cum for me,” she dares, voice breaking on a moan as he hammers deeper, her body jolting forward with each brutal plunge. “Stroke that tiny dick and cum watching a real man pound my filthy asshole. Show me how submissive you are… Beg for it through the screen.”
Her command slices through, completely commanding my submission. I whimper, “Please, let me cum… I’m yours,” the words tumbling out, desperate and broken.
My fingers blur over my pathetic length, the ache coiling tight in my gut, pre-cum flying in sticky strands. She’s relentless, grinding back onto him, her ass cheeks rippling from the force, moans turning to screams that drown out the club’s distant bass.
The door handle jiggles—someone trying to get in—but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t care, her exhibitionist thrill heightening everything.
I teeter on the brink, body shaking, the mix of jealousy and adoration burning in my chest. Her eyes bore into me, daring, owning every frantic stroke, every humiliated gasp. But she doesn’t let me tip over yet, her smirk promising more torment, more control, as the bull’s grunts grow animalistic, his pounding turning savage.
The bull’s rhythm turns feral, his hips slamming forward with savage force, that massive black cock owning her asshole completely. I watch it disappear into her stretched asshole over and over, the tight ring gripping him like a vice, pulling him deeper with each thrust. Her ass cheeks jiggle from the impact, red handprints blooming where he grips her, and the slick sounds of flesh on flesh fill my ears, mixed with her raw screams echoing off the bathroom tiles.
My wife’s body rocks violently, tits swinging free and heavy, nipples scraping the cold floor as she braces herself. The phone shakes in his hand, but her eyes never leave the screen—never leave me—burning with that dominant fire that makes my heart pound and my stomach twist in knots of shame and desperate love.
I stroke my tiny dick faster, the skin raw and slick under my palm, every vein on his thick shaft as it reams her out, sending shocks straight to my core.
“Fuck, look at that big black cock brutalising my stretched asshole,” she moans through gritted teeth, her voice breaking on a gasp as he buries himself balls-deep.
The words hit like a slap, humiliation flooding me hot and thick, but it only makes me pump harder. I feel so small, so insignificant, sitting here in our empty living room while she’s bent over in some filthy public stall, her body claimed by a stranger’s girth that dwarfs mine in every way. Tears blur my vision, but I don’t stop; the emotional tether between us pulls taut, her pleasure twisting into my pain, making me ache for more of her control.
“You’re nothing compared to this, cuck,” she taunts, her lips curling in a wicked grin even as her face contorts in ecstasy. “Watch how he owns me… How he stretches what your pathetic babydick could never touch.”
The bull grunts deeper, sweat dripping down his broad back, his muscular thighs flexing as he drives into her relentlessly. Her pussy drips untouched below, juices trailing down her thighs, the scent of her arousal almost tangible through the phone’s speakers—musky and intoxicating. I imagine the risk, the door rattling again, someone hearing her screams, peeking in to see my wife degraded like this, and it pushes me closer, my balls tightening painfully.
My fingers blur over my tiny dick, the friction building to a fever pitch, pre-cum leaking in steady streams that make everything slippery and desperate. She’s mine in this twisted way, her dominance wrapping around my submission like chains, and I love the burn of it—the way her betrayal deepens our bond, even as it crushes me.
“Cum for me now,” she commands, her voice husky and breathless, eyes locking onto mine with unyielding intensity. “Show me how much you love watching real cock ruin your wife’s shithole.”
The words shatter me; my body seizes, and I cum hard, a weak spurt erupting from my tip. I hold my hand below, palm cupped like an offering, letting the dribbles fall—hot, sticky ropes landing in a pathetic puddle, my whole frame trembling under her mocking gaze.
She sees it all, her laughter bubbling up sharp and cruel as she watches me spill. “Look at that sad little mess. Is that all you’ve got?”
Her ass clenches around him visibly, milking his black cock as he pounds harder, but her focus stays on me, dissecting my humiliation with those piercing eyes. The emotional sting mixes with the aftershocks in my gut, leaving me raw and exposed, craving her approval even in degradation.
When the last drop trickles out, my cock twitching uselessly, she shouts, “Eat it!”
The command cracks like a whip, no room for hesitation.
Obediently, I lift my hand to my mouth, the salty tang hitting my tongue as I swallow every sticky drop. It slides down my throat thick and bitter, my cheeks burning with shame, but I do it for her—because her control is everything, the intimacy of this act binding us tighter than any vanilla night ever could.
She laughs then, a full, mocking peal that echoes through the speaker, her body jolting from the bull’s thrusts. “That’s right, swallow your worthless jizz like the good little cuck you are. Pathetic—licking up your own mess while I take a real load.”
Her words degrade me further, tears streaming freely now, but my heart swells with twisted adoration; she’s pushing me deeper into submission, and I need it like air.
The bull’s grunts turn guttural, animalistic, his pace faltering as he buries himself to the hilt one last time. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill this ass,” he growls, voice rough and deep, his broad shoulders tensing.
She pushes back onto him, moaning loud and filthy, “Do it… Pump me full while my husband watches!”
His cock throbs visibly on the screen, pulsing as he starts unloading, thick ropes of hot cum flooding her stretched asshole relentlessly. She cries out, her body shuddering, the excess leaking out around his shaft in creamy white streams that drip down her crack and onto her pussy lips below.
The sight hits me like a gut punch—her asshole gaping and overflowing, claimed so thoroughly—and my spent little dick twitches feebly, already stirring with fresh humiliation.
She gasps through the waves, eyes still on me, her dominance unbroken even in orgasm. “See that? That’s what a real man gives me… Deep, heavy loads you could never match.”
The black bull pulls out slowly, her ass winking open, cum bubbling out in thick globs that splatter the bathroom floor. She reaches back, scooping some up with her fingers, smearing it over her skin like a trophy, her laughter softening to a teasing purr.
The door handle jiggles again, louder this time, but she just smirks, unashamed, her exhibitionist thrill hanging in the air. I sit there, trembling and empty, the taste of my own cum lingering on my tongue, waiting for whatever cruel twist comes next.
“Gotta go, honey, before they break the door down,” my wife said with a mischievous smile. “Keep that little dick hard for me. No stopping. Keep edging it, but no cumming. Talk soon…”
The video call ended.
I sat there stunned again. I looked down at my soft dick and sigh. Putting her dirty panties to my nose, I begin to stroke again, and slowly but surely, I start to get hard. This is what she wants, then this is what I’ll do. I’m a cuck. It’s my job.
To Be Continued…
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