The Impotence Files: Take Your Medicine, Honey: Part 7

Micky D

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7…

When we arose the next morning, I was still buzzing from what I had witnessed last night; in many ways the whole situation was almost surreal, like a dream. The imagery of Angela panting and writhing under her young lover danced lasciviously through my mind like a potent aphrodisiac. I recalled her kneeling naked before him as she sucked his cock to full hardness, and my heart raced as I remembered just how wantonly erotic it had been to see my wife fellating Jason until he climaxed in her sweet mouth. I tried my best to force the images from my mind, but they flittered before me like lecherous insects throughout the day. I often found myself looking at Angela’s beautiful face, and remembering how it had contorted in ecstasy as Jason’s cock had made her climax only hours previously.

As the day drifted into late afternoon, Angela and I began languidly discussing the events of recent days, and in particular her steamy romp with Jason last night.

She also told me what she had learned about him during their dinner at the restaurant the previous evening. He had apparently separated from a long-term girlfriend four months ago, and the separation had been very painful and difficult. He had told Angela that he was happy to remain single for a while as he got over the emotional turmoil of the split.

A vague twinge of insecurity suddenly quivered through me, which Angela immediately detected. She was quick to reassure me. “Honey, I may have let Jason fuck me – but I only make love with you. Do you understand?”

I nodded. I realised that my apprehension about my wife’s affections were totally without any basis – but as always it was good to be reassured, and I told her so.

My wife continued. “You never have to worry about who holds my heart, baby; all we did last night was add a little spice to our love-life and to fulfil another fantasy – nothing more, baby.”

“I know that, Angie,” I gratefully replied. “And fulfil it you certainly did. It was incredibly hot to watch you – especially when you climaxed…” My voice trailed off.

A soft smile flittered across her face. “I will admit that I enjoyed the sex last night. Jason is a very good lover, and as you saw he is very well endowed – but knowing that it was driving you wild to watch gave me just as big a thrill as I got from the sex.”

“Really?” I asked softly, restraining the excitement in my voice. It had been perfectly obvious during last night’s show that she had enjoyed her illicit coupling with Jason – but a kinky part of me wanted to hear it from her own lips.

Almost as if she read my mind, Angela nodded, and her smile became almost playfully coy. “In fact, I do have to admit that knowing you were sat just a few feet away, watching me play with a sexy, well-hung guy made me quite hot – very hot, actually.”

“Did it now?” I asked somewhat shakily.

Angela skimmed me with a coquettish side-glance. “Mmm-hmm! Maybe it was my kinky streak coming out – but I have to tell you that knowing my little hubby was all tied up and unable to do anything but watch made me enjoy the sex a little bit more than I should have done.”

“A little bit more, or a lot more?” I tentatively prompted.

Angela must have detected the latent excitement in my voice, because her smile took on a sexy curl. “Well – a lot more, honey.”

“So you really enjoyed it?” I asked softly.

My wife nodded. “Yes, I did, honey. In fact, fucking Jason so blatantly in front of you made me extremely horny, lover.” She gazed somewhat bashfully at me. “When Jason first stripped and got into the spa with me, all I could think of was how deliciously naughty it was – how I was sat there naked with him like a complete little slut, knowing that shortly he was going to fuck me as you watched. My whole body tingled, and I could feel myself getting wet even underwater. When he finally entered me on the bench-press, I nearly climaxed right then. All I could think of was how much I wanted him to fuck me, and to keep fucking me until he made me cum.” She turned a quizzical glance in my direction. “I hope that doesn’t upset you, honey?”

“Not at all,” I found myself breathlessly replying. Her confession of just how much she had enjoyed coitus with Jason sent an exquisitely masochistic ripple through me – and her use of the word slut simply added to the wicked titillation. “A huge part of my fantasy involves you relishing both the sex and the fact that you’re cuckolding me.”

Angela’s green eyes flashed. “Well, let’s just say that I fulfilled your fantasy completely, lover – because to be honest I did enjoy doing both. In fact, I loved it!”

“So that means you want to do it again?” I asked. To hear her say that she basically loved cuckolding me sent yet more deliciously humiliating ripples dancing through my stomach and loins.

“Of course!” she answered at once. “You don’t think I made you spend all that time and money on the spare room for a single performance, did you?” She giggled softly. “As long as it turns you on for me to play, lover, then I’ll keep playing.”

“You know it turns me on,” I replied softly. “And just hearing that you loved acting like a complete little slut, as you put it, just turns me on even more.”

Angela’s sexy grin appeared on her face. “In that case, honey, I think we can arrange a few more sessions in the gym.” She glanced at me. “Did my use of the word slut offend you?”

“No,” I answered. “Completely the opposite, in fact.”

Angela raised her eyebrows. “Ahh, really? It turns your crank if I use that word?”

I nodded.

Angela smiled again. “Well, it’s not a word I’m usually very fond of – but in our case it does have a wickedly accurate overtone, I suppose. Some of those kinky web sites I’ve been to used a similar phrase which perhaps describes it better – Slut-Wife.” Angela’s expression took on a teasing slant. “Is that how you’d like to think of me, my little Cuckie? Your naughty little Slut-Wife?”

I gulped. Hearing that lewd phrase trickle from my wife’s pretty mouth made my heart thump. “Jesus Christ – yes.”

Angela’s smile curled into a sexy leer. “Maybe I should get that phrase tattooed just above my pussy, hmm? What if each time you looked down, and saw the words ‘Michael’s Slut Wife’ hovering just above my cunt, lover?”

“Oh my God!” I gasped.

Angela chuckled softly. “I’m just kidding, baby! But it’s good to learn another little snippet that drives you wild.” She winked at me and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Now, we’d better stop this hot little chat – we’re due at John and Lisa’s barbecue in about thirty minutes, and if we don’t hurry we’ll be late.”

I grunted my reluctant agreement. Angela playfully kissed me, and added a last zinger: “We can talk about what we did last night a little more after we get home tonight, honey – and about when I can have another little workout with Jason!” With a final wink, she arose and went to get changed.

Angela had, in fact, spoken to Jason that morning. She had dropped me off in town to pick up my car from the garage, and as she drove back home she gave him a quick call on her mobile phone. Their conversation had naturally drifted to their steamy romp, and Jason informed my wife that he would be only too pleased if she wanted to continue their relationship on very casual terms. He understood that her married status meant that any future liaisons between them would be on a totally ad-hoc basis, but he would be happy to ‘hook-up’ anytime an opportunity presented itself. Angela had playfully asked him if that meant he wanted to be her ‘fuck-buddy’, and Jason had laughed but essentially confirmed her coarse description.

He had offhandedly asked Angela why she had chosen the gym as a venue for their evening of fun rather than upstairs in any of the bedrooms. Angela had told him that the gym was basically a ‘safe’ place for them to play – there were no sheets to wash afterward, and that the gym always held a slight aroma redolent of sweat and physical exertion which would mask any hint of their sexual activity. She had added that she enjoyed relaxing in the spa with him, and that it was convenient to use after their coupling, and so the gym was the perfect place ‘to fuck’.

He had breezily accepted her explanation and quipped that he was looking forward to giving her another ‘good workout’ in the gym the next time her husband was out of town. Angela had replied that I might be heading interstate again soon, although there were no firm dates as yet, and as soon as she found out when I was next ‘leaving’ she would call and let him know. They bade eachother goodbye and rang off.

After we returned from the barbecue, Angela and I hit the sack early, and as she had promised our conversation soon returned to her recent sexual escapades, and also to the lascivious ideas she had told me about the previous evening. The underlying theme for almost all of her new scenarios was her intention to once again use the gym as an arena for further steamy encounters, and, of course, for me to observe her doing so. She had duly noted that me witnessing her illicit coupling whilst I was totally restrained and essentially impotent had induced an almost incandescent level of arousal in me, and she again quizzed me about how it had had felt for me to sit there and be able to do nothing but watch. I sheepishly confessed that it had produced a state of almost ethereal lust and desire in me, where all manner of kinky and almost masochistic thoughts seethed through my excited mind.

This admission had piqued her interest, and she asked whether the clear disparity between my chemically induced impotence and Jason’s hard, solid erection had been a major factor in my extreme level of arousal. I shyly admitted that it had been, adding that I was overwhelmed with a dark, primordial excitement as I watched Jason fervently copulate with her whilst I was conversely incapable of doing the same. My wife smiled softly, and began musing that we could put the impotence-inducing medication to some intriguing recreational use; she had noted that there was nearly a full packet of those evil little pills left, and several times I had seen her glancing speculatively at the innocuous packet on top of the fridge.

The discussion had, by this time, aroused both of us, and Angela had attempted to stimulate me to hardness – but the medication had still not completely worn off, and my cock petulantly failed to respond to her caresses. My wife teasingly stated that we should wait until the drug was completely flushed from my system and I was able to harden before my next climax. This statement simply excited me even further, and Angela smoothly suggested that I soothe my carnal appetite by performing cunnilingus on her. I did so with relish as my cock remained defiantly limp, listening to Angela’s lewd moans and exhortations bounce off the bedroom walls like lecherous taunts.

Sunday passed slowly, and Angela and I spent the afternoon at a local market, browsing the stalls. It was during this time that I felt the first stirrings of an erection. I excitedly whispered this fact to my wife, and she quickly whispered back that in that case we would be going to bed early.

We did indeed go to bed early on Sunday night, and Angela and I made love for the first time in nearly ten months. I was close to tears as I felt my cock finally sliding into my wife’s tight, slippery pussy. I had forgotten just how warm and deliciously erotic it felt; her silky-smooth heat enveloped me, and the velvety cling of her moist cunt gripped me like a long-lost lover – which in many ways I was.

My erection wasn’t completely rock-hard – a little above three-quarters or so – but it was firm enough to slowly ease it inside her. I could feel the warm, soft flesh of her thighs cupping my hips as I finally touched base, and Angela cooed softly to me as I excitedly began thrusting into her. After only twenty seconds or so of almost desperate fucking, I made the mistake of picturing Jason doing exactly the same thing just two nights ago, realising that his long, thick cock had plumbed my wife’s cunt to a depth that I could never hope to match. A carnal, almost poignant ripple of pure lust tore through me as I remembered how Angela’s moist pussy had contracted around her young lover’s thick cock, and how her tight cunt had overflowed with her own creamy secretions as she had climaxed. Within seconds the lecherous visions swept me beyond the brink and I moaned loudly as a powerful orgasm rocketed through me.

I shortly collapsed on Angela, panting and gasping, and she evinced her usual intuition by softly asking if I had been thinking about her recent coupling with Jason just prior to my climax. I shamefacedly admitted that I had been, and Angela simply nodded and chuckled softly. She said that she found it deliciously kinky that her torrid romp with her young lover could arouse and excite me to such an intense level in such a short time that I went off like a ‘popgun’.

As afterglow gently bubbled through me, our pillow talk returned to some of her lascivious ideas. Angela idly began telling me about a lecherous little game she had devised; the game was simple, yet devilishly in context with every aspect of my cuckold fantasies. The game would be played thus: She would buy a deck of playing cards, and each time we made love I would select one card from the deck. This would continue until I got two of a kind – any kind, from aces to kings. Logic dictated that on average I would draw a pair of cards every seven or eight times that Angela and I became intimate – but it could be a lot sooner, or a lot later, depending on the whims of fate and how Lady Luck dealt the cards.

When I finally drew a pair, Angela would then call Jason and inform him that I was ‘going interstate’ a week later, and extend an invitation for him to spend the evening with her whilst I was ‘gone’. If Jason took up her offer, then a week later there would be an encore performance of their steamy tryst in the gym as I again secretly watched from the spare room.

Angela added a wicked proviso to the game; she stated that as a further ‘tease’ and to add a little ‘spice’ when I finally drew a pair of cards, I should refrain from any further sexual activity with her until after her next romp with Jason. There was a means close at hand, so Angela stated, to ensure my chastity for the week – namely the diabolical little pills that I had just stopped taking; if I resumed taking the medication until the day before their rendezvous, this would naturally guarantee that I would not be able to climax for at least a week. Only on the day after Jason’s visit, and after he had once more sampled my wife’s intimate charms could I do the same – provided the effects of the evil little pills had dissipated.

Angela smoothly stated that my enforced impotence would be a full week of tease and denial of the most delectable and exquisite sort, culminating in me watching helplessly as she eagerly cuckolded me yet again. I had to agree with her evaluation; the prospect of once more being reduced to a mere spectator as Angela’s accommodating pussy engulfed Jason’s long, thick cock whilst my own penis remained defiantly flaccid was incredibly arousing. I actually began getting another erection thinking about it, which Angela noted with a surreptitious smile.

My wife had lewdly pointed out an exquisitely kinky twist to the game – she had said: “You do realise, honey, that each time we make love it would increase your chance of drawing a pair? So – the hornier you get, the more likely it will become that Jason will soon get another serve of the goodies in my panties, lover.”

She was quite correct, of course: if we played this game, then the timing of the next sexual interlude between Jason and my wife would be directly linked to how often I slaked my own desires. I had to admire Angela’s deviously erotic imagination – she had cunningly formatted the game so that my own lust would eventually trigger her next illicit coupling with her lover. The stratagem had a wickedly seductive and tantalizing appeal.

Angela had then asked if I wanted to be securely attached to the desk and unable to move again as I watched her and Jason fucking, and I sheepishly replied in the affirmative. The deliciously bittersweet anticipation of not being able to stop or interfere with their coupling simply added to the mind-blowing carnality of Angela’s intention to cuckold me for the third time.

I did, however, point out that Angela couldn’t keep conveniently ‘forgetting to get cigarettes’ when she wanted to spend the necessary few minutes alone with me so she could secure me to the desk.

She had laughed softly. “You’re forgetting something, lover: Jason knows where I live now, and I’ll be inviting him to come here directly. Unlike last time, I won’t be going out anywhere with him first – meaning that I’ll be here when he arrives. So I’ll have plenty of time to make sure you’re all locked and ready. In fact, I’ll ask him to make sure he gives me a buzz on my mobile phone when he’s about ten minutes away – then I’ll have all the time I need to get you nicely cuffed and ready to watch!”

“What about my car?” I countered feebly. “I can’t keep taking that into get shock absorbers fitted. Where am I gonna put it?”

“Again, that’s easily fixed,” Angela glibly replied. “Leave it in the garage; I’ll tell Jason that you went to the airport with a colleague, or, even better, that you now have a company car. He can park his car in the garage and I’ll leave mine outside, and that way if anyone we know drives past they won’t see anything unusual – not they should drive past anyway, because I’ll tell people we’re ‘going out’ again that night.”

I nodded slowly; as always, my wife had covered all bases and had thought everything through very carefully.

“So, my little Cuckie?” she finally asked with a slight smile. “Do you want to play my wicked game? Would you like to gamble on the chance that you’ll have to sit in the spare room – with your wrists and ankles cuffed, and your cock all soft and limp – and watch Jason fuck your naughty little Slut-Wife again?”

I gulped, and paused for several seconds. A vague hint of the lecherous little buzz darted through my mind as I imagined myself once again being rendered impotent, and then helplessly sitting by as I watched my gorgeous wife eagerly and vigorously cuckolding me – all triggered by me simply drawing a pair of playing cards from a deck. The wickedly lascivious nature of the game was incredibly seductive, and I found myself nodding almost involuntarily.

“Yeah,” I discovered myself telling her. “I’d love to play that game.”

My wife chuckled. “Okay, my little lover. But if we play, we play it to the rules okay? No backing out, and no changing the rules once we’ve started.”

I swallowed and nodded. “Understood.”

“I’ll pick up some fresh cards tomorrow, and we can start playing the game next time we have a roll in the hay, okay?”

I nodded again, and the evil little buzz gave what was almost a scream of triumph: My gorgeous, sexy wife was going to cuckold me again.

But when?

As I slumbered that night, I again dreamed of Angela in her little red come-fuck-me dress – but the dress was bedizened with images of Hearts and Diamonds, Clubs and Spades, all swirling and dancing.


Angela duly arrived home from work on Monday with a fresh deck of cards. After we had made love again that night, Angela duly shuffled the new cards and held them out, face down of course, and got me to draw one: I drew the eight of Hearts.

“So, my lover,” she had intoned softly. “All you need now is another eight, and it’ll be no more nookie for you until Jason gets a bit first, hmm?” I felt a quiver of lewd pleasure ripple through me at her statement, and another latent hint of that evil little buzz suddenly tickled my loins.

Every silver lining, however, can sometimes encase a cloud; after some careful examination I had discovered that my manhood had indeed lost some length – almost an inch or so – and when I became erect I did in fact now have a pronounced downward curve, just as Mr. Rogers had predicted. The most disturbing aspect was that I was still unable to achieve a completely hard erection: The best I could achieve was the consistency of a raw hot dog – firm, but far too flexible. It meant that when Angela and I made love, I had to be cautious with my thrusts in case my shaft fell out. We found the best way to avoid this was if we made love with Angela on top.

I had at first thought that my somewhat pliant erections were probably a lingering aftereffect of the medication I had been taking, which would soon dissipate. But when my erections failed to become full by Wednesday night, I placed a phone call to Mr. Rogers office the next morning, and I was surprising told that he could, in fact, see me the next afternoon due to another patient canceling an appointment.

I duly made my way back to his office on Friday afternoon. After another examination, the good doctor informed me that the scarring was responsible for both the loss of length and the downward curving, just as he had forewarned. The inability to achieve a completely hard erection could have several causes, and Mr. Rogers speculated that a slight blockage in the spongy tissue was the most likely culprit. He said that I could possibly have corrective surgery performed, but that it would be best to wait a while until he could be sure that my injury was completely healed. On a brighter note he added that it might correct itself, given time.

I had relayed all this to Angela when I arrived back home on Friday night; it was early evening, and we were sat on the couch idly watching TV. Angela was still dressed in her work attire – a gray skirt and a peach-coloured blouse. She greeted the news of the possibility of me having to have more surgery with a doleful expression.

“Christ, you’ve just been through four months of that!” she groaned.

I grunted. “Well, exactly.”

Angela fixed me with a long, speculative stare. “Honey, you do know that I’m perfectly happy with you as you are, right? We can make love now, and everything else is working just fine, isn’t it.”

I smiled a trifle ruefully. “I do know, baby, and yes – everything’s working fine. My sperm count is okay, and I can ejaculate, as you already know. I guess it’s just a male ego thing.”

Angela smiled softly in return. “Oh, I’m well aware of that, honey. You guys are all obsessed with your dicks.”

I chuckled. “Guilty, as charged!”

Angela laughed. “Well, as I said, sweetie – I’m just happy that we can make love again, and I’m so glad and relieved that you’re basically back to normal.”

A sudden titillating thought entered my mind, almost of its own volition; it would be an almost obvious progression for Angela to salaciously combine my erectile problems with the carnal game we were playing. I was startled to discover that the idea of my wife taunting me about my loss of length and my infirm erections sent delicious tendrils of almost masochistic excitement through me.

I glanced at Angela. “I guess this will make the game we’re playing a little more interesting.” I said nonchalantly.

Angela grasped the latent meaning in my words right away, and glanced sharply at me. “Ahh – I’d wondered if that thought would occur to you, lover. I was just thinking the same thing myself. In some ways it would work in quite wickedly with our little game, wouldn’t it?” Her green eyes flashed as she looked at me. “Does that thought excite you, lover?”

I slowly nodded. “Yes – it does.”

“I thought it might,” she replied. She crossed her legs, and my eyes flickered downward to catch a glimpse of her smooth thighs. “Knowing you as I do,” Angela continued. “I can certainly see why you not being able to get completely hard would kinda tie in with all the things we’ve done over the last few months, hmm?”

“Very much so,” I agreed quietly. I glanced at her again. “Does that seem weird to you?”

“Not in the least,” she replied at once. “In fact, I get a huge kick out of finding all your kinky new buttons, lover. And it looks like we just found another few to push, honey.” A playful grin poured across he beautiful face. “And let me guess – you’re wondering how hard I’m gonna push those buttons?”

I swallowed. “I guess I am,” I replied softly. I could feel my cock arousing from slumber at the frolicsome course our conversation had taken.

Angela uttered a low chuckle. “Be careful what you wish for, honey – I just might push them harder than you expect.”

“Try me,” I found myself answering almost breathlessly.

Angela raised an eyebrow at my gentle challenge and smiled playfully. “Okay, my frisky little lover. You do realise, of course, that I’d have to be a nasty little bitch, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” I replied. The soft, husky tone of her voice had already started to excite me. “Be as nasty as you like.”

My wife’s smile broadened even further. “Very well – you want bitch? You’ll get bitch! Let me see… I could maybe remind you that your cock is almost an inch shorter than it was a year ago. Or I could tease you about how you can’t get as hard as Jason can.”

I took a sharp breath, and my penis gave a sudden delighted throb at her lurid words. I felt it begin to grow.

My wife turned more fully toward me on the couch, and my glance briefly darted down to her thighs again. Angela continued in that soft, sexy voice that I knew so well. “Or I could giggle at how your little cock now bends downward, or about how you have to be careful when you fuck me in case your pecker slips out of my pussy. Or I could be really nasty, and tell you how it amuses me that you can’t even fuck me for a whole minute before you shoot your little load – like some fucking teenager getting his first hump! But that’s okay, because it’s the truth, isn’t it, lover?”

“Yeah – it is,” I replied shakily. Butterflies began whirling in my tummy.

Angela’s smile became salacious. “Well, at least now you can actually get it up, so I guess I should be thankful for small mercies.” Her eyes flashed mischievously. “I just might have to think up a few more pet names for you, my Cuckie. Let’s see… Well, for starters you do have a little cock now, don’t you? Not the six-and-a-half inches you had a few months ago. So I can truthfully call you my little Shorty now, hmm? My short, soft-dicked little Cuckie!”

I stifled a sharp gasp. The lecherous little buzz screamed into life, and my cock hardened further.

My wife flashed me a teasing leer. “And that’s another thing, Cuckie – from now on you’ll lick me until I cum before you fuck me. I’m not going to stand for you blowing your load in thirty seconds flat like a fucking popgun and leaving me unsatisfied, like you have been doing. So, from now on, you’ll lick me until you make me cum – over and over – and then I’ll let you fuck me!” She uttered another giggle. “Well – I’ll let you slide that flimsy little worm of yours into me and desperately wiggle it until you blow, because I wouldn’t exactly call it fucking me. You should have paid more attention to how Jason did it, lover – he knows how to properly fuck a woman! His hard cock doesn’t fall out – unlike some I could mention.” She chuckled softly, and licked her pouty lips.

“Jesus Christ!” I gasped. Her wicked words caused my cock to grow even faster, and I felt my balls contract.

Her sensual green eyes flickered down to my crotch briefly. “In fact, you can lick me right now, Cuckie. I can see that your little pecker is getting hard – well, semi-hard, anyway. Don’t you find it strange that the more I tease and scorn that short little dick of yours, the more it seems to like it?” Angela chuckled. “I wonder what it would do if I said that it’s now the smallest cock I’ve ever had inside me?”

What it did was instantly harden further! I uttered another soft gasp as Angela suddenly arose from the couch and turned her head to look down at me.

“Stand up,” she told me, “And slide my panties off.”

I shakily stood and knelt in front of her and reached up under her skirt. I quickly eased her panties down her smooth legs, and she stepped out of them and promptly lowered herself back onto the couch. She slid sensually downward until she was laying almost horizontally, her hips overhanging the leather cushions. She smiled sweetly at me, raised her rump, and pulled her skirt up until it was a creased ring around her waist. I was still on my knees in front of her, panting softly.

“Come here, Cuckie,” she said, crooking a playful finger at me. “It’s taco-time again; let’s get that eager little tongue of yours where it belongs – between my legs! After I’ve creamed all over your face, I’ll let you slide your rubbery little dick inside me and wiggle it until you blow, okay?” She uttered a low chuckle and slowly raised her legs until they were almost vertical; she then teasingly parted her thighs completely until her legs were almost perpendicular, forming an almost flat, inviting ‘V’ before me. I found myself gazing hungrily down at her neatly trimmed pussy; her widely parted legs had pulled her labia slightly open, and her clit peeped out almost demandingly at me.

“And after you’ve shot your load,” my wife continued in a teasing drawl. “You can pick out another card – and you know what? I hope you draw a pair, because I’m getting desperate for a good, hard fuck again! Now – get licking!”

“Oh my God!” I moaned, quickly bending forward and guiding my face between her splayed thighs. Her smooth, upturned pussy beckoned like a moist, welcoming gateway, and I inhaled her musky scent. I felt myself begin to salivate, and my cock was now almost as hard as it was going to get. “Oh my God!” I repeated in what was almost a choke.

“Don’t worry about God,” Angela replied smoothly, sliding her fingers firmly through my hair and pulling my face down onto her. “You just worry about burying your face in my pussy and making me cum, and let me worry about God!”

The lounge room was soon echoing to the moist, slurping sounds of me eagerly performing cunnilingus, and to Angela’s ardent gasps and moans.

Thirty minutes later, and after my wife had enjoyed several deep orgasms, she languidly told me to mount her as she lay sprawled on the couch. I almost tore my jeans and briefs off, and as I shakily guided my cock towards her molten pussy, she looked up at me, and that teasing smile I knew so well reappeared on her beautiful face.

“Put that wobbly little thing in me,” she taunted, followed by a brief giggle.

This time I didn’t even last fifteen seconds before I exploded inside her, accompanied by Angela’s almost jeering chuckle.


By the end of the weekend I had made love with my wife a total of six times since we started playing the game, and drawn six cards: a two, a five, an eight, a nine, a jack, and an ace.

On Sunday night, after another torrid romp in the bedroom, Angela held out the deck of cards. I drew one, and got the jack of Diamonds.

My wife smiled softly. “Ahhh! You finally got a pair! Well, my little lover, it looks like it’s time for me to give sexy Jason a ring tomorrow, hmm?”

My sated cock gave a disloyal twinge of delight, and felt my balls contract. “It looks like it,” I croaked tightly, looking down at the jack in my hand.

As per the rules of the game, I took one of the wicked little pills shortly after, and my tummy tingled in mingled excitement and apprehension as I resigned myself to a week of enforced impotence.

Angela rang Jason on Monday morning, and she informed me that he had eagerly accepted her invitation to join her next Sunday evening. In fact, she had just finished telling me when she leaned close and whispered in my ear.

“I’ve got just two words for you, lover.” she intoned sensually.

“What are they?” I tentatively asked.

Angela giggled. “Slut-Wife.”

It was going to be a long week.

To be continued…




  • Darryl Natelli

    Your story is fantastic. Mirrors my fantasy. Great writing

  • Paul

    Have loved this story from the beginning as an impotent man I see the joy of humiliation and of course the frustration of being such a pathetic lover
    I would have preferred for him to be permanently impotent but that’s just personal taste


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