He got into position and Sam dropped to her knees, just as he’d done for her. She stroked his thighs and Mike checked the camera, angling it to center them in the frame. Between his legs, he felt his cock growing warm and heavy. Fucking crazy. Like he was twenty all over again.

Sam clasped Bern’s cock, her gaze moving to Mike and the camera just before her lips closed around him. He watched, mesmerized, in awe of the two of them. In awe of his own reality. Sam took Bern deep, dropping the man’s head back. His arms were braced behind him, every muscle looking taut and on edge. Strong and helpless at once.

Voice strained, he asked her, “You like how I taste, don’t you?”

She answered with an eager moan, still working.

“Yeah, you do. You love that dick. You love tasting me, don’t you?” Suddenly he turned, eyes burning straight into Mike’s through the viewfinder. Bern swallowed and, panting, he asked him, “What about you?”

Mike could only blink, brain going blank with shock.

Bern slid himself from between Sam’s lips. “On your back.”

She did as commanded and he climbed on top, sinking deep once more.

“Fuck, you’re wet.” He looked back to Mike. “You ever eat your wife’s pussy?”

A tremor rattled through Mike, setting his hands trembling atop his knees. “Yes.”

“Tastes good, doesn’t she?”

Mike didn’t answer. He could sense the next question, one that terrified and intrigued him equally. What scared him most was that he was the only one who could answer it. Sam would never decide for him.

Bern pulled out and shifted to lay alongside Sam, stroking himself. “Why don’t you come over here and taste what your wife’s left all over my dick?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Anticipated or not, the invitation struck Mike like lightning.

It was so brazen, so… confrontational. So soon, it seemed. And it was a question that demanded action or refusal, not limp, grudging obedience. It put Mike firmly in his place as the degraded victim in all this, and it scared him.

Scared him because he was tempted. Scared him more so because it underlined how this was no longer his show to orchestrate. Bern had stolen his reins tonight, and Mike wasn’t sure he was ready to embody his part so completely.

Sam was still playing. She turned so she could stroke Bern’s chest, but she didn’t meet Mike’s eyes. And he knew why – it was too much pressure. If she wanted him to submit to it, she wouldn’t tell him so. The ball was entirely in Mike’s court. Fuck.

He eyed Bern’s cock, trying to pinpoint what would change if he submitted. What it said about his own sexuality. Sam had a far better perspective on it, wisdom always at the ready. What would she tell him?

You don’t want to suck a man’s cock any more than you wish your wife would actually cheat on you. We explore stuff when we’re playing, but it’s just a game. I’m not unfaithful and you’re not bi, not for keeps. Not once the curtain drops. But it’s your script to read from. Your choice.

His choice, and all of this was his idea. His wife had broken her vows and slept with another man to please him. This upping of the stakes was nothing compared to that. And he’d tasted this man’s come on his wife’s skin before. Was the reverse really such a far leap?

Well, yes. It was. He tried to imagine doing it, guessing at what he’d feel. Humiliated and intimidated, demeaned. And with that, his cock stiffened. He eyed the camera’s screen, and adjusted it to center the bed with shaking hands. It’d capture whatever it captured, and surely anything it missed would be etched indelibly onto Mike’s memory.

Bern stroked the base of his cock as Mike took a step closer. “Thought you’d say yes. Stay there,” he ordered, sitting up. “Get on your knees.”

Mike swallowed and did as he was told, holding his breath as Bern rounded the bed to stand before him, erection at eye level. Mike swallowed again. The man smelled of sex – the familiar scent of Sam, plus his own musk, at once arousing and repulsive and infuriating, short-circuiting every primal male instinct at work between Mike’s ears.

“Taste her,” Bern said, still gripping his base.

This was the closest Mike had ever been to another guy’s dick, and it was scary. To head off a germinating sexual identity crisis, he reminded himself what this was – the symbol at the heart of his kink. The knife that stabbed him in the heart and, in turn, got him so insanely hot. But it lost its edge without a woman close by. He looked to Sam, and she read his mind.

She left the bed and dropped to her knees beside him. With a smirk, she reached for Bern’s shaft, stroking him with slow, lazy pulls. “Scared?”

Mike said nothing.

“He’s already had your wife,” she said. “Is your mouth really so much worse?”

His lips parted but no words came. Lust was beginning to crowd away the nerves, but not completely.

“Want me to show you how?” Not waiting for an answer, she leaned in to trace the underside of Bern’s cock with the tip of her tongue. His flesh twitched, and Mike saw a bead glistening at his slit. You’ll taste more than Sam. But what he’d be tasting didn’t matter. Only the sensations mattered – the complete and utter debasement. He shifted closer on his knees.

“Open up,” Bern said.

Mike did, glad he wasn’t being asked to use his hands. He wasn’t being asked to service this man, only to be degraded. A task he could handle.

Bern held his cock, sweeping his head across Mike’s lower lip, then along the upper one.

“Smell that?” he demanded. “You smell your wife on me? Or maybe that’s not something you’d even recognize.”

Sam ran her hand up Bern’s thigh and cupped his balls, admiration in the gesture.

“Taste her,” Bern repeated.

And Mike leapt. He shut his eyes as his tongue met the smooth skin of Bern’s head. He offered a few timid licks, and though it was mostly lubricant that greeted him, he imagined it was Sam – that intimate flavor he knew from hours of feasting. The rival taste was there as well, strange and strong. But what wasn’t there was regret or panic. Be it via his eyes or ears or mouth, Mike wanted to be demeaned. He craved it.

His role wasn’t cock worshipper, though – it was that of the loser husband, and he felt no need to pleasure Bern or prove anything in the skill department. He’d take orders like the obedient little cuckold he was, and the next one arrived shortly.

“Take me in your mouth.” Bern’s normally deep and confident voice was shaky, and it occurred to Mike in a flash that the guy had never done this with another man before, either. Seemed so obvious now. It didn’t breed a kinship between them, but it banished the very last of Mike’s misgivings. He parted his lips and let Bern ease his cock over the lower one.

“She’s all over my dick,” Bern breathed. “I know you love cleaning away whatever I’ve left on her. Now do the same. Clean me up. Make it so you can pretend like I’ve never fucked your wife. Never fucked her better than you could ever dream of doing.”

Mike met the challenge halfway, opening his mouth wider and letting Bern push inside. The sensation frightened him, nearly as though the man’s cock were a gun. He realized in that ugly moment what a cowardly fetish his was, the way he’d been practicing it, leaving all the physical submission to his wife. Now sit back and watch had become drop to your knees and open your mouth, but even behind the fear, the humiliation had his own cock rousing.

“Close your lips,” Bern said, barely a murmur. “Make it tighter.”

Mike did as he was told. Took what he was given – not deeply, but the two or three thick inches Bern fed him was plenty.

“You taste your wife on me?”