But Honey I Don’t Want To

I met Sarah just over a year and a half ago at a coffee shop near the university campus where I was wrapping up some consulting work. She was twenty-four, still living at home with her parents, and the first time I saw her I nearly spilled my drink. Five-foot-seven, long honey-blonde hair that fell in soft waves past her shoulders, clear blue eyes, and a body that looked like it had been carved for sin even under the modest cardigan and long skirt she wore. Full, heavy tits that strained the fabric just enough to promise 34Ds, a narrow waist, and long legs that I already imagined wrapped around my waist. She smiled shyly when our eyes met, and something in that demure little glance told me she was different.

We talked. She was studying early childhood education, still a virgin, raised in a strict evangelical household where her father’s word was absolute law. Women served, obeyed, kept their eyes down. The men ran everything. By the third date I had her back at my apartment. The kissing started soft, then deepened. My hands found those heavy tits through her blouse and she tensed, whispering, “But Honey… I don’t want to go too far.”

I didn’t care what she wanted. I pushed her down on the couch, stripped her slowly while she trembled and protested in that soft, obedient voice. Her body was even better naked—pale skin, pink nipples already stiffening despite her words, a neat triangle of soft blonde hair over a pussy that was already slick when I slid two fingers between the lips. She gasped, “Please… I’m a virgin… I don’t want to—”

I held her wrists above her head with one hand and guided my thick cock to her entrance with the other. The head pressed against her tight, wet hole. She whimpered as I pushed forward, feeling the resistance of her hymen. One hard thrust and it tore. She cried out, a sharp little sound, and I sank all the way in until my balls pressed against her ass. Her cunt was scorching hot and impossibly tight, gripping me like a fist. I started fucking her in long, deep strokes, watching her face flush pink, her tits bouncing with every thrust. Her body betrayed her almost immediately. Those inner walls fluttered and clenched around my cock as the first reluctant orgasm ripped through her. She tried to turn her head away, biting her lip, but her hips twitched upward to meet me anyway. I kept pounding until I flooded her virgin cunt with thick ropes of cum, grinding deep so every drop stayed inside.

I thought she might disappear after that night. Instead she kept answering my calls. Every other date ended the same way—her soft protests, my firm commands, her body lighting up even as she whispered that she didn’t want it. Three months later I asked her father for her hand. He was a stern man with hard eyes and a voice that expected obedience. I attended their church, sat through the men-only breakfasts, played the part of the respectable suitor. He gave his blessing without ever asking Sarah what she wanted. Four months after that we were married.

Sarah was the perfect submissive wife. Quiet, soft-spoken, always ready with coffee or a hot meal. In bed she never initiated, never begged for more, but her body never stopped responding. I kept her on the pill because I didn’t want kids diluting the fun. About every other night I would pin her down and fuck her until she came multiple times, her silent, shuddering orgasms the only proof that she felt anything. One night three months into the marriage I had her naked on our bed, legs spread, my fingers tracing the soft blonde curls over her pussy.

“I want you waxed bare,” I told her. “Brazilian. Completely smooth.”

She looked down at herself, cheeks coloring. “But Honey… I don’t want to do that. It’ll hurt… and it’s so… exposed.”

I gripped her chin and made her meet my eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what you want. You’ll do it because I told you to. Tomorrow after work. No excuses.”

Her eyes dropped. “Yes, Honey.”

Two days later she came home late, walked straight to where I sat on the couch, and dropped her pants and panties. Her pussy was completely bald, the outer lips smooth and slightly puffy from the waxing, the inner ones already glistening. I ran my fingers over the newly sensitive skin and she flinched, a soft moan escaping despite herself. I bent her over the arm of the couch right there, spread those smooth cheeks, and fucked her hard from behind while I watched my thick cock disappear into that bare, pink hole. The sight of her swollen, hairless cunt stretched around my shaft made me cum harder than usual, pumping load after load deep inside her.

From then on she kept herself perfectly smooth with tweezers every couple of days. No stubble allowed. The increased sensitivity made her come even faster, though she still tried to hide it.

A few weeks later I decided it was time for the next step. She was on her knees between my legs after dinner, naked as ordered, waiting. I stroked my cock once and said, “Open your mouth. You’re going to suck me.”

Her eyes went wide. “But Honey… I’ve never… I don’t want to put that in my mouth. It’s dirty.”

I grabbed a handful of her blonde hair and pulled her face closer. “You’ll do exactly what I tell you. Open. Now.”

She opened. I fed my cock between her soft lips, feeling the wet heat of her tongue as I pushed deeper. She gagged at first, eyes watering, but I held her head and fucked her mouth in short strokes until she learned the rhythm. After that night I required a blowjob before every fuck. She got better quickly under my coaching—learning to swirl her tongue under the head, to hollow her cheeks, to take more of my length. One night I told her I was going to cum in her mouth. She pulled off with a wet pop, lips shiny, and whispered, “But Honey… please… I really don’t want to swallow it.”

I shoved back in and held her still. “Too fucking bad. You’re going to take every drop.” I erupted, thick spurts flooding her tongue and throat. She choked, some cum leaking from the corners of her mouth, but she swallowed most of it. I spent the next half hour eating her bare pussy as a reward, forcing three hard orgasms out of her while she whimpered and tried not to buck against my face. Then I fucked her until she came three more times, her cunt milking me dry.

Deepthroating came next. I had her lie on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed so I could stand and use her throat like a second cunt. The first time she gagged and retched for twenty minutes while I patiently forced my full seven-and-a-half inches down until her nose mashed against my pubic bone. Tears streamed from her eyes, spit and precum ran down her cheeks, but she never tried to push me away. Once she learned to relax her throat I fucked it regularly, balls slapping her face, watching the outline of my cock bulge in her neck. I always finished by shooting straight into her stomach, then recovering by devouring her dripping pussy until I was hard enough to rail her cunt again.

Nipple piercings were the next escalation. I booked the appointment myself. She cried quietly in the car on the way home, the fresh 14-gauge bars through both thick pink nipples already swelling. The half-rings hanging from them looked perfect. We waited six weeks for them to heal. After that I never fucked her without playing with those rings—tugging, twisting, pulling her tits upward by the metal while I pounded her. Her body loved it even when her mouth said otherwise. Those hard little peaks would tighten and her cunt would flutter every time I yanked on the jewelry.

Public exposure followed. I took her shopping for a tight black dress that clung to every curve and barely contained her heavy tits. No bra, no panties. The silver chain I bought that same day linked through both nipple rings and clipped behind her neck, constantly tugging her nipples upward so the outline of the piercings and the chain was visible through the thin fabric. At the office party that weekend every man in the room stared at her bouncing, chain-pulled tits. I made her stand close to me while I talked, feeling the heat of their eyes. On the drive home I told her exactly how many of them had wanted to put their hands on her. She only whispered, “I’m sorry, Honey.”

The first time I shared her was with a guy named Mark I met through a discreet website for married men looking for discreet fun. I brought him home after a late dinner. Sarah was waiting in a short silk robe as ordered. When I told her to drop it and let Mark look at her naked body she hesitated only a second before the fabric whispered to the floor. Those heavy pierced tits, the smooth bald pussy, the long legs—Mark’s eyes nearly bugged out. I ordered her to her knees. “Suck his cock, Babe. Show him how good that throat is.”

“But Honey… please… he’s not you…”

I smacked her bare ass hard enough to leave a print. “Do it.”

She opened her mouth and took Mark’s thick cock. I watched her pale lips stretch around another man’s shaft, watched her nose press against his stomach as she deepthroated him the way I’d trained her. Mark lasted maybe two minutes before he groaned and flooded her mouth. I pulled her up, kissed her hard, tasting the salty load on her tongue, then ordered her to suck me clean while Mark recovered. Later I had her straddle Mark on the couch so he could fuck her while I watched. The sight of another man’s cock stretching her bare cunt, the wet sounds, the way her tits bounced and the nipple rings flashed—I almost came without touching myself. When Mark finished deep inside her I immediately took his place, sliding into the creampie and pounding her until she came twice more around my cock.

From there it escalated. Double penetration became regular. I would lube her tight asshole thoroughly, then have one man on his back under her while I pushed into her ass. Feeling another cock sliding against mine through the thin wall of flesh between her cunt and ass drove me wild. Sarah would shake and cum continuously, her body overwhelmed, soft cries of “too much… Honey please…” turning into wordless gasps as we used both holes at once. I always made her thank each man for filling her.