No teenage boy deserves to see his girlfriend of less than a week getting backshots from her jock ex under the school’s bleachers. Unfortunately, everyone doesn’t get what they deserve.

This tone wasn’t foreign to Cal and Michelle’s relationship. Teary-eyed, he confronted her on her porch later that evening, and she didn’t even have the decency to lie or deny it. With little emotion, she confessed and told him that she will continue to do as she pleased, and he better accept it if he wanted to remain her boyfriend.

The disadvantage of being a skinny, unconfident nerd reared its head as Cal feared their relationship’s end meant his resumption of high school senior singledom. It all started when she chose him to be her math tutor because her failing grades threatened the prospect of graduation. Tired of her father’s insistent grousing over her boyfriend choices, she offered Cal the role to placate daddy dearest until college started. That was fifteen years prior.

In the present day, Cal and Michelle were a married couple of ten years – against the advice of his father. This caused a rift in their relationship, to the point that Cal and his dad hardly spoke anymore.  He didn’t want his son with a woman that disrespected him as much as she did because she would sink his already gutter-dwelling self-worth deeper until it reached Lucifer’s Pit.

However, Cal saw it differently.

Yes, she had sex with other men, but Michelle preached that it was okay as that was cuckolding culture and therefore acceptable. Plus, she let him have sex with her once a year – on his birthday – which was far better than what he previously pulled, which was none at all.

A part of Cal got jealous hearing about how other men used her body and pleasured her, but in many ways, it aroused him as well. Many times, he masturbated in the guest house at night, imagining – sometimes remembering – men sturdier and supposedly manlier than himself, plundering his wife’s holes with reckless abandon. Imagining them fucking her like the ex that time by the bleachers and making her plump buttocks ripple with every thrust.

Yes, the guest house was his residence, for Michelle couldn’t stomach being in the same place as him for too long, so she used her daddy’s money to build one. Within the marriage’s first year, Cal no longer slept in the main house. Not that they shared a bed, anyway. It wasn’t ideal, but Cal thought this was the best he could do because, according to him, he was “just an unsightly, skinny nerd.”

One afternoon, Michelle texted him that she and her best friend, Shanda, were no longer on speaking terms. Shock was Cal’s initial response, given their friendship since Junior High, but he promised to fulfill the task bestowed upon him to get them talking again. After directly messaging her on social media, Shanda bit and offered to meet at a close-by diner for lunch. Dressed in his usual early 2000s, overly baggy attire, he entered the diner and spotted her seated, waving from the far end. Cal lumbered over and then sat opposite of her with an indecisive smile.

“Hey, Cal, it’s nice to see you’re well,” said the dark-skinned, grinning beauty. Shanda was an amateur model that should have been a professional. Between her paper-white teeth, celebrity smile and smooth skin that would make a laminated desk jealous, the contrast between her and her lunch date was almost comical.

“Hi, Shanda. It’s um, so nice to see you again.” Cal fidgeted in his seat before settling. “So, could you… could you tell me why you and Michelle don’t talk anymore?”

“You’re wrong.” Shanda’s expression hardened, and Cal swallowed.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“You said we don’t talk anymore. It’s more than that. I’m no longer friends with that bitch.”

Cal’s heart near leapt out of his mouth. His father, one high-school friend he had, and even her father called her that word, but not Shanda. Not her best friend since they were kids. Why?

“But, you’ve been friends for so lo–”

“Cut the shit, Cal.” Shanda leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table.

“What? I didn’t eve–”

“I said, cut it.”

Cal kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to speak.

“You of all people.” Shanda sneered and shook her head. “Is it really hard to figure out why I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like her anymore? She doesn’t care about or respect anyone else but herself. But if you must know, the argument was really about you.”

“Me? Why me? I don’t… understand.”

“She treats you like shit, homeboy.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m lucky to be–”

“I said to fucking cut it!” Shanda slammed the table with both palms, and the three other diner patrons looked around. “Cal, look, I don’t know what’s going on up in that head of yours, but I know, your self-esteem has always been shit. And she takes advantage of that. She gets off on having her little pet while she fucks and sucks whomever she damn well pleases. Doesn’t that make you feel any resentment? Anger? Anything at all?”

“It’s no problem, really…” Cal whispered and shrugged.

“Boy, the things she says about you when she’s with her friends. I’m no saint, because I would laugh with her while she made fun of how weak and pathetic you are, but at some point, we all gotta grow up, ya know?”

Cal remained silent, but his lip quivered.

“Look, I just couldn’t deal with it anymore. Being a high-school bitch in your thirties is more pathetic than you, putting up with her if you ask me. Cal, we’ve never been friends, but I’ve got a newborn son. If a woman was to ever treat my son like how she treats you, I’d fucking kill her.”

Cal’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he bowed his head, allowing them to pitter-patter on the table.

“Jesus.” Shanda rubbed her temple. “Cal, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all of that. Fuck, what is wrong with me? Look, for your own mental health, please… just please, run away from that bitch. As far as you can. I know you don’t believe this, but you’re actually a handsome guy. It’s just that you don’t believe in yourself, and you dress like a hobo, if hobos did their laundry.”

Cal sniffled and wiped his eyes and nose with a table napkin.

“She says you guys only have sex on your birthday. Also, that she’s the only person you’ve ever had sex with. Is that true, or was she cappin’?”

Cal nodded, still making eye contact with the table. Pity blanketed her demeanour towards the animal in front of her that was set to be put down. She eased her right foot out of its flat and traced his inner thigh until it reached his cock. Cal shot her a surprised look as he engorged before shoving her limb off and scrambling to his feet.

“You owe her nothing,” Shanda said. “Don’t you want to get back at her somehow? Some way? That way?” She glanced at his crotch on the last sentence.

“No, I-I can’t. I won’t cheat… I’ve gotta go.” Cal held the sides of his head and darted out as Shanda called after him.

When he returned to his residence, he curled up on the floor sobbing, becoming a tearful, snotty mess. What Shanda said to him wasn’t really news, as he always figured people ridiculed him behind his back. To hear someone explicitly say so, though, was a different ball game. Cal’s tears for the next hour represented the full weight of his fifteen-year relationship with Michelle. When the tears ceased, however, he calmly sat up cross-legged and stared into the distance while rocking for the remainder of that night.

Eighteen Months Later

For her thirty-fifth birthday, Michelle was not shy about having a gangbang with a bukkake finale. Cal, being the supportive spouse as always, nodded in agreement and suggested the guest house as the location. She shrugged it off initially but then weeks later said there would be perfect – as if Cal hadn’t suggested it earlier.

As the sun set and the horizon turned into a canvas of blended colours, the first two dick providers arrived at the arena. Michelle greeted and directed them to the three-seater before advancing to a slouched Cal, who wore a long-sleeve shirt and sweatpants combo that swallowed him and still had room to eat.

“Since when did you stop cutting your own hair?” Michelle asked, scanning his sharply lined Caesar cut.

“What? No, I still… I still do it.” Cal avoided eye contact and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hmm, looks better than those shitty cuts you usually give yourself. Anyway…” She rolled her eyes and refocused on their guests.

The remaining men arrived, making it ten in total that would be participating that evening. The furniture set had been pushed back, and the centre table moved, but the carpet remained. Michelle told Cal earlier that cleaning it would be his problem as she wasn’t kneeling on the tiled floor. Like an obedient servant, he nodded. In the present, he sat in his one-seater, awaiting the main feature for an audience of one.

After a few drinks, his wife stood in the centre and beckoned one of the guests to step up to the plate. As a bald, full-bearded man of medium height approached, images flashed in Cal’s mind of the initial visit he made to his father the day after conversing with Shanda. His dad was quite surprised but not unhappy to see his son, whom he’d been estranged from for some time. Cal summarized his meeting with Michelle’s ex-bestie and asked for help. I’m lost, Dad.

“Daaamn, this is gonna be good,” said the bald, bearded man as he snatched Michelle by the waist.

“Stop,” Cal whispered.

More memories of the past eighteen months replayed as his father carried him through intense fitness routines and the basics of grappling and striking daily. The old man was no Gracie, but he was far more competent than the average Joe.

“Stop,” Cal said with more volume, but Michelle and her boy-toy continued leaning into each other to broach a kiss. Interspersed in the training sessions with his father were conversations surrounding how to improve one’s body language and confidence.  The advantage of being a househusband to a busy, six-figure earning wife was that once he handled all of the main house chores, she couldn’t care less what else he was up to. Even if she was consistently home, she still wouldn’t have noticed.

“Stop.” This time, Cal was just above a murmur. Michelle placed an index finger on her lover’s lips, stepped back and undid her top and bra, exposing her bouncy tits. During this, Cal’s slouch straightened, and his jittery facial expressions calmed before he stood, strolled towards the action in the centre and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Stop.” The bass in his voice startled Michelle and made the bald, bearded man birl in a state of confusion.

“Whaddya mean ‘stop’? You’re the wimp that’s supposed to be getting off on me fu–” Cal knocked him down with a swift right hook, which made the other men gasp and Michelle cover her mouth. As the man lay unconscious, Cal squatted next to him and placed his hand on the man’s chest.

“Stop.” He stood up and stared straight at his spouse.

“What? Wait, what is...” Michelle rambled for a few seconds until Cal stripped down to only his boxer briefs. After neatly folding his baggy clothes and laying them on the floor, she said, “You’re… ripped. When did this hap–”

“When you don’t pay attention to your husband…” Cal stepped within a breath of Michelle’s personal space, “… and don’t stay in the same area as him; you tend to miss these things.”

Cal’s mass hadn’t changed drastically, but an extra ten pounds of muscle on someone who never worked out and was weak as a kitten, would make them seem like Mr. Olympia in comparison.

“Look at you,” he said. “You’re aroused, aren’t you?”

“I… I don’t understand,” Michelle started. “What is going o–”

“I asked you a question.”

Michelle’s face scrunched in disgust. “Who the fuck are you to be asking me questions, muthafucka? I’m queen shit around here. You’re just a little pussy-ass bitch.”

Cal remained stone cold. No flinching or untethering of eye contact. So much so, Michelle broke it before hugging herself and plumping her breasts.

“Yeah, kinda,” she whispered.

“Louder.” Cal’s stance remained unchanged.

“A little bit! But it ain’t a big deal, aight. First time in sixteen years, you decide to be a fucking man, for once. You want a goddamn prize or something?”

“Take off your panties.”

“You don’t call the shots around here. I make the bread, I call the shots. Hey.” Cal turned, picked up his clothes, and walked towards the door.

“Wait,” Michelle called out to him. “Shoot, I was gonna do it anyway. You got something to prove, plus... nobody walks away from me.”

After Michelle slipped her panties off, Cal walked back towards her – laid the clothes on the floor again –and lifted her chin. Michelle scoffed but was jolted by him gently planting a kiss on her lips. Her eyes popped open but eventually closed, and she leaned into him. His tongue parted her lips, and she resisted initially, but relented and reciprocated with her tongue. Cal slid a palm between her breasts, over her soft abdomen and flicked her clitoris before slipping his middle and ring fingers into her gooey snatch. She pulled her lips away and gasped while staring at him, and just as her breathing got heavier, he withdrew his fingers and wiped them on her heaving tits.

“Turn around,” Cal instructed, and Michelle knitted her brows before making a hesitant spin for the chattering guests to view her side profile.

“Hey,” said one of the guests. “I thought we were supposed to be banging her? What’s this, man?”

“Michelle,” Cal said. “Bend over… facing them.”

Michelle huffed, but her juicing pussy won the round, so she followed the directive. The remaining cocks in the room strained against their clothed prisons, aiming from afar at her loosely hanging boobs that jostled when Cal penetrated her from behind.

“You all…” Cal smacked her juicy rear, which drew a yelp, “… will be spectators for this act.”

The man who questioned proceedings and another exited immediately while the sound of Michelle’s buttocks clapping permeated the room.

“Oooh shhhit.” She lifted one nostril, exposing her gritted teeth. Cal never took her this way before. His way was always gentle, kind, and passive – tentative.

“All of these years,” he said calmly while gripping her hips and thrusting his pelvis against her massive bottom, “of you belittling me to your friends. Never taking me seriously, disrespecting me. Telling others I was less than a man. Treating me like I was less than human – knowing my self-esteem was non-existent. How does it feel to have that very man doing this to you?”

“Oh God… fuck.” Michelle’s eyes rolled up as drool hung from her open maw.

Cal grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked it, making her stare directly at her audience. “How does it feel?”

“Fu-hu-huck. It feels good, oh shhit,” Michelle whimpered until only the whites of her eyes were visible.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Cal pulled out, and Michelle stumbled, nearly tipping over. “Get on your knees so they can see you from the side.”

Michelle’s movement was stiff, but she knelt, sitting on her haunches.

“I’m going to ejaculate on your face,” Cal said while looking down at his target.

“Ejaculate?” Michelle snickered.

“Is there something funny?” Cal clenched his jaw, still locked onto his intended cum receptacle.

“I mean… it’s just… who says that, ya know?” Michelle laughed nervously and broke eye contact.

“Stop talking and stop slouching. Lean forward, cup your breasts and arch your back.”

“Just because…” Michelle paused as Cal’s icy stare remained unbroken. She cupped her jugs with one forearm and used the other hand to rub her clitoris in sync with her husband’s masturbation. His stroking intensified, and breathing quickened until several weeks’ worth of jizz recoiled in the penile base, preparing to assault her face and tits. Sixteen years of pent-up rage fueled the roar that left his throat as arcs of thick semen splattered against her forehead, right eye, nose and plump lips. Some dripped from her chin and into her cleavage. During this, her mouth gaped open as the jets devolved into dripping globs that tickled her throat.

“Jesus Christ.” She coughed for a bit after speaking and releasing her breasts from their forearm cage. “I’ve never heard you nut that hard before.”

After flicking the remaining drops stuck in his urethra into her hair, Cal strolled back to his original seat, still nude, and sat, laying his arms on the armrest.

“The rest of you…” He pointed at them, “… do what I just did over her face and leave.”

“Now, wait a minute.” She stood straight on her knees and placed her hands akimbo.

“This was going to end with a bukkake, remember?” The temperature in his tone dipped to subzero. Michelle shrugged, slapped her thighs and dropped onto her haunches.

The gentlemen looked at each other quizzically, deliberating who would start until they all just went as a group. Each of them took turns jerking off over her, and though many of the loads were generous, none matched the original’s volume. Neither did the decibels.

“Play with yourself until you climax,” Cal said, remaining unmoved.

Michelle slid a hand over her slimy pubic area and immediately rubbed her clitoris with great fury. Even though she was heavily masked in reproductive fluid, her facial contortions were visible as wads vibrated along her orgasming vessel. Her scream ranked second to her husband’s that evening.

“Leave,” Cal said while looking at his semen coated wife. Their guests gathered their pants and began filing out slowly before he stopped them and pointed at the unconscious man who was stirring. “Take him with you.”

The group picked him up by his armpits and feet before exiting with the haste of timid prey spared from the claws of a salivating predator.

***

Silence reigned for...