Want him to fill me up, cuck? - Chapter 1

Martin opened the bathroom door and began undressing as he did every day. He tossed his clothes into the hamper he shared with Florencia, right in among the towels and a stray sheet. Left in just his boxers, he looked at himself in the mirror. It was a wide, vanity-style piece with three doors, reflecting him down to his waist.

He had a pretty average build: 1.83 meters tall and rather slim. You could tell he used to work out back in the day—traces of muscle still lingered in his shoulders and chest—but now he was totally out of shape. Looking at himself, he wondered how much he’d changed over the last few years; he’d let himself go, and he found himself wondering if Flor was still attracted to him the same way.

Florencia and Martin were a young couple: she was 27 and he was 32. She was short—barely 1.57 meters—with blonde hair and striking, pale blue eyes. She had a flat tummy, curving just slightly forward, breaking into wide hips and a slim, naturally athletic waist. Her tits were natural, big, perky, and perfectly shaped for her body—made to be grabbed. And if all that wasn’t enough, her legs and ass formed a lethal combination: a tight little pussy-magnet of an ass with perfect proportions that swallowed any pair of panties whole or forced a bikini to ride up to the absolute limit, blending into sculpted legs that seemed to go on forever. Florencia was a total bombshell, the kind of girl you instinctively turn your head to check out while waiting at a red light: even with your own woman sitting right next to you, you’d rather watch that tight little ass walk by and deal with the screaming match afterward.

During their early years traveling to the coast, Martin noticed how men constantly stared at Flor’s fat ass, and there was nothing he could do about it: there were too many of them, all the time, so you either got used to it like Flor did, or you spent your whole life getting into fistfights with everybody. Martin accepted that this was how it had to be; there was no other choice. They even joked about it sometimes. Whenever she noticed a group of guys undressing her with their eyes while sunbathing next to Martin, she’d lean down as she walked past them and tease:

—Like what you see, babe? Or should I spread wider? —she’d say between laughs, arching her back to thrust her ass out even more graphically, leaving zero doubt about where the thong wedged deep between her cheeks.

After several years together, Martin had gotten used to dealing with this and the jokes from his buddies. Over the years, Flor had proven that besides being ridiculously hot, she was someone he could trust; he’d never noticed anything weird, and she always showed him loyalty.

He decided not to overthink it and tossed his boxers into the hamper when something caught his eye. His insecure thoughts in front of the mirror only made this discovery hit him with a harder shock.

Inside the hamper was a thong. It belonged to Flor, that was obvious, but Flor didn’t wear thongs: this one was brand new and totally different. She usually wore wide microfiber colaless—the practical, comfy kind that didn’t show pantylines under jeans, zero erotic vibe, completely unsuited for a night of passion. Florencia always complained that thongs were uncomfortable, that she preferred finer fabric that didn’t squeeze too tight and molded to her body. But this piece of underwear threw all those rules out the window. It was a tiny black lace thong: basically a triangle of string and elastic that hooked into another smooth triangle in the back. The strip holding her wet pussy was tiny and made of stretchy fabric. Touching it, Martin felt the dampness right between his fingers, and automatically, he brought his fingers up to his nose: without a shadow of a doubt, it smelled like his woman. The punch of her scent hit his lungs, mixing her perfume with her own hot, wet juices. It slowly brought his dick to life. He inhaled, filling his lungs one last time with that intoxicating smell, and stepped into the shower.

Martin loved a hot shower, and bit by bit, the steam unknotted his muscles. He ran through his to-do list for the day, took the chance to brush his teeth, and had zero trouble taking a piss right there in the drain. After a few minutes, the memory of the thong crept back into his head. “Weird,” he thought... “Guess Flor’s finally sick of those boring, baggy panties; maybe she just wants to look hot for herself and that’s it. Why am I even stressing? I’ve never seen that thong before, she’s never worn it for me—though it’s probably brand new... But that’s not like Flor; she loves acting like a dirty slut with me, she knows I’m into this kind of lingerie, so why didn’t she model it for me? Whatever, there are a million possibilities, I’m overthinking this shit.” It wasn’t until he started imagining how that thong would look wrapped around his girlfriend that the bad thoughts melted away.

A knock sounded at the door, and without waiting for an answer, it swung open and Flor walked in.

—Martin, how much longer? Caro wants to go grab a drink with the girls, and I need to take a quick shower before we head out —Flor said in a rushed tone.

—I’m coming out right now, babe. How was the vet? —Martin asked, stroking his hard dick, leaning one hand against the wall while the hot water battered his back and his free hand started jerking him off slowly.

From the other side of the shower curtain, he could hear Flor unzipping her pants, dropping them to the floor, and sitting down on the toilet to pee.

—Pretty quiet, actually. Way too quiet. Hardly any patients, which is rare. This morning we discharged two dogs: one that got hit by a car, poor thing, broke its front leg—Galil was its name, a black German Shepherd, you would’ve loved him—and a stray with a urinary tract infection that was a bit messed up, but we cleared him early. How about you, fatty?

Martin was burning up. He’d never stopped beating his meat, but today he was shocked by how much the mere idea of his perfect girlfriend wearing the most sex-drenched lingerie possible turned him on. The fantasy grew right along with the strokes he gave himself in secret. Ignoring her question, he blurted out:

—And what were you wearing today?

—Wearing? You want to know what I wore today? Hahaha, you can just look at me and find out, can’t you?

—You’re killing the mood, Flor. Tell me, I want to picture it.

—Are you horny, Martin? —Flor asked playfully.

—Maybe... a little, but it’s your fault, you know.

—And what did I do this time? —she laughed, flushing the toilet and stripping off the rest of her clothes.

—You’ve got a brand new thong. A tiny one. Didn’t know you were into those now.

—What thong, dummy?

—The new one. The stringy two-triangle one. You left it right in the dirty laundry hamper.

There was a brief moment of silence where Flor seemed to freeze.

—Oh, that. Yeah, saw it the other day and ordered it online. It’s a set actually: came with a black lace bra and a harness. I was going to show it to you, but with work it completely slipped my mind. When it arrived, I was curious if it’d be comfortable for work and thought “why not”, so I put it on and wore it to the clinic... shh, don’t tell my furry patients.

—It’s definitely not the dogs I’m worried about.

Flor switched off the bathroom light and slowly pulled back the curtain. Martin was scorching hot, his erection throbbing harder by the second. Flor stepped into the shower and told him:

—Shh, chill out. It’s not like clients bring their dogs in and pull my pants down to check if I’m wearing a slutty thong, Martin —she hugged him from behind, pressing her warm tits hard against his lower back.

Her right hand slid down his stomach until she grabbed a fistful of his heavy cock, taking over the job her boyfriend had started. She knew him inside out and knew exactly how he liked it; he’d whispered every dirty detail to her over the years, and she’d learned her lesson well.

—Damn, Flor... —he groaned, his legs shaking from the intense heat as he tried to hold back—. Good thing your clients don’t drop your pants when you treat their pets —he muttered through his teeth, almost begging.

—I don’t know... with the ass I’ve got, if they pulled my pants down for that, half of ’em would bring their dogs in every single day. I’d be completely full...

—Full of what, Florencia?

___________

Written by Tatiana Herrera.

Full-time Writer and Hotwife. 💋

Disclaimer

Story based on a true confession.

Names and details altered for discretion.

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