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Tale of Cuckold, Creampie and Three Farts

 

by c.w. cobblestone

 

  

  

 

All farts are not created equal. Not in our household anyway.

 

Julie’s are pure ambrosia, incense from a Goddess. Not really; her farts stink like everybody else’s. But I’ll never tell her that.

 

Just yesterday morning she farted in my face while I performed my “Birth Control Patrol.” That’s what her lover calls it when I clean her pussy after he fucks her.

 

The call from the bedroom came just after 10 as I was doing a few light Saturday morning chores. I knocked on their door.

 

Julie grunted something that sounded like “Come in.”

 

I lost my breath when I entered the room. She lay alone on the wrinkled silk sheets, legs spread, a pillow covering her face. I squinted; a line of cum trickled out of her pussy. I gulped and peeked into the master bathroom, where Thomas sat on the toilet reading the newspaper. Heaven help me if he caught me ogling my wife’s vagina.

 

“Um, Mistress?”

 

Julie waved her arm without removing the pillow. “Go ahead.”

 

I darted into action, slithering respectfully up the mattress until my face was between her legs. My tongue caught the sperm before it could leak onto the sheets.

  

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“I’m sore; just put your mouth there,” she said.

 

My lips formed a seal around her well-fucked pussy and I remained as still as possible. I fought the urge to retch as his bitter cum leaked down my throat.

 

The bed sagged just before Thomas rolled into my line of vision smirking. “Hey, lester, I left you a present in there.” He winked and burrowed his head under Julie’s pillow, making her giggle and twist. I twisted with her, faithfully keeping my mouth glued to her pussy so no cum could leak out.

 

The muffled smack of kisses underneath the lovers’ pillow tortured me from above while hellfire throbbed below. Being so close to my mistress’s pussy was causing my dicklet to get hard within the confines of its chastity tube. Nearly two months had passed since my last orgasm. I tried to think about baseball, but it was difficult contemplating the infield fly rule while trying not to choke on Thomas' sperm!

  

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They eventually came out from under the pillow. Julie retrieve a joint and lighter from the nightstand. She took a deep toke and passed it to her lover. Then she tapped the lighter on my forehead three times.

 

“Stop breathing so hard; it’s tickling my stomach,” she said.

 

Thomas snickered, hit the joint and flicked the ashes onto my hair before handing it back to his girl.

 

Julie leaned to the left; I tilted with her.

 

Brrrrrrrrpppp!!! She let out a long, soft fart. I blinked in indignation.

 

Julie giggled. “Sorry.” She wasn’t apologizing to me, though; she was whispering in Thomas’ ear.

 

Her tone changed. “Okay, lester, that’s enough. Get a towel.”

 

When I stepped into the bathroom to fetch one I saw the “present” Thomas had left for me: Three huge turds floating in the yellow toilet water. I started toward the toilet to flush it, but my wife called, “Hurry up” so I turned and hurried to obey.

 

She was sitting up on the bed when I handed over her towel. She took it without so much as a glance my way, dabbed at her swollen pussy a few times, and started for the bathroom.

 

She wasn’t in there more than three seconds before her angry voice made me jump, even though I’d been ready for it: “lester, get in here.”

 

“Oops, looks like I got ya in trouble.” Thomas chuckled. “Boy, it must really suck to be you.”

 

I hurried to the bathroom. Julie pointed at the toilet.

 

“What the hell is this?” Her hand was a blur; I staggered when she slapped me a second time.

  

 

“Get that nasty shit cleaned up.” She folded her arms while I scrambled around the bathroom, flushing the toilet then darting to the cabinet beneath the sink for the cleaner and scrub brush.

  

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I had the toilet in tip-top shape in a matter of seconds. She pushed past me and started tinkling, closing her legs and leaning forward. I averted my eyes and slinked away.

 

Thomas laughed when I came back into the bedroom. “I guess Julie didn’t like my present very much, huh?”

 

“No sir. But thank you for leaving it for me, sir.”

 

He sniffed. “No problem, fag. Hey, I got another present for you. Come here.”

 

I knelt to where he was pointing and hung my head. He rolled over, his naked ass right in my face. I gulped.

 

“Okay, lester, nose to the grindstone.” I knew his lingo; he wanted me to put my nose in his ass.

 

I flinched when the explosion hit my nostrils: “BRRRIUUUUUPPPP!” It was all I could do not to throw up, but I swallowed it like a good little wimp.

  

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He shoved my head away. “What do you say, fag?”

 

“T-thank you sir.”

 

“You’re welcome.” He looked up and smiled. “I think I’m about ready for breakfast, how about you, babe?”

 

“Sounds good.” Julie breezed past me as I was struggling to my feet. She lay down next to her boyfriend while I skulked to the foot of the bed and stood at attention awaiting their orders.

 

“Western omelet and hash browns,” Julie said, picking a stray hair from the corner of her mouth.

 

Thomas scratched his balls. “Same thing, but I want sausage, too.”

 

After I served them in bed, I knelt on the carpet and bowed my head as usual.

 

My hunger pangs soon turned painful. A pocket of gas had formed in my lower intestine and was trying to push its way out. Sometimes you can tell beforehand if a fart is going to smell, and this one was shaping up to be a doozy.

 

I prayed they would send me for more coffee or juice but they seemed content digging into their food and watching TV.

 

After several minutes of sheer torture I couldn’t hold back. I tried to release just a little, but the whole thing blew up like a hydrogen bomb: “BRRRRRRRRUUUPPP!”

 

I smelled it instantly. Julie and Thomas both crinkled their noses.

 

Julie scowled. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

Thomas sat up and slapped the shit out of me. Through the swirling blackness I heard his voice: “Go get your rod, asshole.”

 

I darted to the basement and returned with the implement in my mouth, falling to my knees near the bed and clasping my hands behind my back. Julie and Thomas continued eating as though nothing were out of the ordinary while I knelt there trembling, awaiting my punishment.

 

They lounged on the bed for a good 20 minutes after they finished eating, Finally, Thomas sat up and snatched the rod from my lips.

 

“Pants down, nose to the floor, ass in the air.” I knelt there trying to hold still.

 

I heard Julie’s mirthful tone: “I’d love to stay and watch, honey, but I’ve got to get ready to go shopping.” I heard them kiss before she padded off to the bathroom. “Have fun, lester,” she giggled before turning on the shower.

 

I closed my eyes and prayed to the carpet. As I awaited the first terrible blow, I realized one truth to be self-evident: That all farts are not created equal.

 

 

 

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