He squeezed lubricant onto his fingers and moved behind her. “First, I’m going to touch you. Get you used to having fingers here.”
Stacy buried her face in the leather as his glistening finger traced a circle around her anus. “Now I need you to do something for me, Stacy. I need you to reach back and spread your bottom cheeks. Hold them open to offer me your sweet little bottom hole.”
“No!” The word tore from Stacy’s throat. “Please, sir, I can’t—that’s too embarrassing, please don’t make me?—”
“This is part of your training,” Kevin said firmly. “A wife presents her bottom to her husband when he decides to use it. You will spread yourself open and hold still while I prepare you.”
Stacy’s hands moved with agonizing slowness, her fingers finding the curves of her own cheeks. She pulled them apart, and the camera zoomed in to show her anus fully exposed—a tiny, clenched star that seemed impossibly small.
I was panting. When had I started panting? My whole body had gone rigid on the couch, every muscle taut with tension. Between my legs, my panties were already soaked through. I could feel the wetness spreading, the cotton clinging to my swollen, needy flesh.
Kevin’s finger pressed against the center of that tiny opening. Stacy whimpered as it began to push inside.
“Bear down,” he instructed. “Push out, like you know how to do—yes, that’s it. Good girl.”
His finger sank in to the first knuckle. Stacy’s whole body shuddered, but she kept her cheeks spread, kept herself open for him. The expression on her face—visible in profile as she turned her head against the leather—was one of absolute mortification. And something else.
“You’re getting wet,” Kevin observed, and the camera shifted to confirm it. Stacy’s pussy glistened between her spread thighs. “Your body knows you need to submit to your husband.”
He worked his finger deeper, then began to move it in slow, gentle thrusts. Stacy’s breathing changed—quick, shallow pants that I recognized because I was making the same sounds on my couch.
“Now the first dildo,” Kevin announced, withdrawing his finger. He coated the slim white toy with lubricant, making it gleam under the lamplight. “Keep holding yourself open.”
The tip of the dildo touched Stacy’s anus, and she let out a long, shuddering moan. Kevin pressed it forward with excruciating slowness. The camera captured every detail—the way her opening stretched around the white shaft, the way her fingers dug into her own flesh as she held herself spread, the way her thighs trembled.
“That’s it,” Kevin murmured. “Take it all. Feel your bottom opening for me.”
The dildo slid in until only the base was visible. Kevin held it there, letting Stacy adjust, then began to move it—slow, measured thrusts that made Stacy gasp with each one.
“Please,” Stacy sobbed. “Please, it’s so much… I feel so full…”
“This is nothing compared to my cock,” Kevin said matter-of-factly, and I felt my own anus clench at the words. “This is just to get you ready. To teach your body how to open.”
He worked the small dildo for several minutes, the whispering, moist sounds of it moving inside her filling the speakers. Stacy’s protests gradually shifted into something else—breathy, desperate noises that were unmistakably sounds of pleasure.
“Now the bigger one,” Kevin said, withdrawing the first dildo. He picked up the flesh-colored one—the one that looked like a real penis—and I watched Stacy’s eyes go wide with fresh terror.
“I can’t! Sir… please…”
“It’s going to be uncomfortable,” her husband told her. “But you can take it. More important, you don’t have a choice. Your bottom is going to be fucked tonight, by this dildo and by my cock, because I want to have you there.”
Kevin coated the bigger, penis-like dildo with a generous amount of lubricant, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The flesh-colored shaft glistened obscenely under the lamplight as he positioned it against Stacy’s already opened anus. Her fingers still gripped her own cheeks, holding herself spread the way her husband had commanded, and I could see how they trembled—how her knuckles had gone white with the effort of maintaining that mortifying position.
“Breathe,” Kevin told her. “Push out for me just like you did before.”
The flared head of the dildo pressed forward, and Stacy’s cry pierced through my living room speakers. The camera capturedthe moment her body yielded—the way her anus stretched around the thicker girth, the way the flesh-colored shaft disappeared inch by inch into that impossibly tight opening.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God—” Stacy chanted, her voice breaking.
“That’s it. You’re taking it, honey.” Kevin’s hand rested on the small of her back, steadying her as he pushed the dildo deeper. “This is almost what my cock is going to feel like in your ass. I want you to get used to this feeling.”
The dildo was halfway inside her now. Kevin paused, letting her adjust, then began to work it with slow, rocking thrusts—pushing it a little deeper each time before drawing it back. The wet, obscene sounds of it moving inside Stacy’s bottom filled my living room, and I realized my mouth had fallen open.
My hand was between my legs.
I didn’t remember putting it there. But there it was, under my skirt, which I had at some point, it seemed, hiked up to my waist. My fingers were pressing against the damp cotton of my panties, instinctively curling to find the swollen ridge of my clit. The shock of discovering what I was doing lasted only a second before the pleasure of it overwhelmed my resolve.
I couldn’t stop. I didn’t even try. My fingers rubbed frantically through the soaked fabric, my hips lifting off the couch cushion as I watched Kevin thrust the penis-shaped dildo into his wife’s bottom with measured, relentless strokes.
