Cuckold Hubby Begs for Creampie

Marcus’s heavy fist struck the door three times. Inside the neat suburban house, Tim’s stomach clenched so hard he nearly dropped the bottle of lube he’d been instructed to leave on the nightstand. He had spent the last two hours preparing the bedroom exactly as ordered: crisp black sheets, every light on, two chairs positioned so one faced the bed and the other the corner. Lena had been texting Marcus for weeks, each message more explicit than the last, until Tim’s cock had been locked in its pink plastic cage for nine days straight.

Lena glided past him in the sheer black lingerie Marcus had demanded. The fabric was practically transparent, her hard nipples clearly visible, the tiny thong already darkened by her arousal. She looked radiant, flushed, dangerous. Tim had never seen her eyes so bright.

“Stay in the corner until you’re told otherwise,” she whispered, brushing past him without a kiss.

The door opened.

Marcus filled the frame. Six-foot-four, broad-shouldered, wearing a tight black compression shirt and gray sweatpants that did nothing to hide the thick, heavy outline of his cock. His dark eyes swept over Lena like she already belonged to him, then flicked to Tim.

“Evening, cuck.”

Tim’s mouth went dry. He nodded mutely and backed toward the corner chair as Lena dropped to her knees right there in the hallway.

She didn’t hesitate. Her manicured fingers hooked into the waistband of Marcus’s sweats and dragged them down. His massive black cock sprang free, thick, veined, already half-hard and swaying heavily in front of her face. It was easily twice the girth of Tim’s and longer by a good four inches. Lena moaned at the sight, a needy, broken sound.

“Fuck, I missed this,” she breathed, both hands wrapping around the base. Even together they couldn’t close completely.

Marcus looked down at her with calm ownership. “Show your husband how a real man gets greeted.”

Lena turned her head toward the corner. Tim was already on his knees, hands on his thighs, chastity cage straining. Their eyes met for one humiliating second before Lena opened her mouth and took Marcus’s thick cockhead between her lips.

The wet, obscene sounds started immediately. She sucked him with hunger, loud slurping pops and gagging whimpers as she forced more of his length down her throat. Marcus groaned, one big hand resting lightly on the back of her head, guiding but not forcing. Not yet.

“That’s it, baby. Worship that superior dick,” he rumbled. “Tell your little white husband exactly what you’re tasting.”