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Desperate Husbands by Joncy
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I work at a home entertainment center just outside London and am something of a technical expert. As such I’m very much in demand and get called out to install and adjust all kinds of equipment. Mostly it’s routine and boring but I sometimes happen on a frustrated husband at home alone. In that case I invariably get to do a little extra installing and adjusting on the side, if you see what I mean. Often I have my hands (and mouth) quite full. You’d be surprised how many desperate husbands there are out there, not just desperate housewives, believe you me.

Of course I have to be cautious and selective, as I don’t want to lose my job so I usually wait for them to make the first move. That way I get to play some interesting cat and mouse games. Not that I like cats very much. I prefer the horny mouse who, with a little encouragement, can grow into a randy rat ready to cheat on his wife and perform a few naughty routines of his own. Unfortunately rats sometimes get carried away and I’ve had quite a few close calls. Still you have to take the rough with the smooth and some guys can get pretty rough. It’s a signof the macho man asserting his manhood. You see often a client is pissed off because he’s not able to fix the equipment himself. So I have to build up his confidence, which I generally do by telling him what a great body he has or asking him where he works out. Get them talking about their bodies and you’re half way there.

Naturally the fact that I have a great body myself helps us both along and I’ve learned just how to show it off to its best advantage. I’ve got a pair of cute little overalls that open down the front so my pecs get to breathe down the guy’s neck when I’m leaning over him to explain things. They also do a lot to enhance my ass when I bend over to pick up my tools of the trade and absolutely nothing to conceal my nine-inch dick when it’s begging for attention. Needless to say I don’t wear underwear. It spoils the line. In fact if the truth be told I’m a shameless slut but it seems to work every time. And I always believe in telling the truth. If the guy starts talking about girls and their tits and pussies I make it quite clear that he’s barking up the wrong tree. The result of all this is he either keeps his distance and I back off, or his dick and his curiosity are aroused. Usually the latter.

My first playmate was a guy in deep depression. He had what Holly Golightly calls the mean reds. His wife had left him and he bought what is known in the trade as the full package. Wall-to-wall screen, surround sound, the latest DVD machine and every appliance you could think of. He called to say there was a defect somewhere as the system kept cutting out. I got there late afternoon as he didn’t get off work till five. He was in his early thirties, well stacked and wearing the bare minimum. A sleeveless t-shirt and cut-offs out of which his thighs were bursting to escape. They looked like cut off logs themselves. There were signs of a healthy looking twig in the middle too. Actually branch would have described it better but I didn’t want to build up your expectations too much. He got out some beer and popcorn and we sat down on the sofa to watch a movie. That way we were able to see if the equipment behaved itself. I, of course, didn’t. I asked him a couple of technical questions but he didn’t seem to be listening. He apologised and said half of him was some place else, which was ok by me. I was only interested in the half that was in front of me, sprawled out on the sofa, his log-like legs wide apart displaying his own full package of promising lumber.

We were half way through the movie and it was growing dark. I’d consumed two beers and was getting horny as hell. Eventually I threw caution to the winds. I put my hand out and did a little finger walking across his crowded crotch. I took a hold of his package and squeezed it.

“Whoops,” I said innocently. “I expected to find some popcorn there.”

“You’re not gay are you?” he asked, rather unnecessarily.

“I’ve popped a few pricks from time to time.” I admitted. Always tell the truth is my motto.

“You can blow me if you like. I haven’t had any lips round my dick in too long.”

“Wasn’t your wife putting out?” I asked.

“No, my dick got a bit too much for her. She’s moved in with her physiotherapist.”

“Seven year itch, I expect.” I said wanting to comfort him.

“More like seven months.”

“Oh,” I said.

I had his cut-offs wide open by now and my ‘oh’ half applied to the thriving twig that was branching out from the gap in his pants and fast turning into a carnivorous plant or vegetable or something. Suddenly he grabbed my head and wedged his engorged courgette down my throat. I gasped and gagged. I mean I was a bit taken aback - you might even say somewhat overcome - by this unexpected turn of events. I usually like to be asked before I’m invited out to dinner and here I was with my mouth full of raw male marrow before I had time to say yea or nay. Like it or not, I was being throat-fucked by this generously hung hunk with his tree-trunk of a dick.

Yes, it had grown from a twig to a branch into a fucking tree-trunk. I kid you not. At least that’s how it felt in my mouth. I tell you man I was not a happy camper. I could hardly breathe. Especially when he emptied his load down my gullet. He made my mouth feel like a waste disposal unit or something. Mind you it tasted pretty nice though. A bit like oysters.

“That’s alright for starters,” he said. “Sorry, I got a bit carried away.”

“You can say that again.” I said swallowing his residue. I was too polite to spit it out.

“I’ll fuck you if you like,” he said as if he was offering me another beer or something. “Let’s have a bite to eat and something to drink first though. My dick’s like a limp lettuce but it’ll perk up later. That’s if you want me up your ass that is.”

“Can’t wait,” I said a bit too dryly although my mouth was still wet with his dick.

For a married man he spoke very casually about gay intercourse. Or maybe it didn’t matter to him very much whether his partner was a man or a woman. My jaws were hurting now and I wasn’t too sure my ass could take a battering like the one he’d just given my mouth. Wasn’t even sure how I was going to masticate my dinner either. Fortunately it was leek and potato soup and I was able to swallow it quite easily even if I didn’t really have much of an appetite after all those oysters.

I must say his table manners left something to be desired. He slurped and slobbered over his food and filled his mouth with it, rather like he’d filled my mouth with his dick. Swilling it done with frothy beer like I’d swallowed the froth from his dick. Nearly turned my stomach. I was beginning to understand why his wife left him. In fact I’d almost decided to go home straight after dinner. The video equipment wasn’t registering any defects and his equipment was fast losing its fascination for me. But I drank more than I ate and my resistance was low when he loaded me with his ten-incher. It wasn’t limp as a lettuce any more but it still hadn’t grown into a full courgette so it slipped in surprisingly easily.

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He started by waking up my sleepy dick and then worked his hands up my chest and tweaked my nipples. My ass responded by pushing down on him and challenging his marrow to pierce mine. He accepted the challenge and nearly transported me into next week. To continue holding the mirror up to nature, I felt like a bird being fucked by the branch of its very own tree. My ass literally sang. Full throttle. He had good staying power too and his balls slapped drunkenly against mine until at one point I thought he was going to knock them unconscious. He made my butt feel like it was at a pit stop or re-fuelling station or something. He thumped my ass and pumped my dick and revved up my engine until I thought it would explode. And all the time he whispered and spat dirty words in my ears, which turned me on even further. Wish I could remember them all but I’m sure you can use your imagination. Things like, “Bet you my dick feels like a fucking fist up that tight little asshole of yours” or “Take it you bitch. Let me hear your pussy purr.” Of course they have to be heard in context for you to get the full benefit of them and I certainly got the full benefit out of his ten-inch dick. In the middle of it all the home cinema unit started cutting out and eventually short-circuited. So did we.

The next guy turned out to be a sadistic weirdo and caught me with my pants down so to speak. I almost freaked out but managed to stay the course. Actually I didn’t have much choice as he was built like a brick shit-house. Beat the shit out of me too. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I arrived at his place when he was trimming trees and mowing the lawn. Strenuous stuff like that. He left me to install his wall-to-wall screen and went off to grab a shower. Actually I could have done it with his help as it was a two-man job but I always try to get by on my own. Having another guy around would have cramped my style. My lawnmower man was rubbing himself down when he came out of the shower. Wiping behind his ears so that the other end of the towel covered his sex sack and spoiled my enjoyment of his spectacular body. Still what I saw was enough to make me wish I were a fucking meadow myself. I wanted to tell him he could mow my lawn anytime.

He saw me staring and stood stock-still taking me in. The sweat was pouring down in rivulets between my pecs and forming a considerable pool round my dick making my overalls pretty transparent and my feelings too. In fact my interest couldn’t have been more blatant. He looked me straight in the eye and I thought for a moment he was going to punch me in the nose. There was a horny hiatus as we stared at each other for what seemed an interminable amount of time. Then he dropped his towel over the arm of a chair. My knees turned to jelly. His heavy thighs seemed to have been built to support his huge balls and even huger dick.

I was beginning to wonder why all my desperate husbands seemed to have huge dicks. Maybe they sat home cultivating them especially for me. Like the uncouth guy with the vegetable marrow.

I swallowed and said, “Do you think I could have a shower myself when I’m done?”

“You’d better,” he said. “You’ll probably need one by the time I’ve finished with you.”

Then he came towards me and tore open the front of my overalls. He consumed my chest like a Doberman wolfing down a piece of prime steak. But it was me that made all the doggie noises. He pressed himself so firmly against me that at one point I thought his dick was bent on swallowing mine. But then he dropped to his knees and began to drink at the pool that had gathered round my scrotum. I whimpered in delight. Especially when he started sucking my dick and plating my balls. His tongue was everywhere and his mouth worked magic on me.

“You ought to be careful,” he said between mouthfuls. “Going into other people’s houses and flaunting your body before strangers.”

“If you’ve got it flaunt it,” I wanted to say but decided against it. I always find it difficult to cum up with something original at times like these.

“Somebody may put you over his knee and give you a good spanking,” he went on.

My heart and dick froze. I didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Up to now I’d steered clear of weirdo’s and nobody had ever spanked me before except for my music teacher at school and I’d thwarted him by filling the pocket of my blazer with pens. They all fell out on the floor the moment I bent down and by the time I picked them all up he seemed to have lost interest in stroking my ass. I thought I was being clever but maybe I would have enjoyed it, who knows. Anyway Mr. Weirdo lawnmower man was fondling my butt cheeks rather too fondly. Before I could protest he was as good as his word and had me over his knee.

My overalls were round my ankles by now and I felt like a trussed up chicken or turkey or something ready to be stuffed. But first he seemed intent on ‘basting’ me. He spat on his hand and then directly on my butt and spread the spittle all over my ass cheeks. Then he lifted his hand and gave me a hard slap. It stung like hell and I tried to wriggle my way off his lap. He gave me another slap even harder. I decided to play it cool but he was making my butt real hot. He was making my dick real hard too. Sometimes my dick and I don’t always see eye to eye. It’s what you might call headstrong. It’s got me in a whole lot of trouble on many an occasion. I suppose it’s a question of dicks rush in where Joncy fears to tread.

Anyway after a while I almost got to enjoy it. The worst part was the interval between him raising his hand and actually spanking my ass. Sometimes it seemed to take forever. All part of the technique I suppose. My eyes and dick were weeping by now. I lost count of the number of times he ‘lamb-basted’ me. At one point he even put one hand round my dick, which was oozing pre-cum and used the spunk to spank me even harder. I suppose in a way he was doing me a favour because when he finally entered me with his Doberman dick I hardly felt a thing. It was all part of the huge flame, which was my ass.

Strange the things that go through your head when you’re being fucked. At that particular moment, I was thinking of the line in the history book when the Victorian mother is giving advice to her newly married daughter: “Close your eyes and think of England.” I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth and thought of the whole fucking hemisphere which he seemed to be invading with his giant rocket of a dick. Ears ringing, ass stinging I took my punishment. But then hell gave way to heaven as my body responded to his heaving thighs and bulldozer butt thrusts.

I left planet earth and became one with the elements. Man it was good. I got to feel how the grass must feel as the lawnmower ploughs through it. And he certainly did plough through it as he thrashed and threshed and made a harvest of my ass. Of course I cried and screamed for mercy but he took not one bit of notice. Probably couldn’t hear me above the noise of the lawnmower. Eventually it was all over and I felt like an empty condom. I was covered in spit and sweat and spunk and had a fistful of my own cum. I fairly slithered to the bathroom when he sarcastically said, “Time for that shower.”

Looking back I can’t exactly say it was my finest hour but it was certainly messy and memorable.

Sometimes finding a desperate husband is a question of timing. One of my happiest adventures was with this guy who hadn’t had sex for at least three months. When I appeared on his horny horizon he’d just taken his pregnant wife to the clinic and was sent home with his tail between his legs and told to wait. He’d been out jogging before I arrived and his tracksuit was clinging to him. I noticed immediately that the perky tail between his legs had grown tired of waiting. As he was holding the ladder for me to climb up and fix some loudspeakers he inadvertently rubbed himself against me. At least I thought it was inadvertently until his dick nearly climbed up the ladder with me. He apologised and said he didn’t know what had come over him and then he promptly came all over me. It was most unexpected but very welcome. Broke the ice so to speak. We spent the next half hour under the shower and then proceeded to the guest bedroom. He was too embarrassed to make love to me in the marital bed. I didn’t mind at all and we fucked like ferrets for nearly three hours.

At the beginning I couldn’t help looking at my watch as I was due at two other houses but in the end I said ‘Fuck it,’ which he did literally, and I phoned in sick with his thick dick halfway up my ass. I must have sounded like I was having an asthma attack or something.

Paul had the most compatible cock I’ve ever cum across. It wasn’t quite as enormous as those I’d become accustomed to but there was a juicy consistency about it that melted in my mouth and also in my butt. And I’ve never known one with quite so much cream inside. It seemed to be on automatic refill. I mean it just kept on coming. He was already hard again by the time we got under the shower. Maybe he’d been storing it up all these months. When I went down on him he fed me like a mother feeding her baby. It was great. Really nourishing. I knew with someone like him around I’d never go hungry. Mind you it made me feel guilty as hell considering the circumstances.

He was a good kisser too, which surprised me, as a lot of my semi-straight conquests had been unwilling to kiss. They’d done everything else imaginable but wouldn’t let me tongue fuck them. Paul was up for everything but mostly seemed to prefer being up me, which suited me fine. I’m a real butt slut and can pack a whole lot of man meat in down there. Something you’re probably aware of by now. So I had a fine old time devouring Paul’s juicy dick with its generous helpings of double cream.

After all the fucking and sucking we had a beer and some intimate moments. Pillow talk and true confessions and all that. He told me he was basically gay but had married his childhood sweetheart. Now he was about to be a father and what he really wanted was someone to watch over him. Said I was a gift from heaven, as he’d been feeling so horny and blue. I told him I liked to play the field but was quite happy to come and ‘fix his stereo from time to time.’ Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. Anyway it wasn’t long before the phone rang and Paul was off to the clinic. I still see him. And his wife and son. In fact I’ve become a friend of the family.

Talking of friends of families I got myself very much involved with one recently. Had the absolute hots for him actually. Still have. He doesn’t really qualify as a desperate husband but was somebody’s desperate son. My mother told me he was deeply disturbed which aroused my interest immediately. I mean it sounded to me as if he was still hidden in the closet and afraid to come out. Gay in other words. Parents have a way of talking in code and you have to read between the lines. I’ll call him Simon, as I don’t want to reveal his real identity. Please don’t laugh but he was interested in butterflies. Turned out to be quite an expert too. He wanted to set up his own website and I was asked to give him technical assistance. Of course that’s not all I wanted to give him. He wasn’t much younger than me but he looked about seventeen. Immature my mother said.

I went round to his house to give him a kind of computer crash course. Had no idea it was going to turn into a Joncy crush course. He was really cute. Fair hair and beautiful blue eyes. A real twink. Mind you I’m not really into twinks being not much more than a twink myself but Simon really turned me on. He was so soulful and mysterious and hated to be touched. I tried to put my hands on his shoulders once when we were leaning over the computer and he recoiled. Still we continued to see each other two or three times a week and I developed a serious interest in butterflies. His enthusiasm rubbed off on me. Of course it wasn’t long before I wanted to rub off on him. No way. After three weeks of frustration I went a little too far one day. It was midsummer and we were both wearing next to nothing. He had on a cotton shirt and Bermuda shorts. He was leaning over me following my instructions and his shorts kept brushing against my bare arms. It made me really horny. I put my hand down and slipped it up the inside of his baggy Bermudas. For a second it felt so good and for a split second I thought he was going to succumb to my touch. Then he pushed me away. This really pissed me off.

“What’s with you?” I said. “Why won’t you let me touch you? You’re a really cute guy. Don’t you want to get laid? Don’t tell me you’re not gay!” I added, my frustration getting the better of me.

He burst into tears and made me feel a real louse. Then he began to take off his shirt, which made me think maybe hope was after all on the horizon. Instead I saw terrible scars and burns. His back looked like the Phantom of the Opera without his mask.

“Who would want to touch that?” he said.

“I would,” I said stretching out my hand but afraid of his reaction. “Will you let me?”

He nodded. I ran my hand down his ruptured back and then pulled him to me. I wrapped my arms round him and kissed him.

“Show me the rest,” I said.

He dropped his pants so I could see the marks on one butt cheek and down the back of one leg.

“What happened?” I said. “Why is only part of your body harmed?”

“My mother tipped a saucepan of boiling water over me when I was just a toddler,” he said. “She was drunk,” he added. “I’ve never told anyone before. Only you.”

I kissed him again and said I wanted him so much that something like that only made him more special for me. And I meant it. I felt the heat of his dick against me. I’d been so concerned with examining his back that I’d neglected to look at the rest. The front of him was fine. More than fine. And his dick was divine.

“Have you been keeping this to yourself all this time?” I asked.

“Yes. I was ashamed. I’m a freak of nature,” he said.

“You’re a silly cunt,” I said. “Have you never heard of plastic surgery?”

”I was ashamed,” he repeated.

I was anything but ashamed and started making love to him there and then. It was really beautiful. Being able to give someone their first experience of love and sex. Teach the wonders of nature to someone who thinks he’s a freak of nature.

I didn’t fuck him or anything like that. It wasn’t the right moment. He brought out too much tenderness in me. It was like touching a delicate flower. Or butterfly. But I kissed him all over including his tortured back and sucked on his divine dick. He came at once of course and covered my face with his cream.

We made love every day after that and Simon became a real little hottie in bed. It wasn’t long before he was sucking my dick and giving back all the lessons I’d taught him. Our first fuck was phenomenal. All the more so because he instigated it.

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We’d developed into a pair of crazy besotted lovers. Ever hungry for each other. And Simon liked to create the right atmosphere for our sex sessions. Soft lights and sweet music. The soft lights seemed to consist mostly of candles. Simon had a thing for candles and I was waiting for the right opportunity to introduce him to mine. He was sitting astride me one night and I was trying to tickle his fancy with my wick. The tip of my dick. He looked down at me and smiled wickedly. He had a beautiful smile. Melted me every time.

“If you want to fuck me you’re going to have to pay for it,” he said.

“How much do you want you whore?” I asked him playfully.

“I don’t want money,” he said. “You have to pay in pain.”

“Don’t think I like the sound of that,” I said.

“It’ll be pleasurable pain. You’ll enjoy it. At least I hope so.”

He took one of the candles and began to pour wax on my chest. I let out a scream of protest. Wouldn’t you know though? My dick adored it and grew hard immediately.

“There, what did I tell you,” he said. “I knew you’d like it.”

“It’s a reflex action,” I said. “Cut it out.”

He continued to let small pools of wax fall on me and after a while I must admit I did grow to like it. I persevered for I somehow knew why he was doing it. He wanted me to be marked as well so he could feel less of a monster or freak. I loved him all the more for it and wanted to possess him.

I lubed us both up and began the preliminaries to enter him but before I could even start he sat down hard on my dick and impaled himself on me. The combination of the hot wax and his hot little butt was awesome. I let him ride me and then I rode him. I rode him into the ground. And the harder I fucked him the more wax he poured on me. It was pain for pain and it was wild. The candles sent horny shadows onto the wall and ceiling and we fucked as one. We came as one too and I opened my mouth to drink at the fountain of semen that was spilling forth from his divine dick. Such a little guy and so much semen. I didn’t do too badly either and filled his beautiful butt to overflowing.

It’s certainly one of the finest fucks I’ve ever had and I still have the scars to show for it. We had a few ecstatic months together, him learning about the birds and the bees and me about butterflies, and then he accepted an invitation to take part in a research project in Orange County. Initially for six months but I’ve a horrible feeling he’ll stay.

His website paid dividends thanks to me. Fool that I am. Hoisted by my own petard. Now I’m the one with a bad case of the mean reds. I’ve stopped taking outcalls and have become a permanent fixture in the shop. I’ve lost all interest in servicing strangers. Nowadays I tend to end up servicing myself. Usually when Simon and I communicate by web cam. But it’s not the same. Digital love doesn’t do it for me. I miss the physical contact. I miss touching his beautiful burned little body and sucking his divine dick. I miss the soft lights and sweet music. And the candle wax. But most of all I miss Simon.

Don’t be surprised if one day you hear I’ve added my name to the list of desperate husbands.

The model in these pictures is Marek Valenta

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