Crave

 

I watched him slide my wife's panties off, his dark skin and the black panties contrasting with my wife's alabaster complexion. She giggled, obviously self-conscious, but didn't stop him, instead raised her ass and moved her legs to make it easier for him to take them off.

When he had her panties over her feet, he casually tossed them towards me. "Hold those," he said with a sneer.

My looked at me, giggled again. "James," she said, "be nice."

I had her panties in my hand as I looked at him. He gave me a hard stare and I looked away, his look and my downcast eyes an obvious display of who was in charge now and who submitted.

"Are they wet?" he asked me.

"James!" my wife giggled again.

He ignored her, eyes still on me. "Y...yes," I whispered.

"And I haven't even touched her yet," he said.

He moved to her side, spread her legs apart so I could see her swollen pussy. I watched as he reached between her legs and massaged the outside her her lips.

"Oh, god," my wife moaned as he rubbed her. 

"You have to know how to touch a woman," he said, "how to excite her, how to tease her, how to make her beg."

"I...I'm sure," I mumbled, unable to take my eyes off his fingers touching her.

"Watch, learn. This is what I want you to do when I'm not here, every night, rub her, softly, gently, keep her primed." I bit my lip, felt the pressure, the pain between my legs as I swelled in the tight chastity cage. He smiled, aware of my discomfort.

"You'll learn," he said, "you'll learn. That discomfort you feel now, you'll feel every night as you play with her. You'll learn to enjoy it, to crave it."