Cracks

Christina woke to the wet, eager sound of Josh’s tongue.

True to his new programming, he had slipped under the covers the second the sun touched the window. His broad, warm tongue dragged slowly through her folds, collecting the thick mess still leaking out of her from the night before. He licked like it was the only job he’d ever had—long, greedy strokes, tongue pushing deep, nose pressed against her clit. His heavy cock hung hard and dripping between his thick thighs, untouched, exactly as ordered.

Christina stretched, sighed, and spread her legs wider.

“Good himbo,” she murmured, voice still rough with sleep. “Don’t stop until I cum.”

Josh moaned into her cunt like he’d just been praised by God. He licked harder, messier, thick tongue fucking into her while his hands stayed obediently on the mattress. Christina rolled her hips against his face, grinding, using him. The wet sounds filled the quiet bedroom. She came with a low, satisfied groan, thighs clamping around his head, flooding his mouth. Josh kept licking through it, swallowing everything, until she finally shoved him back by the hair.

His face was shiny and wrecked. His cock twitched hard against his stomach, a thick string of precum connecting the head to his abs.

“Shower,” she said. “Then coffee. Then we’re going for a walk.”

Josh scrambled up immediately, heavy balls swinging, cock bobbing. “Yes, Christina. Shower. Coffee. Walk. Cock stays hard for you.”

---

The morning fuck happened against the bathroom sink.

Christina had him bend her over the counter the second the water was warm. She watched in the mirror as he lined that thick, stupid cock up and sank into her in one long, wet thrust. The stretch still made her gasp. He started fucking her immediately—deep, powerful strokes that made her tits bounce and her breath fog the mirror. No technique beyond pure animal rhythm. Just hard, heavy, perfect.

“That’s it,” she panted, reaching back to slap his thick thigh. “Fuck your wife like the dumb animal you are. Fill me up before we go outside.”

Josh’s reflection was pure vacant bliss—mouth open, eyes glassy, heavy pecs flexing with every thrust. “Yes—fucking my wife—dumb animal—please let me fill you—”

He lasted longer than he had any right to. Christina came first with a sharp cry, cunt clamping down, and only then did she give the order. Josh flooded her with a broken, grateful moan, thick ropes of cum pumping deep while he kept thrusting, trying to bury every drop. When he finally pulled out, a creamy river immediately slid down her thighs.

She made him lick it clean before they left the house.

---

The walk was supposed to be simple.

Christina dressed him in nothing but tight gray sweatpants that did nothing to hide the heavy outline of his cock, and a sleeveless shirt that clung to every thick muscle. She wore a short sundress with nothing underneath. They walked the quiet neighborhood loop like any other couple—except Josh’s cock stayed half-hard the entire time, and every time a woman glanced at him he smiled that empty, friendly himbo smile.

The first one was the neighbor two doors down. Mid-thirties, yoga pants, walking her dog. She slowed when she saw Josh. Her eyes dropped to the thick bulge and stayed there.

“Jesus,” she muttered, not quite quietly enough. “Is he… single?”

Josh looked at Christina for permission the way a dog looks at its owner. Christina, feeling generous and still full of his cum, smirked.

“He’s whatever I say he is. You can touch if you want.”

The woman didn’t need to be told twice. She stepped closer, openly groped the heavy outline through his sweatpants, and made a low, hungry sound when it twitched and started hardening fully under her hand.

“Fuck, he’s huge… and he just lets you?”

“He doesn’t really think anymore,” Christina said, voice light. “He’s basically a walking cock with muscles. Go ahead. He won’t say no.”

Josh’s brain, what little was left, heard the words *won’t say no* and *touch* and short-circuited in the most predictable way. When the neighbor tugged his sweatpants down just enough to free his thick, already-leaking cock, he simply stood there with that vacant smile and let her stroke it.

“Can I…?” she asked, already dropping to her knees on the sidewalk.

Christina should have said no. Instead she glanced around the empty street and shrugged. “Be quick.”

The woman swallowed Josh’s cock like she’d been waiting all week. She gagged almost immediately—he was too thick—but she kept going, messy and eager, while Josh stood there with his hands at his sides, hips giving little helpless thrusts, moaning soft and stupid.

“Thank you for using my cock,” he said blankly to the top of her head. “Feels good. Please keep sucking.”

Christina watched, arms folded, a slow heat building between her legs again. She told herself it was hot. She told herself she was in control. When the woman pulled off, stood up, and whispered that she wanted him to fuck her against the side of her house, Christina heard herself say, “Five minutes. Then he comes home with me.”

Josh followed the woman around the corner like a happy, horny dog.

Christina waited on the sidewalk and listened to the wet, rhythmic slap of skin and the woman’s muffled cries. She told herself the sharp twist in her stomach was just arousal. When Josh came back five minutes later, sweatpants pulled up but still tented, a fresh hickey on his thick neck and a smear of someone else’s lipstick on his collar, the twist got sharper.

“She said thank you,” Josh reported cheerfully. “I filled her up. Then I came home like you said.”

Christina’s smile felt tight. “Good boy. Let’s keep walking.”

---

The second woman was at the little neighborhood park.

A college-age girl on a bench, scrolling her phone. She looked up, saw Josh, and openly stared. When Christina let him sit on the grass nearby (still hard, still smiling that empty smile), the girl came over within two minutes.

“Is he like… for real?” she asked Christina, eyes locked on the bulge. “He looks kind of… simple.”

“He is,” Christina said. “Extremely. And he fucks like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Can I… borrow him? Just for a little bit? My apartment’s right there.”

Josh was already looking at Christina with pure, hopeful vacancy. “Can I go fuck her, Christina? She asked. I like when they ask.”

Something hot and ugly coiled in Christina’s gut. She heard herself say yes anyway.

She waited on the park bench for eleven minutes. When Josh came back, his sweatpants were damp at the front, his hair was messy, and he smelled like someone else’s perfume and sex. He dropped to his knees in the grass in front of her without being told and nuzzled between her thighs under the sundress, already licking her clean of the morning’s load like nothing had happened.

“She came twice,” he reported between licks. “I didn’t cum until she said I could. Then I came home.”

Christina’s fingers tightened in his hair. The jealousy was no longer subtle. It was a live wire under her skin.

---

The third woman was the final straw.

They were almost home. A delivery driver—tall, confident, early thirties—had just dropped a package at a house across the street. She saw Josh, slowed, and walked straight over.

“Holy shit,” she said, not even pretending to be subtle. “Does he do requests?”

Josh beamed. “I fuck any woman that asks. Christina said I won’t say no.”

Christina opened her mouth to correct him.

The delivery driver was already tugging him toward the side of a parked van by the waistband of his sweatpants. “Five minutes. I’ll make it worth his while.”

Josh went.

Christina stood on the sidewalk, sundress sticking to her thighs, and listened to the van rock. The wet, rhythmic sounds carried farther than they should have. When the driver finally sent him back—sweaty, grinning, cock still half-hard and shiny—Christina’s hands were shaking.

Josh dropped to his knees on their own front walk and looked up at her with pure, stupid devotion.

“Three women,” he said proudly. “I fucked all of them because they asked. Then I came home to you. Did I do good?”

Christina stared down at him—thick, perfect, empty-eyed, still smelling like other women—and felt the jealousy finally snap into something sharp and decisive.

“Inside,” she ordered. “Now.”

---

She didn’t let him touch her.

She made him stand in the middle of the living room, cock still hard and smeared with other women’s cum, while she paced. Every time he tried to speak she snapped her fingers and he fell silent, waiting, that vacant smile still on his face.

Finally she grabbed her phone and called the number Warren had given her “in case of adjustments.”

He answered on the second ring, voice warm and amused.

“Christina. I was wondering when I’d hear from you. Trouble in paradise already?”

“He’s perfect at fucking,” she said, voice tight. “And he’s so fucking stupid that he’ll put that cock in any woman who so much as asks. I showed him off for one morning and he’s already filled up three different cunts. I want it fixed. Now.”

Warren’s chuckle was low and filthy. “Ah. The classic himbo over-availability problem. You wanted him obedient to sexual cues. You got exactly that. The good news is it’s an easy adjustment. The better news is you’ll have to bring him back in. Some changes are better done in the chair.”

Christina looked at Josh—still standing there, thick cock dripping onto the hardwood, eyes soft and empty and waiting for the next order—and felt the jealousy and the arousal twist together into something darker.

“We’ll be there in an hour,” she said. “And Warren? Make the fix permanent. I want him to understand that the only cunt he’s allowed to fuck without my direct permission is mine. Everyone else needs my say-so first.”

“Of course,” Warren purred. “Bring your himbo in. We’ll tighten the leash.”

Christina hung up, walked over to Josh, and wrapped her hand around his thick, messy cock. He whimpered and thrust into her fist automatically.

“We’re going for a ride,” she told him. “And when we get home, you’re going to spend the rest of the day with your tongue in my cunt while I decide how jealous I still am.”

Josh’s smile was pure, stupid relief. “Yes, Christina. Ride. Then tongue in your cunt. Only your cunt unless you say. I understand. I’m your dumb himbo.”

He didn’t understand at all.

But he would.

Soon.