Fuck your wife

You come home from work on a Friday evening expecting the usual quiet night with your wife of six months. Instead the living-room lights are low and Bri is standing in the middle of the rug wearing the first set of “fun” clothes the two of you ordered as a joke last month.

The pink tank top is stretched tight across her full breasts. Glittery Barbie-style script across the chest spells Bimbo in looping letters that catch the light every time she breathes. A thin silver necklace sits at her throat with a dangling charm that simply reads slut. The lavender mini-skirt is so short the lower curves of her ass cheeks are already visible; a small white tag sewn into the waistband says Anal love instead of a size. Under the skirt she is wearing bikini-cut pink panties; across the front in the same lavender Barbie script the words must be at least 8” long to enjoy this ride are clearly printed. Soft pink knee-high toe socks complete the look; when she shifts her weight you can see the black lettering on the soles: kinky bitch.

She turns in a slow circle, the short skirt flaring, and gives you a bright, slightly nervous smile.

“Okay, don’t laugh. I know it’s over the top, but I tried everything on and… I don’t know, it just felt kind of hot? Like Halloween but sexier. What do you think?”

Your cock—already a heavy nine and a half inches long and nearly seven inches around when hard—twitches hard inside your jeans at the sight. The measuring slogan on her panties might as well have been written for you.

“You look fucking unreal,” you manage, voice rough.

Bri steps closer on the soft socked feet, reaches down, and openly cups the growing bulge in your jeans. Even through the denim her eyes widen at the thick, heavy shape of you.

“Mmm. Someone’s happy to see the outfit.” She gives you a playful squeeze, then glances down at the slogan printed across her own panties and smiles. “These say the ride needs at least eight inches. Lucky for me my husband is packing nine-and-a-half.”

You reach for her, but she drops to her knees first, pops your button and zipper, and frees the heavy cock the clothes have clearly put her in the mood for. It swings out thick and already half-hard, the dark head shiny. She wraps both hands around it and still can’t cover the full length. The measuring slogan on her pink panties stretches as she leans in.

She takes you into her mouth. The stretch of her lips around your thick girth makes her moan. You grow fully hard against her tongue—nine and a half inches of heavy, veiny cock that forces her jaw wide and bumps the back of her throat when she tries to take you deeper. Spit runs down her chin and onto the glittery Bimbo lettering. The slut necklace swings and taps against your balls. Her soft pink socks brace against the floor as she worships the cock the outfit keeps telling her is exactly what a bimbo needs.

After several long, messy minutes she pulls off with a wet pop and looks up, lips swollen, eyes already glassy.

“I need it in my pussy now. And then in my butt. The tag says Anal love and I can feel it tingling back there. Please, Chad? Please fuck the bimbo with that massive cock?”

You haul her up, spin her around, and bend her over the arm of the couch. The short lavender skirt flips up easily. You drag the pink panties—must be at least 8” long to enjoy this ride—to the side and push the thick head of your cock into her cunt in one slow, relentless thrust. The stretch is intense. She is soaked and blazing hot, yet you still have to work every thick inch inside her until your hips finally meet her ass. Both of you groan.

“Fuck—yes—so fucking big—fill the bimbo—use the slut—”

You set a hard, steady pace, gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks. Every thrust makes the glittery Bimbo lettering sparkle. The slut necklace swings. The soft pink socks flex against the floor. Your thick girth drags against every sensitive spot inside her. She comes the first time within minutes, cunt clamping down hard around your massive shaft while she babbles the words printed on her own body. You do not stop. You fuck her through a second orgasm, then a third, until her legs are shaking and her toes are curling inside the kinky bitch socks. The Magic Stick effect the website quietly promised is already working; each climax leaves her more wrecked than the last.

When you finally pull out she is dripping and open. You press the slick, fist-thick head against her tighter hole and push. The Anal love tag on the skirt brushes her skin as your fat cock forces its way into her ass inch by thick inch. She goes up on her toes, mouth open in a silent scream of pure stretch, then starts pushing back onto you with desperate little rolls of her hips once you are fully buried.

“Yes—yes—fill the kinky bitch’s butt—make the bimbo take every inch—”

You fuck her ass like you own it. The combination of the brutal size, the ridiculous pink-and-lavender outfit, and the way she keeps calling herself every filthy name printed on the clothes drives both of you higher. She comes again from the anal alone, a deep, full-body orgasm that makes her vision white out. You follow seconds later, burying yourself to the root and flooding her guts with thick, heavy ropes of cum. There is so much of it that it immediately begins to leak out around your cock and run down her thighs in long white streaks.

You stay locked against her for several long breaths, then pull out slowly. You watch the massive load continue to pour from her stretched hole. She stays bent over the couch, ass up, the lavender skirt still flipped, the pink panties still pulled aside, the Bimbo tank top rucked up under her armpits, legs already unsteady.

When she finally looks back over her shoulder you are staring at her with an expression you have never worn before—hungry, possessive, and something darker. The clothes have done something to her; you can see it in the way her body is still twitching and the way the word Bimbo on her chest suddenly looks accurate. But they have also done something to you. Your still-hard, cum-slick cock hangs heavy between your thighs, and a new, sharp desire is already rising: the urge to put this massive cock to use on someone else’s wife while her inferior husband watches.

“You’re not taking that outfit off,” you say, voice low and certain. “Not tonight. Maybe not this weekend.”

Bri opens her mouth to answer, but the only sound that comes out is a soft, dazed little whimper as another thick trickle of your cum rolls down the inside of her thigh and soaks into the pink kinky bitch socks.