Greta's journey

The week was gone in a heartbeat. Greta and Anastasia spoke every evening on the phone, the first not being able to process the imminent loss of her friend.
On Thursday evening, after her phone call with Anastasia, Greta found Mike to be in a bad mood.
“Have you realized we did not had sex the entire week?” he said, firmly, during dinner.
“Yes, my love, I’m sorry” Greta replied promptly.
“I have not forgotten about you,” she continued, “I am just really taken by Anastasia being terminated on saturday. It was not lost on me that I embarrassed you overdressing at Linda termination and I don’t want to embarrass you again on saturday night”.
“So it’s all about your dress for the evening now?” He was openly hostile. He did not try to initiate sex with her either, but he was a man who could afford to make a complaint about her. She could not risk replying in a way other than taking full blame.
“It’s about you having a good respectable wife, as you deserve,” she said, in the most submissive, positive way she could. “And the week is not over, so why don’t you tell me what you desire the most and we make it happen tonight”.

A smile appeared on Mike’s face. Greta hoped to have escaped any conflict, or worse.

Mike was a man of simple fantasies; unlike Adam, who enjoyed roleplay and dirty talk, Adam wanted his sex to be almost quick and focused on him. Blowjob, penetration, cumshot. She got used to it and she was able to satisfy him with ease. She needed more, but for that more Adam was almost always available.

“I’m glad you said that, Greta,” Mike said, looking straight in her eyes. What I want tonight involves a friend. You are going to fuck him in front of me, tonight, here in our home. And I want you to do everything he wants. Everything.”
“Love are you sure… is this real?”
The doorbell rang, almost like it was staged in a movie.
“Go open the door, Greta”.
Greta stood up. Was she really about to fuck another man in front of her husband? When did he develop these fantasies? Was it a way of accusing her of cheating later? Did she had a choice?
Her head was spinning out of control when she opened the door. Her eyes didn’t meet the face of the guest at first: he was taller, way taller than her or Mike. He was muscular, had a good perfume on him and he was the only black man she knew personally.
“Hi Victor” Greta said, not being able to control a little tremble in her voice.
As she reached out to him to kiss him on the cheek, he grabbed her ass, pulling her entire body against his, kissing her on the lips.

Greta felt ashamed of such intimacy right on the doorstep, and quickly looked at her husband, only to find him nodding in approval.
“You are his toy tonight, Greta”
Victor took her hand, guiding her to the couch where he kissed her again. She kissed him back. He was a perfect man in every way to her, although she never voiced her admiration for him: tall, muscular, confident, always perfectly dressed. The one time they all went to the beach together Greta took every opportunity to glance at that beautiful body, memorizing as many details as possible for her to masturbate later. And she did it so many times she had lost count; she stopped thinking about Vitor during sex with Mike or Adam only because she was afraid of saying his name out loud.

She pressed her body against Victor’s, only to feel the biggest cock she had ever felt press firmly against her stomach. 

The image of Anastasia at home, alone, in her second to last night ever on earth, blew in her mind like an explosion. Greta knew she did not had a choice on how the events would unfold: her husband wanted her to fuck Victor and she wanted to fuck Victor as well. She needed Mike to feel happy about her and could not disappoint him just because she felt guilty towards her friend.
Her dying friend.
In 48 hours, that beautiful man kissing her in front of her husband, in their home, would terminate the life of her friend Anastasia in front of both of them. Afterwards, with Anastasia's dead body dangling from the roof, they will party with their friends the new chapter of Victor's life. And she was about to be fucked by this man, right now, behind her friend’s back.

She realized she got lost in her train of thoughts when Victor firmly pressed on her shoulder, inviting her to get on her knees: she did so keeping eye contact with him, knowing well her husband was growing more and more excited.
Before she could get a chance in messing around with Victor's belt, he pulled out his cock, letting Greta admire it inches from her lips. She grabbed it with her hand, only now turning back to look at her husband.
Mike had seated on a chair, behind her, and was masturbating. Greta turned her attention to Victor cock, opened her mouth, and welcomed this new man in the growing list of people she had given a blowjob to.

As she did her best to put as much cock as she could in her mouth she went back in her mind to the hotel room, and her meeting with Adam. It was hard to deepthroat him, and she was out of breath for the seconds he would push his cock as hard as he could down her mouth; but with Victor it was just impossible to go further. It wasn’t the length, albeit impressive; it was the thickness of his cock to make it harder to blow him past the very tip.
She felt inadequate and tried harder and harder. Was Anastasia better than her in giving blowjobs? They never spoke about such details; their friendship was strong, but the locker room talk was never on the table. And it would never be: Anastasia was about to be hanged to death. And Greta, now busy trying to blow her husband, would be there to watch her asphyxiate at the end of the rope, her brain getting more and more damaged until the point of no return.

Victor pulled her hair, taking his cock out of Greta’s mouth, pushing her to bend over the couch. Greta locked eyes with her husband, reaching out to hold on to his hand as Victor violently pulled down her yoga pants and panties, revealing her moist pussy. Greta tried to relax her muscles before Victor penetrated her firmly, his thick cock sliding in her with surprising ease. Greta was never that wet in her entire life, but hoped Mike wouldn’t notice.
As she moaned loudly while Victor started fucking her from behind, she made eye contact with her husband again. Mike was masturbating with one hand and holding on to Greta’s fingers with the other. They held hands like two teenagers in love; she looked at him, silently pronouncing the words “I love you” as her eyes closed, her mind drowning in pleasure.
Who cares about Adam, Greta thought; the death of Anastasia would put her in a much harder position in wanting to fuck Adam as she had no other excuse available for her absence from home. If Mike, however, would keep her fucking other man for his pleasure, she wouldn’t need a secret lover. Or a best friend; now that Anastasia was almost out of the picture, she was realizing her long time fantasy of being fucked by Victor.
And he was a very, very good fuck.
“How does it feel, Greta?” Mike asked.
“It’s so good, my love” Greta replied, short of breath for the waves of pleasure coming from her body and her mind.
Greta reached out between her legs; she wanted to come, and she needed to stimulate herself on her clit, out of reach even for a cock the size of Victor’s.
The moment her fingers made contact with her pussy, spread out like never before, she realized her orgasm was way closer than she thought. Almost like Victor was able to read her mind (what was up with the two of them? Both Anastasia and Victor seemed able to read her like an open book) Victor put one hand around her neck, stretching her back, limiting her ability to breathe.
Greta was immobilized, fucked from behind, almost unable to suck in enough air to stay alive. Her left hand stroking her clit, her right hand squeezing the one of her husband, much like during Linda’s beheading. She was being fucked by the man she fantasized costantly, only days after being fucked by a third man, behind her husband back.
Of the closest circle of friends, she was the only one left: Linda’s head rolled on the floor after being cut away from her body: Mike was fantasizing about her tits the moment her life ended spectacularly, her blood almost reaching out to Greta’s feet, but not quite.
Greta felt the superior power of her life continuing in front of someone else’s demise, her only worry not to get the looser blood on her heels.
And now Anastasia: just hours before being suffocated to death, after willingly climbing on a stool and letting Victor take it out underneath her. The secret of her relationship with Adam fading with all Anatasia’s feeling and ideas, her brain turning into a lifeless piece of meat with Victor, her loved husband, now balls deep inside her.
It was too much to keep her orgasm inside her; Greta came explosively, squirting for the first time in her life and making a mess of the couch.

Victor laughed in satisfaction for having achieved this kind of reaction. Still shaking, Greta looked at her husband: she just came harder than ever, fearing she had given him an humiliation too big to compensate. He allowed her to fuck Victor in their home and she just payed him back by enjoying sex with him more than she enjoyed sex with her husband. And he was there to watch. Greta felt that orgasm signed her death sentence; although Mike wasn’t showing any sign of disappointment, it was evident he had to feel humiliated by her behaviour. Why did she masturbate? She could just hold on to her instinct and pleasure herself later, like she used to do with Adam. Or with her husband. She was too lost in her mind, feeling better than all her friends dying horrible deaths and she had lost focus; her husband wasn’t a cuckold, he just wanted to roleplay hotwifing. She knew the difference; she should not have crossed that line.

Victor wanted to fuck her in the missionary postion, and kept kissing her as he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside her; Greta could very well come a second time, but she was now unsure her husband was still enjoying the evening. Why did she come? Why did she had to squirt that much? Victor was better than it was in her fantasies. As he kept kissing her mouth and neck, she kept looking to her husband, searching for a sign of approval. But she couldn’t see his face, only feel his presence sitting close to them, still slowly masturbating.

Shortly after, Victor came. He pulled out and clearly showed his intention of cumming all over her face. Greta got on her knees, mouth wide open, as Victor stroked his cock a couple of times before covering her face in cum. She wanted to show gratitude to Victor, but feared her husband would grow even more angry; but she also didn’t want to be too cold for the man she was fucking, not to disappoint him for the gift of coming on her face.
“Thank him, Greta, don’t be disrespectful”, Mike said.
“Thank you Victor, thank you so much” Greta said, cum rolling down her face and on her bare chest. Victor looked down at her and gave her a big smile, shaking his cock of the last drops of cum on her face.
Seconds later, Mike got up and approached Greta stroking his cock. Greta leaned forward, ready to blow him, but Mike stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He did not want to put his cock in her cum filled mouth, clearly. After a few seconds, he came on her face as well: his cum was thicker than Adam’s, as Greta realized for the first time how different men would produce such different cumshots. She wondered why that happened, or how she never noticed; probably because she never saw two cumshots in just minutes land on her face.

The evening was over. She was naked, kneeled on the floor, her face completely covered. Victor was naked as well, sitting on the couch, still touching is cock, now softer; Adam pulled his cock back into his pants, sitting next to his friend.
“You can clean yourself, Greta," Mike said.
“Then maybe you can bring us a couple of beers?” said Victor

“With clean hands, Greta,” Mike added. They both laughed at the joke, as Greta smiled politely and walked away, quickly entering the bathroom.
At the bright light in the mirror she looked at her reflection: she had just received two cumshots on her face. Victor had just fucked her. She felt incredibly proud of her sluttiness; yet a part of her couldn’t let go of the idea of having humiliated her husband once more, leading to a divorce.
A death.

She hated that Mike cummed on her face, mixing his cum with the one from Victor. Victor was just better in every way. She didn’t want to take off Victor’s cum from her face, she wanted to masturbate again with his body fluids all over her; but that perfect cum from that perfect man was now mixed with the cumshot of her husband, and was going to be wasted.

She used toilet paper to remove as much cum from her face as possible, trying to dry the cum drops she had in her hair; she then washed her face and fingers the best she could. She did not wash her tongue: she wanted the part of cum in her mouth to stay there. A part of that was Victor’s for sure. She tried to clean her tits and chest as well, putting on a robe before coming out, knowing well the two men in the living room were waiting for their drinks.

When she served the beers, she was disappointed in finding out that Victor had put his clothes back on.

“Thank you Greta”, Victor said, making strong eye contact with her.

“Do you mind leaving us some boys time?”

“Of course not. Thank you for visiting us, Victor. Good night”

She collected her pants and shirt still lying on the floor and she went back into the bathroom to take a shower. Behind the closed door and the water she could hear talking and laughing.

If Mike was pissed off at her for orgasming, for sure he wouldn’t show it in front of Victor. But she was dying to know what they were talking about. Maybe about Anastasia's termination, or who Victor was dating now. Or maybe they were planning the next meet-and-fuck. Did they exchange favours? Did Mike fuck Anastasia? Was he gonna fuck her tomorrow, her last night alive? Greta convinced herself that was definitely happening: she had for sure the better deal, as Victor was way more masculine and powerful than Mike. But if they were exchanging favours, were they also exchanging the idea of divorcing? Was Mike going to follow along the footsteps of Adam and Victor?

She had humiliated him more in the last two weeks than in her entire life: she was overdressed at Linda’s termination, and they were late for her fault. She held Mike hand after the beheading, delaying his ability to clap his hands first for Adam. That very Adam she was fucking behind his back; and now she had that orgasm, in her husband face. What if Anastasia, knowing Victor was going to fuck her and considering herself pretty much dead, had told everything about the affair? What if she had told her husband, and that was the cause of the divorce? The fact that she had hidden Greta’s love story in plain sight, humiliating Mike and Victor. By the end of the shower, Greta was sobbing quietly in the shower: she was going to be next.
This was her last week alive. Her life was over.