My wife’s cute, sexy squeals grew louder and more urgent when Rocco lifted her ass and began rubbing the head of his cock around until he found her anus. She howled when he entered her, then rested her head on Uncle Anthony’s chest while two abnormally huge cocks thrust inside her, sometimes in unison and sometimes not, the ragged rhythm keeping her orgasm just out of reach.
“Harder! Harder! Fuck me harder!” she moaned, shame filling her face.
I couldn’t see Uncle Anthony’s flat ugly face because it was buried in my wife’s breasts, but I could hear him snigger as he ignored her pleas, still fucking her pussy at the same infuriatingly slow pace, while Rocco did the same to her ass.
“This will teach you!” Uncle Anthony proclaimed, clearly taking delight in my wife’s predicament. “Who is your Nonno?”
When she didn’t answer out of sheer shame, he adjusted the angle of his entry until she was grinding her clit against his pelvis with every downstroke. “You are! You are my Nonno! Please!” She moaned, tears of frustration glazing her eyes.
“Please what?” Uncle Anthony replied, thrusting a little harder, while Rocco pushed deeper into her gaping asshole.
“Please fuck me faster! Make me cum again! Please Nonno!” I could hear the desperation in her voice as two senior citizens sawed their titanic pricks into her body at the same time.
The three of them fucked like animals in that position, grunting and sweating as the men put her through a punishing double penetration, but Cindy rutted in vain, never quite reaching her peak. Finally, Uncle Anthony couldn’t take any more.
“Oh fuck, you ready? Here it comes! Here it comes!” he roared, giving several shallow pumps before casting his arms around my wife’s back and pulling her closer to him. The old man shook violently in his wheelchair. As he unloaded inside my wife’s unprotected pussy, Uncle Anthony grabbed her half-unraveled French braid, jerking her head back while his mouth dropped open, a look of incomprehensible bliss on his face. I believe I detected a moue of disgust on hers.
They stayed like that for at least a minute, Rocco embedded in my wife’s ass as she lay across Uncle Anthony’s lap, panting heavily while his copious load began leaking out of her pussy. More of the coarse old freak’s cum slid down her leg when Rocco hoisted her off the wheelchair, holding her body tight to his waist like they were pair skating.
“My woman,” he boasted as he duck walked with my wife in his arms. Cindy giggled as he lugged her around with his dick still warming inside her, never removing it from her ass until he set her down on her knees and put it back in her mouth.
As Cindy gratefully took the cock that had just been in her shitter and swabbed it clean with her tongue, my phone buzzed. I had a push notification from MasterBettor and a text from Sam. I’m not proud of which I read first, but it was the text that snapped me out of my reverie. “Where are you, bro? TJ wants to know if I can sleep over again. His parents can take me with them.”
Cold sweat dampened my forehead as I decided what to do. I didn’t really want Sam sleeping over at TJ’s again. We just got him back! And he could probably benefit from sleeping in his own bed tonight. I know he and TJ stayed up half the night last night playing NHL ’25 and Fortnite and whatnot. I decided to go find him. I certainly didn’t want anyone finding me right now.
On heavy, leaden legs, I walked back to the parking lot, where the party was dying down. Two of the food trucks were gone and the crowd had thinned out, although the DJ continued to play music. I found Sam and we began to discuss whether he could spend another night at TJ’s, but I got distracted as I caught Bob out of the corner of my eye. He was with a group of five or six guys, including Todd and Matt, as well as Bridget and Madison, one of the other moms. When I noticed him reaching out to show them something on his phone, my paranoia ran amok.
I had to see what was on Rocco’s body camera. I checked the app. A drop of sweat from my hair hit the screen.
“Ok, fine, you can sleep at TJ’s again,” I told Sam, unable to tear my eyes away from my phone. “But when school vacation is over, you’re getting back on a normal schedule buddy.”
“Thanks bruh,” my kid said as he scrambled to rejoin his teammates.
It was difficult to hear him over a spontaneous outburst of applause from the gathered parents. When I looked over, the men were whooping and high fiving each other, while the women offered polite golf claps. Before I could turn my attention back to my phone to see what caused all the hubbub, Bridget made eye contact, looking down her nose at me with a haughty expression on her face. Then she held out her thumb and her forefinger with just a tiny bit of space between them — I knew what that meant.
When she went back to her conversation with Madison, I didn’t look at my phone right away. Instead, I just stood there staring into the middle distance. Burning.
I didn’t snap out of it until the crowd let up a sudden roar. On his electric chariot, the conquering hero had returned. With a familiar whirr, Uncle Anthony motored back onto the scene, whereupon Bridget threw up her arms and kissed him affectionately on both cheeks.
The rest of the parents laughed and proceeded to greet him warmly, fist bumping with his grabber. I had a throbbing urge to leave. That man’s load is inside my wife right now, I thought to myself, and it’s still fucking warm. The humiliation was so intense that my stomach felt bleached. My back seized. I avoided eye contact with Uncle Anthony because I was afraid I might actually die from embarrassment if the cretinous litte gremlin who just ordered my wife around like a drill sergeant could see how turned on it made me. I felt completely unable to hide my feelings of shame and arousal, and if he looked me in the eye, I knew he would see straight through me. Mr. Cellophane shoulda been my name.
I didn’t dare look over at Uncle Anthony while the other parents fawned over him like he was a Roman emperor, but I didn’t leave either. Instead, I glued myself to my phone while walking to the periphery of the parking lot, where hopefully no one would notice me.
Back behind the Zamboni shed, on the other side of the rink, Rocco had my wife on all fours on the ground in front of him — head down, ass up. He reached down and swatted her ass back and forth with short flips of his hand, rotating between the palm and his fat, hairy dorsal. He wasn’t gentle. He was hitting her hard. My beautiful wife let out a cattish yowl and submitted, splaying her legs wide to give the camera a clear view of her lipstick-red cunt. I could hear hoots of appreciation coming from the crowd, singeing my ears. Pop-up text appeared onscreen offering live moneylines on where “Chesty” would take the next load. I was afraid I already knew.
While the remaining parents settled down and finished their drinks, I stood alone on the far side of the parking lot, looking at MasterBettor on my phone. I knew I wasn’t the only one watching as Rocco stood behind Cindy’s upturned ass and vigorously rubbed the spongy head of his cock along her vestibule — a barbarian preparing to batter heaven’s gate.