This is a mostly-true story. Not every word is true – I’ve changed some details to make it more fun to read. But, believe it or not, it really is 75% true.
—
I first met Alison at an open mic night. I played my three-song set, got off the stage, and she walked right up to me. She was a short, five foot tall redhead a couple years younger than my 26. She was a little on the curvy side, with wide hips and thick thighs, and had a beautiful freckled face. She was wearing a little white dress that night and she stepped into me, looked up with her big doe-eyes, and told me that I looked “so sexy” when I was playing on stage.
This was not the kind of thing that happened to me often – or ever. I was thrilled. She was as cute as they come and our height difference made me feel strong and masculine. I asked for her number.
Three days later we had our first date together and it ended in bed. She was incredible – by far the best I’d ever had. The way she fucked was instinctive and unpretentious. She needed to get off. She was going to use my body to *get* herself off. She was never up in her own head, worried about whether I’d cum or not. But I always did. And within a week of seeing each other almost every day, we’d decided to be an exclusive couple.
But then things got weird, fast. First, there were all the comments she’d make about other women. She’d point at other girls on the street and say things like “If she was your girlfriend, you’d leave her for me, right?” And I’d say “Um, but you’re already my girlfriend.” And she’d say “But if she was your girlfriend, she’d walk in to find us fucking, wouldn’t she.”
And she started making weird excuses for not being around on certain days – and even excuses that I could easily verify were lies. It was like she *wanted* me to know she was lying to me.
Things came to a head when another man burst through the front door of my apartment building, pushed right past me, stormed into the kitchen, and slapped a plate of food – my plate – out of her hands. As it shattered into pieces on the floor, he screamed “You cheating fucking whore!” and stomped back out of the building, all before I could even get out my phone to call the police.
At that point, the last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. I was dating a cheater. I had been for months. She was cheating on me, she was cheating with me, and she was fantasizing about me cheating on hypothetical girlfriends with her. She had some kind of twisted cheating fetish. She was the sexiest woman I’d ever been with, but no way could I stay with her.
So I broke up with her. I told her I wouldn’t see her again. I thought she was going to cry and hit me. It’s what girls usually do when you break up with them. Instead, she smirked. And she said “We’ll see.” And she left.
It was unnerving. The next day, I locked my door and turned off my phone and wore headphones while I played video games and pretended I wasn’t home. But she didn’t make any attempt to contact me at all. The same thing happened the next day.
And on the third day, I let my guard down and went back to normal, and that’s exactly when she struck. There was a knock on my door, and I opened it, and there was Alison standing in the doorway.
“Yeah?” I asked.
She walked towards me. If I didn’t get out of her way she was going to walk right into me. I got out of her way, and she kicked the door shut behind me.
“We broke up,” I protested. “You can’t just come over anym-”
And she took her shirt off.
She wasn’t wearing a bra. And I found myself gawking. I loved her tits – they were so round and firm and pale with puffy pink nipples. And I was completely caught off guard.
“Do you want to touch me?” she asked playfully.
I hesitated. “No,” I finally said.
“Then I’m going to touch you.”
She ran the back of her fingernails across my neck, and down my chest.
“Alison, you need to -” I said, and stopped. I couldn’t make myself finish the sentence. She laughed. It was an arrogant laugh. She knew that stopping in the middle of that sentence was as good as saying yes. She rubbed my already-hard cock through my jeans. She leaned in to kiss me. I leaned away from her. She grabbed me by the back of the head and shoved her tongue into my mouth.
Fifteen minutes later we were naked, lying in bed, sweaty and gasping for air. It had been better than good. It had been fucking amazing. She was nuzzled up to me, all relaxed and cum-drunk with a silly smile on her face.
“You’re mine. You’re always going to be mine,” she murmured.
Fuck.
In the morning I was very firm with her that this had been a mistake and that we were not getting back together.
“We’ll see,” she said smugly, before leaving.
Fuck!
I reviewed my options. She’d made me wait three days, just getting a little hornier every day, until I couldn’t stay in control of myself when she made her move. So, what I needed was to get laid. I needed a different woman.
I called Millie. Millie was my ex. She was another songwriter. She was a much better songwriter than me. She was also an alcoholic. I’d left her because I was worried I was becoming an enabler. Millie had at least had the decency to cry and throw things at me like a normal woman.
We went out, we talked about old times, and we ended up in bed. The sex was, well, sex. Millie and I had always been pretty good together before, but the emotions were wrong this time. But maybe they’d get better with more dates. She had been drinking less and she really was a pretty and creative woman.
“So, does this mean we’re getting back together?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“I can work with that. But – you can’t fuck around while you decide. If you have sex with another woman, please, never call me again.”
I went home, feeling confused and not really so good about myself. I had just used a woman I used to love to get over a woman I actively disliked. It was all wrong. But maybe Millie and I could turn into something better than we ever were before. Maybe she’d drink less, maybe she’d learn to trust me, hell, maybe one day we’d be married.
I didn’t set up another date with her right away. I needed some time to think. And three days later Alison was at my door.
Once again, she walked right at me. Once again, I stepped back and let her in. I didn’t want her pressing her breasts into me. I didn’t trust myself to stay strong.
“I am getting back together with my ex-girlfriend,” I said emphatically.
Her eyes widened. Her pupils dilated. She looked as excited as I’d ever seen her.
“Did you have sex with her?” she asked.
“Yes!”
“Oh my fucking God, you cheated on me.”
“I didn’t cheat on you, Alison, we aren’t tog-”
And she tackled me. She was kissing me ferociously, biting my lip, fumbling with my belt, ripping off her own clothes, pushing me onto the bed. I was prepared to resist a seduction, but not a full-on assault. And I was insane with lust. She was so brazen, so completely shameless about how turned on she was and how badly she needed me to fuck her. And the last time I had been with her was ten times better than my last roll in bed with Millie.
I knew I’d never see Millie again if I did this. And I couldn’t help it. Alison had made me helpless.
This time it was even better than the last. It was fireworks. We fucked, we came, and then we just immediately fucked again. She made my body forget it had a refractory period. And once again I found myself gasping and drained, with a sexy little redhead cuddled up to me like a satisfied kitten.
“I can’t believe you fucking cheated on me,” she purred, sounding almost pleased. “But you’re mine. You’re always going to be mine.”
Fuck!!
What I did next was not the proudest decision of my life. I moved. I packed up my shit, I rented a different apartment, and I changed my phone number. I had tried to stand up to Alison twice. I couldn’t do it. Fool me three times, shame on me. And I thought that was it. If only.
A year later, I was in a relationship with a Latina woman named Maria. It was going well. Like Millie and I, Maria was also a songwriter. She was fun, and she was loyal, and she had a truly beautiful voice. She was almost as tall as me and had long, sexy legs. The sex was good. It was a pretty conventional relationship, especially by musician standards, and that was exactly what I needed.
I hadn’t even mentioned Alison to her. What was I going to say? “I sort of have a stalker out there?” It wouldn’t have really even been true. So when a friend of ours advertised his show, she RSVPed yes on Facebook, and she tagged me.
And when we got there, Alison was already there. “Oh my God! It’s so good to see you! How funny to bump into each other like this!” Sure, Alison. It’s just an amazing coincidence. Yeah.
By the end of the night, Maria was *livid*. I sat in a booth and Alison just slid in right next to me, sitting right between my girlfriend and me. She pressed her bare thigh right against my leg, leaned into me, and started talking like she was my girlfriend. “Oh, he’s always been like that,” she’d laugh, patting me on the hand. “Same old Dan.”
Maria tried to order me a rum and coke, and Alison cut her off and told the server “No, no, he’s always been a beer man. IPA, please. Isn’t that right, babe?”
“Rum and coke is also good…” I said weakly. Yeah, of course I wanted the IPA. I didn’t get it.
At one point Alison actually started subtly rubbing her fingernails up and down my thigh against my jeans. I wanted to stop her, but I also didn’t want to call attention to it. And I was also getting more and more aroused by the second. Finally I had to excuse myself from the booth and jerk off in the bar bathroom so things wouldn’t get worse. And from the smirk on her face when I returned – and sat down next to my own girlfriend – I knew that she knew.
On the drive home Maria was furious. She wanted to know who the fuck that bitch was and who the fuck she thinks she is. So I told her the story. And she was understandably horrified. And she said “Okay, we are never seeing her again.”
Except that, after we left, Alison got my phone number from my friend playing the show. And the next night, my phone pinged, and I opened it to a picture of her smirking and holding her pretty nipples between her fingers. It was such a sexy picture. It was jaw-dropping.
I replied immediately. “Alison, I have a girlfriend. You can’t send me this kind of thing. Come on, this is way over the line.”
“If she caught us together, you wouldn’t be able to stop. You’d just keep fucking me while tears ran down her cheeks. Wouldn’t you?”
“DO NOT TEXT THIS NUMBER, ALISON.”
“That wasn’t a no ;)”
I didn’t reply. But I knew I had to tell Maria about it. If I didn’t, and she found out, it would be a hundred times worse. So that night, as we lay in bed watching a movie, I broached the subject.
“Alison texted me,” I admitted.
“What the hell?” she said angrily, pausing the movie. “What did she say?”
I laughed and rolled my eyes, trying to downplay the whole thing. “She said she wanted to have sex with me in front of you,” I said. “Can you believe that? She’s crazy.”
I expected Maria to be furious and I was just hoping she wouldn’t direct her fury at *me*. I was astonished when she just sat there with a thoughtful expression on her face, and then finally said “Well, would I get to tell you what to do?”
“What??”
“If we did this – would I get to make you do anything to her that I said? And would you promise to do it?”
I couldn’t believe she was suggesting this. It was such a terrible idea. But it was such a fucking hot idea, too. I should have laughed and said “Can you imagine!”
Instead I said “Yes.”
“Then invite her over,” she said.
My fingers were actually shaking as I unlocked my phone and typed “Maria says we can have sex in front of her if she can be in control of everything I do.” I looked at that sentence in utter disbelief that I had just typed it before hitting send.
And then I immediately regretted it, and I paced around the house aimlessly, wishing I could unsend it, or failing that, wishing Alison would just fucking respond and put me out of my misery. It was hours before my phone finally chimed again.
“Wednesday at 7:00?”
I don’t think I got any work done on Monday or Tuesday. I’d like to say I didn’t keep looking at the picture that Alison had texted me. I’d like to say I didn’t keep looking at it in the bathroom at work. I would be lying.
Wednesday came, and Maria had set up a nice comfortable chair in the corner of the room. She was wearing my favorite outfit – a short black skirt, high heels, and a skin-tight, high-necked sleeveless knit top. She had poured a glass of wine and set it on the nightstand. She was sitting cross-legged in the chair while I sat on the bed.
“Are we really doing this?” I asked.
The doorbell rang.
“Guess so,” she said with a smile. A devious smile. It was a side of her I had never seen before.
I answered the door and led Alison into the room and she set two sheets of paper on the nightstand next to Maria’s wine.
“What’s this?” Maria asked.
“Clean test results and the receipt for my IUD,” Alison said back with a fake-sweet smile. She was just *daring* Maria to object and insist I had to use a condom anyway.
Maria’s eyes flashed with anger, but then she assumed a similar fake-nice grin and said “Thank you! And the safe words will be yellow and red, is that okay?”
“Why do we need safe words?” asked Alison.
“You’ll see.”
I felt incredibly awkward. I was about to have sex that wasn’t even about me. These two women were in a duel and I was just the swords. I had no idea how to proceed.
It didn’t matter, because Alison did all the work for me. She was stripping down, confidently exposing her body. She was chubbier than Maria – she’d put on a little extra weight during the last year – but if anything it only made her sexier to me. Most men would have said Maria was the more attractive of the two. But Alison’s total confidence, her unshakeable belief that she owned me and she was about to prove it – it drove me crazy. I was insanely aroused and completely erect even before she finished undressing.
“Like what you see?” she said smugly.
“Tell her she’s a fat whore,” Maria said.
Fuuuuck.
But this was the deal. I winced. “You’re a fat whore.”
Alison laughed. “Oh? Let’s see what this fat whore is doing to your cock.” She undid my belt and pulled down my pants and underwear in one swift motion. My dick sprung fully to attention and she took it in her hand and gently started to stroke it. “Oh, would you look at that!” she said, looking into my eyes but talking to my girlfriend.
“Take off your shirt,” Maria instructed me, and I did. Alison finished stripping off my pants and began to climb on top of me. “No, no, no,” Maria said. “Put her on her hands and knees.”
I wrestled Alison over to her hands and knees. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t help me, either. I found myself staring at her full ass, her red bush just peeking out from underneath. Fuck, I wanted her.
“Now spank her.”
I slapped Alison on the ass. She purred.
“No, spank her *hard*.”
This time I swung my hand with some force. Alison winced.
“You afraid to let him put his cock in me? Poor guy’s gonna get blue balls,” Alison smirked.
“One more slap. Harder.” Maria ordered.
I spanked her a third time. She let out a whimper of pain. I could see the red imprint of my hand on her pale flesh. Maria took a sip of her wine. Her other hand crept up her skirt. I realized for the first time that my girlfriend wasn’t wearing any panties. “Again.”
The sound of the spanking reverberated off the walls. “NN!” Alison cried out. “Tell him to fuck me, you fucking coward,” she snarled.
“You can fuck her now,” Maria agreed.
I slid my cock into her. We both gasped. She was already so wet. She felt amazing. I began to slide in and out of her. God, this was so good.
“Spank her.” said Maria. I swung my palm at the side of her ass. *Smack*.
“Harder!” *SMACK!*
“Pull her fucking hair!”
I grabbed two handfuls of Alison’s red hair, used them as levers to fuck her even harder. She was moaning in pleasure. I was biting my lip, focusing on my stamina. I could not cum in her. Maria would fucking kill me.
“Tell her she’s a stupid ugly whore!”
Fuck, more words? My brain wasn’t even processing language anymore. I was totally lost in lust.
“You’re a stupid ugly whore!” I managed to shout.
“This stupid ugly whore is gonna take all your man’s cum!” Alison screamed back.
“SPANK HER FUCKING HARD!” Maria screamed.
I let go of her hair with one hand and brought my palm down on Alison’s ass – brutally, this time. She cried out in real pain.
“Ow!!” she wailed out. But “ow” wasn’t “yellow” or “red.”
Maria was fingering herself faster now. “AGAIN!” she insisted.
“Fuck!!” Alison squealed again as my palm made contact. “That hurts!!”
“Choke the bitch!” Maria ordered, now masturbating furiously.
I hesitated. I couldn’t do that. And now I was fucking Alison without obeying Maria’s instruction, and that was cheating, and –
“I can’t,” I gasped.
“Then fucking spank her like you mean it, Dan,” Maria snarled.
Now I really had no choice. I brought down my palm over and over, as hard as I could, again and again and again as I fucked her. Before long, Alison was wailing in pain. Finally she whimpered “Y-yellow,” in a quivering voice.
It was just a “yellow.” It wasn’t a “red.” It meant “stop hitting me, but don’t stop fucking me.”
“Oh, did I just make you cry, bitch?” asked Maria. Then she suddenly added “Jesus – fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
“And I’m about to make your man cum in front of you!” Alison spat back through teary eyes.
“Don’t you fucking dare cum, Dan – oh – ohhhhh!”
And then all three of us were screaming. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Maria was spasming against her own fingers. I was shooting burst after burst of hot cum into Alison. Alison was pressing her face into the sheet and gripping it as her toes curled in orgasm. We shouted together for ten, twenty seconds. And then it was silent.
Maria finally broke the silence. “I think you’d better go.”
Alison was already putting her top back on. “Enjoy your last few days with my boyfriend,” she said. The bruise on her ass was already turning purple. She wouldn’t be able to sit for a week.
“Fuck you.”
Alison finished dressing, walked out of the room, and we heard the front door close behind it. I asked Maria if she wanted to talk about it, and she said absolutely not.
But an hour later, she rolled over and kissed me, and it led to the best, most passionate sex we had ever had together.
And I know we were both thinking about Alison.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ohawzr/maria_makes_me_punish_the_cheating_slut