Fun In The Park

My ”polyandrous wife’ endures my son’s wrath.

(Suzanne)

(Stew)
Fun In The Park

My son, Steward or Stew, was born a year before my acrimonious divorce from my actual wife, Laura. She managed to win custodial rights and moved across the country with him.

Though I was wealthy, I lost all the court battles I waged, being judges ruled in her favor. She remained so pissed-off that I didn’t see my son again until 18 years later after he’d joined “groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/Suzanne_the_filthy-jezebel”, a site I’d established for a submissive and red-haired 42-year-old.

But Laura’s wrath toward me was so relentless that she’d told Stew about me only a few times throughout the years, though he recognized my name from the-above mentioned group, sent me an e-mail and asked to meet. Naturally, I agreed.

Nevertheless, I gave him something of shock because by then, I’d entered into an unsanctioned marriage involving Suzanne, Marcus, a black man, and Jay, a white one.

That befitted our common wife since Suzanne had an irrepressible need for kinky sex and was dedicated to adultery, precisely as we husbands wanted. After all, she was the most nefarious slut we’d ever known.

However, she was built to fornicate, being that while her boobs were smallish, guys sometimes said she was gorgeous, since she had a beautiful face and a lovely tush.

But I won’t detail her obscene interests until I describe getting acquainted with my 20-y/o son: – Wanting to surprise Suzanne with a later event, I arranged a June, Thursday night meeting at The Southern Rose, a restaurant in my Mississippi town.

‘Dad, I’m glad to see you,’ Stew greeted me as he strode up to my table while I realized he’d developed into a strapping buck with muscles ‘bulging out to here’ as the saying goes.

‘The same here,’ – and we shook hands, followed by me asking, ‘Are you hungry?’

‘Not really. Thanks, anyway.’

‘How about a cup of coffee?’ I went on.

‘That’d be great,’ Stew said, whereupon I waved a brunette waitress over to the table and was delighted to notice my son’s eyes boldly stripping her more naked than naked.

‘You dirty dog, you!’ I teased after she’d gone behind the counter.

‘Guilty as charged, dad,’ Stew grinned, after which he continued, ‘I want to hear all about this Suzanne character. Exactly who is she?’

‘Keep your pants on, if you can. She’s my unofficial wife, with 3 husbands, Jay, a white guy, Marcus who’s black and me,’ I replied.

‘Interesting. In other words, you have a pretend-marriage, don’t you?’ Stew inquired.

‘Right.’ I answered.

‘Okay. Where are Suzanne’s other husbands?’

‘The 3 of us are partners in a business, and they’re attending a financial conference in Paris. But they’re not lonely because I’m sure they’re stabbing their cocks into Parisian hookers whenever they can,’ I smiled.

‘What does Suzanne think about that, or does she even know?’ Stew questioned me.

‘She does, but has no say in the matter, since she’s a cheap, part-time prostitute, herself,’ I informed my son who asked, ‘Seriously?’

‘Want to pimp her?’

‘You bet. She’s smoking-hot,’ Stew replied.

‘Yeah, she is. But Suzanne’s not into golden-showers, bestiality or family intercourse, though some fantasy-incest would be fun, wouldn’t it, son?’ I responded.

‘You mean that, dad?’

‘Symbolically, being that a near-relative pimping her would thoroughly humiliate her,’ I said.

‘Suzanne likes that – huh?’

‘To an amazing degree. But don’t worry about anything. I can force her into whatever I want,’ I confirmed the facts.

‘How’s that?’ Stew asked.

‘Well, Jay, Marcus and I are non-violent misogynists and Suzanne has a fetish for guys detesting and hating her while they rape her, safely,’ I gleefully told the hunk across the table from me.

‘You can’t be serious!’ he exclaimed.

‘Yeah, I am. She has a remarkably high tolerance for pain and strongly craves unlimited verbal abuse. You can call her anything you want, including a ‘turd’,’ I said.

‘Wow, she must be a wild chick!’ Stew remarked.

‘You couldn’t begin to imagine, son. Kind of like I said, I can impose the most degrading things upon her. So, this is what I want you to do. Suzanne and I are going to a dinner party tomorrow night. I’ll come to your hotel tomorrow afternoon and give you a copy of the key to the front door. Let yourself in while we’re gone and shoot your jizz on her pillow. She always sleeps on the bed’s right side. Piss a little on it, too,’ I said.

‘You got it!’ the youngster enthused.

‘Now, I’ve decided to let you ambush the cunt. With the weather being so balmy, I’ll persuade her to go for a walk in Roosevelt park at 1 a. m. Sunday morning when nobody’s around and you can rape her. Trust me, don’t be the least afraid to insult her. Suzanne loves that. By the way, do you think all women are cunts, Stew?’ I asked.

‘Of course, dad. Nothing’s like equating them with the holes between their legs. I’m a chip off the old block, aren’t I?’ he once more grinned.

‘You’d better be!’ I chuckled, then: – ‘Oh, memorize my address,’ – and I recited it.

‘My computer’s saved it,’ Stew responded while tapping his head.

He then inquired, ‘Do you love her dad?’

‘Not romantically, don’t kiss her or lick her snatch, either.’

‘Awesome,’ Stew said.

So, fast-forwarding, I had a locksmith copy the front door key, went to my son’s hotel the next afternoon and gave it to him.

‘God, my dick’s almost hopping out of my jeans,’ he lustfully grunted.

‘You’re still a dirty dog about to urinate on my wife’s pillow,’ I laughed.

‘I can hardly wait,’ Stew remarked

After Suzanne and I had come home from the party and gotten ready for bed the following night, however, she laid her head on her pillow, suddenly jerked upright and said, ‘My pillow’s wet, sir. What is that stuff?’

‘I have no idea how, but maybe a dog slipped in and lifted a hind leg on it. Go to sleep and have some sexy dreams – all right?’ I suppressed a smirk.

‘Yes, sir.’

But I was as eager as my son for what occurred on Sunday, while at 12:45 Saturday night, I said, ‘I’m feeling rather tense from work all week. Let’s go for a relaxing stroll in the park – okay?’

‘That’d be nice, sir.’

‘Good. Wear a pair of high heels, though I have a special dress for you,’ I openly smirked before I went to the basement to retrieve a gunny sack, in the bottom and sides of which I’d previously cut head and arm-holes.

I returned to the living room, tossed it at Suzanne and ordered, ‘Put that on, slut.’

‘You expect me to wear a feed bag, sir?’ she gasped.

‘Do it!’

‘Yes, sir,’ – and she donned the ‘garment’, followed by us starting to walk to the park 6 blocks from the house.

Meanwhile, I could sense the occasional harlot stewing in derogation, though we encountered only a solitary white man on the way who ignored her mode of attire.

Once we arrived at the park, we turned onto a winding sidewalk past a picnic table in a dimly-lit area halfway across the park.

As I’d thought, nobody was in sight, not yet.

‘Stop. Raise your dress and bend over that table, bitch,’ I instructed.

‘Yes, sir,’ – and Suzanne obeyed.

Nonetheless, the wench and I had often discussed strangers assaulting her, and as if remembering that, I could see her beginning to tremble.

But Stew had a creative idea. He was wearing a light jacket, with its hood pulled over his head as he started approaching her while stroking his thick 10-inched penis jutting through his jeans-zipper.

Startled by his abrupt appearance from the shadows, Suzanne looked over her shoulder and stammered, ‘W-w-who… are… you?’

‘Shut up and watch, you worthless ‘ho!’ Stew savagely whispered.
Since she didn’t know him, however, Stew qualified as a stranger, and the lovely troll seemed mesmerized as her eyes absorbed the sight of him masturbating while he humped his crotch in her direction.

‘You ought to be happy if I used you like a jerk-off bucket! You’d hate me not banging you to all hell, wouldn’t you, stupid?’ he sneered, then: ‘Don’t answer! I’m going do anything I want! I hate you, scag!’

‘You should, sir!’she moaned.

‘Fucking witch! Close your mouth!’ my son hissed before slapping her face and ass.

Next, he acted as though being aware of me for the first time by turning and asking, ‘Oh, dude, does this 3-slitter belong to you?’

‘Yeah, my wife.’

‘Really, now? I usually avoid stray wives but mind if I rape yours? I do believe that’s one purpose for marriage – right?’ Stew snickered.

‘Absolutely, young man. In case you’re wondering, her name’s Suzanne, and you said it, she’s a witch,’ I merrily responded.

‘She’s not a turd?’ Stew mockingly inquired.

‘Yeah, she is.

‘Then, I guess I’ll grind it to stinking mush,’ Stew answered.

Nevertheless, I’d already planned to reveal the identity of Suzanne’s enforcer and almost cackled, ‘Please do, son.’

‘What?’ she squawked in astonishment.

‘Let me introduce the fruit of my loins,’ I said.

‘He – he – he’s your son?’ Suzanne stammered again.

‘Yeah, Stew,’ I replied.

‘No, oh my god, nooo!’ she vented her dismay.

‘Didn’t I tell you to shut up?’ Stew rasped before he slugged his cock into her vag.
‘Take it, take it, you vile whore!’ he yelled into the still-deserted surroundings as he started hammering her.

‘Eeeh, yes, yes, batter me!’ the slattern shrieked.

‘What the fuck else am I doing, you little shit?’ Stew gruffly asked while continuing to viciously slash his pick in and out of her drooling muff.

‘Aaah, I’m cumming!’ Suzanne erupted.

‘Who cares, you piece of trash!’ Stew shouted, then turned toward me: ‘Your Mrs. is even lower than trash, isn’t she, dad?’

‘True enough, son,’ I said.

‘Yeah, you are, you dirty, no-good tramp!’ – he sounded like he was swearing, then withdrew from Suzanne’s twat, shoved her knee-ward and slimed into her mouth while snarling, ‘Swallow that, scum-toilet!’

Having said that, he scoffed, ‘Whatever you’re wearing looks ridiculous, cunt!’ – and he next stowed his prick in his jeans before flipping Suzanne the middle finger and jeering, ‘Listen, I hope dad never, ever loves you, bitch!’

After that, he disappeared down the trail, with me spilling my seed on Suzanne’s rump, then once more laughing, ‘I’ll tell you a little secret. Stew ejaculated and pissed on your pillow, slut.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she gratefully murmured.

Following that morning, however, Stew visited his cock upon her orifices daily, as well as demeaned her by selling her the next Friday night.

Nevertheless, he’d used’ her for more than a ‘jerk-off bucket’, my wonderful boy!

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