Love in His Humility. Part 3.

Free Witness.

Several months had already passed, but my wife couldn't get pregnant by her lovers. I told her I saw her taking them in her mouth. She didn't get angry, calmly explaining that the men agreed to cum inside her, but she also had to satisfy their desires. That sex doesn't always lead to conception. And after cumming once, all subsequent sexual acts with a lover in a day are just play, and he can cum wherever he wants on her. And on days without ovulation, the chance of pregnancy is zero.

— So, I have to have sex with them just for the sake of it.

— Have to? — I asked sarcastically.

— Okay, I like it,

— she laughed, — it's very pleasant. I'd like to convey these feelings to you, but I can't. You wouldn't understand.

I was left with mixed feelings. She didn't reproach me for spying, just explained it, so simply, clearly.

— You know, I've been thinking about my meetings, how you see me off and pick me up from my lovers. About what you told me you saw in the booth, — we were lying in bed, getting ready to sleep, — we need to do this together.

— In what sense, — I didn't understand.

— I want you to be part of this process. Not just on the sidelines, but fully involved. You always said you wanted to be close, to support me. You worry about me. I think it's time for you to see what's really happening and be part of it all. You don't need to hide from it. And now I have a reason to invite you.

— You want me to be nearby when it happens? You want me to see everything. Are you serious?

— Yes, I want you to be with us, I want you to see how it happens from start to finish. From the moment of a full kiss, to the moment they cum inside me. It's happening. But I also want you to back me up.

— In what sense?

Dozens of guys? Only now did I realize how many men she'd had after me. How many total, 30, 60?

— How many guys have you had, — I asked her, cutting her off mid-sentence.

She turned and slapped me.

— Don't interrupt me. You know how much I dislike that.

— How many?

— I don't know.

— 30?

— Somewhere more. After 50 I stopped counting. But that's over all time, even before I met you.

— And when did you stop counting?

— Last year. And let's not talk about it anymore.

Last year we had just started discussing it. So all the time she was with me, she was cheating on me. I lay there, stunned by the situation. But she's cheating on me now, with my consent, it's stupid to make a scandal about past infidelities.

— Are you listening to me? — she asked.

— What, yes.

— If it hasn't worked over so much time, several men need to cum inside me. Then I'll get a lot of sperm and the chance of conception will be higher. I've already arranged it with my... friends. My fertile window is in a week and only about 5 days. But they need to manage in that time. To be precise, I took a week off for our marathon. Understand? But I can't trust that one of them won't go off the rails or that it won't hurt me. You'll have to stop it. I'm not sure I can handle them all, and they'll understand when it's enough.

— You want me to see them... fertilize you? Are you serious? You want me to stand nearby and watch this?

— This is our chance, and I don't want you to feel like you're not participating in this. You don't want to be just a bystander, right? You'll be nearby, you'll be here, and you'll see how it happens — how they will finish what we need. What all this was done for.

— You say I'll participate, but in what role? As a spectator, just watching everything?

— Yes, but it's not just watching. You'll be part of it, you'll see how everything starts and ends, and that's very important. You've always been nearby, and at this moment your role will be to support, to be a witness, not to remain an outsider. It's something you need to see to understand why it's so important for me, for us. You can back me up, right? I'm asking. You'll be the witness to the conception. You'll be nearby, you'll witness how a new life begins. You shouldn't feel weak or humiliated, because it's an important moment, and you have the right to be part of it. You'll be nearby, you'll support, and I'm sure you'll understand why it's important for both of us.

— Give me time to think.

— There isn't much, — she gently touched my hair. — And one more thing, — she turned to me, hugging my head and looking into my eyes with her clear ones, — I won't have time for trips. Everything will happen here, it's best if it happens in our apartment. We have our own atmosphere and there won't be any tension. It should be in a safe environment where we can be relaxed. Okay.

The thought that she suggested doing all this here, in our apartment, how would I even survive it. And yet, at some point, I realized I can't fight this. I can't and won't oppose what she wants. Because, in the end, I can't change anything.

Before, I could push the thoughts away for a while, but now it will haunt me. Everything here will speak of her infidelities, and I can't do anything about it. How will I look at the bed we sleep in without thinking that it will become the place where she gives herself to other men? When I go to sleep, every touch of her will remind me of those moments when her body arched in strangers' embraces. To accept this, to be part of it, to resign myself to the fact that I can never be for her what men should be — that is my humiliation. This is my place. I nodded in agreement, turned away, and quietly cried.

The time of ovulation was approaching. With a trembling heart, I awaited this moment, and the first day arrived. They came. I was delayed at work, and when I arrived, everyone was home.

I pushed open the bedroom door, and my heart beat faster. The light was dim, only a lamp in the corner cast soft shadows on the walls. They were there — three black men, invited by her. Their figures filled the space, as if carved from granite. Broad shoulders, bulging muscles under dark skin, gleaming in the light, arms that seemed capable of crushing everything in their path. They stood confidently, their movements smooth, but in every gesture, there was restrained power.

— Hi, are you ready?

I could only manage a nod in response and sat down opposite, unable to do anything. They surrounded her, one of them, the most massive, with muscles rolling under his skin, reached out and slowly pulled the dress from her shoulders. The fabric slid off, revealing her pale skin, and she was left naked. The other two joined, their large palms sliding over her shoulders, waist, and she didn't resist, was submissive. They removed the rest of her clothes with a kind of unhurried confidence, and each of their gestures emphasized how small she was compared to them.

One of them, with a torso like a damn bulldozer, stood in front of her face. His huge, knobby cock, thick as my wrist, stuck out right in front of her lips. Without any foreplay, he shoved his dick into her mouth. I watched from the side as her thick, full lips stretched, barely coping with his size. She gasped, her tongue stuck out, trembling, and saliva, thick and sticky, flowed upward, over her cheeks, flooding her eyes and forehead, mixing with her thick black hair. Her eyes, red, teary, were wide open as she wheezed, her throat convulsively tightening. He pushed his cock deeper, and I saw how his cock advanced, how her neck swelled, outlining its shape, as if something alive was crawling inside. He pushed it all the way in, his balls slapped her face, covering her nose, and through them, I caught her gaze. Her eyes, flooded with saliva, with dilated pupils, looked straight at me, and in them was not pain, but blind submission, fear, and lust. That look pierced me through like a bullet, and I felt everything inside me tighten.

Meanwhile, the second one stood on the bed at her feet. Her juicy thighs, shiny with sweat, were spread, and her beautiful ass was raised, as if asking for it. He didn't wait and forcefully drove his huge black cock into her already wet pussy. She jerked, her body arched, and the moan she tried to make was muffled by the cock in her throat. He fucked her roughly, each thrust was like a battering ram, her tits with erect nipples bounced in rhythm, and the bed creaked, ready to fall apart. She closed her eyes, her face contorted, and I saw her suppressing moans, her throat still swollen from the first one's cock, and her body shuddering from the rhythm of the second. Her fragility disappeared under their onslaught, she was their whore, and I, watching this, felt how hatred, shame, and something sick, dark, tore me to pieces.

They didn't stop. The first one pulled his cock from her mouth, saliva stretched in strings, dripping onto her forehead. Her lips greedily caught air, lips I had recently kissed. He stepped back, grinning, and the third, the biggest, with a chest like a stone slab, took his place. His cock, even thicker, almost tore her lips as he shoved it down her throat. She choked, wheezing louder, saliva flowed like a river, even more abundantly flooding her beautiful face, eyes, hair. I saw his cock going down her throat, how her neck swelled, and each of his thrusts was like a blow. Her hands clenched the sheets, she tried to squirm, trapped in the vise of strong hands.

The second one meanwhile pulled his cock from her pussy, her thighs trembled, the wet slit pulsed. The first one, who was in her mouth, now stood at her feet, grabbed her by the hips, lifted her ass, and drove his cock into her, fucking so hard that her tits jumped like balls. Her moans, muffled by the third one's cock, escaped as hoarse gurgles, saliva flowed, her eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Then they switched again. The third pulled his cock from her throat, leaving her face in spit, and moved to her pussy. He drove his huge cock in, fucking her so hard the bed swayed, and her body shook as if in an earthquake. The second took her mouth, his cock, slippery from her juices, flew into her throat, and she gagged again, saliva flowing onto her forehead, flooding everything. They switched like damn machines, one fucking her pussy, the other tearing her throat, their muscles gleaming with sweat, and she, fragile, with her juicy tits and ass, was their meat, their whore.

I watched, and I was torn apart — rage, shame, and something dark, sick, that wouldn't let me look away. Her fragility, their power, this endless rhythm — all of it etched into me like acid, and I hated myself for not being able to turn away.

They didn't stop, their sweaty muscular bodies moved like damn pistons, while she, my wife, fragile, turned into their meat, a cum dump. Her face was flooded with saliva, long black hair matted with sweat and wetness, and her eyes, red and lustful, rolled back when another cock tore her throat. One fucked her pussy, another her throat, the third waited, jerking his huge cock, and their grins, their heavy breathing filled the room like poisonous gas.

Suddenly they stopped. The first one, with a torso like a bull, pulled his cock from her pussy, she jerked, her thighs trembled. The third pulled his cock from her mouth, saliva stretched in strings, and she wheezed out, her face a mess of spit and sweat. They didn't let her catch her breath. The second grabbed her by the waist, as if she weighed nothing, and threw her onto the middle of the bed.

— On all fours, bitch, — he growled, and she, gasping, obeyed.

Her black hair fell over her face, tits swayed, and thighs, juicy and shiny, trembled with tension. Against the backdrop of their muscular figures, she looked like prey ready to be torn apart. Now I saw she had an anal plug between her buttocks. So that's why she was moaning so much, her tight pussy became even tighter.

The first stood behind her, his huge cock, slippery from her juices, stuck out like a huge club. He slapped her ass, so the skin reddened, and without warning drove into her pussy, all the way, in one motion. She cried out, her body jerked forward, tits jumped, but he grabbed her by the hips and started fucking like a beast. Each thrust was like a blow, her ass slapped against his groin, and moans, hoarse and strained, escaped her throat. Her fragility disappeared under his onslaught, she writhed but didn't resist, her thighs trembled, and her pussy squelched from his rhythm.

The second stood in front of her face. He grabbed her by the hair, yanked, forcing her to lift her head, and shoved his thick cock into her mouth. She choked, her lips stretched again until they whitened, saliva flowed down her chin, dripping onto our bed. He didn't spare her, pushed deep, so her throat swelled, and I saw his cock going down her neck, how she gagged but took it, greedily, with wet, squelching sounds. Her eyes, half-closed, gleamed with lust, and her face reddened from suffocation.

The third, the biggest, stood to the side, jerking his cock, and waited his turn. They switched again. The first pulled his cock from her pussy, she trembled, her ass remained raised, wet and gaping. The third took his place, his cock, the biggest, drove into her with such force she almost collapsed onto the bed. He fucked her like a machine, each thrust shook her body, her tits flopped, nipples erect, and moans turned into a hoarse howl. The second pulled his cock from her mouth, saliva stretched like a rope, and the first immediately shoved his in, making her swallow it while she wheezed and gasped.

They alternated like a damn conveyor belt. One tore her pussy, another her throat, the third waited, their muscles gleamed, their cocks, huge and knobby, gave her not a second of rest. Her fragile body, with her juicy tits and ass, shook as if in a fever, saliva flowed, sweat flooded her thighs, and she took them, moaned, writhed, as if made for this. I watched, and it burned me — rage, shame, and something dark that clung, not letting me look away.

They stopped, and I thought it was the end, but they were only preparing for something new. The first one, with a torso like a truck, lay on the bed, his huge cock sticking out like a pillar. He grabbed her by the waist, his huge hands easily lifted her fragile body, and sat her on him, her juicy thighs spread, and her wet pussy impaled itself on his cock in one motion. She cried out, her tits jumped, and long hair whipped her back. He started fucking her from below, each thrust lifted her ass, her body shook, and moans escaped like an animal's.

The second, with arms like steel cables, stood in front of her. He gathered her hair in his fist, yanked, and shoved his thick cock into her mouth. Her lips stretched, saliva flowed down her chin, dripping onto her tits. He pushed deep, her throat swelled, she wheezed, gagged, but sucked greedily, with wet, squelching sounds, her face reddened, eyes rolled back from suffocation. The third, the biggest, with a chest like a stone slab, stood behind. I saw him take lube from the shelf and remove the anal plug from between her buttocks. It wasn't symbolic, but very large. I knew she practiced anal sex, but thought rarely. He squeezed lube between her buttocks, penetrating there with his fingers, then lubed his huge cock, and pressed it against her asshole. My heart froze, I stepped forward, clenching my fists.

— No,