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is there already a backstory about Losantiville?

I've been diapered 24/7 since new years.  So yes, I wear to work.  I wear a onesie t-shirt and skirts to hide my diaper and keep it from crinkling.  On Friday's I wear a diaper cover, we wear jeans on Friday's.  

The sun hammered the suburban sidewalk, its glare rebounding off the polished chrome of the reinforced stroller. Inside the carriage, George—currently rebranded as Georgina—sat as rigid as a board. A bonnet, heavy with layers of eyelet lace, framed a face flushed deep crimson. Pink satin billowed over a thick, crinkling nappy, the sheer bulk of the plastic-lined padding forcing his legs into a wide, involuntary sprawl. Every jolt of the pushchair over the pavement triggered a fresh rustle of frilly satin knickers. Sue Thomas gripped the handlebar with manicured precision. Her stride remained steady, her heels clicking a sharp, rhythmic tempo against the concrete. Beside her, Terry moved with the relaxed gait of a predator. He adjusted his silk collar, his eyes drifting down to the mound of pink fabric vibrating in the seat. “Stop fidgeting, Georgina. You’re going to ruin the ruffles.” Sue’s nail clicked against the metal handle. George squeezed his eyes shut, the lace scratching his chin. “He looks exactly like what he is, Sue,” Terry said. His voice carried a gravelly resonance that seemed to vibrate through the stroller’s frame. “A pathetic little doll. Does he even grasp the level of embarrassment he’s projecting right now?” Sue’s lips curled into a smirk. She didn’t look at George; she looked at the road ahead. “He knows. Don’t you, Georgina? *Hee-hee-hee*.” A muffled groan vibrated against the silicone bulb of the pacifier clamped between George's teeth. The rubber tasted of vanilla and salt. “See? He’s trying to talk back,” Terry noted. He reached down, his large hand ruffling the bonnet. “Bad girls don’t get dessert, do they?” They rounded the corner into the Miller’s driveway. The scene opened up into a sea of pastel colors and sharp fashion. A dozen wives, dressed in tailored sundresses and designer shades, stood in clusters. At their feet, or tucked into high-end strollers, sat a collection of men. All of them mirrored George’s condition—encumbered by lace, weighed down by plastic-lined diapers, and silenced by rubber. The air hummed with the rhythmic *squeak-pop* of pacifiers and the persistent crinkle of nylon. “Look at this turnout,” Sue whispered, her eyes bright with competition. “The neighborhood is really stepping up.” Molly, a college student with a clipboard tucked under her arm, stood near the patio. She wore a whistle around her neck. Beside her stood her mother, Lena, who fanned herself with a program. “Time for the inspection, mummies!” Molly shouted. Her voice dripped with a mock-sweetness that set George’s teeth on edge. “Line them up. Let’s see whose baby is the best behaved this afternoon.” Sue maneuvered their stroller into the semi-circle. She locked the brakes with a sharp snap of her toe. “Up you get, Georgina,” Sue commanded. She reached in and hauled George out. His legs wobbled, the sheer weight of the sodden nappy and the frilly knickers making him bottom-heavy. He felt like an overstuffed pillow. His thighs chafed against the plastic lining, the sound loud in the sudden silence of the yard. “Stand straight,” Sue hissed. She slapped his thigh, the sound echoing off the brick house. Lena drifted over, her gaze scanning George from his bonnet to his pink booties. “Oh, Sue, the lace is a bit much, isn’t it? Very… traditional.” Sue tilted her head back, leaning into Terry’s broad chest. Terry’s hand moved to her waist, his thumb hooking into her belt loop. “He needs the extra layers to hide the mess he makes,” Sue replied. “He’s been a very leaky girl today.” Molly stepped forward, her pen poised over the clipboard. “Let’s check the status. George, was it? Or are we staying with Georgina today?” “Georgina,” Sue confirmed. “And she’s been very fussy.” “Open up, then,” Molly said. With a practiced flick of her wrists, Sue reached down. The sound of tearing tapes sliced through the air—*skritch-skritch*. The diaper fell open, sagging toward the grass. George’s breath hitched. The cooling air hit his skin, exposing the reality beneath the satin. George’s penis was a shriveled, hairless nub. It sat nestled in a bed of smooth skin, barely an inch of flesh that seemed to retreat further into his groin under the collective scrutiny of the women. “Oh my, Sue,” one of the younger wives giggled, leaning in. “It’s practically invisible. How do you even find it when it’s time to clean him?” Sue didn’t flinch. She felt Terry’s heat behind her, his presence a solid wall of masculinity. “I don’t bother,” Sue said. “That’s what Terry is for. He’s got nearly eight inches of real man compared to that little micro-penis. Terry makes sure I’m well taken care of while Georgina listens from the cot.” George let out a high-pitched whimper. His face turned a bruised shade of purple. He tried to press his knees together, but Sue’s hand was an iron bar between his legs. “*Mmm-phh-mmm!*” “Does he really watch?” the younger wife asked, her eyes wide. “Every single time,” Sue said, her voice dropping to a purr. “We put him in his short, sheer nightie—the one with the matching pink lace—and stick him in the nursery cot. He watches through the white bars while we have our fun. It’s the best part of the routine. *Hahaha!*” The group erupted. The laughter was sharp, a jagged contrast to the soft, humiliated whimpers coming from the line of men. “You should have seen him the first time,” Sue continued, turning to Lena. “It all started when he made that pathetic little confession. Remember, George? You thought it would be a secret between us.” She turned back to the group, her eyes gleaming with the memory. “He came home from work, trembling like a leaf. He sat me down and told me he wanted to be treated like a baby girl. He thought I’d be shocked. He thought I’d cry.” “And what did you do?” Molly asked, fascinated. “I called Terry,” Sue said. “Terry was a colleague of mine. He’d been asking me out for months, even though he knew I was married. I kept saying no. But the moment George made his confession, I realized George didn’t want to be the man of the house anymore. So, I invited Terry over for a drink.” Terry chuckled, the sound deep in his chest. “I walked in and found him in a pair of his wife’s panties,” Terry said. “He was crying. I thought it was a joke until Sue handed me a beer and told me to get comfortable on her couch.” “I told George if he wanted to be a girl, he had to act like one,” Sue added. “I made him sit on the floor at Terry’s feet while we shared that first bottle of wine. By the time we finished the bottle, I had George in a diaper I’d bought on the way home. Terry watched the whole transition.” “It was the most honest he’s ever been,” Terry said. “The look on his face when I unzipped my pants in front of him—priceless.” George’s head hung low. The bonnet obscured his eyes, but tears tracked through the powder on his cheeks. “He’s so easy,” Sue said, running a nail down George’s chest. “Poor little thing. Still desperate for attention, aren’t you?” She gave the head of his tiny penis a sharp pinch. George jerked, his body spasming in the constraints of the stroller. “Look at that,” Lena whispered. “He’s actually reacting. It’s twitching, Sue.” “It’s a reflex,” Sue dismissed. “Like a worm on a hook. It doesn’t mean anything.” Molly made a final note on her clipboard. “Well, Georgina is certainly the most… delicate of the bunch today. But let’s see if the others can compete. Mrs. Gable, how is your ‘little one’ doing with his potty training?” The crowd shifted toward a man in a yellow ruffled dress. Sue leaned back against Terry, her hips swaying. “You okay, baby?” Terry whispered into her ear. “Better than ever,” Sue replied. “Good. Because I was thinking about that nightie you mentioned. The sheer one.” “It’s already laid out on the bed,” Sue said. “Right next to the fresh nappies.” George whimpered again, the sound lost in the chatter of the women. He could feel the weight of his reality. He wasn't the husband anymore. He was a prop. He was a status symbol in a world of silk and lace. “I bet he uses every inch of it,” Lena whispered to Sue, nodding toward Terry. “Mark—my husband—is nowhere near that size. I might have to borrow Terry for a weekend.” “We’ll see,” Sue laughed. “He’s got a very busy schedule keeping Georgina in line.” Terry’s hand slid lower, gripping Sue’s hip. “I can manage both,” Terry said, his gaze fixed on George’s shamed form. “As long as George keeps the nursery clean.” The afternoon wore on. The sun began to dip, casting long, distorted shadows of strollers and lace across the lawn. The "mummies" swapped stories of their nights, describing the squelching sounds of wet diapers and the sight of their husbands twitching in the dark of their cribs. “Do you ever let him out?” a woman asked. “Only for chores,” Sue said. “And even then, he stays in his plastic pants. I can’t have him leaking on the hardwood. It’s a full-time job, really. But the rewards… well, you see Terry. I’ve never been happier.” Terry leaned down, his breath hot against the back of Sue’s neck. “Time to go home?” “Yes,” Sue said. “Georgina needs a change. She’s getting quite heavy.” She grabbed the tapes of George’s diaper and pulled them tight, the plastic crinkling sharply. She smoothed the pink satin dress back over the bulk, hiding the shriveled flesh once more. “Back in the carriage, George.” He didn’t fight her. He climbed back into the stroller, his legs naturally falling into that wide, infantile sprawl. He felt the familiar click of the safety harness over his chest. “Say goodbye to the ladies, Georgina.” George remained silent, his eyes fixed on the chrome bumper. “I said, say goodbye.” Sue reached into the stroller and squeezed his arm. George let out a muffled, rhythmic squeak through his pacifier. “Good girl,” Sue cooed. Terry took the handles this time. He pushed the stroller down the driveway with an easy, powerful stride. “You know,” Terry said, looking down at George. “I think the nightie is too much for tonight. I think he should just stay in the nappy. I want to see his legs shaking while I’m on top of you.” “Whatever you want, Terry,” Sue said. “He’s just here to watch.” As they hit the sidewalk, the *squeak-pop* of the pacifier continued. George watched the world go by from his low vantage point. He saw the manicured lawns, the spinning sprinklers, and the occasional glance from a neighbor who simply nodded at Sue as if nothing were amiss. “You’re so lucky, George,” Sue said, walking beside the stroller. “Most men have to worry about bills, and taxes, and the lawn. You? You just have to worry about staying dry. And even then, you fail at that.” “*Mmm-phh*,” George groaned. “Hush now. We’re almost home. I have a new bottle of powder for you. It smells like lavender.” They reached their front door. Terry lifted the entire stroller up the porch steps, showing no sign of effort. Inside, the house was cool and smelled of expensive candles. “Take him to the nursery,” Sue ordered. “I’m going to pour us some scotch.” Terry wheeled George into the small room at the end of the hall. The walls were painted a soft cream, lined with shelves of stuffed animals and stacks of jumbo-sized diapers. A white wooden cot stood in the center, its bars gleaming under the overhead light. Terry unstrapped him and hoisted him out. He dropped George onto the changing table with a heavy thud. “You’re a lucky little shit, you know that?” Terry said, his voice low. “She’s the best fuck I’ve ever had, and I get to do it while you watch.” George stared up at the ceiling, his breath coming in short, ragged hitches. “Don’t look at me like that,” Terry warned. “You asked for this. You begged for the ruffles. Now you get the rest of it.” Sue walked in, two glasses in hand. She handed one to Terry and leaned against the doorframe. “Is she ready?” “Almost,” Terry said. He ripped the tapes again. The sodden diaper was tossed into a lidded pail. George lay there, exposed and trembling. Sue walked over, looking down at his 2.8-inch frame with a mixture of pity and amusement. “Look at him,” Sue said. “He’s already hard. As hard as that little thing can get, anyway.” “He’s excited,” Terry said. “He knows what’s coming.” Terry finished the scotch in one gulp and set the glass on the dresser. He began to unbutton his shirt, his chest broad and covered in dark hair. George’s eyes widened. He watched the muscles move in Terry’s arms, the sheer physical dominance of the man who had replaced him. “Into the cot, Georgina,” Sue said. She picked George up. He felt like a weightless doll in her arms. She dropped him behind the bars of the crib. The mattress was firm, covered in a waterproof sheet that felt cold against his skin. “Stay there,” she commanded. She turned to Terry, her hands already reaching for his belt. “Right here?” Terry asked. “Right here. I want him to hear everything.” Sue dropped to her knees. George gripped the white bars of the cot, his knuckles turning white. He watched as Sue worked Terry’s zipper down. When Terry’s cock sprang free—thick, veiny, and imposing—George felt a familiar surge of self-loathing mixed with a dark, twisted heat. Sue took him into her mouth, her eyes closing in bliss. The room filled with the sounds of her greed, the wet slurping noises echoing off the nursery walls. “Fuck, Sue,” Terry groaned, his hands tangling in her hair. George whimpered, his own tiny member twitching uselessly. He wanted to touch himself, but his hands were occupied holding the bars, frozen by the command to watch. “You like that, George?” Terry called out, his eyes snapping open to lock onto the man in the crib. “You like watching a real man take your wife?” George nodded frantically. Terry pulled Sue up and spun her around, pressing her against the side of the cot. The wood creaked under the pressure. George was inches away from them now. He could smell Sue’s perfume and Terry’s sweat. “Look at his face,” Sue gasped, her head falling back against Terry’s shoulder. “He’s absolutely pathetic.” “He’s a good girl,” Terry said. He entered her with a single, violent thrust. Sue cried out, the sound sharp and piercing. The cot rattled as Terry began to pound into her, his rhythm steady and relentless. George watched every movement. He saw the way Sue’s skin flushed, the way her fingers clawed at the air before finding purchase on the bars of his crib. She looked at him through the slats, her eyes glassy with pleasure. “You’ll… never… do this…” she panted, her voice breaking with every strike. “Never… George…” “No,” George choked out. The pacifier had fallen onto the mattress, forgotten. Terry’s movements grew faster, his grunts becoming guttural. He reached over the side of the cot and gripped George’s shoulder, using him for leverage as he drove himself deeper into Sue. “Watch me finish,” Terry commanded. George couldn't look away. He saw the moment Terry broke, his body tensing as he poured himself into Sue. Sue screamed, her body arching, her nails digging into the white paint of the cot. Silence followed, broken only by the heavy breathing of the two lovers and the distant crinkle of a diaper in the pail. Terry pulled away, his chest heaving. He wiped his brow and looked down at George. “Clean her up,” Terry said. He turned and walked toward the bathroom. Sue stayed slumped against the cot for a moment, her eyes slowly finding George’s. She reached through the bars and patted his head. “Good boy, Georgina.” She stood up, smoothing her dress. “I’m going to take a shower. Then I’ll come back and change you. You’ve been a very good audience today.” She followed Terry, leaving George alone in the dim light of the nursery. George lay back on the waterproof mattress. He felt the cold air on his skin and the lingering ache in his groin. He looked at the rows of stuffed animals on the shelves, their button eyes staring back at him. He was George. He was Georgina. He was a husband, and he was a baby. As the sound of the shower started down the hall, George reached out and found his pacifier. He popped it back into his mouth, the vanilla taste returning. He closed his eyes and waited for the crinkle of the next diaper. This was the life he had asked for. And as the shame faded into a dull, comfortable hum, he realized he wouldn't have it any other way. The ruffles were heavy, the plastic was loud, and the bars were high. But for the first time in his life, he knew exactly where he belonged. The nursery door creaked open a few minutes later. Sue stood there in a silk robe, holding a fresh, thick nappy and a tub of lavender powder. “Ready for bed, baby?” George nodded, the pacifier bobbing in his mouth. “*Mmm-phh*.” “Good,” she said, walking toward the cot. “We have a big day tomorrow. There’s a playdate at Lena’s, and I heard she bought a new double-stroller.” She lifted him out, and the cycle began again. The powder cloud rose in the air, the tapes snapped shut, and George was tucked back into the world of satin and shame, exactly where he wanted to stay.     Sue dropped to her knees, already pulling Mark’s zipper down with greedy hands. His cock sprang free—thick, veiny, *perfect*—and Sue wasted no time wrapping her lips around it, moaning as she took him deep. George’s breath hitched, his own cock aching in envy. He watched, transfixed, as Sue deep-throated Mark, her throat bulging around his girth, her fingers squeezing his balls. "Fuck, that’s hot," Lena murmured, rubbing her own pussy through her dress. "Don’t you think so, George?" He whimpered, nodding helplessly. Mark growled, pulling Sue off his cock with a wet *pop*. "On the couch. Now." Sue scrambled onto it, spreading her legs wide as Mark knelt between them. He didn’t waste time—he lined himself up and *plowed* into her with a single thrust, making her cry out. George’s cock throbbed painfully in his pants. He wanted to touch himself. To jerk off while watching. But Lena had other ideas. She straddled his lap, grinding her pussy against his trapped cock through their clothes. "You like this, don’t you?" she teased, rolling her hips. "You love being forced to watch while other men fuck me." George moaned, his hips jerking upward helplessly. Sue’s cries grew louder, her nails digging into Mark’s back as he pounded into her. "Yes! Fuck, yes! Right there!" Lena leaned in, her breath hot against George’s ear. "You’ll never please me like that, will you, baby?" "No," he choked out, his cock leaking. "Good. Because you’re *mine* to use." She ground harder against him, her pussy soaking through her panties and his pants. "And tonight? Tonight, I’m gonna let Mark fuck me *on top of you*. You’re gonna feel every thrust. Every inch of his cock rubbing against yours." George came with a broken cry, his cock pulsing uselessly against his pants as Lena’s words sent him over the edge. Lena smirked, licking her lips as she watched him fall apart beneath her. "Good boy," she cooed, patting his head before strutting over to where Sue and Mark were fucking like animals. George could only lie there, his tiny cock spent, his mind a haze of shame and pleasure. And as Mark’s cock *ripped* into Sue again, George knew—this was just the beginning. rge's tiny, hairless cock twitched in his pants as his wife, **Lena**, sauntered into the room, her hips swaying with that effortless, teasing confidence she always carried. At 38, her body was still tight, her curves drawing eyes like a magnet—especially his. She smirked when she noticed his erection straining against his khakis, already pushing out to a measly 2.8 inches. "You're so easy, baby," she purred, running a manicured nail down his chest before giving his cockhead a quick pinch through the fabric. "Poor little thing. Still desperate for attention, aren’t you?" George whimpered, his face heating up. He *loved* when she talked to him like this—like the pathetic cuckold he was. His cock throbbed, aching to be touched, worshipped, degraded. But Lena had other plans today. She had something *bigger* to show him. "Sue’s coming over," she announced, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "She wanted me to tell you her new boyfriend’s *huge*." George’s breath hitched. Sue, their neighbor and Lena’s best friend, had always been kind to him—maybe too kind, considering how often she bragged about her lovers. But today? Today was different. Today, she was bringing her *boyfriend* over. The one with the monster cock. The one who gave *her* the kind of pleasure George could only dream of. "Eight inches, George," Lena whispered, her voice dripping with amusement as she watched his face crumple. "And I bet he uses every single inch of it." George’s hands trembled as he adjusted himself, his tiny dick barely peeking out of his waistband. He wanted to beg. To grovel. To be used. But he knew Lena would only laugh. The doorbell rang. Lena sauntered to the door, her tight sundress hugging her ass as she swayed. George followed like a whipped puppy, his cock now fully hard, desperate and needy. Sue stood there, grinning, her blonde hair tousled in that *just-fucked* way. Behind her loomed a giant of a man—broad shoulders, dark eyes, and a *cock* that looked like it belonged on a porn set. George’s stomach twisted. "Hey, George!" Sue chirped, stepping inside without an invitation. "This is Mark. Mark, this is George—my husband’s pathetic little cuckold." Mark’s gaze flicked down to George’s straining bulge, then back up with a smirk. "Damn. That’s… something." George whimpered, his face burning. He wanted to crawl. To worship at their feet. To prove himself useless in the most delicious way. Lena giggled, wrapping an arm around Sue’s waist. "Oh, he *loves* being humiliated. Don’t you, baby?" George nodded frantically, his cock leaking pre-cum. Sue turned to Mark, her fingers trailing down his chest. "So, do you wanna fuck me right here in front of him?" Mark’s grin was wicked. "Fuck yeah." George’s knees nearly buckled. Lena pushed him onto the couch, shoving him down until he was sprawled out, his tiny dick straining against his pants. "Watch, George," she ordered. "Watch how a *real* man fucks your wife." Sue dropped to her knees, already pulling Mark’s zipper down with greedy hands. His cock sprang free—thick, veiny, *perfect*—and Sue wasted no time wrapping her lips around it, moaning as she took him deep. George’s breath hitched, his own cock aching in envy. He watched, transfixed, as Sue deep-throated Mark, her throat bulging around his girth, her fingers squeezing his balls. "Fuck, that’s hot," Lena murmured, rubbing her own pussy through her dress. "Don’t you think so, George?" He whimpered, nodding helplessly. Mark growled, pulling Sue off his cock with a wet *pop*. "On the couch. Now." Sue scrambled onto it, spreading her legs wide as Mark knelt between them. He didn’t waste time—he lined himself up and *plowed* into her with a single thrust, making her cry out. George’s cock throbbed painfully in his pants. He wanted to touch himself. To jerk off while watching. But Lena had other ideas. She straddled his lap, grinding her pussy against his trapped cock through their clothes. "You like this, don’t you?" she teased, rolling her hips. "You love being forced to watch while other men fuck me." George moaned, his hips jerking upward helplessly. Sue’s cries grew louder, her nails digging into Mark’s back as he pounded into her. "Yes! Fuck, yes! Right there!" Lena leaned in, her breath hot against George’s ear. "You’ll never please me like that, will you, baby?" "No," he choked out, his cock leaking. "Good. Because you’re *mine* to use." She ground harder against him, her pussy soaking through her panties and his pants. "And tonight? Tonight, I’m gonna let Mark fuck me *on top of you*. You’re gonna feel every thrust. Every inch of his cock rubbing against yours." George came with a broken cry, his cock pulsing uselessly against his pants as Lena’s words sent him over the edge. Lena smirked, licking her lips as she watched him fall apart beneath her. "Good boy," she cooed, patting his head before strutting over to where Sue and Mark were fucking like animals. George could only lie there, his tiny cock spent, his mind a haze of shame and pleasure. And as Mark’s cock *ripped* into Sue again, George knew—this was just the beginning. o rge's t  iny, hairless cock twitched in his pants as his wife, **Lena**, sauntered into the room, hGeorge's tiny, hairless cock twitched in his pants as his wife, **Lena**, sauntered into the room, her hips swaying with that effortless, teasing confidence she always carried. At 38, her body was still tight, her curves drawing eyes like a magnet—especially his. She smirked when she noticed his erection straining against his khakis, already pushing out to a measly 2.8 inches. "You're so easy, baby," she purred, running a manicured nail down his chest before giving his cockhead a quick pinch through the fabric. "Poor little thing. Still desperate for attention, aren’t you?" George whimpered, his face heating up. He *loved* when she talked to him like this—like the pathetic cuckold he was. His cock throbbed, aching to be touched, worshipped, degraded. But Lena had other plans today. She had something *bigger* to show him. "Sue’s coming over," she announced, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "She wanted me to tell you her new boyfriend’s *huge*." George’s breath hitched. Sue, their neighbor and Lena’s best friend, had always been kind to him—maybe too kind, considering how often she bragged about her lovers. But today? Today was different. Today, she was bringing her *boyfriend* over. The one with the monster cock. The one who gave *her* the kind of pleasure George could only dream of. "Eight inches, George," Lena whispered, her voice dripping with amusement as she watched his face crumple. "And I bet he uses every single inch of it." George’s hands trembled as he adjusted himself, his tiny dick barely peeking out of his waistband. He wanted to beg. To grovel. To be used. But he knew Lena would only laugh. The doorbell rang. Lena sauntered to the door, her tight sundress hugging her ass as she swayed. George followed like a whipped puppy, his cock now fully hard, desperate and needy. Sue stood there, grinning, her blonde hair tousled in that *just-fucked* way. Behind her loomed a giant of a man—broad shoulders, dark eyes, and a *cock* that looked like it belonged on a porn set. George’s stomach twisted. "Hey, George!" Sue chirped, stepping inside without an invitation. "This is Mark. Mark, this is George—my husband’s pathetic little cuckold." Mark’s gaze flicked down to George’s straining bulge, then back up with a smirk. "Damn. That’s… something." George whimpered, his face burning. He wanted to crawl. To worship at their feet. To prove himself useless in the most delicious way. Lena giggled, wrapping an arm around Sue’s waist. "Oh, he *loves* being humiliated. Don’t you, baby?" George nodded frantically, his cock leaking pre-cum. Sue turned to Mark, her fingers trailing down his chest. "So, do you wanna fuck me right here in front of him?" Mark’s grin was wicked. "Fuck yeah." George’s knees nearly buckled. Lena pushed him onto the couch, shoving him down until he was sprawled out, his tiny dick straining against his pants. "Watch, George," she ordered. "Watch how a *real* man fucks your wife." Sue dropped to her knees, already pulling Mark’s zipper down with greedy hands. His cock sprang free—thick, veiny, *perfect*—and Sue wasted no time wrapping her lips around it, moaning as she took him deep. George’s breath hitched, his own cock aching in envy. He watched, transfixed, as Sue deep-throated Mark, her throat bulging around his girth, her fingers squeezing his balls. "Fuck, that’s hot," Lena murmured, rubbing her own pussy through her dress. "Don’t you think so, George?" He whimpered, nodding helplessly. Mark growled, pulling Sue off his cock with a wet *pop*. "On the couch. Now." Sue scrambled onto it, spreading her legs wide as Mark knelt between them. He didn’t waste time—he lined himself up and *plowed* into her with a single thrust, making her cry out. George’s cock throbbed painfully in his pants. He wanted to touch himself. To jerk off while watching. But Lena had other ideas. She straddled his lap, grinding her pussy against his trapped cock through their clothes. "You like this, don’t you?" she teased, rolling her hips. "You love being forced to watch while other men fuck me." George moaned, his hips jerking upward helplessly. Sue’s cries grew louder, her nails digging into Mark’s back as he pounded into her. "Yes! Fuck, yes! Right there!" Lena leaned in, her breath hot against George’s ear. "You’ll never please me like that, will you, baby?" "No," he choked out, his cock leaking. "Good. Because you’re *mine* to use." She ground harder against him, her pussy soaking through her panties and his pants. "And tonight? Tonight, I’m gonna let Mark fuck me *on top of you*. You’re gonna feel every thrust. Every inch of his cock rubbing against yours." George came with a broken cry, his cock pulsing uselessly against his pants as Lena’s words sent him over the edge. Lena smirked, licking her lips as she watched him fall apart beneath her. "Good boy," she cooed, patting his head before strutting over to where Sue and Mark were fucking like animals. George could only lie there, his tiny cock spent, his mind a haze of shame and pleasure. And as Mark’s cock *ripped* into Sue again, George knew—this was just the beginning.er hips swaying with that effortless, teasing confidence she always carried. At 38, her body was still tight, her curves drawing eyes like a magnet—especially his. She smirked when she noticed his erection straining against his khakis, already pushing out to a measly 2.8 inches. "You're so easy, baby," she purred, running a manicured nail down his chest before giving his cockhead a quick pinch through the fabric. "Poor little thing. Still desperate for attention, aren’t you?" George whimpered, his face heating up. He *loved* when she talked to him like this—like the pathetic cuckold he was. His cock throbbed, aching to be touched, worshipped, degraded. But Lena had other plans today. She had something *bigger* to show him. "Sue’s coming over," she announced, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "She wanted me to tell you her new boyfriend’s *huge*." George’s breath hitched. Sue, their neighbor and Lena’s best friend, had always been kind to him—maybe too kind, considering how often she bragged about her lovers. But today? Today was different. Today, she was bringing her *boyfriend* over. The one with the monster cock. The one who gave *her* the kind of pleasure George could only dream of. "Eight inches, George," Lena whispered, her voice dripping with amusement as she watched his face crumple. "And I bet he uses every single inch of it." George’s hands trembled as he adjusted himself, his tiny dick barely peeking out of his waistband. He wanted to beg. To grovel. To be used. But he knew Lena would only laugh. The doorbell rang. Lena sauntered to the door, her tight sundress hugging her ass as she swayed. George followed like a whipped puppy, his cock now fully hard, desperate and needy. Sue stood there, grinning, her blonde hair tousled in that *just-fucked* way. Behind her loomed a giant of a man—broad shoulders, dark eyes, and a *cock* that looked like it belonged on a porn set. George’s stomach twisted. "Hey, George!" Sue chirped, stepping inside without an invitation. "This is Mark. Mark, this is George—my husband’s pathetic little cuckold." Mark’s gaze flicked down to George’s straining bulge, then back up with a smirk. "Damn. That’s… something." George whimpered, his face burning. He wanted to crawl. To worship at their feet. To prove himself useless in the most delicious way. Lena giggled, wrapping an arm around Sue’s waist. "Oh, he *loves* being humiliated. Don’t you, baby?" George nodded frantically, his cock leaking pre-cum. Sue turned to Mark, her fingers trailing down his chest. "So, do you wanna fuck me right here in front of him?" Mark’s grin was wicked. "Fuck yeah." George’s knees nearly buckled. Lena pushed him onto the couch, shoving him down until he was sprawled out, his tiny dick straining against his pants. "Watch, George," she ordered. "Watch how a *real* man fucks your wife." Sue dropped to her knees, already pulling Mark’s zipper down with greedy hands. His cock sprang free—thick, veiny, *perfect*—and Sue wasted no time wrapping her lips around it, moaning as she took him deep. George’s breath hitched, his own cock aching in envy. He watched, transfixed, as Sue deep-throated Mark, her throat bulging around his girth, her fingers squeezing his balls. "Fuck, that’s hot," Lena murmured, rubbing her own pussy through her dress. "Don’t you think so, George?" He whimpered, nodding helplessly. Mark growled, pulling Sue off his cock with a wet *pop*. "On the couch. Now." Sue scrambled onto it, spreading her legs wide as Mark knelt between them. He didn’t waste time—he lined himself up and *plowed* into her with a single thrust, making her cry out. George’s cock throbbed painfully in his pants. He wanted to touch himself. To jerk off while watching. But Lena had other ideas. She straddled his lap, grinding her pussy against his trapped cock through their clothes. "You like this, don’t you?" she teased, rolling her hips. "You love being forced to watch while other men fuck me." George moaned, his hips jerking upward helplessly. Sue’s cries grew louder, her nails digging into Mark’s back as he pounded into her. "Yes! Fuck, yes! Right there!" Lena leaned in, her breath hot against George’s ear. "You’ll never please me like that, will you, baby?" "No," he choked out, his cock leaking. "Good. Because you’re *mine* to use." She ground harder against him, her pussy soaking through her panties and his pants. "And tonight? Tonight, I’m gonna let Mark fuck me *on top of you*. You’re gonna feel every thrust. Every inch of his cock rubbing against yours." George came with a broken cry, his cock pulsing uselessly against his pants as Lena’s words sent him over the edge. Lena smirked, licking her lips as she watched him fall apart beneath her. "Good boy," she cooed, patting his head before strutting over to where Sue and Mark were fucking like animals. George could only lie there, his tiny cock spent, his mind a haze of shame and pleasure. And as Mark’s cock *ripped* into Sue again, George knew—this was just the beginning. George's tiny, hairless cock twitched in his pants as his wife, **Lena**, sauntered into the room, her hips swaying with that effortless, teasing confidence she always carried. At 38, her body was still tight, her curves drawing eyes like a magnet—especially his. She smirked when she noticed his erection straining against his khakis, already pushing out to a measly 2.8 inches. "You're so easy, baby," she purred, running a manicured nail down his chest before giving his cockhead a quick pinch through the fabric. "Poor little thing. Still desperate for attention, aren’t you?" George whimpered, his face heating up. He *loved* when she talked to him like this—like the pathetic cuckold he was. His cock throbbed, aching to be touched, worshipped, degraded. But Lena had other plans today. She had something *bigger* to show him. "Sue’s coming over," she announced, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "She wanted me to tell you her new boyfriend’s *huge*." George’s breath hitched. Sue, their neighbor and Lena’s best friend, had always been kind to him—maybe too kind, considering how often she bragged about her lovers. But today? Today was different. Today, she was bringing her *boyfriend* over. The one with the monster cock. The one who gave *her* the kind of pleasure George could only dream of. "Eight inches, George," Lena whispered, her voice dripping with amusement as she watched his face crumple. "And I bet he uses every single inch of it." George’s hands trembled as he adjusted himself, his tiny dick barely peeking out of his waistband. He wanted to beg. To grovel. To be used. But he knew Lena would only laugh. The doorbell rang. Lena sauntered to the door, her tight sundress hugging her ass as she swayed. George followed like a whipped puppy, his cock now fully hard, desperate and needy. Sue stood there, grinning, her blonde hair tousled in that *just-fucked* way. Behind her loomed a giant of a man—broad shoulders, dark eyes, and a *cock* that looked like it belonged on a porn set. George’s stomach twisted. "Hey, George!" Sue chirped, stepping inside without an invitation. "This is Mark. Mark, this is George—my husband’s pathetic little cuckold." Mark’s gaze flicked down to George’s straining bulge, then back up with a smirk. "Damn. That’s… something." George whimpered, his face burning. He wanted to crawl. To worship at their feet. To prove himself useless in the most delicious way. Lena giggled, wrapping an arm around Sue’s waist. "Oh, he *loves* being humiliated. Don’t you, baby?" George nodded frantically, his cock leaking pre-cum. Sue turned to Mark, her fingers trailing down his chest. "So, do you wanna fuck me right here in front of him?" Mark’s grin was wicked. "Fuck yeah." George’s knees nearly buckled. Lena pushed him onto the couch, shoving him down until he was sprawled out, his tiny dick straining against his pants. "Watch, George," she ordered. "Watch how a *real* man fucks your wife." Sue dropped to her knees, already pulling Mark’s zipper down with greedy hands. His cock sprang free—thick, veiny, *perfect*—and Sue wasted no time wrapping her lips around it, moaning as she took him deep. George’s breath hitched, his own cock aching in envy. He watched, transfixed, as Sue deep-throated Mark, her throat bulging around his girth, her fingers squeezing his balls. "Fuck, that’s hot," Lena murmured, rubbing her own pussy through her dress. "Don’t you think so, George?" He whimpered, nodding helplessly. Mark growled, pulling Sue off his cock with a wet *pop*. "On the couch. Now." Sue scrambled onto it, spreading her legs wide as Mark knelt between them. He didn’t waste time—he lined himself up and *plowed* into her with a single thrust, making her cry out. George’s cock throbbed painfully in his pants. He wanted to touch himself. To jerk off while watching. But Lena had other ideas. She straddled his lap, grinding her pussy against his trapped cock through their clothes. "You like this, don’t you?" she teased, rolling her hips. "You love being forced to watch while other men fuck me." George moaned, his hips jerking upward helplessly. Sue’s cries grew louder, her nails digging into Mark’s back as he pounded into her. "Yes! Fuck, yes! Right there!" Lena leaned in, her breath hot against George’s ear. "You’ll never please me like that, will you, baby?" "No," he choked out, his cock leaking. "Good. Because you’re *mine* to use." She ground harder against him, her pussy soaking through her panties and his pants. "And tonight? Tonight, I’m gonna let Mark fuck me *on top of you*. You’re gonna feel every thrust. Every inch of his cock rubbing against yours." George came with a broken cry, his cock pulsing uselessly against his pants as Lena’s words sent him over the edge. Lena smirked, licking her lips as she watched him fall apart beneath her. "Good boy," she cooed, patting his head before strutting over to where Sue and Mark were fucking like animals. George could only lie there, his tiny cock spent, his mind a haze of shame and pleasure. And as Mark’s cock *ripped* into Sue again, George knew—this was just the beginning.      

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