Born To Be Bred Book 2

The Honeymoon

Given her conservative asian upbringing, my wife had always dressed simply, seldom showing off her tight young modelesque body.

Back home, swimwear were simple one-pieces and the most revealing outfit she had was a body-hugging dress that showed off a little cleavage and ended above her knee.

As our culture became more liberal, I envied the boyfriends and husbands who had enlightened women who openly flaunted their bodies, prancing around in barely there clothes in the streets and even lingerie on social media.

I could only imagine the ego boost the men had, knowing that their girls were the fap objects of men all over the world.

I began to harbour the fantasy of walking down the streets hand in hand with my wife in a skimpy outfit that showed off her perfect curves and perfectly sculpted C cup breasts on a petite 1.6m frame.

I wanted to see and feel the envy of the men ogling at her sexy body, undressing her mentally but unable to fulfil their desires. I wanted to feel the scorn of the lesser women who would be staring daggers at my wife as her barely covered juicy ass bounced with every step.

After that we would wrestle each other into bed, fucking like primal beasts as I plough her in various positions as she moaned like she was being stabbed to death by my monsterous cock, just like in a porn film.

I shared this fantasy with my wife constantly, encouraging her to open up and be more daring with her dressing.

I even bought the dresses I wanted her to wear for her.

The furthest she went was wearing them at home to spice up the foreplay but never out of the home, citing that she was uncomfortable knowing that we might be seen by someone we knew or worse, a family member.

Our honeymoon was the perfect opportunity for her to be free of these societal expectations.

We went to a town in Europe popular for their vineyards and nightlife. Being Asian, we stood out amongst the locals and other tourists but my wife kept her promise of flaunting what she had.

She was going braless in tiny crop tops that showed off plenty of under boob and the occasional nipple if she lifted her arms too high.

Complemented by tiny skirts that barely went below her butt cheeks, wandering eyes couldn’t decide where to place their focus as her tits and ass cheeks jiggled and bounced with every step she took.

These were outfits that she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing back home.

As slutty as that sounds, she was pretty much dressed just like the locals since it was a sweltering summer.

On the last night, we decided to go to the club.

I had convinced my wife to wear a tiny little dress that barely had enough material to cover her breasts above and her butt cheeks below.

Naturally, she was braless, and her tiny erect nipples were clearly visible under the thin material.

Needless to say, many eyes were on us when we entered and got ourselves a booth.

My 20 year old wife was easily one of the hottest girls in the club that night, attracting stares and brazen prepositions from men.

Some sent drinks to our table while others bravely approached us asking if we were open for a swing.

We rejected the offers politely and ended up having so many drinks that we were entitled for a booth.

As luck would have it, I had to use the washroom shortly after we got a booth. The gents had an extremely long queue.

With my absence, the wolves began to prey. Waiting in line for the toilet, I could see countless men. women and even couples approaching my wife.

If I had to guess, they were offering to buy her drinks in hopes they could score her for the night. I could see them come and go rapidly, meaning that my wife had outright rejected them immediately.

10 minutes into the queue, my view was blocked as the line progressed but I wasn’t concerned. I trusted my wife.

It took me almost another 30 minutes to get to an empty cubicle.

After I relieved myself, I saw the curtains to our booth drawn. Perhaps my wife wanted to take a rest in privacy.

As I approached the entrance to our booth, I saw the shoes of 2 men under the curtains but not my wife.

I was about to walk away, thinking I had the wrong booth or my wife had vacated the booth when I saw a single heel at the corner of the booth, almost hidden from sight.

They were my wife’s heels.

I continued my approach to the booth, going in from an angle that hid me from view.

The sight before me left me frozen but also rock hard in an instant.

 

My wife was in the middle of two huge white men, her small 160cm frame looking absolutely tiny between the big burly men.

The bottom of her barely-there dress was bunched up at her waist, legs spread over their laps, one of which was missing a heel.

She was holding on to a glass of champagne in her left hand.

The man on her right was nibbling on her ear and neck. He had one hand holding her legs over his lap, keeping them spread apart for easy access. My wife’s hairless pussy was under assault from his other hand, which had wormed under her tiny black g string.

The flimsy garment was clearly soaked by her arousal, signalling that she had been incredibly wet even before the direct assault on her young tight cunt.

My wife had her free hand over her pussy, trying to stop the man’s assault in vain as her body trembled in pleasure.

The man on her left had the top left side of her dress pulled down, exposing her supple tit.

His mouth was on her left tit like a baby, gentling licking, nibbling and sucking her sensitive nipple as he squeezed and massaged her right breast under her dress. He too had a hand holding her legs spread wide.

My wife might have been unwilling or struggled at the beginning, but there was no sign of a struggle now.

No, my wife had her head back, eyes closed and gasping for air.

Ever so often her body would tremble, eyes frown and her lips quiver. Signs that the skilful manipulation of the men were bringing her to an imminent orgasm.

She was muttering something between gasps to the men. I prayed that she was asking them to stop, that she wanted them to stop.

But her pink, erect nipples and subtle grinding of her hips against the hand in her pussy told me that her body wanted more.

Rock hard and completely dumbfounded, I stood frozen, my shoes rooted to the sticky club floor. The heavy, thumping bass of the EDM music vibrated through the floorboards, but all I could focus on was the sharp, incredibly sweet scent of my wife’s raw arousal mixing with the bitter tang of spilled champagne and heavy male cologne.

The giant on her right didn't just have his hand under her g-string; he had two thick, calloused fingers buried entirely inside her dripping vaginal canal. He pumped his hand with a brutal, relentless rhythm. Schlick, squelch, schlick. The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers rearranging her internal anatomy were masked by the club music. His thumb rested heavily on her swollen clitoris, grinding the sensitive pink nub in tight, punishing circles against her pubic bone.

"Ahhh-nnngh! Mmmph—please” my wife whimpered, her flawless, fair-skinned face flushing a deep, mottled crimson.

Her body was entirely betraying her conservative upbringing. She was subconsciously spreading her smooth thighs wider across their denim-clad laps, offering her soaking wet cunt up for deeper penetration. The other giant on her left sucked aggressively on her exposed left nipple, his teeth scraping the stiff, dark pink areola, pulling it deep into his mouth with a loud slurp. The dual assault of her most sensitive nerve endings overloaded her system.

Within minutes, her hips locked rigidly against the man’s wrist. "Fuuuck!" she gasped, her vaginal walls spasming violently, clamping down on the foreign fingers invading her. Her entire petite frame shook as a massive, gushing orgasm tore through her body, squirting a fresh wave of slick, clear juices directly onto his knuckles.

It was probably not the first they had given her that night.

Her hips buckled and shook as the hand on cunt moved relentlessly. As her body shook, she spilled a little champagne on her chest which was quickly licked up by the men.

 

As punishment for spilling the drink, my wife received a few slaps on her cheek and pussy before they resumed their ministrations.

It might have been post-orgasmic clarity but as the men tried to pull the right side of her dress down to reveal her other tit, essentially leaving her naked save the tiny material bunched at her waist, my wife started to struggle to prevent them from doing it.

She succeeded somehow, and the men resumed their previous assault on her body while leaving her right breast covered by the thin dress.

While she did not allow her right breast to be exposed, my wife did not struggle as her g string was pulled to the side, exposing her engorged hairless cunt to the men.

Maybe she made a deal with them, to leave her top alone but they could move the flimsy material protecting her swollen pussy from the elements.