The blindfolded taste of lust-4

“Come, lay down.”

He’s on the bed, he moves to take off the mask, she tells him to keep it on. There’s movement, the agitation of what he now perceives as being two men leaving a married couple’s bedroom. There’s a darkness to it, at least he feels so. And the entire scene replays in his head, he sees himself do what he did, do it in the dark while the others were watching him, he thinks of how he sucked on those strangers’ cocks, how he swallowed their cum one after the other and he feels a certain disgust. He wishes for nothing more than to not be seen by them anymore, especially blindfolded and naked. Yet he knows somewhere inside that this will be arousing, eventually, but at this very moment, he is constantly reminded of what he has done through the taste that lingers still, and that has lost all of its dreaminess. Nastiness has lost its appeal. Even touching his own limp cock, shrivelled almost and still wet with saliva and with a few drops of now cold semen, is unpleasant, or at least nothing like it had been just a few moments ago. The thought of that wetness. “What the fuck?” A shower. Wash it off and sl**p it off? He isn’t sure. He hears the door open and close quickly in the living room and his wife’s footsteps in the hallway. There’s a calm when she comes in the room, her presence.