The neighbors revenge

Prissy wife gets raped at the pool party and it’s all caught on camera.

The sun scorched Sarah's backyard, the pool party a haze of splashing water and forced cheer. I gripped my beer tighter, eyes locked on Amber as she paraded in that slutty hot pink PVC thong bikini, the fabric so thin it molded to every curve of her petite body. Her blue eyes flashed with that prissy arrogance, high heels making her ass sway like she was begging for attention. The neighborhood wives shot daggers her way—they loathed her perfect tits, her toned legs, the way she dressed like a whore and owned it. But today, their jealousy was about to explode into something vicious.

Cocktails flowed freely, and Amber sipped hers with her usual haughty tilt of the chin. Sarah, that two-faced bitch pretending to be her friend, leaned in close, dropping Special K into the glass when no one was looking—or so she thought. I missed it at first, but soon my wife's speech turned thick, her steps faltering in those stilettos. She laughed it off, clinging to Sarah, as the drug melted her edges.

Out back, the kennels held Sarah's beasts: two massive Great Danes. The female, Bella, was deep in heat, her scent thick and primal, driving the male, Max, into a frenzy of whines and barks. His sheath twitched, that red tip emerging like a promise of ruin. Sarah's lips curled into a sly grin. 'Amber, you adore dogs, don't you? Bella needs some love—go on, play with her.' Drugged and dizzy, Amber beamed, tottering into the enclosure on wobbly heels.

She dropped to her knees, hands roaming the bitch's coat, pressing close, rubbing her face and body against the heated fur. That fertile musk soaked into her skin, her bikini, her hair—Amber oblivious, cooing as she stroked and nuzzled. When she emerged, flushed and giggling, the women snickered, shoving another laced drink into her hand. More Special K surged through her veins, turning her into a ragdoll as they hauled her toward Max's side.

The crowd swelled, phones raised like weapons, the air electric with anticipation. 'Let's give Max what he wants,' Sarah hissed, slamming Amber onto the breeding bench. My wife thrashed, but the shackles snapped tight around her wrists and ankles, bending her forward, ass high and exposed. Sarah yanked the PVC thong down her thighs, baring that shaved, pink slit to the world. Amber's screams pierced the chatter—'No! Jamie, stop them!'—but I stood rooted, a dark thrill coiling in my gut.

Max lunged the second he was free, his 150-pound frame dwarfing her. Paws slammed onto her back, claws raking red lines across her hips as he humped frantically, his 13-inch cock—thick as my wrist, veined and slick—probing for entry. Sarah grabbed the base, steering it right to Amber's folds. The first brutal thrust speared her, stretching her tight hole wide, the girth tearing a guttural wail from her throat. He didn't ease in; he hammered, hips blurring, that monstrous shaft pulverizing her insides with every savage plunge.

Her pussy lips gripped him desperately, frothing with her juices and flecks of blood as he reshaped her. The crowd roared, capturing the degradation: her blonde hair whipping, tits heaving free from the bikini top, face contorted in agony. 'Fuck that stuck-up cunt!' a voice jeered, phones zooming in on the destruction. Amber begged through sobs—'Please, it burns! Get him off!'—but Max was feral, his knot inflating, that softball bulge battering her entrance like a battering ram.

With a final, vicious shove, he forced it home. Her scream shattered the air as her pussy distended, swallowing the tie, locking them in unbreakable union. She bucked wildly, body quaking, but he held fast, cock throbbing deep, unleashing torrent after torrent of hot dog cum. It flooded her, bloating her flat belly, seeping past the seal in creamy rivulets. Twenty agonizing minutes dragged on, the party pulsing around the spectacle—music, laughter, toasts to her ruin.

Amber's pleas dissolved into hitched gasps, her drugged nerves igniting against her will. Her walls fluttered, clenching the invader, and then she broke: a raw, humiliated orgasm ripping through her. She moaned like a whore, hips grinding back, milking every spurt as waves of shameful bliss wracked her tiny frame, her womb drowning in beast seed.

Finally, Max yanked free with an obscene pop, a gush of thick, white cum erupting from her wrecked pussy, splattering the bench and her trembling thighs. She slumped, gasping, hole gaping and ruined, but Sarah wasn't done. Grinning wickedly, she slid a shallow bowl beneath Amber's dripping crotch, catching the steady flow of spent semen mixed with my wife's arousal. The women hooted as it filled—viscous, pungent, swirling with flecks of her essence.

Sarah unstrapped one wrist just enough, shoving the bowl to Amber's lips. 'Drink up, slut. Taste what Max gave you.' My wife whimpered, eyes glassy from the high and the aftershocks, but the drugs compelled her. She lapped tentatively at first, tongue darting into the warm, salty pool, then greedier, slurping it down like a bitch in heat. Her pink lips smeared with the mess, she licked the bowl clean, sucking every drop, moaning softly as the flavor coated her throat. The crowd erupted in cheers, videos rolling, sealing her utter humiliation forever. I watched, hard and hating myself, as my prissy wife's world crumbled into depraved submission.