My Cuckold Journey 1
By RandyKneeling.
I glanced over at my wife, who was deeply engrossed in the movie, even if it was only one of those free soft-core porn movies they run after hours. We rarely watched anything like this together, and I always assumed I was the only one who watched them alone, but now I was questioning that. Brooke resembled the brunette more than a little. I always thought my girl looked like Kristen Stewart with those sexy eyes, but the resemblance to this unheard-of actress was hard to ignore. Brooke was squirming in her seat, seemingly unable to find a good position. I wanted to help in any way I could.
“Honey, you don’t look comfortable. Why don’t you take off those pants and relax? Here, let me help.”
I unbuttoned her jeans and helped her wriggle free of them, happily surprised at my success. After ten years of marriage, it’s hard to keep up the enthusiasm when even the standard variations have become routine. Don’t get me wrong, Brooke is attractive and still has a very nice body; at only 32 years old and having never endured the ravages of childbirth, she can still turn heads when she wants to. Still, when you’ve eaten the same meal for ten years, any new spice is welcome, and this movie seemed to be doing the trick for both of us.
Brooke left her panties on, and I didn’t want to rush her. I was content to stay close and watch. Married all these years, and I’d never seen my wife masturbate. I was fascinated. She slid a finger up and down along her lips, pushing the silky fabric into the folds of her sex. I stroked her thigh with one hand while I studied her technique. She traced the length of her lips several times before settling over her clit. I took advantage of the moment to reach below her hand, hook my finger under the edge of her panties, and pull them aside, exposing her pussy. I looked up at her for the first time since I had pantsed her. I smiled and she nodded, then looked back at the screen. I stole a glance at it myself, just to take note of what was good enough to hold her attention. The brunette was kneeling over the blonde in a 69, and both appeared quite enthusiastic.
I immediately planted my face between my wife’s thighs and began to lick her now moist pussy. In response, she became uncharacteristically vocal.
“Oh, Bill, yes, baby, yes, eat that pussy! Oh God, baby, that feels so good!”
This was amazing! Talking during sex was something I did, not her, at least not before now. I wished I could talk back. I would have told her how good her pussy tasted, and how hard it was making my dick, but it’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, and I didn’t want to stop eating. Luckily, my wife didn’t seem to mind performing a monologue.
“Oh yeah, eat that pussy, you sweet girl!”
I was delighted that she was getting into a lesbian scene. It had always been a fantasy of mine; lesbian sex in general, but my wife and another woman more than anything. Now she was turned on by the same thing, and my hopes were beginning to kindle.
“That’s it… lick it good; yeah… lap it up! Lap my pussy, girl!”
Wow… she was really getting into this scene! In her mind, she was clearly part of it, obviously as the brunette. I briefly wondered if that made me the buxom blonde.
“Oh yes… yes… yeeess!”
I’d never had her come that fast before. It wasn’t a massive orgasm, but it was unmistakable. I slowed the attentions of my tongue and teased her, imparting the slightest of sensations as she wound down. Between tingles, I drew her back to our living room.
“I’ve always been turned on by girl-on-girl sex,” I admitted. “It seems maybe you are too?”
“I hadn’t been before now,” she replied, “but damn, that was one hot scene!”
She let out a chuckle, and I laughed along with her, happy to see how relaxed and open she was being, post-orgasm.
“Tell me,” I asked, “what was it about that movie that got to you?”
“That’s easy… one of them looked a lot like me.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “and you definitely put yourself in the action! I could tell you were imaging you were her.”
She gazed into space and smiled, and I began running my hand lightly between her legs, hoping to stir up interest in a second round, in our bed. My slim, 4-inch dick had never been my main means of pleasing her, but it had always been my main means of pleasing me.
By the time we made it to bed, things could have gone either way. We both had to get up early the next morning, so a good night’s sleep was more than a luxury. Still, the way Brooke had embraced my lesbian fantasy had me aroused to an extent that wasn’t likely to subside without me draining the reservoir. I reached out for her under the covers, placed a hand on her hip, and lightly stroked her upper thigh through the oversized t-shirt that was her usual sleepwear. I murmured,
“You were really sexy tonight, the way you got into that lesbian scene. I loved hearing you tell me what to do and how aroused you were. Do you think, maybe if I could get you back in that place, I could join you this time?”
“Mmmm… your hand feels nice, keep doing that. I don’t know if I can get back there without the visual, but if you want another taste, I’m not going to stop you.”
It may have been a little less than I had hoped for, but it was enough, and I took it. I pressed my hand down on her hip enough to grip her t-shirt, and I slid it up to bare her thigh. A couple of strokes along that bare skin was all it took to part her legs. My hand traveled the familiar path to the place she invited, and my tongue followed close behind.
I know it may sound strange, coming from someone who just drew an analogy between stale married sex and too much of the same meal, but this was one meal I truly never tired of. I consider my wife’s pussy a delicacy, and I would eat it even if she never let me fuck it. Tonight, I didn’t eat her with the abandon I would have displayed if I had been strictly in it for myself. I paid more attention to her, taking care not to push her over the edge ahead of me. I licked and sucked at her until she started making uncontrollable sounds.
“I need to be inside you,” I pleaded, tacitly acknowledging that her permission was required. She graciously held out her arms to me, and I crawled up into her loving embrace. During my travel up her torso, I easily slipped my modest penis into her wetness. I kept it still, knowing that once I began to move, I wouldn’t last long. Soaking my prick in her warm, wet sheath was a little slice of heaven for me. Not only did it prolong the bliss, but it also presented a prime opportunity to talk dirty to her.
“Would you ever want to experience what we watched tonight… I mean, being with another woman?”
“Mmmm,” she mused, “I never gave it any thought. But it sure captured your imagination, didn’t it?”
More like it breathed life into a fantasy, I thought.
“Oh, baby, more than you can believe. Imagining that it was you getting licked by another woman was incredible! And when it turned into a 69 scene, that did it for me. I’d really love to see you eating pussy!”
I began to move in her, and my balls instantly pulled up tight against my body; an unmistakable indication of how close I still was. I wanted to get her talking, hoping she might give me the push I needed to go over the edge.
“Do you think you’d ever want to do that? Would you enjoy eating pussy? Have you ever done it?”
“I haven’t,” she confessed, a wistful look in her eyes, “but I have thought about it. Sometimes, when I masturbate using my hand, I put my fingers in my mouth, just to taste them a little. It does help get me worked up, just thinking about what it would be like.”
That did it — I felt myself slip over the edge. I started pumping into her rapidly, abandoning any hope of turning back. Brooke actually moaned from the sensations I was causing – not something I was used to. I slid my hands under the small of her back and pulled her up into me as I busted inside her and sprayed my seed.
“Ooooo baby, yes! That really did it for you, huh?”
She was happy for me, and I liked the way she celebrated my achievement; it was genuine, even if it was accompanied by a certain degree of amusement.
“Wow, you really like the idea of me licking pussy, huh? I think you might even want it more than I do!”
I gave her my complete and enthusiastic agreement, wanting her to know. I wanted to encourage her in any way I could.
Over the course of a few weeks, I continued to drop hints about it, teasing her with the idea. To my surprise, she didn’t shut me down. She seemed to be more appreciative of my dirty talk since lesbian movie night, or LMN, as I came to think of it. It was starting to feel like it was a watershed moment. I became more explicit in my encouragement when we played.
“Babe, you know I’ve been kinda hung up on the idea of you with another woman ever since we watched that movie, and I think maybe you like the idea more than you’re letting on. I want you to do it—and before you ask, yes, I really mean it. I want to see you with another woman. There… I said it. Please say you’ll at least think about it?”
I literally held my breath, unable to read a damn thing on her face. She didn’t smile, furrow her brows, or even blink. It was probably only 10 seconds, but it felt interminable. Then she said,
“Baby, I took a vow to be faithful to you, and that includes women as well as men. Sex outside our marriage is not something I’d allow you to get away with, and I hold myself to the same standard.”
“But that’s just it, honey; I’m saying I don’t mind you holding me to that standard, I have no interest in straying. I’m just asking you to permit yourself, because I am.”
We left it at that, and I took her lack of outright rejection as a positive sign. As the weeks rolled on, I continued my persuasive assault on the ramparts, each time knowing I was heard, yet sensing some unspoken conflict. Initially, I took her hesitancy as an internal struggle between her carnal desires and her sense of right and wrong, and I did my best to weigh in on the desire side of the ledger.
Only later did she reveal that her struggle was actually between her lust and her resolve not to encourage me. She was determined that, if she were ever to have sex outside our marriage, it would have to be completely my motivation. Not only did she steer clear of encouraging anything, but she also avoided giving any signals at all. She was resolved that it would have to be my idea entirely, driven by my desire to make it happen. Her self-imposed moral constraints became easier for her to stick with once it was clear that my enthusiasm would make the outcome all but inevitable.
If LMN was a watershed moment, what happened next was an even more obvious one. It came the day Brooke returned from work, and I hugged her, picking up a faint scent of something I couldn’t quite identify. It was both spicy and sweet, reminding me of some exotic jungle scent. I knew she hadn’t begun the day wearing it, and I immediately wondered how she had picked it up. I asked about it, and by way of an answer, she told me she had met someone. From the way she said it, I could tell right away it wasn’t just anyone. When I questioned her, she explained that it was a new co-worker, brought on board with a fixed-length, six-month contract to update their computer systems. I thought it odd that a co-worker’s scent could transfer to her so effectively, but I chalked it up to the familiarity women so easily get away with when greeting each other in public.
Brooke works in accounting for a major tech company. I don’t understand the details well enough to describe it, other than it was an entire system replacement, whatever that meant. She explained her expanded responsibilities and the amount to learn about the new system. I know she works in a cubicle environment where contractors are often seated in larger cubes with one or two others, to facilitate interactions and foster teamwork. As she told me about the newcomer, I was already envisioning them working together in close quarters, probably even working off the same monitor at times.
“I think this could be the one, honey. I mean, if I were ever going to fulfill your fantasy, that is.”
I was beside myself, delighted to hear a prospective candidate for “the other woman” was in her sights. I pressed Brooke to flirt with her, to see if she was interested, but she continued to have reservations.
“Baby, I believe you really do want this, but I have a hard time imagining that you’ll feel the same after the novelty wears off. I wouldn’t want to put myself out there like that for a brief affair. If I’m with someone else, it’s got to be more than a brief fling. Once you realize how imbalanced that makes our relationship, how could you possibly remain happy?”
I was honestly confused by the premise of her question. In my mind, there would be no imbalance in the relationship. I only saw a difference in what she and I would get out of it. She clearly had a good idea what she could get out of it; I just needed to convince her that I would enjoy it as well.
“Honey, I never told you this, but you know my ex, Stacy, the girl I dated before I met you?”
“Yes…” she replied, her senses newly alert.
“You know that after we broke up, we remained friends, right?”
“Yes…”
“So, right after we split – and before I met you – there was a period of a couple months where we still talked on the phone frequently. I was going through a dry spell, while her experience was just the opposite. She was cutting loose and having the time of her life, and I guess she took pity on me. She’d go out on a date, then call me and tell me about it. She treated me like I was one of her girlfriends, sharing her reservations about certain guys, confessing her unspoken desires, and throwing in just enough dirty talk to keep me interested.
For my part, I’d always play the devil on her shoulder, selfishly encouraging her to abandon her reservations and go for it, knowing I would share in the enjoyment, risk-free. She’d call me after those dates, and some of those were marathon calls. She’d describe to me in rich detail what a slut she had been, and I’d jack off while hearing about it. I loved it, even though I never got to see a thing, let alone get touched by anyone other than me. And she loved it —she knew full well what I was doing on the other end of the phone. It was pure mind-fuckery, and it got me through some tough times. I find myself looking back on it now with great fondness.”
My story had the desired effect, and then some. A change came over Brooke, and with it, she gave me a long hug, telling me she was going to pursue this new attraction and see where it led. I was delighted, and I took in the new fragrance once more, now convinced it was her new co-worker’s. Then she warned me,
“Someday in the future, you’re going to take stock of your situation and ask yourself, ‘How did I ever get here?’ When you do, I want you to think back to the story you just told me.”
I admit it chilled me, but I had no clue as to the significance of my disclosure. I only knew what it meant to me—some fond memories of fun times. And anyway, I was confident that I knew what was in store. Still, she made me promise to tell her if things ever became too uncomfortable for me. Otherwise, she said, she would do her best to give me what I wanted.
After work the next day, Brooke told me she flirted enough to confirm there was a spark between them. At her insistence, I repeated my go-ahead. Satisfied with my sincerity, she informed me that they would go out to dinner the upcoming weekend and “explore the possibilities”. I pressed her for every little detail of their arrangements until she saw what I was angling for; finally, she conceded that yes, it would be an actual date.
Now that the decision had been made, Brooke was true to her word about embracing things. She prepared for their date as if she were back in high school, all flush with the prospect of a furtive dalliance. I did my best to help her get ready. On the practical side, she needed no help with hair, make-up, or clothes, so I volunteered to shave her legs and clean up her bikini line. It was a deeply erotic experience for me, preparing my wife for her prospective new lover. “New lover” were her words, not mine. She told me she purposely used those words to remind me of the gravity of what I had encouraged. Beyond the practical steps, I also helped prepare her libido as I shaved her.
“What do you think the chances are that your future lover is going to be caressing this smooth leg later tonight?” I asked her as I carefully ran the razor over her slender thigh.
“Do you think she might do it right there in the restaurant, where others might see? Or will she take you back to her place, where she wouldn’t have to stop her hand from traveling farther up?” I teased, as I moved the razor to mirror the fantasy.
As I traced along the large triangle of pubic hair crowning her vulva, I asked her,
“Do you think she’ll like your bush? Do you think she has a thick one, too, or does she shave it bare? Tell me, baby, which one would you most like to see? Which would you most like to eat?”
I was kneeling on the shower floor between her legs, close enough to see the juices that began to form on her lips. A thin, silvery strand trickled out, reaching for the floor, and I intercepted it with my tongue. She smiled, watching me savor the taste, wistful that there wasn’t time to take things further.
I was beside myself with angst, unaware that the more meaningful descriptor was “cuckold angst”. By the time midnight came and she wasn’t home yet, I had a pretty good idea that something was happening. It was 1:45 AM when she finally rolled in.
“Oh, Bill, baby… thank you!”
She was so completely elated that I was overcome. As I embraced my slightly disheveled and mildly inebriated wife, visions of a bright future blossomed in my mind. We went to the bedroom straight away, and I undressed her as she stood at the bathroom mirror removing her make-up.
“Tell me, honey… tell me all about it!” I pleaded, as I covered her bare shoulders with tender kisses.
“Baby, it was amazing! And knowing you were back here, imaging what I was doing… it was so hot! I did it, baby, I had sex outside our marriage! It’s what you wanted, what you begged me to do. How does it feel?”
“It’s incredible! I’ve been hard as a rock the whole time you were gone! Did you do all the things I was imaging?”
“I don’t know, but I sure as hell did a lot of things I was imagining! She pulled my face to hers and planted a forceful kiss on me, pushing her tongue into my mouth, sharing the unmistakable taste of pussy.
“How does it feel now?” she asked.
I fell to my knees and mashed my face into her crotch, breathing deeply as I greedily lapped at her pussy like a man dying of thirst. Her sopping twat quenched that thirst even as it coated my face.
“Oh gawd, baby! Yes, eat that pussy! Be gentle, though, it’s been through a lot tonight.”
I paused to look up, reluctant to cause her any discomfort.
“Would it still be possible if… I mean, could I still get in there tonight?”
She looked down at my shiny face and laughed heartily, saying, “Yes, sweetie, you can slide your little thing inside me, that won’t hurt.”
My “little thing”… it was the first time she had used the L word in referring to my penis, and it sent an electric thrill coursing through my body.
We climbed into bed, and I licked at her more, getting a better look at her used pussy. The lips were engorged and reddened beyond anything that could be attributed to enthusiastic head. I enhanced my fantasy to include a strap-on scene, convinced that’s what had to have done this. When I couldn’t wait any longer, I climbed on top of her and she parted her legs for me. I refrained from pounding her like I typically do, opting instead for the proverbial “slow, comfortable screw”. While I luxuriated in the feel of her slippery pussy, she began to whisper in my ear.
“You know, my lover is dominant in bed. I didn’t even think twice—I just submitted! I’d like to think that when the time comes, you’ll submit as well. Does that sound like something you might like to do?”
She stroked my hair as her voice insinuated itself into my brain. My thoughts flashed to all the dominatrix porn I had ever seen, and how it had always made me feel. So willing to submit, to serve a beautiful, powerful woman. Two women would be even better, and I agreed wholeheartedly. Then she shocked me by saying,
“Good. I want you to show me. Show me that you are willing to submit by doing what I tell you to. When you cum inside me, I want you to eat it out. I want you to eat your own cum for me.”
It was such a familiar phrase; I had seen it in countless captioned pics, the hot woman telling the man to do exactly that. I always pledged to their gorgeous images that I would do it for them—in a heartbeat! I even tasted my own a few times, just to prove to myself that I’d be able to, should the moment ever arise. Now that it was here, how could I pledge anything less to my own wife?
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “I promise I will!”
My wife laughed heartily, sounding a touch more derisive than anything I had heard from her before. Still, I’d committed, and I’d follow through. If her amusement came at a price, I was willing to pay it to make her happy. The thought brought my slow build-up to an immediate peak.
I pumped myself into her, already thinking about how I was going to be eating it right back out. I swear that thought made my orgasm even bigger. By the time I finished, my pubes were soaked in her pussy juice, and her labia held the final oozings of my spent dick.
I crawled down and got between her legs, taking my time, relishing the powerful feelings that inundated me as I contemplated what I was about to do. Brooke must have mistaken my delay for hesitancy because she tapped into her own newfound authority to tell me,
“That’s either the last time you ever cum in my pussy, or the first time you eat it out.”
I didn’t try to explain, I just got to work. It’s easy to submit to an ultimatum when she’s threatening to throw you into the briar patch. I ate her lovingly and thoroughly. When I could find no more, I crawled back into her embrace. She cooed,
“That was the perfect ending to one of the best nights of my life.”
I was thoroughly pleased and was already greedy for more.
“Do you think the next time, the three of us can get together?” I asked.
“Uh, no baby… I brought that up tonight, and I was met with some real reluctance. I think it will just take a little time to work toward a threesome. Do you think you can handle being patient for a while?”
“Sure, honey,” I said, and I meant it. So long as I could welcome her home when she returned, her mouth tasting of pussy and her pussy engorged by her new lover, I was all in. That night I slept like a baby.
The next three dates Brooke went on all left me alone, denying me even the pleasure of seeing them together. I dared not complain, having explicitly promised there would be no problem with such an arrangement. Still, I couldn’t deny my curiosity, and it infected me to the point where it leaked out as disappointment. Brooke insisted that she was working on her lover and that I’d be able to join them soon.
The night she returned to me with the news that her lover had agreed to come to our place, she immediately tamped down my excitement with the revelation that I would not be in the room with them the first time. She said they had agreed to let me watch in the future, provided I demonstrate my obedience by sitting just outside the room the first time, listening to everything.
I expected it would be agonizing, but I’d already sat home alone on multiple dates. This would be a big step up, finally getting to meet her lover, and to top it off, to hear them together! Sure, it was bound to be frustrating, but it would also be crazy exciting. I agreed to her terms without reservation and looked forward to their next date like a kid counting the days until Christmas.
I suspected Brooke was looking forward to it with equal excitement, but the only thing she shared with me was her anxiety. I failed to comprehend it, but I had no qualms about assuring her I would be on my best behavior and play the welcoming, unobtrusive host.
When the day finally came, I was completely unprepared. Brooke breezed through the front door, accompanied by a man I’d never seen before. He looked to be about the same age as us—mid-thirties. He was solidly built, with an easy smile, a thick head of black hair, and piercing steel-blue eyes. The masculine energy he projected was in sharp contrast to the amiable vibes I’ve been told I put out. I suppose the fact that he looked like Tom Sellick without the mustache didn’t hurt either.
“Bill, this is Derrick… my lover. Derrick, this is Bill, my cuckold husband.”
I reflexively stuck out my hand, unable to speak, my mind awash in confusion, shock, and a building rage. I became aware of a scent, something I’d smelled before, and it was coming off this stranger. It was exotic, even spicy… it was the scent I had detected on Brooke weeks ago! My precious wife had deceived me, leading me to believe she was dating a woman. And now she introduces me to this strange man, tells me she’s fucking him, and refers to me as her cuckold husband, stripping me of my dignity in front of him even as I agreeably pump his hand. The smug smile he tried to suppress was the icing on their deceitful cake.
“Nice to meet you, Bill. Brooke has told me a lot about you. I feel like I should thank you for opening her up to new possibilities and encouraging her to… pursue her passions. It’s a rare husband that would do what you’ve done, allowing your wife such freedom. And it’s been good for her; you should be proud.”
I thought, proud? I should be proud?? Why you son-of-a-…
No, I stopped myself—I can’t go there. It would ruin everything, and Brooke would never forgive me. My mind reeled. Do you know what I could do? I had to appeal to my wife’s sense of fairness — this was not what I signed up for!
“Brooke, how could you? Honey, you know I always thought your lover was a woman! That woman from the office… you know, the one your boss assigned you to work with.”
My sweet, kind wife, who was rarely ever cross with me — and never in front of others — laid into me like I was an insolent child.
“And whose fault is that, huh? You assumed my lover was a woman, but I never said that! I did nothing to deceive you. Hell, I never even mentioned gender, not once! The worst I’m guilty of was overlooking an occasional incorrect pronoun on your part, but you even cleaned that up pretty well by the end. You repeatedly swore you wanted to see me with ‘my lover’ – you begged me! Well, this is my lover. You promised my pleasure was more important than anything to you, and I’m holding you to it. Everything I told you was true. Derrick is the contractor I was assigned to work with. And yes, it’s for 6 months, so I suggest you get used to him. He’s going to be around a lot.”
“But… but honey… wait! You were with a woman! You came home to me with your mouth tasting of pussy every time! What was that?”
“Bill, Derrick is an understanding and supportive man. He was more than willing to entertain my quirky desires, including ending each of our visits by allowing me to ride his cock. I wouldn’t let him come, I’d just get him wet with my juices, then I’d dutifully lick him clean, so that I’d have something to share with you. Don’t you think that was considerate of him?”
I glanced back at Derrick and saw that smug smile once again plastered across his face, no longer even trying to hide his amusement over my complete emasculation. I was beaten, and I knew it. The only choice I could see was whether to make a scene and probably ruin everything, or give my wife what she wanted, and hope she had no more surprises in store for me. She called me a cuckold; I guess this is part of what that means. I gave her the answer I knew she wanted, delivered in the servile manner that gave her the more important thing she was after.
“Yes, dear; it was very considerate of him. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do better. This is just hard, that’s all.”
“Awww, baby; that’s okay, I forgive you. I knew you’d come around. Everything’s going to be fine; it was just a silly misunderstanding. Everything we both wanted is still right here; all that’s different are a few details. Now, why don’t you pop into the kitchen and fix us all some drinks while Derrick and I relax in the living room?”
I wandered off with their drink orders, muttering under my breath, ‘yeah, only a few details are different… like his cock and his balls’. When I returned with the drinks, their hands were all over each other. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence, and my wife only broke their kiss to nod in the direction she wanted me to set their drinks. I settled in to… watch, I guess. What else was I going to do? I drained my drink before they even had their first sip. I was halfway through a second when she thought to check in with me.
“Bill, honey… how are you doing over there. Are you alright?”
There was genuine concern in her voice, and I was grateful that there was still room in her heart for me. I tried to reassure her, hoping to avoid causing negative feelings.
“I’m okay, Brooke. The drinks are helping. I think I just need a little time to… get used to it, I guess.”
Derrick chimed in, “That’s the spirit, buddy. Why, by this time next week, all this will feel perfectly natural. Nothing to worry about, just two people enjoying each other’s company.”
“That’s right,” Brooke added, “and before long, it will be three people enjoying each other’s company.”
They clinked glasses, toasting to their future; then returned to their make-out session. I drained my own glass and sat back watching, wondering what role would be left for me as the third person.
His hands were all over my wife, and the way she responded to his touch left no doubt as to her arousal. She was rubbing his obviously substantial erection through his pants, and the end of its confinement seemed imminent.
No longer content to grope my wife’s tits through her bra, they joined forces to unbutton her blouse with a shared urgency. In a practiced movement, Derrick unfastened the bra and cupped one softball-sized breast in his hand. First massaging, then squeezing; he pulled and tilted it upward to meet his lowered mouth. He sucked my wife’s tit noisily as she moaned and held his head with one hand; the other now stroking his crotch with increased vigor.
“Derrick… ” my wife struggled, “I think we… should take this… upstairs now.”
I didn’t think he heard her at first; he just kept squeezing and sucking her tit. Then he dropped a hand to her crotch and began to return the favor, rubbing up and down, enticing her legs to spread. She gasped at the new sensation, then forced out an even more desperate appeal.
“Really, babe, I need you to take me, and you said he’s not allowed to see. I can’t wait, baby; I need it! Please!”
Hearing my wife beg another man to give her his dick killed me. I knew she’d already had it before — it had been battering her pussy for weeks. Still, until now, I had been spared the details. Now I was getting an overdose, and I was grateful that my wife was trying to save me from further agony.
Derrick finally relented and honored her plea,
“Alright, you win.” Turning to me, he said, “You know your place tonight, don’t you?”
The tone was at once both condescending and possessive, like an owner might speak to his well-trained dog. It brought out a new deference I had not planned to offer.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be outside the door, sir.”
“Good cuck.”
With that, Derrick took Brooke’s hand and led her upstairs, while I followed behind in a daze of anxiety and humiliation, feeling every bit the good puppy I was.
When they crossed the bedroom threshold, he encircled my wife in one arm and kissed her passionately. Remaining in his embrace, she leaned back for the door. The last thing I saw before she closed it on me was a fleeting look of sadness in her eyes. It squeezed my heart. I had a good idea what she was thinking, because I felt sad too. Sad to think of our marriage being over. Well, maybe not our marriage, but the marriage we had known until now. Ahead was some other kind of marriage —one we would have to figure out. But I was also sad for other things I had lost, at least in part. I had lost a part of my wife, a part of my masculinity, a part of my pride, my self-respect. I wondered how many other parts of me were left to take.
I leaned back against the door, listening to the playful laughter coming from the other side. It wasn’t so bad… she was having fun, after all. How could I be such a miserable shit to feel bad about that? She was right, after all; I did ask for this. Maybe not exactly this, but essentially this. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what she looked like right now, smiling and laughing, probably naked and playing with…
Okay, maybe it was better not to think about the specifics. She was happy, that should be enough. When the tinkly sounds of laughter died away, what followed were long minutes of silence. I was able to calm down, think happy thoughts, and rebuild my peace of mind.
The long moan that disturbed my tranquility seemed to go on forever. It was Brooke’s voice, but it was foreign to me. Multiple short outbursts followed that moan —more grunts than groans —and, taking on a rhythm, then building speed. I couldn’t believe how long it went on. She’s going to be hoarse, I thought; foolishly losing sight of which part of her was enduring the greater assault.
I tried mightily to get my mind on something else — anything else. I flashed back to that look of sadness in Brooke’s eyes as she closed the door on me, and it suddenly hit me—she wasn’t thinking about abstract concepts like marriage and self-image. She was sad for a more concrete and immediate reason. She knew what I was about to hear, and that smile was her silent apology.
I confess I cried a little then, a genuine pity-party for one; all about me and the wretched turn of events I had brought down on myself. I fell asleep with those thoughts.
I don’t know how long I was out for; I only know I awakened to the sharp cries of my wife in pain. In a heartbeat, I was on my feet, breathing fast, and thinking about the best place to kick on a door to break it down. My right leg was in the air when the screams stopped. I stood there, my own ridiculous version of the Karate Kid, listening to the low murmur that had to be Derrick’s voice. The next sounds from Brooke were still ones of distress, but strangled, as if she was fighting to hold them in. More low mumblings, a half chuckle, and her moans resumed. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind about what Derrick was doing now, and it was something my wife had never let me do. And to make matters worse, she was loving it! When she wasn’t moaning or grunting, she was egging him on.
“Yes, yes, yeesss! Oh God, baby, give it to me. Fuck my ass! Yes! Harder!”
I undid my pants, dropped them to the floor, then knelt outside the door, wanting only to hear more. My wife was getting fucked in the ass by her man, and I was beside myself, pulling my little dick to the sounds of lustful passion I could never hope to bring out of her. Her pleadings became guttural as the pounding continued. He was smacking into her ass loud enough to hear through the door. Her exclamations waffled between protestation and incitement.
“Aaawwww Gaaawwwd! Fuck me! Yes, you thick-dicked bastard! Shove that thing up my ass! Fuck yes! Oh — oh — oh! Oh fuck, wait — slow down! Oh-oh-oh!”
The low rumble of Derrick’s voice came through as an undecipherable, muddy bass track. Her loud response clarified the mystery.
“No! Don’t you dare stop! I’m so open… I need you to deep-stroke me with that fucking pole! Put it back in! Do It! Fuck me! Fuck meeee!”
I sprayed all over the door and kept on stroking, milking out every drop. I was required to stay at the door, but I no longer wanted to lean against it. I curled up on the floor, watching my cum slide down the carved wooden panels while my wife continued to ride the ecstasy train to a foreign land I could only imagine. Her euphoric cries turned to exhausted whimpers as Derrick pounded her like she had begged him to. When it was all over, I closed my eyes and welcomed sleep once more; my exhausted mind in dire need of a respite from the wrenching rollercoaster of emotions.
The next morning, I was awakened by the opening door. Before I could move, Derrick had stepped over me on his way downstairs. He stopped in the hall and looked back at me, then he noticed the cum stained panels of the door. “Good boy” was all he said before heading down. I was surprised at how comforting those two simple words felt. A few minutes later, Brooke came out and caught me cleaning the door with my shirt. She asked me what I was doing. It seemed a foolish thing to lie about, so I told her,
“I… I came to the door last night. That’s ok, isn’t it?”
I hadn’t thought about it before; it just hit me that I didn’t know the rules for this new life, and didn’t want to mess up.
“Oh, baby, that’s perfectly fine! I expected you’d jerk off at some point. Tell me, what part did it for you?”
I thought back to when it had happened… hearing her begging him to shove his cock back in her ass. I was embarrassed to say it, as if putting words to what she had done —letting her know I knew —would somehow make her uncomfortable. I still had a lot to learn about my new wife. I thought about being vague, but instead settled for just being brief.
“Do you remember when you said, ‘I’m so open’?”
It wasn’t much to go on, and I saw her pause, searching her memory; then she smiled and said,
“Oh yeah. That was incredible! It wasn’t just my gaping asshole; my entire rectum felt like a silky sleeve for his cock. I just wanted that feeling of being used by him to go on forever!”
“Well, it went on a lot longer than I could take, I’ll tell you that.”
She smiled down at me, still on my knees, my cummy t-shirt in hand. She patted my head as she passed by, saying,
“What a good cuck you are!”
Such simple words, yet so powerful. Knowing I had pleased them both made me feel good inside. “Good boy… “good cuck”. Again, I felt like their dog. Right then and there, I made my resolution: if I were to be their dog, I wanted to be a good one.
After that first encounter, Brooke couldn’t stop talking about it. About how good Derrick was in bed. How big his cock is, and how well he uses it, how long he lasts. How it makes her feel; she wanted me to know everything. It was as if a switch had been thrown; she was so different. She kept talking about our next time together, about me being in the room. It seemed like she wanted it more than I did.
I had imagined being cucked by her with another woman. This felt different. I wasn’t so sure I could take it, listening and watching as it happened in front of me. I feared it would be a sensory overload. She did her best to build my anticipation, genuinely wanting my experience to be as good as possible. She told me,
“Trust me, you’re going to want to watch. You’re only unsure because you have no idea how beautiful it is!”
With that, she took out her phone, explaining,
“He made a video last week when I was at his place. Look.”
She brought up the video and played it for me, watching over my shoulder and commenting on the action.
“When you watch porn, you know all those things you like to see women do with men? Well, I do all those things with him, baby. Just look how big his cock is! Can you believe how thick it is? Look how it barely fits down my throat!”
The video was unquestionably erotic, but as it went on, it went from a sexy blowjob to an increasingly aggressive throat fucking. She tried to defend him, explaining,
“Now wait… this part here… I know what you’re thinking. He’s got his hand on the back of my neck, and he’s choking me with his huge cock. I know, baby. I know – my eyes are watering and I’m gasping for breath. But what you don’t see… right after that clip ended? He took his hand off my neck, and I reached up, put it right back where he had it, and begged him for more.”
It was a lurid scene, bordering on abusive. I couldn’t believe she had enjoyed being treated like that. Not only was it far beyond anything I had ever dared do to her, it looked beyond anything I was capable of, mentally or physically. It was also inarguably hot, easily up there with the best cock sucking videos I had ever seen. No doubt my wife being the star had a lot to do with that, but still…
I thought of Brooke differently after that. My most vivid imaginings paled in comparison to the short clip she had shown me. Her words kept haunting me… ‘all those things you like to see women do with men’. Now I wanted to see her doing all those things, even while I remained frightened by whether I could actually handle it.
Brooke went to Derrick’s place a few more times after that, leaving me to stew at home; only now with a better idea of what was happening. Without the pretense of her having a female lover, she abandoned the practice of returning home with an empty pussy and a stinky mouth. Now she greeted me with sweet breath and a stinky pussy. A creamy, filthy pussy I was required to eat. It didn’t take me long to warm to the change. Once I grew accustomed to it, I even began to like it.
The next time Derrick came to our house, Brooke was still in the bedroom getting herself ready for him. It fell to me to greet him and keep him company while he waited. It was intensely weird; both of us knew what was about to happen.
Even though he had fucked my wife numerous times, until that moment, we hadn’t exchanged more than a few words. I seemed unreal that I would soon be seeing him naked. He was going to be fucking my wife while I watched. We did our best to make small talk, but we seemed to have only one thing in common, so it was inevitable that the subject would come up. He was the one who started it, talking her up, telling me how good they looked together and how much I was going to enjoy seeing them. I confessed,
“I know. She showed me the video you took.”
Oh?” he said, “Which one?”
I had no idea there was more than one.
“The one where… where you’re grabbing her neck.”
“Oh yeah, that’s a good one! You know, the way it cut off so abruptly, you missed the best part.”
“I know,” I said, “She told me what she did.”
I let him know I understood, and we talked at some length about why it was so hot. It was almost like I was talking to one of my buddies about some random porno we’d seen. Only he was in this one, with my wife.
When Brooke came downstairs, she asked me to go up to the bedroom and wait for them. I didn’t know why, and she did not attempt to explain. The idea of asking had barely entered my head before I caught myself, reminded of my new place. I left them on the sofa and mounted the stairs, wondering if I was going to miss the opening act.
I went into the bedroom and waited, increasingly frustrated over the prospect of missing out. Within minutes, my torment got the better of me, and I took a big risk, creeping to the top of the stairs and poking my head around the corner to eavesdrop. It sounded like Brooke was trying to convince him of something.
“You know, right after we’ve been together, once I’m alone with Bill, I tell him all about what we did while he eats me. He really loves the parts where I describe your cock, and, well, he just wants to see it. That’s all, just look at it.”
“Look, Brooke, I haven’t done this before, but I’ve read about it. You really think all he wants is a look?” Derrick asked, sounding skeptical.
“Well, probably not. I guess I should say, I think that would be a wonderful way to start him out. You know, give him what he wants… ease him into it.”
Derrick didn’t say anything in response to that, but soon after, the sounds of wet smacking made it apparent they were kissing. It was the first time I’d heard that, and I was relieved I didn’t have to see it yet. Somehow it felt more intimate than my previous imaginings.
The sounds died away, leaving me to wonder what was happening. I strained my ears to hear, but received nothing until Derrick’s voice broke the silence with authority.
“Wait… your husband needs to see this. Get him in here.”
I quickly pulled my head back and crept back to the bedroom, worried she was about to come up the stairs. Instead, she called out,
“Billy! Come down here, cucky.”
I reversed direction and paused only briefly, not wanting to appear too quickly. When I reached the ground floor, Brooke was kneeling in front of Derrick. They were still fully clothed, only Brooke’s unbuttoned top evidence that something had been going on.
“Come closer, cuck,” Derrick ordered, pointing to where I should stand. He then looked down at the kneeling Brooke and said,
“Take it out. He needs to see how big I am.”
She obediently undid his belt and unbuttoned the waist of his trousers. As she unzipped him, his gaze shifted from her to me, and a smile came over his face. It struck me that I’d never seen that before. It made him seem more human, but more importantly, it hit me how this must feel for him. He was about to show off his cock to another man, knowing the effect it would have. His cock was about to be admired by husband and wife for the first time, and he knew I would feel inadequate. I tore my eyes away from his, not wanting to miss a moment of the unveiling.
Brooke had his pants around his ankles and was slowly sliding his boxers down, exposing the thick mass of pubic hair above his package. When the lowering waistband revealed the base of his shaft, his girth immediately became apparent. It put mine to shame. Every inch of cock she revealed elevated my fervor. When the waistband popped past the engorged head, I stared, enraptured by the massive phallus swinging obscenely below his hanging balls. Looking equally enthralled, Brooke turned to me,
“Look at it, baby. You understand now, right, honey?”
I did understand. Not only was he far bigger than me, but also that it also made perfect sense why she couldn’t get enough of it.
Derrick looked pleased, and he relished the scene as he gave her further instructions.
“Alright, your husband is watching. He wants to see you do this – he told me. Go ahead, suck my cock. Do it for him. Do it so he can see you. He craves this!”
Fuck! He was so right —I wanted to shout out, “Yes!” Do it – suck that huge cock! My hand dropped to my own little package, and I pressed down on my stiff dick through my pants, afraid to be caught openly stroking to the lewd display. She looked into his eyes while she took it into her mouth, then glanced over to me and began to suck with passion.
“Look at her, cuck. Doesn’t she look good with cock in her mouth? A real man’s cock, not what you have.”
“That’s it, baby, keep sucking! Look at your cuck husband. Look how he’s staring, slack-jawed. His brain’s having a hard time processing this. Looks like his damn head’s about to explode! You want to pull out your little dick and wank it, doncha cuck?”
I nodded nervously and pressed my hand more firmly into my hardness.
“Well, forget about it!” he warned me. “If I ever catch you pulling that thing without permission, I’ll lock it up! Understand?”
I knew what a chastity cage was; it’s just not something that Brooke and I had ever discussed. Nevertheless, his tone made it clear that he wasn’t playing. I nodded again and added a “Yes, sir.”
Derrick turned his attention back to my wife, putting his hand on her head. He moved it back and forth, showing her the speed he wanted. He used her mouth for a long time. Maybe not in minutes, but when you’re as overwhelmed as she was, life doesn’t proceed in minutes; it proceeds in seconds. Even witnessing it was taxing. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to her.
When he started pumping his load into her throat, he didn’t even announce it ahead of time. The few times she sucked me (while dating), she would have killed me if I had ever failed to warn her. Now here she was, taking it with practiced aplomb. I wondered how much work she had put in to get that good.
“Yeah,” Derrick chuckled, “swallow it all, baby. Show hubby just how nasty you get for me. You do look pretty with my cock in your mouth. Don’t you think your wife looks pretty, cuck?”
“Yes, sir!” I blurted. “Never more beautiful, sir!”
She was always beautiful to me, but caught up in the moment, I feared I’d gone too far. Would she think back to our wedding day, or the first time we made love, and get mad at my unthinking remark? Luckily, she was so focused on worshipping the cum-covered cock in front of her that she didn’t appear to be able to string together many thoughts.
Derrick’s voice cut through her cock-drunk stupor,
“Baby, I think it’s time to take this upstairs.”
Then turning to me, he said,
“You know how this needs to go, right, cuck? Keep it in your pants and don’t make a mess in them.”
He took my wife’s hand and led her to the bedroom, knowing I would heel without command. Brooke had explained his conditions for my being permitted to watch, but hearing them put so bluntly was still a jab in the gut.
They hadn’t even removed their clothes when I realized we hadn’t planned out where I would be. I was sure they didn’t want me in bed with them, but there was no other place to sit; I would have to stand. I chose the closest wall to the bed, which put me in a corner. It felt fitting.
When their clothes did come off, it wasn’t a rushed thing; it was a highly erotic co-operative interplay that spoke of their familiarity with each other. Their frequent kissing hammered it home. They were comfortable together, in stark contrast to my own self-conscious unease.
A nude Derrick gently lowered an equally nude Brooke onto the bed, and she spread her legs for him; knees up, pussy displayed and accessible. He planted his face between her legs, and she held his head tenderly, serving her womanhood to him like the feast it was. I was hugely jealous, knowing full well what he was experiencing, wishing it could be me.
By the time Brooke’s moans were drowning out Derrick’s slurping and lapping, I was having a difficult time. I was leaking into my underwear, and I began to question my ability to contain my discharge.
Derrick rose onto his knees, stroked the length of his cock twice, and began to drag the tip up and down my wife’s slit. His precum slickened her entrance enough to part her lips. A couple more trips up and down slickened his cock head further with her own lubrication, allowing for an easy penetration and eliciting a sigh of relief from Brooke.
As I watched them settle into a comfortable fuck, it became too much. I felt like a little girl watching a horror movie she was too young to see. Wishing to spare myself the indignity of getting caught peeking through my fingers, I did the next best thing – I avoided looking at Brooke’s face altogether. I tried to view their bodies as generic pornography, nothing more. I did allow myself to look at Derrick, however, as he was still practically a stranger, even though he had free rein of the house and my wife.
The strategy worked well, and would have succeeded, if not for the supercharged thrill I got every time I snuck a glance at her. It mattered little whether she was struggling to accommodate him or was lost in full-on cock-lust; seeing her face made it all personal. The resulting shivers that ran through me made the temptation to steal another glance irresistible.
I was well on my way to overstimulation when she called me to her side and breathily demanded,
“Kiss me!”
She was obviously ascending a lofty peak of her own, and I kissed her with all the passion I could muster. She met my desire with an aggressive, sloppy wetness, forcing me to take in her saliva, using her tongue to push a helping deep into my mouth. She began to moan into my mouth as her hands grasped the back of my head.
I tried to escape her grasp as soon as I felt myself coming, but it was already too late. Once the first spasm hit and my dick twitched, I knew all was lost. I surrendered to our kiss as I came in my pants, untouched. She must have sensed something, because she broke her kiss and pulled back enough to look me in the eyes. She could see what was happening to me, but Derrick was too consumed with fucking her to notice.
As soon as I could, I retreated to my chair, hoping to cover my crotch before it soaked through. Now that I’d orgasmed, it was doubly painful to witness Brooke’s arousal, which continued to build, and she directed Derrick.
“Oh God, yes… just like that! You’re gonna make me come, baby. Yes! Please give it to me! I want to come on your cock!” Instead, he teased her,
“What’s the matter, baby? Does my big dick have you all needy? Does it give you something you can’t get from him?”
“Ugh, yes! I need to come like only you can make me! Please!”
“Explain it to your husband! Go ahead, tell him!”
She turned her head and gave it to me.
“Uhhhgh! Oh God! You never make me come like he does! You never will, because you can’t! You just don’t have the right equipment!”
“That’s right. That’s what he needed to hear. Now take the rest of this cock.”
He didn’t increase his pace or pound into her; he simply pushed the final inch he had held in reserve and ground into her. It wasn’t long before her body responded, but it didn’t overtake her like the orgasms she has with me. It built slower, with quivers and twitches. Derrick was holding her legs high and apart, and he looked over at me.
“See how her legs are trembling? Have you ever seen that before?” he asked.
I shook my head dumbly, transfixed by what I was seeing. Derrick was barely moving, and she was dancing on his pole. It looked like a seizure, except for all the gasping and squealing. It went on easily twice as long as “normal,” or maybe this was her new normal.
Once Brooke regained possession of herself, Derrick began to fuck her pliant body in a slow, steady rhythm; his tongue pushing into her mouth as his cock disappeared in her puss. As his pace increased, it became apparent he was pushing toward his own finish line. My view of his backside featured his ass and dangling balls. I saw his balls pull up tight against the root of his shaft, followed by his clenching buttocks as he pumped his seed into my wife. If I hadn’t already lost my load, that would have done it.
He turned and collapsed onto his back, revealing the satisfied expression on my wife’s face. Minutes later, he got up and walked to the bathroom without so much as a glance in my direction. Brooke was looking at me, though. As soon as we were alone, in hushed tones, she told me,
“You did pretty good, hun, keeping it in your pants. Now all you have to do is keep quiet and hope he doesn’t think to check them.”
When he returned, Derrick continued to disregard me, still standing in my corner. He put on his underwear, then his pants. I was feeling pretty good about my chances when he casually turned to me as he zipped up and asked,
“Were you a good boy, cuck?”
“I didn’t touch it, Sir, I promise!”
“That’s not what I asked you. In fact, it sounds intentionally evasive. Pull down your pants and show me.”
He picked up his belt and began to lace it through his pants as he walked toward me. I was trapped — there was nothing I could do but comply. As an underendowed male, the situation was not wholly unfamiliar; disrobing in front of others, aware that what I was about to show them would result in my humiliation. This time, however, fear had been thrown in the mix. He was still working his belt through the loops as he stared me down, and I flashed on the image of that belt being pulled back out and used on my bare behind. His stern look did nothing to dissuade my fear.
I pulled my pants down, leaving my underwear up. I knew the cum stain had soaked completely through. There was no need to expose myself. At least that was my assessment. Derrick felt differently.
“Underpants too, boy.”
I obeyed, revealing a sticky mess as big as my palm, the head of my shrunken penis resting in it, covered in my slime.
I kept looking down at it, unable to face him in my shame. I feared his anger, but he just finished buttoning his shirt and, in a measured and dispassionate tone, told me,
“Order the cage.”
Then he turned to Brooke and said, “You help him”. His tone had softened for her, but it snapped right back to an authoritative one as he advised me,
“You won’t be watching us until you lock it up, so you probably ought to spring for next-day delivery. That’s the last time you ever do that in front of me without permission.”
Read Part 2: Click Here
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