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The Best of Cuckold Stories - Julie



"Julie" Part 1

by c.w. cobblestone



Julie came bouncing into the house with her best friend Diana at her

heels. It was already past 7 p.m.; usually my wife came home much

earlier from her Saturday shopping trips. Since it had rained all

day, I’d thought she might get home even sooner than normal, but

apparently not.


I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the flagstone foyer when they

came in. I was mortified to be caught in such a humble position, but

it didn’t faze either of the ladies as they regally swept past me,

tracking mud with every step.


My crestfallen eyes followed their path as they casually sullied the

polished foyer and then the beige living room carpet before plopping

down on either end of the sofa.


“Walter, our bags are in the car; bring ‘em in and then fix us a

couple drinks,” my wife said. Then, noticing the mud they’d tracked

in, she added nonchalantly, “Oh, and you better get this carpet

before that mud sets in.”


Diana giggled as she kicked off her mud-caked leather boots. “Poor

Waldo,” she said. “You just can’t catch a break, can you?”


I remained silent. Diana giggled again. “Hey, Waldo, guess what?

Julie’s got a big surprise for you!”


Julie grinned at her friend conspiratorially and I cocked my head

like a curious dog. My wife looked at me and her smile disappeared.


“The bags, Waldo. Drinks. The floor. Don’t just kneel there with a

rag in your hand like a beached whale. Move!”


“Y-yes, ma’am,” I stammered, scrambling to my feet to the sound of

Diana’s bitchy laughter.


I fetched their bags from Julie’s Lexus; it took three trips to bring

in all their purchases, which, judging from the store names on the

bags, had set me back several hundred dollars. Then I made their

drinks: The usual Amaretto Rose for my wife, and a Bacardi Martini

for Diana.


As I set Diana’s drink on the coffee table in front of her, she

said, “C’mon, Julie, show the dweeb the gift you got him. Well, it’s

not exactly for him. But that’s okay.”


Julie shared a giggle with her friend, took a dainty sip from her

drink, and stood up.


“Okay, Waldo, I’ll let you see, but only if you promise not to cry,”

my wife said. I didn’t understand, and my mind was whirling as I

wordlessly watched her unsnap her jeans. In a single move she turned

away from me as she worked her pants down around her hips with one

hand, while lifting the back of her blouse with the other hand. I was

even more curious when I saw a bandage affixed to the small of her



She reached back and gingerly peeled off the gauze, revealing an

intricate, feminine “tramp-stamp” tattoo. My jaw dropped.


“Show him the other one, Julie,” Diana tittered.


My wife turned to face me and lowered her jeans even further. She

hooked her thumb into the waistband of her purple thong panties and

moved the material aside. I gasped when I saw another tattoo: A small

heart on the top right side of her pelvis, just above her pubic hair;

inside the heart was the fancy script lettering: K-E-V-I-N


I hung my head in shame. My wife was now marked forever with her

boyfriend’s sickening name. I would never again worship her pussy

without having it stare right at me.


“Whaddya think, Waldo?” Diana sneered. “Don’t those tattoos look sexy

on your wife? Don’t you think Kevin is just going to LOVE 'em?


I said nothing. Tears began to form around my eyes.


“You promised not to cry, Walter,” my wife chided me. “Don’t you want

me and Kevin to be happy?”


“Y-yes, ma’am,” I sniffled.


“Well, then you’d better quit your whining,” she said, pulling up her

pants. “Unless you want me to tell Kevin you’re bitching about our

relationship again.”


I froze with fear. There was no way I wanted to repeat the events of

last May, when I made the fatal mistake of trying to break up my wife

and her lover.





They had been seeing each other for a month, and I could tell Julie

was getting serious about him. So one night, as she was getting ready

to go out with him, I decided to make a stand.


I told her this had to stop. It was one thing for us to be in a

femdom relationship, as we had been from the very beginning of our

five-year marriage. And, I told her, I hadn’t even complained when

she began seeing other men. I’d shown great understanding when she

informed me that she was a “normal woman” who needed “normal sex,”

and that this “slave thing” had been my idea, not hers. I wanted to

make her happy, so I acquiesced. I stood by and said nothing as she

fucked other guys under my nose.


But this thing with Kevin was getting out of hand, I told

her. “You’re seeing him 4 or 5 times a week,” I lamented.


My attempt to get Julie to stop seeing Kevin couldn’t have went more

wrong. The whole thing backfired: Instead of listening to reason,

Julie flipped out and slapped the shit out of me.


“Listen, you fat piece of shit, I’ll see anyone I want to, as often

as I want to,” she snarled as I bent down in pain holding my hand to

my injured face.


She cuffed me on the back of my head. “Walter, if you don’t like the

way things are around here, then fine … leave,” she snarled. “I’ll

divorce your ass so fast it’ll make you head swim; and you’ll be

fucking homeless, too, because I’ll take you for every dime you’ve



I immediately backed down, begging over and over for her forgiveness.

An evil glint flashed in her eye as she realized she had me by the

balls. And that was that.


But my ordeal wasn’t quite over that fateful evening. When Kevin

arrived to pick Julie up for their date, she told him how I’d

attempted to break them up.


“But Walter and I had a little talk, and now the fat wimp understands

what’s what,” she told her boyfriend. “Isn’t that right, Walter?”


“Y-yes.” I said, averting my eyes so I didn’t have to endure Kevin’s



“It’s good you understand, Waldo,” Kevin said. “But I don’t

appreciate you trying to come between me and my woman. In fact, it

downright pisses me off.”


Julie kissed her lover’s bicep and purred, “That’s it, baby. The wimp

really needs to be shown who’s boss. Show him who’s boss, Kevin.”


“No problem,” he answered, leaning over and tongue-kissing my wife

for a brief moment. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed to the

ground in front of him. “Come on over here, Waldo; get on your knees.”


Trembling, I knelt in front of him. My blood ran cold as I saw him

start to remove his belt.


“Drop your drawers,” he said resolutely. My hands shook as I fumbled

with the zipper. I lowered my pants as far as they would go to my



“Tighty-whiteys, too, lard-ass!” he said. Julie cracked up.


After I complied, Kevin walked behind me and ordered, “face to the

carpet, Dumbo, ass up in the air.”


Julie snickered again as I struggled into the kowtow position. Then,

suddenly, I felt a jolt of pain as his belt slashed across my

ass. “Count ‘em out loud, Waldo,” Kevin said in a sing-song voice.


“Ow! One. Ow! Two. T-Three …quot; Ow! Four.”


He finally quit after 30 strokes. I was crying like a baby; the

carpet under my face was completely soaked from my slobber and tears.


“Sit up, Waldo,” Kevin said. Through the tearful haze, I could see

him unzipping his pants as he moved closer to me. Silver pins of fear

chilled my blood as I wondered what he was about to do.


He whipped out his huge dick and I couldn’t help but gasp.


“I know,” he sneered. “Impressive, huh?” Julie chuckled.


I didn’t answer him. “Get over here,” he finally said after a few

seconds of silence. The tears in my eyes welled anew as I shuffled

toward him on my knees until his dick was two inches from my face. He

grabbed his cock at its base and suddenly slapped me hard across the

face with it, causing Julie to go into hysterics. I cringed as he

brought it back across the other side of my face, this time smashing

his flesh blackjack across my eye, causing it to throb violently. I

was thoroughly humiliated. But I hadn’t yet hit rock-bottom.


“Now tell me, ‘Thank you, sir, for dick-slapping me,’” Kevin ordered.


I choked on my shame and could barely utter the words: “Thank you,

sir, for slapping me.”


“For DICK-slapping me,” Kevin corrected.


“For dick-slapping me.”


Julie interjected, “Say the whole thing, asshole … show some respect

for my man.”


I swallowed hard. “T-thank you, sir, for dick-slapping me.”


“No problem,” Kevin said flippantly, zipping up his fly. “Julie might

be your wife, but she’s my woman. Understand that, do as I say, and

we won’t have a problem.”


“Yes, sir.”


“It’s great to have a man around the house, baby,” Julie said,

tilting her head back to allow Kevin to kiss her.


Then, having established the new world order, they left for their







I vigorously scrubbed the mud off the living room carpet while Julie

and her friend Diana chatted on the couch.


Suddenly, Julie’s cell phone beeped. It was the tone that told her

she had a text message.


She flipped open her phone and read the message. A sly smile slowly

crept across her face.


“It’s Kevin, the horny bastard,” Julie said, holding her phone out so

her friend could see the message.


“Oh, my!” Diana laughed. “That sounds serious!”


I wondered what Kevin had texted to my wife, but they never did say.


“He’s so damn horny … I mean, he wants to do it all the time,” Julie

said as she texted a reply to her boyfriend onto the small keypad of

her phone. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”


“Well, he’s gonna be a lot hornier when he sees your tattoos,” Diana

said. “You said he’s been after you for a long time to get them.”


“I know; I can’t wait to see the look on his face tonight,” Julie

said excitedly. “Although I’m not sure if I want to do any fooling

around until the tattoos heal up.”


“You’ll just have to get on top for awhile … and tell him not to slap

that ass,” Diana offered, and they shared a sisterly laugh.


I burned with shame as I toiled below them, listening to them

casually discuss my wife’s infidelity as if I didn’t exist.


Julie leaned back and took a sip of her drink. “Maybe you should

invite Roy over for dinner one night,” she said, referring to Diana’s

arrogant boyfriend.


“Oh, yeah, Roy gets a kick out of Waldo,” Diana said. “Hey, Waldo,

remember when my boyfriend came over here last time? Remember he made

you shove a hot dog up your ass?”


“Yes, Miss Diana, I remember,” I muttered, bitterly recalling Roy’s

punishment for having put mustard on his hot dog instead of ketchup.


My wife drained her drink and rattled the ice. “Hey, Waldo, I’m ready

for another one here. How 'bout you, Diana?”


“Nah, I’ve got to get going pretty soon,” Diana answered. “Besides,

you’ve got to get ready for your date with Kevin tonight.”


“I know, it’s getting late,” Julie sighed, handing me her empty glass

without even looking my way.


When I returned to the living room with my wife’s drink, Diana was

holding one of her boots, frowning at it.


“Damn, I got mud all over these from that stupid unpaved parking

lot,” she said. “Julie, do you mind if I have the wimp clean them for

me before I go?”


“Of course not,” Julie said.


Diana tossed the boot she was holding at me and kicked the other one

in my direction. “Hurry up, Waldo, make ‘em spotless.”


They talked some more while I cleaned and polished Diana’s boots.

When I was finished, I presented them to her.


“Okay, Julie, I’ll call you,” she said, taking the boots from me

without so much of a thank-you. She put the boots on and walked out

the door.


After Diana left, Julie told me to draw her a hot bath. While she

soaked in the bathtub, relaxing before her date, I got back to

scrubbing the mud from the carpet.






part 2


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