source of picture: CUCKOLD CREAM
Bob's Cuckold Story
I hate to start this story of my life by quoting a cliche, but just can't
think of a better way to do it. Remember the old saw that goes, "Be
careful what you wish for. You just may get it?" Well, that applies in
spades to me, because I wished with all my heart to be humiliated,
cuckolded, and neutered by my wife, and that's just exactly what she's
It didn't happen all at once, of course, instead taking two years
from the time I begged my wife, Carol, to whip me, up until the present
time when there is another man in her bed as I write this, with much less
in my undershorts than I used to have. Please bear with me as I start by
describing the background stuff you need to truly appreciate that my fate
is of my own making. Maybe you'll recognize yourself there, and change
before it's too late.
We were married quite young, a result of an unintended pregnancy that
resulted from too much heavy petting in the back seat of my car. At that
time, neither of us had any idea that I would develop into a "pervert,"
which is the word we would have used to describe the man I've become.
We led what appeared to be a normal life, doting on our first child, and his
baby sister who came a year later. Both our parents contributed to our
support as I worked toward a college degree in teaching, and it was with a
sigh of relief from all concerned that I was hired to teach in a high
school in a nearby state. At last, I could support my family and we could
get on with our lives.
I can't pinpoint the time when my craving to be dominated first expressed
itself, but by the time our daughter was experiencing the onset of
puberty, my fantasy had complete control of my thoughts. I'm sure Carol
knew what I wanted, although she never indicated any desire to treat me
roughly during sex, as I so very much wanted her to do. About the only
concession she would make to my desires was to assume the female superior
position during intercourse, and a few years later, during what I have
always thought of as "afterplay." Those of you who don't immediately roll
over and fall asleep after orgasm know what I mean by that word. For
those of us who crave domination and humiliation, it's very natural to
continue to provide stimulation to our wives and lovers, especially if
they hadn't joined us in cumming, which is often the case.
I'm sure you know what I mean, and if you're thinking of oral sex
following intercourse, then you're on the right track. At first, my wife
was very reticent about allowing me to do such a thing, but as it became
clear to her that I truly wanted to do it, she began to reluctantly
cooperate. After she'd experienced orgasms due to my attentions, she
became more accepting of that type of service, and actually even began to
look forward to it.
During the first year after I began to give her cunnilingus as afterplay,
she'd lie on her back as I licked and sucked fervently. That was exciting
enough, but I'll never forget the first time she allowed me to service her
in that manner while she was in the female superior position. Our usual
position during intercourse had been with me lying flat on my back, and
her sitting on my erection. Because of my short fuse, it was usual for me
to cum first, and then she would dismount and lie beside me. I would then
reverse my position in bed, and while she lay there with legs spread, I'd
try to bring her to orgasm with my tongue and lips.
The so-very-memorable occasion happened one night when she was again
sitting on my crotch. In less than five minutes, my balls began to empty,
leaving her unsatisfied. She didn't utter a sound as I pumped my semen
into her pussy, but merely waited patiently for me to get it over with.
As soon as my last thrust was completed, she lifted up slightly and moved
forward until she was straddling my head. Again she made no sound, but
merely lowered her dripping-wet crotch to my mouth. I needed no
instruction or order to do what was required. That night set the tone for
other nights to follow, and soon both of us came to enjoy that particular
type of lovemaking, as it seemed to be the only way she could also reach
Although my desire for more sexual domination continued to increase in the
years that followed, Carol would do nothing to satisfy it. There were
several times when I would intentionally try to make her angry, hoping
that she'd punish me as I deserved, but she never would do it. Many
times, after she became frustrated with my childish behavior, I'd suggest
that a man who had acted like a spoiled brat, as I had, deserved to be
punished by his wife. Even when I suggested that she turn me over her
knee and spank me, she either ignored me or gave me the silent treatment.
As was usual, the only relief I found was in my fantasies, and I turned to
them more and more as I masturbated while my wife lay sleeping soundly
My life of sexual frustration continued through our son's high-school
graduation, followed by his moving to another city to attend a state
university. His sister followed in his footsteps one year later, and
suddenly Carol and I were the only people living in our house, "empty
nesters," in the modern vernacular.
I continued my efforts of trying to get my wife to punish me, but her only
response was to mostly ignore me, or at the most yell at me, then give me
the silent treatment. Our sexual relations in bed continued to supply me
with the only satisfaction I found, in sexual terms. When she was sitting
on my mouth, while I brought her to orgasm by feverishly licking and
sucking my load from her pussy, I found the only correlation to my
fantasies that she would allow. In my imaginings, while she was riding my
tongue she was facing my crotch, either whipping my cock and balls or
using a knife to slowly and sensuously remove them. You see what I mean
when I say I needed more.
Following our daughter's graduation from high school, we took her to
California, where she would be attending a state university on
scholarship. After we had her safely moved into a college dormitory, and
had said our tearful good-byes, we continued our way up the coast on a
driving vacation that had been long planned.
We had planned to spend a few days in a coastal community famous for its
art displays, since Carol fancied herself as a budding artist, and thought
she'd be able to get some new ideas, and learn some new techniques, by
looking at what others had done. As we drove up the coast highway,
looking for a convenient motel, she was excitedly looking through a
Chamber of Commerce brochure, planning our itinerary for the next day.
What caught my eye, though, was a sign pointing toward the ocean, and
displaying the name of a public beach. In smaller print, beneath the name
of the beach, were the words, "Clothing Optional." That set in motion a
whole new fantasy for me.
The next day was spent walking the downtown streets looking at displays of
artwork, and talking to the sidewalk artists who seemed to be on every
street corner. As Carol excitedly discussed techniques with the artists,
I put my plan in motion by becoming more and more childish in my behavior.
By the time we returned to our motel for the night, she was almost in
tears over the way I had embarrassed her in public.
This time was different, though, than every time before. Rather than
yelling at me, and then refusing to speak to me, Carol sat in one of the
chairs in the room and looked at me with a very serious expression on her
face. Finally she said quietly, "Bob, I can't take much more of this sort
of behavior. We have to do something to put a stop to it, or I'm going to
leave you. What do you suggest?"
At last I had the opportunity I'd craved for so many years, the chance to
tell her honestly that I needed to be punished, that I needed to be
humiliated at her hands, and that I needed her to become the mistress I'd
always wanted her to be. Instead, my throat and tongue uttered the words,
"I don't know."
Inside, I was raging against myself, trying to say the words that so very
much needed to be said, but outside I just stood there with my head down,
my face burning in shame. When she saw I wasn't going to say anything
else, Carol said, "You obviously need something from me that you haven't
been getting. Tell me what you want. Tell me what I should do."
Again I fought with the demons inside my brain, and after a long silence
at last said, "You should punish me. You should shame me in the same way
I did you today."
With no hesitation, she said merely, "All right. If that's what it'll
take to make you act like a man, then that's what I'll do. What do you
want me to do?"
At last my long-held fantasies were about to be realized. I'd wanted her
to do things to me for many years, and now she was asking me to tell her
what it was she needed to do. Over and over, I tried to speak the words
boiling in my brain, to beg her to whip me, to beat me with all her
strength, to make me hold my legs spread while she mercilessly whipped my
genitals. Instead, all I could manage to say was, "You should spank me,
then take me to the beach so everyone could see what you'd done."
She looked deep into my eyes for what seemed an eternity, then said very
softly, "Spanking isn't enough. You deserve much more than that. Get
undressed and give me your belt."
The thrill that shot through my body as she uttered those words was beyond
description. I knew that at last I was to get the punishment I so richly
deserved, that I so very much wanted, desired, craved, and needed. Over
and over the images of her viciously whipping me as I hung by my wrists,
my legs held widespread to welcome the lashes, coursed through my fevered
brain. With no conscious thought, I literally tore off my clothes,
pulling my belt from my trousers and holding it out to her.
She glanced at my raging hardon, took the belt from me, then quietly said,
in an ominous voice, "Get on your knees beside the bed and lay across it.
I'm warning you that if you move or make a single sound, I'll walk out
that door and you'll never see me again. Now do it."
I fell to my knees and quickly placed my crotch against the side of the
bed. I leaned forward until my upper body was lying flat, then extended
my arms past my head, imagining in my fantasy that they were tied there.
I heard her warn me again, "Not a sound." Before I had time to brace
myself, she raised the belt above her head and brought it crashing down
against my extended ass.
It took every ounce of my self-control to not cry out as the jolt of pain
flared in my butt. I had craved this moment for years, and had tried to
imagine the pain that my wife would give me. Believe me, the reality was
much, much more intense than anything I could possibly have imagined. I
clutched the bedspread in my fingers, and then actually bit into it in an
attempt to stifle my cries. Again and again she whipped me with the belt,
and every time it struck my naked skin I fought anew with my throat's
attempt to give voice to my agony.
I have no idea how many times she whipped me, but in my memory it went on
for several lifetimes. Just when I knew my limit had been reached, and I
would have to cry out for her to stop, she did just that. I cringed there
in terror, sure that another blow was at that moment just about to strike.
At last I heard her say, "Stand up."
I struggled to my feet and stood before her, my eyes so full of tears that
I could barely see. I heard her laugh softly, and when I wiped the tears
away and looked at her, saw she was pointing to my crotch. I, too, looked
there, and saw that my penis, which had just minutes before been rampant
as it anticipated the whipping to come, was now shriveled and shrunken to
a tiny tube of flesh barely two inches long.
She said only, "Come here. I want to show you what your butt looks like."
She then tossed my belt on the bed and walked into the bathroom. When I
joined her, she told me to stand with my back to the mirror and look over
my shoulder. I quickly obeyed, and saw that my ass was criss-crossed with
welt after welt that she had raised on me. Every one was burning and
throbbing, and I didn't need the visual confirmation to know that the
marks were there. The heat alone was enough to tell me that I had been
soundly whipped, as I had craved for so very long.
Carol then began undressing, making no further reference to what had just
transpired in the other room. As I watched in silence, she turned on the
shower and stepped under the spray of water. Not a word was uttered by
either of us as she soaped her lovely body, then rinsed. Even when she
turned off the water and began to towel herself dry, nothing was said. It
was only when she walked out of the bathroom that she said softly, "Take
your shower and get in bed."
I hurried to obey, and surely set a speed record for the quickest shower
ever. The horrible stinging of the soap and water gave added incentive
for me to move quickly, but somehow the increasing tightness in my chest,
and the renewed throbbing in my penis as it struggled to erect, were the
things driving me to obey my wife's orders.
When I entered the other room, I saw that she had peeled back the covers
and was lying there on her back. Her legs were spread slightly, and one
hand was busy in her crotch. She didn't even look at me as she said
softly, "On your back."
The pain that erupted from my abused backside almost made me jump back up,
but there was no time to do so. The second my body hit the sheet, Carol
mounted my crotch and guided my cock inside her. There was no attempt to
go slowly, and she impaled herself in one downward thrust, and with no
hesitation said sharply, "Cum, damn you! Hurry!"
There was something in her passionate outcry that touched something deep
within my soul, and seemingly with no intervention on the part of my
brain, my balls began to empty. Again and again, my crotch pumped my
semen inside her, until with a final thrust, the last spurt ended.
With no hesitation, she raised up and moved forward to my eager mouth.
Almost before she had settled in place, she hissed passionately, "Eat it,
you son-of-a-bitch! Suck it out of me!"
That order was not needed to make me do my duty, for my tongue was probing
her delicious folds even before she had stopped moving. She quickly
positioned her clitoris against my nose, then pressed it tightly against
me while thrusting violently. Her next order broke the silence then, as
she gasped, "Suck it, damn you! Hurry!"
Her pussy hole was directly over my mouth then, and I locked my lips
against it and inhaled with all my might. That was all she needed to put
her over the edge, and as her orgasm swept over her, she locked her thighs
so tightly around my head that I thought it would be crushed. Again and
again her spasms filled my mouth with our combined juices, until it seemed
more than I could do to swallow the first mouthful before the second
filled me again. It seemed to me that I had never put so much cum in her,
and that she had never before climaxed with such force. There was no
thought in my entire body other than servicing this wonderful creature,
and giving her the highest possible degree of pleasure that was possible.
All good things must come to an end, and her orgasm did also. She slumped
forward, just barely able to support her weight on her outstretched arms
as she gasped for breath. I don't know how long she remained there, but
when her breathing finally evened, she lay beside me on her stomach, her
head turned away from me.
I turn toward her to take my weight off my aching backside, then reached
out to caress her lovely body. At my touch, she said softly, "Don't touch
me. Go to sleep."
It was almost more than I could bear to force my hand to withdraw. More
than anything in the whole world, I wanted to feel her soft skin, to tell
her how much I loved her, to thank her for giving me what I had needed for
so long. Instead, I also lay on my stomach, seeking to find a position
that would ease the throbbing pain and burning fire in my ass.
I don't know how long I lay there, my mind in turmoil as I tried to come
to terms with what had happened that night. I had wanted it for so long,
and now that it had actually happened, the reality was so much different
than the fantasy that I found it hard to deal with. I had wanted to feel
the pain of being whipped, but in my imagination it had not persisted
after I had climaxed. Now, I couldn't simply roll over and fall asleep,
as always before in the past. In fact, the very thought of rolling over
made me cringe.
There was another element involved there that became dominant after I had
lain quietly on my stomach for about half an hour. Carol had by that time
fallen sound asleep, and as I heard her quiet breathing in the stillness,
I began to re-live the whipping she'd given me. Over and over I felt the
belt striking my taut flesh, again and again I felt the sharp pain
shooting from my backside. This time, however, rather than my cock
shrinking, it began to grow. Soon I was pressing it into the sheet,
moving it back and forth with cautious thrusts, hoping my wife wouldn't be
disturbed by what I was doing.
At one point, I actually reached both hands behind me and began to press,
then to pinch, the tortured flesh there. While visualizing myself hanging
by my wrists, being viciously whipped between the legs by my wife, my
second orgasm of the night swept over me.
Finally my thrusts quieted, and to the accompaniment of the throbbing in
my ass, I at last fell asleep.
Carol awakened before I did the next morning, and was in the shower when I
returned to the reality of my throbbing, burning rear end. As she entered
the room from the bathroom, she noticed I was awake and said brightly,
"Time to get up, sleepyhead. We have lots of places to see today."
There was something in the tone of her voice that was strikingly different
than anything that had been there before, and I turned my head to look
directly at her. She was standing there toweling her wet hair, completely
nude. Her magnificent breasts swayed seductively as her arms moved, and I
momentarily forgot about my discomfort as I gazed in rapt fascination.
Carol had never been prudish about her naked body, and I had seen her that
way many times in the past. This time, though, there was something
different, and I had the immediate thought that the different part was her
air of inner confidence. She had an air of "being in charge" that could
not be mistaken. I knew then that another part of our relationship had
been changed by last night's events.
I groaned inwardly as I struggled to move, and actually whimpered when I
came to a seated position on the edge of the bed. I quickly stood, hoping
to relieve the pain somewhat, and that actually seemed to help a slight
bit. I made my way to the bathroom, emptied my bladder, then stepped
under the shower. There's simply no way to describe the burning, itching
sensation I felt as the water ran over my butt, and the way it soon
changed to a soothing feeling. I stayed there as long as I thought I
could before at last soaping and rinsing, avoiding, of course, that part
that was burning with the fires of Hell.
The morning was one long session of continuous pain, beginning with trying
to sit in a chair at the restaurant as we ate breakfast, and followed by
endless hours of walking, feeling my trousers riding against my ravaged
flesh. Carol seemed to be oblivious to my discomfort, and I suppose I
can't blame her for that. After all, I'd done everything in my power to
get her to whip me, and if that whipping was now causing me second
thoughts, then I simply had to accept the responsibility for it.
We ate a late lunch, then returned to the motel for an afternoon nap.
Again, she told me to leave her alone, and I did so. Again, I lay on my
stomach trying to relax enough to fall asleep, but wasn't successful. My
wife had no trouble at all with sleeping, and seemed to rest peacefully
for at least an hour.
When she finally awakened, she yawned and stretched, then said, "Okay.
I'm ready to take you to the beach."
For several seconds, I had no idea what she was talking about, then
recalled what I had said she should do to me. I simply couldn't believe
she meant to parade me in public, with the welts on my ass visible to one
and all, and thought she was just attempting to scare me. That idea was
soon wiped from my brain as she stood and began to undress. When she took
her swimsuit from her suitcase, and began to put it on, I moved to do the
same. She said simply, "You can undress in the car when we get to the
I thought she meant to subject me to the semi-public humiliation of
undressing in our car in order to put on my bathing suit. However, as I
opened my suitcase to get my suit, she said quietly, "You won't need that.
Let's go." She walked to the door, never once glancing my way to see if
I were following. Her quiet confidence in my obedience seemed somehow to
make me want to do that, and so I left the room right behind her.
It was about ten blocks to the beach, and we drove in silence. I have no
idea what my wife's thoughts were, but I know mine were a jumble of
images, and they changed from being embarrassing to being arousing. When
I had envisioned this happening in my fantasy, the only thing I felt had
been excitement. The reality was that what was about to happen would be
very embarrassing to me. However, the idea of being humiliated in public
was at the same time very erotic. Those of you who share my fantasy can
appreciate that. The others will never understand it, no matter how much
I try to explain.
Carol parked the car in one of the spaces by the beach, then turned to me.
She said, "Okay, honey. Get undressed."
She said nothing more, simply sat there looking at me as I sat frozen. My
eyes shifted frantically from her to the beach, where I saw dozens of
people in various states of undress. There was a row of trees between the
parking lot and the street, so no one there would see me undressing.
However, there was nothing at all to obstruct the view of the sunbathers
in front of us. Finally, my hands dropped slowly to my shirt, and I began
to unbutton it.
Carol smiled as I began to remove my clothing, but said nothing. When I
was at last finished undressing, she reached to the back seat for a couple
of beach towels, then got out of the car, saying, "Okay. Let's go. I
wonder if it'll be as exciting for you as your whipping was last night."
As I got out of the car, I held my hands protectively in front of my
crotch, trying to shield it from all the prying eyes that I was sure were
staring at me. I looked around, glad to see that no one at all was
looking my way, but not feeling any less embarrassed. I hurried to
Carol's side, then said, "I'll carry the towels if you want me to."
She almost laughed, then replied, "No way, sweetheart. You wanted this,
and now here it is. By the way, keep your hands at your sides. You look
like a scared little boy when you try to hide your crotch like that." She
then walked away, confident I would follow, as before. And I did.
The walk from our car to a clear spot where we could spread our beach
towels was probably the longest of my entire life. It seemed every step
we took caused more heads to turn, and there was a palpable silence behind
us as everyone we passed saw my welted butt. I heard several whispers,
and knew if I turned my head, I'd see people pointing at me. Again, the
reality of being humiliated in public was far different than my fantasy.
When I thought of this happening, while masturbating in the privacy of my
home, my cock had been hard as a rock. Now, the poor little thing was so
shrunken as to be almost invisible.
We at last reached a clear spot in the sand, and spread our towels. Carol
lay down on hers, and when I lay beside her on mine, she said to me, "Stay
on your tummy. I want everyone to see what you're so proud of." I knew
she meant the red stripes she'd given me hours before, and also knew they
were still easily visible, since I'd checked them before leaving the
We remained at the beach for less than an hour, but it seemed like a
lifetime. I think my face was as red as my butt during the whole time,
and every time someone walked by and laughed, my sense of humiliation knew
no end. The most embarrassing part of all was when two women walked past,
arm in arm. They stopped and glanced pointedly at my backside, then one
of them said, "You go, girl! That's all men are good for, isn't it?"
Carol joined them in laughter, then said merrily, "This one is, anyway."
The two walked on, and I wanted nothing more than to just sink into the
sand, disappearing from sight forever.
When the time came for us to leave, she again carried the towels, after
instructing me to keep my hands at my sides. Again, that walk back to our
car was one of the longest of my life, and this time there was no doubt
that everyone was staring at my blazing butt.
I was allowed to put on my trousers in the car, just in case a cop stopped
us on the way back to the motel. She told me that I wouldn't need to put
on anything else, since it'd be coming off as soon as we were in our room.
I was sure I knew what she had in mind, and by the time we had returned,
my cock was no longer shrunken. By the time she said, "Get naked and get
on the bed," it was once-again rampant. By the time she had removed her
swimsuit and mounted me, it was bigger that ever before in my life. Once
again, the fantasy part of public humiliation had taken over, and it was
just about the most-exciting thing I could think of. The brain is an odd
I won't try to tell you that we quickly began to live the S&M life,
because that's not what happened. My wife did whip me again on a few
occasions, but it was never as exciting for either of us as it had been
that first time. We continued to have intercourse in the female-superior
position, and she continued to prefer reaching orgasm by riding my tongue
after I had climaxed inside her pussy. The other parts of my fantasy,
though, remained just that. She seemed to have no interest in completely
dominating me, as I wanted and needed.
Our lives continued in that manner for almost a year, and would probably
have gone on like that forever, but for a twist of fate. That twist
arrived in the guise of a telephone call one evening, from my older
sister. She had a favor to ask of us, and in granting that
seemingly-innocent favor, we set ourselves irrevocably on the road to
where we are now.
Sis said, "Bob, Mark is going to graduate from veterinary school next
month. He has to serve something like an internship with an established
vet before he can become licensed, and that's where we need your help.
He's been invited to join a clinic in your city, and has accepted. The
problem is that he needs someplace to stay until he can get settled. Can
he stay with you guys for a few days, until he finds someplace else?"
Of course we agreed to that arrangement, since we had two empty bedrooms
in our house. In any event, it would be for only a few days, so wouldn't
be all that big a problem to be accommodating. I told Sis we'd be happy
to have Mark stay with us until he got settled, and so the arrangements
I hadn't seen my nephew for several years, and was sure he'd be much
different by now. Sis was a few years older than my own 42 years, and
although I wasn't really sure of Mark's age, guessed he was probably
twenty years younger than I. I couldn't envision any problems with having
him as our guest for a few days, and actually looked forward to being able
to catch up with the family news that he'd know.
We met Mark at the airport at the appointed time, and even though he was
no longer the boy I'd known years ago, I was able to recognize him. He
had grown to be a handsome young man, probably three inches taller than my
average height of 5'-10". I'm sure he outweighed me by several pounds,
and judging by the size of his muscles, I would stay out of any wrestling
matches where he was involved.
It was his personality that was so engaging, however, and both Carol and I
found him a delightful person. He and I shook hands, and then they hugged
in greeting. I saw Carol blush slightly as the hug lasted a few moments
longer than necessary, and it took her a few seconds to regain her
composure when they at last separated. I certainly couldn't blame him for
wanting to hug my wife as long as possible. She had recently passed her
fortieth birthday, but was still in prime condition. I knew that for a
certainty, for we'd had sex just the night before, and I could testify
there was absolutely no sag in her breasts, and her thigh muscles could
still squeeze my head until I feared it'd burst.
We returned home, and soon had Mark moved into one of the unused bedrooms.
He showered and changed clothes, then we sat in the living room sipping
before-dinner drinks as the casserole heated in the oven. Again the
conversation came easily, and it was with reluctance that Carol finally
left us to check the dinner. When she announced it was ready, we all
cooperated in setting the table, and carrying food to it from the kitchen.
Mark was obviously tired from his flight, so we all went to bed early. As
Carol and I lay there in our bedroom, we talked quietly about how nice my
nephew was. We both agreed that he'd be a good catch for some woman, and
then she said something that absolutely stunned me. It was, "I think his
cock is the biggest I've ever seen on a man. He must have inherited that
from his dad's side of the family, because it certainly didn't come from
When I finally was able to reply, I asked, "How do you know how big he is?
You certainly didn't see him undressed, did you?" At the time, her
implication that my penis was small didn't register on my brain. That
came later, I guess.
She said, "Women check out men's crotches from the time they reach
puberty. I've been doing it for almost thirty years, and believe me when
I say that his bulge is among the biggest I've ever seen. I wish I could
see it hard. It must be a monster."
Again I was stunned, because at no time in our married life had my wife
ever given the slightest indication she had any interest in other men's
equipment. The other thought impacted my brain at that moment, and I
tried to deal with the new idea that she was of the opinion that my own
equipment was lacking. I guess it's just another indication of my
fucked-up brain, but that thought was more than a little arousing to me.
It seemed that here was another opportunity for me to be humiliated, and
my brain found that exciting.
I couldn't stop myself from asking, "Would you like to be in bed with him
right now?" As I said that, I placed my hand on her bare breast, and
found the nipple to be rock hard. It seemed the answer was right there,
and it was the opposite of what she said, which was, "Of course not. He's
the same age as our own kids, for God's sake. How could you even begin to
think I'd want to have sex with someone that young?" Again, her denial
was belied by her turgid nipples, and I was sure that if I dropped my hand
to her crotch, I'd find it to be more moist than usual.
The thought of my wife in bed with another man, especially one who had a
much-larger cock, was almost too much for me. The hardness of my penis
was a duplicate of her nipples, and when I began to suckle them, it seemed
to grow even more as I imagined Mark doing that to her. She actually
seemed to push my head toward her crotch, which was something she very
rarely did. It was obvious to me she was just as excited as I was, and I
felt certain we were both thinking of the same thing.
After I had licked her for a few seconds, she whispered, "It's not wet
enough for you. Turn over."
That was our "code" that meant she wanted to ride my cock until I
climaxed, then ride my tongue until she reached her own orgasm. I quickly
rolled to my back, and she just as quickly mounted my penis, burying it
deep inside her with one quick thrust. I had an instant flashback to that
night in the motel in California, when she had been almost desperate to
cum. It seemed that she was now feeling the same degree of arousal, and
her thrusts as she rode me were almost frenzied. It was almost as if my
body were waiting for her husky whisper to, "Cum, damn you!" When I heard
that, my balls began to empty, shooting spurt after spurt of semen into
She moved to my face almost before my last spasm had stopped, and her
desperation was evident in the frenzied way she forced her crotch against
my mouth. As on that night in the motel, she almost growled as she said,
"Eat it! Oh, God! I'm cumming! Eat his cum!"
I truly thought she'd suffocate me before she at last released the death
grip her thighs had on my head. As I gasped for breath, she rolled to her
back beside me, and we both lay in silence as we returned to reality.
What she had said ran through my head over and over. I knew that her
thighs had been pressed tightly against my ears at the time, but I was
sure she had said, "Eat his cum," when she was climaxing. That simply
confirmed what I had already guessed: that she had been thinking of Mark,
and that in her mind it was his semen she was feeding to her husband. As
I understood all the implications of that, I realized my cock was once
again erect. Apparently it just couldn't resist this new fodder for
Carol usually rolled to her stomach and quickly fell asleep after she had
reached orgasm. That night, though, it was apparent she was still just as
awake as I was. When I rolled to my side, facing her, my erection pressed
against her hip. She placed one hand on the thing, and began to softly
I began to duplicate her actions, with her nipples as my target, and was
surprised to feel them still just as erect as they had been a few minutes
before. There was no question that both of us were still aroused, and I
was sure I knew the reason.
As I caressed and nuzzled her breasts, I whispered, "Something must have
really turned you on tonight. What was it?"
There was a long silence then, but at last she whispered back, "I don't
know. I guess I was just horny. It feels like you still are, too, aren't
I couldn't deny the truth of what she'd said, since she was holding the
proof in her hand. I simply replied, "Yes." I seemed to reach a resolve
at that point that would forever change our lives, and I knew that we
needed to be open and honest with each other. I continued by saying
softly, "The last time you were that hot was when you whipped me at that
motel in California. I didn't know it was possible for you to get as
turned on as you were then. Remember?"
It took her several seconds to answer, and when she did, it was obvious to
me that she had reached a resolve similar to mine. She whispered softly,
"Yes. There was something about doing that to you that reached a part of
me I didn't know was there. Hearing that belt hit your butt, and seeing
the red stripes it left, just made me hot as Hell. I think tonight I may
have been even hotter, though."
I asked, "Do you remember what you said when you climaxed tonight?"
She seemed to think about it for a few seconds, then replied, "To tell the
truth, I don't remember saying anything. All I could think about was how
good it felt when I started to cum. God, I wish all of them could be like
that." She paused then, before asking, "What did I say, anyway?"
I said simply, "You said you were cumming, then you tried to crush my
skull. The last thing I heard was you saying, 'Eat his cum,' and then my
mouth was so full I thought I'd drown."
Again we lay in silence, thinking about what had been said, and what we
were feeling. At last she said, "I didn't realize I'd said that. How did
it make you feel to hear that?"
With no hesitation, I said, "I loved it. All I could think of was you
sitting on my mouth, feeding me another man's cum from your pussy. I
think it made me hotter than it did you."
Her question then got to the heart of the matter. "How do you feel about
it now? Does it still make you hot?"
My short answer was only one word, "Yes."
Again we lay in silence, fondling each other. She at last broke the
silence by asking, "Would you really want something like that to happen?"
Again I answered, "Yes," then continued, "I've had fantasies about that
for a long time. I've wanted very much for you to make love to another
man. Do you think you could ever do it?"
After an even longer pause, she finally answered, "Yes, if you're really
sure it's what you want."
To say I was shocked would have been an understatement. Never in my
wildest imaginings had I thought my wife would say such a thing. All the
time I was fantasizing about such a thing happening, there was some small
part of my mind that knew she would never agree to it. Now that she had
said she would, it seemed to be me, more than her, who was hesitant.
I finally overcame my hesitation, and replied, "I want it to happen. It
seems like I've wanted that for as long as I can remember." I paused
then, before asking, "Mark?"
Her short answer was, "Yes." After her own pause to reflect, she
continued, "I'll ask you one more time, but not now and maybe not ever, if
you really and truly want me to do it. You'd better be thinking about
your answer, because whatever you say is the way it'll be. One thing
you'd better consider is this: if Mark really is as big as his bulge tells
me, then I won't have any more use for your little wee-wee. What that
means is, if he fucks me, you won't. Ever."
She then rolled over onto her stomach, giving me one last instruction.
"I'm going to sleep now. Go ahead and jack off if you want to. Maybe
before much longer, the only thing you'll be fucking will be your hand.
Might as well practice now. Good night."
She said nothing more that night, and as her breathing evened, I was sure
she had fallen asleep. As for me, sleep was hard to come by. Our
conversation played over and over in my brain, and each repetition seemed
to make my cock grow even harder. At last I took her advice, and my hand
brought me the relief I needed in order to also fall asleep.
BOB'S CUCKOLD STORY, part 2