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source of picture:  CUCKOLD CREAM

  

  

  

  

Bob's Cuckold Story

by Shortie

  

  

 

Chapter 1

 

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

done.

 

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

orgasm.

 creampie eating

  

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

beside me.

 

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.

cuckold's red ass

  

  

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.

 

  

  

 

Chapter 2

 

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

beach."

  

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

motel.

  

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

thing, indeed.

  

  

  

_______________

  

  

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

were made.

  

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

yours."

  

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

her pussy.

  

  

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

humiliation.

  

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

caress it.

  

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

you?"

  

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

  

  

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