The Long Weekend Ch. 04

Authors Note:

Again thanks to all those that are reading and have commented. The range of feedback continues to be extraordinarily broad. I don't mind the comments vehemently suggesting this story should not appear here - this strength of feeling is, for better or worse, part of the world we live in. This is a liberal site used by those we may expect to be wide minded. All these comments help me to demonstrate that anybody who has a sexual inclination outside what our society deems 'normal' has to deal with considerable prejudice - and this is part of my story.

Chapter 4

I was too frustrated and excited to sleep. In four hours Ben would be here and no doubt he would be fucking my wife. Again.

It was impossible to lay still, cupping Amy's tits which Ben had just been fondling, and with my dick stretching up between her legs, desperate for relief. A couple of times my wriggling half woke Amy and she made an annoyed noise.

She stirred and rolled over in her sleep so her head faced mine. Each time she exhaled I got the sickly smell of Ben's cum on her breath. I lay, as still as I could manage, my brain tormented by the pincer movement of pleasure and terror.

Eventually, with the sun fully risen behind the curtain, I got up.

Every movement hurt my balls now which felt they were housed in shrinking, iron pants. I left the room and hobbled to the dinning area.

It was just past 6 a.m. and the first of the early risers were blearily collecting their breakfasts. No one much was talking except for the 24 news channel on the TV.

I took some coffee but couldn't face the cooked food.

What I had assumed may be one quick fuck for Amy and Ben had become two, long, slow ones and now a third was to follow. My life seemed to be skimming out of control like a flat stone thrown on the surface of a lake. I was bouncing further from shore and seemed destined to sink. But the thrill was wonderful. Amy had done the right thing in extending my need to climax. This way my body and mind could focus on nothing except sexual activity. If she had relieved me last night there would be the danger that I would have lost this edge and that I wouldn't be looking forward to Ben coming back in a few hours. Over the last few months I had learned how the force of denial could extend sexual pleasure beyond a few breathless minutes and into days and even weeks. Beneath the dinning table I felt my cock hardening once more. When Ben arrived I would be able to see at first hand Amy's pleasure and I intended to join in.

As the news items passed I became more excited and energised. I had some food and gallons of fruit juice. By now I felt totally awake and rejuvenated. I folded a couple of croissants into a napkin and carried a glass of juice back to the room for Amy.

She was still asleep. I peeked behind the curtain and looked out over the dock. Somebody was sweeping up the broken glass from outside a bar and a few people were walking to work even on a Saturday. The water looked dark and dirty but somehow the dockside looked distinguished, like someone who remains handsome with age.

A feeling of immense satisfaction came over me and I felt newly liberated and free. When I watched Amy sleep I felt incredibly lucky. She was beautiful, sexy and we loved one another.

The clock chimed and I smiled just as I might if I heard the voice of an old friend. Amy was fast asleep so I decided to take a walk outside.

The day was already warming and the air felt clean. I wondered if the faces I passed might guess my secret. I had to check myself to make sure I was not grinning. And then, from some dark place in me a doubt would rise. Was Amy so taken with Ben that our relationship was threatened? Would she ever want sex with me again?

I sat on a bench overlooking the water and watched the ugly scum of oil, plastic bottles and floating sticks and straw lap against the harbour wall. The water was calm but my mind could not stop. Although I had fantasised about this for years I never truly believed it would happen. Even as we drove down yesterday I felt sure that something would prevent it all going ahead. Now I wanted time to adjust to last night. I wasn't ready for Ben to fuck Amy again, even if I could join in this time. I was frightened I would lose her.

Why did the idea of my wife having sex with another man turn me on so much? It was a question I had asked myself since I had first realised the appeal of the thought. This fantasy had brought me to a place I now did not want to be. Why was I like this? My answers were as murky as the grey water in the dock. I had an intellectual answer, which was the one I had used with Amy whenever I tried to explain my desire to her. It was based on liberation and unconditional love – a total giving. But if this argument was right – and I had my doubts – it didn't explain why my cock grew hard when I thought about her with somebody else. My erection was not some academic thrill. Truly, my desire was physical more than intellectual.

Was it as simple as a genetic thing? Is there a cuckold gene? We don't all find the same face attractive or share the same preferences about the act of sex, preferences which are presumably core, animal desires within us. So was I just born with the gene-pool that was drawn to being a cuckold?

Or perhaps there was what a former psychologist girlfriend would call a 'psycho-dynamic' explanation. She would have said that some event or events in my life, probably in my childhood, had nurtured this hunger. But if this was so then I couldn't place those events. What sort of a life-event resulted in what society considered such a taboo attraction?

I had tried to convince myself that becoming a cuckold was a decision freely made. One that would expand my life experiences and potentially strengthen the bond between Amy and I. And I did feel I was being honest to myself in letting this happen – indeed not just letting it happen but orchestrating it. But if I freely chose it why was I now so frightened? Was the risk of losing what was most important to me a fair price for being true to myself? There was a huge paradox here but something told me that what we find the most rewarding is often that for which we have made the greatest sacrifice or taken the greatest risk.

I had to admit I was still short for an answer to the question of why I was like this. But the relevant question right now was not 'why' but IF I could do this.

Making love to someone means exposing yourself to them, both physically and emotionally. It is an act of trust as well as a physical act. An intimate trusting. If you loved somebody and you believed they loved you, then surely you should trust them. I was now placing so much trust in Amy's love for, and loyalty to me that I was scared. Her love and loyalty were the fuel that fired my reason for living. By giving her sex with Ben I would be feeding a fire that would either burn more brightly or burn out of control.

It was incredibly hard, but I had to trust her. I had to trust that she would love me as I was – a man who grew excited at the thought of his wife having sex with another guy. And I had to trust that she would be able to separate her pleasure, and what was clearly a strong desire on her part, of having sex with Ben, with her love for me. With this thought, and the knowledge of the morning to come, I felt my cock begin to harden again.

I returned to the hotel a little after 9. Amy had not moved. I drew the curtains and she stirred. Her eyes were shut but she spoke.

"Morning."

"Good morning my wonderful wife," I said.

She smiled and sat up, the sheet falling to her waist.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

She paused. "Fucked!" she said and grinned.

I grinned too.

"I stole you some breakfast from the canteen," I said, presenting her with the napkin and juice.

"You star." She drank the juice. "What time is it?"

"Quarter past nine."

"God, I'd better shower."

"Yes, you have work to do!" I smirked.

"Are you going to stay?'" she asked.

"Yes, I was intending to." I was a little taken aback. "That's okay isn't it?"

"Oh, yes. I don't think Ben will mind. He is very confident." She took a bite of the croissant and brushed the crumbs off the bed.

"And I need to brush my teeth," she added.

"Let me kiss you once more," I said walking over and sitting beside her.

I touched her breasts lightly and kissed her gently. I could still taste Ben's cum in her mouth.

"Yum!" I said, finding the taste vile but the thought like wine.

She smiled and rubbed my cock through my trousers.

"Would you like a coffee?" I asked.

"Oh, yes please."

She slipped out of bed and into the bathroom.

The sunlight was all over the room now and the city outside had come to life.

I listened to her shower and then brush her teeth. I noticed that I was taking deep breaths. When she came back in it was quarter to ten. I passed her the drink.

She stood with her head on her side and dried her hair with a towel. Her tits wobbled and my cock yearned for contact.

"Would you mind meeting him and bringing him up?" she asked.

"Ok," I said, watching her.

She sat on the bed and from her make-up bag pulled out a small mirror and some others things.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it" she said, looking at herself in the mirror with widened eyes.

"It is. I'll go down now. It would be rude to keep him waiting."

"Come here," she said.

I walked over to her.

She pulled me down to her and kissed me. "I love you," she told me.

"And I love you," I said, reaching for her tits. She slapped my hand.

"No, they are Ben's!"

My heart spun as I walked to the lift.