The Serial Cuckolder Ch. 01byshem802©
Part 1 – Jane
DISCLAIMER: This is a piece of erotic fiction, the themes of which include cuckolding, unwitting humilition of the husband, and impregnation. If this is not your cup of tea then please feel free to stop reading at this point. Alternatively, if you are the kind of person with the time on their hands to read a long story with a subject matter you don't like, then post comments complaining about the subject matter, please continue - your feedback is sure to raise a smile. Finally to those who actually enjoy such things, I hope you enjoy this one.
I have read with interest many so-called 'cuckold' stories, generally written by the kind of pathetic losers (of which you, dear reader, are perhaps one) who actually get a kick out of what for most men, and for any man worth his salt, would be the ultimate in humiliation - another man fucking their wife. So I thought I'd tell my story, which is, so to speak, the other side of the coin. For while I personally don't identify with that peculiar fetish, I must say I approve wholeheartedly, as it leaves all the more women for normal hot-blooded men like me to fuck. And as I can tell you from my own experience, fucking another man's wife has a special magic all of its own, a magic with which nothing else can quite compare.
Let me tell you a bit about myself. My name is Mark, and I am a sex addict. There – I confessed it. Now I can relax and be frank. I won't lie to you; I have always been successful with the ladies. I was blessed for whatever reason with good looks, height, a muscular physique, a confident, commanding personality, and – yes – a big cock, all of which combine to create a strong appeal to most women I come across. Even in my younger days, before I had any money or any power, I could always get girls, and I must have had a hundred before I was 25. Yes, say it loud, I love women, and I can never get enough of them. Nowadays I run my own publishing business, employing - you guessed it - mostly attractive young women, thanks to a rather unsubtle recruitment policy in which I naturally take a hands-on role. Being the boss of my own business only makes it easier with the women, both my lovely employees themselves and the women I meet outside of work. They say that power is an aphrodisiac for women, and that certainly appears to be true in my considerable experience. It's supposed to get harder as you get older, but in my case it's just getting easier all the time. I go to work every day, and my office is full of sluts in their late 20s and 30s who just don't have the fear and inhibition that many younger girls have. Plus they are often desperate for a fuck. If they gossip about me afterwards, so much the better, because I know from experience that my physical endowments more than make up for any petty concerns about my ethics among the majority of the girls I come across.
All of this means that now, in my mid-30s, I pretty much have pussy on tap whenever I want it. I employ 42 women and I must have fucked 25 of them at one time or another. If they start getting clingy with me I usually just fuck them one more time, then sack them. Once, a wide-eyed little slut named Ashley, just out of college, tried to sue me for wrongful dismissal, so I went round to her flat, charmed her till she sobbed and apologised, then told her to kneel down and suck my dick, which she did, the little whore. Then I came in her mouth and left. A month or so later I got another lawyer's letter, so I went back round there, bent her over her kitchen table, pulled her skirt and panties down and spanked her till she cried again. Then I fucked her stupid and told her not to try it again. That was the last I heard of little Ashley.
But I digress from your favourite theme, don't I? Don't fret. The thing is, when women are so freely available one does become somewhat sated with it all, and the need for a little more excitement begins to rear its head. You begin to miss the challenge of the chase, and the thrill of genuine conquest. This was the situation I found myself in around five years back, when I got an invitation from my best college friend, Andy, to join him, his wife Jane, and their two young children at a villa they had rented in Italy. They were to stay for three weeks, and I was invited for the second week. Now, needless to say, kids are not really my bag at all, but I needed a break from London, and a holiday planned by somebody else is always welcome. All I needed to do was show up. Plus, although (or perhaps, because) Jane had always rather disliked and disapproved of me, I had always quite fancied her, and liked the idea of seeing her lying around in a bikini for a week. So I had no trouble in accepting the invitation.
The holiday turned out to be the relaxing pleasure that I had anticipated. Andy collected me at the airport, and all I had to do was sit by the pool, drink beers and G&Ts, and have my meals made for me. The kids were well behaved, Andy did most of the looking after them (since Jane played this role at home) and Jane was quite as fetching in a bikini as I had hoped. At 31, she was still slim and in-shape, the only evidence of her two births being the small and somehow sexy stretch marks on her belly. She had long, wavy black hair and large, dark eyes that I found very seductive. She must have been 5'9 (a good couple of inches taller than Andy), with long and shapely legs, superbly framed by a burgundy-red bikini. Every time she walked towards me on those fine long legs, wet and glistening from the pool, I stole a glance through my dark sunglasses at her pussy mound covered by the wet bikini, and imagined the dark bush inside. After a couple of days I was lusting after that pussy so badly it was driving me crazy, so I started to think about whether there was any way I could make a pass at her without Andy finding out. But I just couldn't see it. Although I was on my best behaviour, restricting my usual arrogant or "sexist" comments to a minimum, with a resultant softening of Jane's attitude toward me – she had barely shot me a disapproving look all week – I just couldn't see her standing for any nonsense from me. I knew I was highly likely to get a slap in the face and an early lift to the airport if I tried anything. Looking back, I must be honest and say this: the fact that Andy was my best friend never once entered my head, at least not as an obstacle to my designs. If anything, it added to the excitement of my fantasies. If I could have gotten away with making a straight pass at Andy's wife, I would have done it, no question about it. But when you have a way with women, life has a funny way of tossing them effortlessly into your path, and so it proved for me.
On the fourth day of my visit, Andy announced over breakfast that he was planning to take the kids to a water park for the day, but that Jane would be staying behind to have some time to relax without the kids. He hoped I didn't mind just having Jane for company for the day. Naturally I was more than happy with this arrangement, and I was all smiles as the car pulled away with Jane's husband and kids inside.
So the fragrant Jane and I spent a lazy morning sunbathing by the pool, exchanging occasional small talk, reading, enquiring whether the other would like a cold drink, and so on. All very amicable, but not overly warm. I spent a lot of time ogling her through my shades as usual. She had the most beautiful long thighs, which were covered in divine little goose bumps whenever she emerged from a dip in the pool. Her stern mouth was a little softer in the sun, more full than it had seemed in the past. It was getting toward lunchtime when she surprised me by lying on her front on the flat sun-lounger, undoing her bikini straps and lying topless, but face down, just a couple of yards away from me. Her back was just as slender and enticing as the rest of her, perhaps a little paler due to lack of exposure.
"You want to watch out, Jane," I said, trying to sound casual. "You'll get burned on your back. It's almost midday."
"Hmm," she mumbled, eyes closed as she enjoyed the warmth of the sun. Then to my surprise she propped herself up and looked at me. She had caught me looking at her, but I didn't feel embarrassed. Her nipples were almost visible as she propped herself on her elbows and smiled at me. "I'll tell you what, Mark," she said. "How about you rub some lotion on my back, then I'll fix us some lunch. Deal?"
Oh God, yes. Deal.
"Sounds good to me," I said, affecting as casual a tone as I could.
So she lay back down and I moved over to rub the lotion into her shapely back. I lingered and massaged her slowly as I did it, and to my delight she gave a few grunts of approval. I had to concentrate to keep from getting a hard-on. I was in agony. I just wanted to flip the tease over and fuck her right there. I summoned all the confidence that had netted me so many women in the past. I coughed.
"You want me to do the backs of your legs too?", I asked her, my faux-casual tone fading now.
I felt her start just a little as I made the rather forward proposal, but then she relaxed again and said yes, thanks, why not. So I oiled the lovely thighs I had been ogling just minutes before. I was growing in confidence, and I carefully rubbed my hand up her inner thigh until it almost, almost touched the synthetic fabric of the bikini between her legs, her last burgundy barrier to intimacy, the flimsy shield of her pussy and the remains of her modesty. I thought I heard a small moan as my hand gently pushed the limits of decency. Was it a moan of pleasure? I couldn't say for sure. It certainly felt right. But something was still holding me back. I didn't want to be the one to cross the last boundary. At the back of my mind, despite my restless cock twitching and throbbing uncomfortably into life, I still had a vision of the mess I could end up in if I screwed this up. So for once in my life I restrained myself, and gave her a friendly but flirtatious little slap on the back of her thigh.
"There! All done ..."
She looked up at me, and for a split, unguarded second I thought I could see a little shock and disappointment in her eyes. But she quickly composed herself.
"Right, yes, thanks Mark. I'll go and get lunch ready in a moment."
I was wracking my brains for a way to make progress with this little flirtation, this lovely little ritual of physical contact, without risking blowing everything. And then it came to me, simple and beautiful.
"Jane," I said, removing my sunglasses and adopting a serious tone. "I'm not really hungry to be honest. Why don't you just return the favour instead?"
Again she looked a little surprised, but before she could protest I handed her the lotion and lay on my front on my own sun-lounger. She could not refuse my request – to do so would, after all, have implied an inappropriate level of intimacy in what she had just asked of me. And we were still playing games. Delightful, hot, flirtatious little games, but games nonetheless. I wanted to try to crank up the level of our intimacy until a boundary would be crossed without her noticing it, without her being shocked into sobriety.
I echoed her little moans of pleasure with louder moans of my own as she rubbed my strong back. Her soft hands, still slightly cold from the pool, felt wonderful. Then I let softer groans escape me as she moved onto my legs. I felt her hand move towards my crotch, stopping just short as I had done, and I let out a sigh that was faint but as unambiguously sexual as I could make it. I couldn't see her face, but I just hoped that Jane was still enjoying our little game. And when I sensed with some regret that the rub was coming to an end, it was she who moved things on.
"If you turn around I'll do your front as well."
This time I was shocked. She had crossed a boundary here. No one needs help oiling their front, so her request implied a clear enjoyment of what she was doing, and a clear green light to me as far as I was concerned. Now it just remained for me to tip us over the edge. Grinning to myself, I turned around. As I turned, Jane looked flushed, and she gasped a little when she saw my way of pushing us further over that line, when she saw what I had for her. My cock was rock hard, at its full length, bursting out of the top of my shorts. There was no going back now. Jane gulped. My throat was dry. We were both silent for what was maybe a few seconds but felt like minutes. I looked at Jane's lovely, exquisitely embarrassed face, but she did not return my look. She was looking at my cock. Her eyes were wide and her mouth a little open. In fact, she was looking at my cock like she was a marathon runner looking at a glass of iced water. Then, finally, she reached out her delicate hand, and touched it.
That touch was more than erotic. It was sensational, electric, I could almost feel myself falling – her soft hand feeling the length and girth of my cock, plunging us finally over the cliff into the delightful but dangerous waters of sexual intimacy. I thought I was going to come in her hand like a frustrated teenager, but I managed to hold back. All the lust I had felt for her was concentrated and gently released in her accepting caress. I felt waves of pleasure coursing through me at her touch, stronger than I had ever felt from a woman. This was what I had been missing in my years of easy conquests. I had never felt so hot for any woman. I sat up slightly and we looked each other in the eye for the first time since her hand had touched my cock. Her look was unlike any I had seen from her before – not a hint of the haughty pride that had always been her most salient quality. No, she looked dazed, perhaps a little frightened even. And submissive. Yes, the lovely Jane, my best friend's wife. When I saw and felt the submission in her eyes, my cock went up a notch, if that were possible. I could see it, and I could feel it. I had always had an instinct with women, and I acted on it now. It was time to take control. She was still stroking my rigid cock when I spoke to her, my voice forceful now.
"You like that, don't you Jane?"
She gulped and shivered.
"Mm Hmm," she said, as though dumbstruck.
"Put it in your mouth, Jane" I ordered.
Sure enough, without a word or gesture of hesitation, she moved from her sitting position on the edge of the sun-lounger to kneel on the patio next to me. Then she bent over, opened that lovely mouth, and licked the huge head of my penis. My cock was already hot from the sun, and the new wet heat of her tongue felt like molten metal. She licked the shaft, glanced up at me as if for approval, then opened her mouth wider and took my cock into her mouth. I held the wavy, jet-black hair at the back of her head as she gently sucked, working her head up and down. Then she looked up into my eyes, her mouth full of my cock, wide and taught around it. I felt on top of the world, better than I ever had, realising for the first time what these new waters I was charting were really all about. I just can't attempt to describe the feeling, but I think you can guess the key to the magic I was feeling. No, I can't describe that feeling, that intense pleasure, but I can say this: until you have looked down and seen another man's wife with your cock in her mouth, you really haven't experienced the finer things in life.
I let her enjoy my cock for a few minutes, working it, worshipping it, like a slut on heat now. Now that she had crossed the line there was no restraining her. Maybe, I mused, she had been lusting after me all along, and was just as frustrated and horny as I was. I vaguely recalled that the water park trip may have been her suggestion. I smiled, relaxed and confident now in my power over her. As she sucked my cock I felt for the first time in years the thrill of real conquest, and for the first time ever, the thrill of literal conquest, of taking another man's wife and seeing her submit to me, her church promises and her eternal virtue discarded for the sake of my cock; discarded just for the chance to service my cock like a cheap whore, and to open her legs for my pleasure. What a rush. And the main course was still to come.
I tugged at her hair and pulled her head off my cock. She looked confused and disappointed.
"Please ...," she muttered, "... let me ..."
My my, what a tramp sweet Jane had turned out to be. I laughed.
"Don't worry Jane, there's plenty of time for that. Right now, I'm going to do what I've been wanting to do all week. I'm going to take you upstairs, lay that sweet dark pussy out on the bed, and I'm going to fuck you."
"Yes ... Mark ..." she whimpered.
I chuckled again as I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder. She felt limp and submissive – this educated wife and mother looked no more than a bimbo in a bikini for my use now. My right arm over the backs of her thighs, I carried my conquest over my shoulder up to the house, feeling a playful joy as I imagined a primitive man carrying his prize home from a raid on a weaker tribe. She muttered a little, and I thought I hear her say "oh my God", as I strode purposefully up the stairs. She tried to resist a little, saying a soft "not there" as I carried her to the room she shared with her husband, my best friend Andy. In response I spanked her behind sharply.
I entered their room, and threw her down on the bed. I pushed her down onto her back, and ripped off the bikini top in one violent movement. Then, more gently now, I did what I had been dreaming of doing all week. I peeled those burgundy bikini pants down over her shapely hips, revealing her pussy with its dark bush, glistening and wet, then down over her long thighs, and tossed them to one side.
"Open your legs," I said softly, and she obeyed instantly, moaning a little as she did so.
Now I eased off, and stepped back away from the bed to admire her naked body, and to savour the moment. And this was another of those moments I wish I could describe more vividly. My best friend's proud and elegant wife, lying naked before me, her legs open in the ultimate posture of animal submission to a man, waiting, offering her married pussy to me for my pleasure. My cock was rock solid. You just can't beat a moment like that, a sight like that – the feeling of power, of superiority, of cruelty, mingled with the delicious anticipation of actually penetrating that waiting cunt and fucking it hard. And knowing that that is what she wants, what she is longing for. A savage, cruel, immoral, boundary-smashing fuck from my cock. I can see she wants it. She even starts to beg for it.
"Fuck me Mark ... please? ... fuck me hard ... do what you want with me ..."
She held her arms up above her head, as though they were tied together, in an even greater gesture of submission. I noticed her wedding ring still on her finger – a lovely detail that gave me another quiver of pleasure. Then I removed my shorts and held my hard cock out towards her, teasing her by brushing her pussy lips with the bulbous tip. Again that touch felt hotwired, straight from heaven. My cock touching her pussy for the first time. "Please ...", she moaned again, and I pushed the head of my cock right up to her opening. She cried out sharply. ("Do it! Fuck Me!") Then I relented, and pushed my cock hard into her pussy, which was tight but wet and accommodating. As my cock slid into her I savoured the glorious sensation of penetrating another man's wife. I don't know how or why the brain contributes to the physical sensation quite so much, but I can definitely say that nothing - nothing - feels as sweet around your cock as married pussy. And here I was enjoying that sweet sensation for the first time. Jane cried out with pleasure as I buried my long cock inside her. I caught a little cry of shock and joy as I pushed further into the deeper parts of her cunt and nudged her cervix hard. I had been expecting and hoping for this. I had seen Andy in the locker room plenty of times and I knew for a fact that his cock was, to be charitable, below average in size. It just made it all the sweeter knowing that Jane had never felt this before, and that she would always be disappointed by her husband now that she had felt my cock inside her.