7 Sins: Sloth

Cyanlot's Forward

The stories in the 7 Sins collection of stories are not to be taken as morality tales, underscoring the seriousness of these alleged sins--well, not all of them, anyway. Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, greed, sloth, and wrath might all be character flaws, or even "sins", I suppose. But they're not the worst by far. How about selfishness, indifference to the suffering of others, cruelty?

The traditional seven deadly sins are just an organizing device for a set of stories. I wasn't the first author on Literotica to think of this vehicle. If you search "Seven Deadly" and '7 Deadly" on Literotica, you'll find lots of other stories using this device. If I'd known this before writing my own stories, I might have abandoned the project, but I didn't find this out until I'd written six of my own stories. So, giving due credit to the others who thought of this, too, I've chosen to publish my own "7 Sins" series.

Each story is independent of the others. There are no recurrent characters in them and there's no recommended order in which they should be read. They vary in length and in the themes explored.

Comments are always appreciated, even negative ones if they are thoughtful. But there's no need to leave comments of the following sort:

• "This story describes instances of unsafe sex--of people having casual oral, anal, or vaginal intercourse without protection." True, so true. It's a fantasy, numbskull, not a script to be followed.
• "I would behave very differently than the character in this story." Good for you! This story isn't about you.
• "Cyanlot is a sick puppy!" Well, no ... I'm fine, thank you. My stories don't convey some deep, dark yearnings. They're just stories.

One final note. I'm trying to place all of these in the "Gay Male" category even though several contain no gay male activity. Many do and, so, that seems the best category for the collection. I'll tag them as appropriate.

Enjoy the series ... or not.

-Cyanlot

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7 Sins: Sloth

["Sloth (Latin: tristitia or acedia ('without care')) refers to a peculiar jumble of notions, dating from antiquity and including mental, spiritual, pathological, and physical states. It may be defined as absence of interest or habitual disinclination to exertion." - Wikipedia]

Part I: My Nagging Wife

My wife, Carole, was always getting after me about something. If it wasn't to clean myself up and go out and get a job, it was to do work around the house. What a bitch!

I used to have a pretty good job, but when the company experienced a setback, I got laid off. My boss was an asshole! When he canned me, he couldn't leave it at that.

"Frankly, Larry," he had to add, "I should have let you go a long time ago. You haven't been pulling your weight for a long time. The others have been carrying you. So, maybe the financial problems that are forcing this corporate 'rightsizing' are a blessing in disguise."

What a jerk! I mean, if you're going to fire a guy, just fire him, you don't have to turn the knife in his back.

That was a year ago. I'd looked for another job but didn't find anything that really interested me. And, besides, Carole made good money. She had a demanding job, sure, but she earned enough to support us comfortably. Why should I bust my butt at a dead-end job?

So, her nagging about me getting a job fell on deaf ears.

Her other big thing was about me doing more work around the house. Usually it was combined with a dig at me being unemployed. You know ... the, "If you're not going to get a job, the least you can do is to do some work around here!"

Nag, nag, nag! And it wasn't fair. I did work around the house. I usually took my dirty dishes back into the kitchen and left them on the counter for Carole to take care of. I didn't make her hunt all over the house for my dirty dishes. And, I did some of the shopping. In fact, just last week, when Carole was at work and I saw that she hadn't gotten enough beer to last me through the week, I went to the corner store and bought a case myself. So, it just wasn't true that I didn't help around the house.

One night last month she really went ballistic. She came home late, around 7:00 pm, no doubt after a demanding day at work. I was watching a good movie in the family room and all I did that set her off was to yell out to her, "What's for dinner, hon?" I mean, I was just asking a question. But she got all pissy about it.

"You've been sitting on your ass all day, watching TV or whatever, and the minute I come in the door, you ask me what's for dinner?!"

Well, that wasn't fair. I hadn't been sitting on my ass watching all day. To tell the truth, I'd spent a good bit of it on the computer, watching porn and, then, whacking off. It was only late in the afternoon when I'd started watching movies.

She's such a bitch!

But despite Carole's cajoling, I had a pretty sweet life. My days were filled with watching movies, putzing around on social media a lot--mainly trolling, which gave me no end of satisfaction--and, like I mentioned, watching porn and jerking off.

My relationship with Carole was suffering, mostly because of her bitchiness but also because my schedule played havoc with my sleep patterns. I'd sometimes take a nap during the day. Then I wouldn't feel sleep until 2 or 3 in the morning, so I didn't go to bed with Carole. And, I didn't want her waking me up the next morning at 6, when she had to get up to go to work, so I'd sleep in the guest room. So most of the time we didn't sleep in the same bed.

There were times when she was clearly trying to initiate some action but usually it was some evening after I'd had one or two masturbation sessions that day and I just didn't have the energy to fuck her. But I was getting off plenty so I didn't feel deprived.

They say that idle hands do the devil's work, so I kept my hands busy--jacking off to porn. I kept finding new types of porn to masturbate to. That kept things interesting. Just watching straight fucking and blow jobs while you choke your chicken can get pretty stale. So, I ran through a panoply of porn.

For a while, I focused on IR porn, of course. It's great to watch a tiny, pale-skinned blonde get impaled by a huge black shaft or to watch her struggle to wrap her lips around a dark salami-sized schlong. And what can be better than to see her sweet face painted with a huge load of cum from that black cock.

And, of course IR porn led straight to interracial cuckold porn. For some reason it excited me to see humiliated husbands forced to watch their wives take huge black cocks. Or worse, for them to be forced to clean up their wife's cunt after it had been filled to overflowing by her black bull. What weak wimps they were. Any real man wouldn't go along with that. But even though I couldn't relate to these humiliated husbands, these scenes worked to get me off.

I got into BDSM for a stretch. Watching men dominate and abuse women was exciting. I'd fantasize about tying Carole up and doing all the things I was watching in the videos. For quite a while, this gave me some very intense orgasms.

BDSM got me into femdom and male submission. Again, a bunch of wimp men--laughed at and humiliated, chastised, teased and left hanging, and forced into a ruined orgasm. Then, of course, there were the role-reversal scenes where a dominant woman would strap on a huge dildo and fuck her guy like a bitch.

The simple femdom porn got me into feminization. I wondered whether it was ever true that a guy ever came to enjoy being forcibly feminized like these videos sometimes showed. How could a guy like that? But it made good masturbation material.

I really got into the scenes where a feminized guy sissygasmed while being pegged by a dominant woman. These wussy men were just born with the wrong genitalia, I figured. They really wanted to be women. But it was exciting to watch one of these pussies cream his panties from taking a huge phallus in his ass.

Because Carole was away all day every weekday, I had lots of time to play around. The feminization porn got me into trying on some of Carole's lingerie. I was bigger than Carole, but could squeeze into her panties and bras. This always made me hard and I had great jacking sessions like that, but it weirded me out, too. I didn't want to be like those feminized wimps I'd watched. So, I mostly gave that up, though not completely. I kept coming back to it because it was a sure fire hot orgasm for me even though it was accompanied afterward with some shame.

From what I've said, it's easy to see that Carole was just plain wrong about me not doing anything while she was at work. I kept plenty busy. But I could understand why she thought that. When she came home, I was usually tired and watching a movie. And, of course, I couldn't tell her what all I'd been doing that day--especially if it was one of the days I got dressed in her bras and her panties, or a sexy negligee and whacked off.

Carole started working longer and longer hours, sometimes well into the night. I had to resort to food delivery for dinner two, three, sometimes four nights a week.

Eventually I got suspicious that something was going on--that she was getting some on the side. I started snooping. She had repeated calls and texts to a number I didn't recognize and couldn't get any information on. I thought about following her one night when she "had to go back to the office after dinner to finish up some important work," but that seemed like too much work.

My suspicions were confirmed one morning when I decided I'd dress up in Carole's lavender lace bra and panties--my favorite of her outfits--to shoot my wad. The lavender set wasn't in her lingerie drawer. I suppose it was possible that she wore it today. (Of course, I wasn't up to see her get dressed. She got up way too early for me to do that.) But I decided to check the clothes hamper.

Voilà! There they were. I pulled them both out of the hamper and only then noticed that the panties were sticky and crusted with some white residue. One sniff and it was unmistakable. Carole had been out late last night, but not to "get some work done." She'd fucked a guy and then put her panties back on, leaking his cum into them on her way home.

I was furious. How dare she cheat on me!

I was also incredibly turned on. I didn't understand it. Maybe it's some primal urge when a male thinks his woman is likely to be impregnated by another male ... maybe then he gets horny as a spur to fuck her himself to try to make sure his sperm win the reproductive race. I don't know. All I know is that my cock was straining and in desperate need of a vigorous stroking.

So, I went to the bathroom and stripped naked. Instead of putting on the bra and panties, I put some lotion on my cock and began stroking it with my right hand while, with my left, I brought Carole's cum-crusted panties to my nose to inhale.

What a flood of emotions: anger, humiliation, embarrassment, and an enormous dose of sexual excitement. When I shot my load, it sprayed across the counter and onto the mirror. As I watched it begin to drip down, I was gripped with embarrassment. Here I was shooting my cum on the mirror when some stranger was shooting his deep into my Carole's cunt! Was I the sort of wimp husband I looked down on in the porn videos I watched?

I decided that the only way to regain my self-respect was to confront Carole and put an end to her cuckoldry. And as I thought about it, I figured that I had the upper hand. She'd be so ashamed of what she'd done that she'd do anything to get back in my good graces.

It didn't turn out quite like I'd expected. I started out strong, though.

I confronted Carole as soon as she walked through the door.

"You're cheating on me!" I expected her to deny it. And, when she was finally forced to admit it, to show remorse and maybe even shame. Boy was I surprised!

"Of course I am!" she said forcefully and without a hint of embarrassment, much less shame. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because... " I sputtered. "Because ... I'm your husband."

"You're a lazy slob who doesn't do anything productive. You don't have a job and you're not even trying to get one. You don't do anything to help around the house. You're just a disgusting, lazy pig!"

Wow! This was not what I expected.

"Well," I started, trying to regain some command of the situation, "you're going to quit. You're not going to see this guy, or anyone, again ... ever!" There! That was forceful, I thought.

"No I'm not. Why would I?" The counterpunch landed hard. I had to think about an answer. The "you're my wife" thing wouldn't work any better than the "I'm your husband" did.

"I'll divorce you!" Ha! That will scare her!

"And do what?" she shot back. "Who's going to support your lazy ass then!"

"I'll take you to the cleaners in the divorce. I'll get half the assets and you'll be paying me alimony for a long time."

"You'll probably get half the assets but how long is that going to last you. But alimony ... I don't think so."

"Sure I will. You have a good income and I'm unemployed."

"Voluntarily unemployed!" she replied. And, after I show the judge the videos I've taken of what you do all day, do you think the judge will be sympathetic to your "unemployed" status?"

"What?!" I was completely taken aback. "You've been recording me?"

"Oh, yeah." Carole had played her ace and she knew it. She had a smug smile on her face, knowing that she could toy with me like a cat with a mouse. "And for quite some time. It will be fun splicing together a greatest hits video of why you can't get a job."

The real threat, of course, wasn't what would happen in court. There's no way this could get to that stage. If Carole had really been recording me for as long as she suggested, she had blackmail material here, and she knew it. I was defeated. I couldn't divorce her; I had to hope that she didn't divorce me. What would I do? I'd have to get a job, move into a small apartment, and start over without any friends or support. Carole had me by the proverbial balls.

I wish the conversation had ended there. Well, I really wish it had never begun. But, given that it did, I really wish it had ended there. It didn't.

"I'm glad you finally figured it out, Larry," Carole went on. "To tell you the truth, I'm sick of sneaking off to meet with Jeff. Now that it's out in the open, I don't have to."

"What?! Jeff Medford?!" I was sputtering again. "That creep from your office?"

"He's not a creep, Larry. You just don't like him because he's smarter than you, better looking than you, wittier than you, and much more accomplished than you." That stung. But not as much as the next thing she said.

"And if you had any idea what Jeff and I do, you'd hate him because he's a much better lover than you ever were and he makes me want to do things that you've only dreamed of me doing."

I was stunned. Carole could have stopped then, but she decided to twist the knife deeper and harder.

"Jeff doesn't have to beg me to suck his cock. I want to suck his cock. I love sucking his cock. And his cock feels so wonderful that I wanted him in every hole. You know what I mean, Larry?"

I did know what she meant. There was a time when I'd pleaded with Carole to let me fuck her in the ass. She'd always refused. She said it was dirty and sounded like it would be painful. Apparently, with Jeff, it didn't seem dirty to Carole and she'd managed to deal with any pain and, even, seemed to find it pleasurable if the smile on her face was any indication.

"You are such a bitch!" I blurted out. I really didn't have anything to say; I could only attack her by calling her names.

"Oh, Larry," Carole said calmly, as if explaining something to a slow 9-year-old. "I'm not just a bitch. I'm the bitch that supports your lazy ass. I'm the bitch that you are completely dependent on. Don't forget that."

With that, Carole went to our room and closed and locked the door. I heard her making a call on her cell phone--no doubt to Jeff--but, while I heard her laugh several times, I couldn't make out what she was saying.

I drank until I was pretty drunk. Alcohol didn't produce any solutions to my predicament, but it did allow for escape when I was so blitzed I passed out.

Around 10 the next morning, I woke up with a hellacious headache. I went into the master bath to get some aspirin. (Carole was long gone, of course, so there was no chance of running into her.) On the bathroom counter, where just the previous morning I'd shot my load while inhaling the scent of Jeff's semen from Carole's panties, I found a note from Carole.

Larry,

Tonight, Jeff and I will be coming back here after work. You are to be here. We'll bring dinner for all of us. And we'll have a nice evening. Jeff will be spending the night. You will, as you usually do, be sleeping in the guest room. That's the way it will be.

- Carole

Nice evening, my fucking eye, I thought. But the "that's the way it will be" made it clear that my thoughts, and feelings, didn't count.

Part II: Carole's Cruelty

I hadn't seen Jeff since Carole's office's holiday party. When he and Carole came in the door together, laughing about something one of them had said before entering, I remembered again how much I disliked Jeff. To tell you the truth, though, Carole was probably right about some of the reasons for my antipathy. I could see how some women would see Jeff as very attractive. And he was smart and successful. He had an easy air about him that I hated, especially when it was on display as he walked into my house with my wife on his arm.

Dinner wasn't nice. Jeff and Carole mostly just talked to each other. But being excluded from the conversation was better than when they tried, with lame attempts to draw me in, asking me what I thought about something when neither of them cared a damn what I thought.

When we'd finished eating, Carole set the agenda for the night.

"So, Larry," she began, "here's what's going to happen. As you know, Jeff and I have been seeing each other for some time now. We've been making love with each other for months. But, because of the need to maintain the silly illusion that I was still faithful to you, we've never had the opportunity to spend the whole night together, making love, and wake up in each other's arms the next morning."

She paused as if I was supposed to say something, maybe nod that I understood. I did nothing.

"Tonight, Jeff and I are going to spend the whole night together in our bed." The 'our' referred, I guess, to Carole's and mine, but it might as well have referred to hers and Jeff's. "You're going to be sleeping in the guest room. But you won't be left out of all of the night's fun."

Oh, 'fun'! I couldn't wait to hear what that was about.

"You see, I know you've been watching porn a lot. Jeff and I have seen the videos." Sheeze! She shared those with Jeff? The bitch! I'll bet they had a good laugh over those.

"You like watching people fuck, don't you, Larry!" Again, she paused. "Don't you?!" she asked insistently.

"I guess," I muttered, knowing where this was going.

"Good. Because tonight, you're going to get a live show. You'll get to see how a man and woman should make love--up close! You'll be able to hear all the sounds and smell the scent of raw sex." She said it as if I should consider it a wonderful opportunity.

"Won't that be special?" she asked.

I didn't think it would be, and it wasn't--at least not special in a good way.