A Christmas (Virtual?) Cuckold

"Yeah, and they can see naked women on the Internet, and people fucking on porn sites. It doesn't mean you should let them see you, too, in such situations, you know!" I replied.

"My husband, the prude. What's happening to you, Mr. Philip Gold?" Joanie teased.

Philip Gold was to be my pseudonym at the conference. Joanie had arranged for to be registered as a participant. The idea was that nobody would realize I was Joanie's husband.

"We're alone. You can call me Hank. It's my name, you know," I replied.

It was clear to me that Joanie had not lost her sex appeal, even with us having a baby girl, nor had she lost her ability to have men clamor for her attention, in the hope to see just one of her seductive smiles aimed exclusively at them.

We had gone out for a romantic dinner. Cocktails were followed by a bottle of good red wine from the south of France, and we were feeling no pain. Joanie had removed her coat with the fur collar once we were inside the restaurant. Joanie had a way of peeling off her outer clothing that always had every man within eyesight checking her out. They always seemed to like what they saw, too.

"Tell me about your cuckold fantasies," Joanie said.

"I already have," I replied.

"No, you haven't yet told me in detail. What do I get up to? How does it happen, in your perverted, dirty mind -- which I love, by the way -- that I end up in bed..." and Joanie held up her hand, stopping me from interrupting, "I know, I know, not always in bed, maybe on the back staircase, bent over a railing, in a bathroom with my hands on the sink, hee hee; but how do the men seduce me? How do they get me to that stage? Tell me what happens?" she requested.

"Sometimes it's you who seduces them, you know. For example, how did you convince the various businessmen to let your company have all that data? Isn't it key to your company's success? You had to get it from several sources and combine it all, right? You were the go-to person to get men, middle aged, lecherous men, to sign over the data, right?"

"For a hefty fee," Joanie quickly added. "The data did not come cheap!"

"Yes, yes, I know. But what if there was a little something extra thrown in to the exclusive benefit of the man you were negotiating with??

"That's bribery. Were it discovered I'd get fired and so would the man, and maybe even prison would be involved. Our competitors would insist, I'm sure. Neither I nor the men would ever do that. You know that, Hank!"

"I'm not talking about money. Don't forget what kind of fantasies I have," I said.

Joanie looked flummoxed, and then the lightbulb went off and she blushed. "Oh," she said. "Now I understand. Yes, offering myself that way might have been a big help. Good thing it wasn't necessary."

"What if it had been necessary?" I asked.

"Well, it wasn't, so let's leave it at that, shall we?" Joanie said, and her eyes were twinkling mischievously. "I admit it, though, I love the way your mind works. That's a hot fantasy. Say, do you have a fantasy for this conference, maybe with my old lover Brad and me? Do you? Do you?"

Joanie was like a kid in a candy shop, much too eager, it seemed to me.

"Uh-huh. Yep," I said.

"Want to tell it to me?"

"Now?"

"Yes, right here, over dessert. They have chocolate mousse on the menu," Joanie said. Chocolate mouse is one of my all-time favorite desserts.

"Will you make me chocolate mousse when we get home?" I asked.

"I'll not only make it for you, I'll cover strategically selected parts of myself with it, and you can lick and eat it off me," Joanie said.

"Can I video it, too?"

"No. Videos somehow always seem to make it to the Internet. Sorry, Hank; nothing doing."

"Maybe then a picture of your naked body covered with chocolate mousse before, and another after?" I hopefully asked.

"Same thing with pictures. Can you imagine the horror of having a picture of me, naked with chocolate mousse strategically placed on my body, on the Internet? I'd be humiliated, and finished in the business world!"

"Or, perhaps, you'd be in even more demand?" I smiled evilly.

Joanie looked at me strangely. I knew she was thinking that maybe it would not be universally a bad thing? "You'd have to promise me, and I mean really, seriously, promise, that it would not get onto the Internet!"

"So I couldn't use it as my Facebook ID?" I teased. Joanie almost poured her seltzer water into my lap. Just the threatening gesture was enough to sober me up.

"Maybe you can have your pictures, but only if your fantasy is good enough!" Joanie said. "And if you lick me clean enough. You know how fastidious I am about keeping certain parts of me clean, don't you, lover boy?" Joanie giggled.

I told her my fantasy. It took so long that we were the last patrons to leave the restaurant that evening. Joanie was agog at the end.

"You've got the mousse and the pictures, Hank. I'm pretty turned on by your fantasy!" Joanie said.

"Should I take a little recreational Viagra?" I asked.

"I would advise it; I would!" Joanie said. "You've given me some big time need for some damn good lovin'."

Morning in Chicago

There was a knock on our door early the next morning. Clearly, it was room service. Joanie's boobs were exposed; do I cover her before I open the door? Yeah, I thought; this is Chicago, not Jamaica, after all. Besides the room service person is probably a minimum wage woman. Probably anyway our hotel room stank of sex, and that was enough to inflict on a poor, underpaid hotel worker.

Joanie woke to the smell of the coffee. She looked over the copious breakfast selection, and said, "You know what I want to eat?"

"The pain au chocolat?"

"Good guess, but I was thinking I want the breakfast of champions," she said.

"Wheaties?"

"Very funny. Bring your cock over here, lover boy," Joanie said.

"Even before your morning coffee? Okay, I'm impressed," I said, as Joanie went down on me.

"Want to have some fun with your cuckold fetish?" Joanie asked, after I had filled her mouth with my spunk.

"What'd you have in mind?" I asked.

"I could act out your fantasy involving some random men, and you could listen in via your pretty 'diamond' Bluetooth broach. You could watch us too, but discreetly, from a distance. You'd have to be okay with a lot of stuff, though. Men might kiss me and paw me. I'm not going to get screwed like in your fantasy, though. It'll be only the preliminaries. Can you handle it, lover boy?" Joanie asked.

"Men? As in the plural?"

"Yes, men. You expect me to flirt with only one guy?" Joanie said.

"It sounds rather dangerous," I said. "You'd be living at the edge. You might get so turned on that...."

Joanie smiled. "Before I met you I always lived on the edge. Only rarely did I fall off."

"In my fantasy, as you know, you fuck, and you fuck rather spectacularly," I said. "I'm not okay with that. Repeat: I'm not okay with that."

"Neither am I, and you know that. But I could take it right up to that point, you know? I mean if you think that would be fun? I'd enjoy it; it would be like old times, until the payoff and then I'm afraid it's blue balls for the poor guy, or guys" she said, giggling. "I'd have fun inhabiting the edge!"

"What if you fall off the edge?" I asked. "What if you lose control, and revert to your old slutty ways?"

"That's unlikely. Let's hope I'm up to my task. Worst case, you become a true cuckold, not a virtual one. You okay with that?" Joanie asked.

"I already told you I'm not okay with that. I mean, I know I don't own your body, but you're my wife and I'm not into being cuckolded. Not even a little," I said. I added, "Men have right hands. They'll live, I'm sure."

"Well you'd know, wouldn't you? With all of your cuckold fantasies when I travel, I'm sure your right hand is not hurting for good workouts!"

"It's my left hand, Joanie. I'm left handed, remember?"

"Too much information, Hank."

"Sorry."

"Anyway, what do you think? Do you want to do it?" Joanie asked. She seemed enthusiastic.

"Yes, I was even thinking of doing exactly that when I bought the Bluetooth devices. Shall we do it at the Blowout party?"

"Why wait for that? I'll wear it now. You'd be surprised what a flirtatious little tart I can be! I'll give you fuel for tons of future fantasies, lover boy," Joanie said, and she began to finger herself as she thought about it.

The hotel had two ballrooms for the tech convention. One room had lots of displays and stands where companies showed off what they were doing. Wine and canapes were available from waiters and waitresses walking around holding trays filled with treats, and with fake smiles plastered on their faces. Cocktails were being made to order at the open bar.

The other room was filled with music, disco lights, and dancing, reminiscent of San Francisco in the 1960's and 1970's, or at least that's what I assumed, being too young really to know. The music was loud, and it was good dancing music.

Joanie went into the ballroom. Here's some of what transpired, via my Bluetooth listening device.

Joanie: This is a test. Hank, if you can hear me, scratch your ear.

J: Good. Nice scratch. Very authentic looking. I love you, Hank. Oh, here comes molester candidate number one!

MC#1: Hi, I haven't seen you at these receptions before. Joanie, eh? (reading her name tag) I'm Mitch.

J: Pleased to meet you. What company are you with?

MC#1: Silicon Tech. Have you heard of us?

J: Aren't you being sued? Something like sexual harassment?

MC#1: Well, aren't you well informed! Yes, some of the executives are being sued. It's all a crock, if you ask me. Some women don't like their asses pinched, you know?

J: Yes, I know. The occasional pinch, though, what's that, just being friendly? My ass is pinched all the time. I take it as complements. Some women have sexy asses, that's all there is to it, and it's natural for men to respond, you know?

MC#1: You're right, you know. If I may say so, you have a great ass. Very squeezable.

J: Glad to hear it. Nobody's pinched it yet at this conference, though, I mean, outside of my hotel room, of course. Maybe they're all afraid of getting sued?

MC#1: Of course. You here with your husband? I see by your ring that you're married.

J: No, the poor guy is stuck in Boston. He couldn't get away. It's really too bad. Who's going to pinch my ass now?

MC#1: Maybe the guy who pinched it in your hotel room?

J: Oh, I see you're a conventional thinker. You think I had a man in my room? I mean, that way? Already? And me being married and all? I would have to be the Queen of Tarts if I succumbed to a man that fast, you know? I've been here less that a day! Hey, I knew a man Mitch once. He was a lot like you, actually. Dreamy good looks, and good in bed too...

MC#2: (drunk) Hey, Mitch. How's it going? Who's the cute skirt?

MC#1: This is Joanie, from Boston. She's the Queen of Tarts.

MC#2: Huh, what? Quite a rack you've got there, Joanie.

I chuckled to myself when I saw the expression on Joanie's face. It's priceless! I know those two molester candidates were toast.

J: Bye, guys. I see a friend over yonder.

Joanie came over to me, wiggling her hips sexily. She spoke softly to me via the Bluetooth broach as she came. "So, that's how it works with those creeps. Want me to ramp it up?"

As Joanie brushed by me, I said, "What about the mythical Brad?"

"I haven't seen him yet. He's probably over at the FinTech counter. I'll amble over there. Uh-oh, another molester candidate at 10 o'clock. I won't be able to avoid him. I know him. He's a real bastard."

Joanie: Hi, Richard. It's been a while.

Richard: Yeah, not since the hot tub in Atlanta.

J: You remember that, do you?

R: Yeah, you were so hot. Maybe you were too stoned, or drunk, or both, to remember?

J: You'd be surprised what a girl remembers.

R: Yeah, well it's not every day one sees a colleague as hot as you in a hot tub, you know?

J: Not really. My taste runs to men.

R: Yes, you made that very clear, as I recall.

J: (nervous giggles)

R: Love your blouse, by the way

J: My eyes are up here

R: Yeah, but your boobs are right there. They looked so good in that hot tub in Atlanta! You going to go topless here, too?

What? Joanie was topless in a hot tub in Atlanta?

J: Maybe. Maybe not.

R: Tell me, Joanie; were you bottomless, too? I'd love to know. We had bets as to whether or not you were naked in that hot tub. Becky was, you know.

J: She was? How do you know?

R: It was pretty obvious when she got out of the hot tub. Don't you remember her bouncing around on Doug's lap?

J: That was just horseplay.

R: Right.

J: Becky's a sweetheart. Don't spread vicious rumors, Richard.

R: She may be a sweetheart, but the horseplay she was up to with Doug is the kind of horseplay that produces small horses nine months later.

J: Richard, you have a filthy mind, and a putrid mouth. Excuse me, please.

R: Before you go, tell me the truth: Were you naked?

J: You want the truth? You want the truth, soldier?

R: I think I'm entitled to the truth.

J: You snotty little bastard; you can't handle the truth!

R: Where are you going?

J: I'm going looking for a few good men. Go bother someone else.

I had never known Joanie could do such a good Jack Nicholson imitation. Good for her! I watched Joanie as she walked over towards the FinTech stand. Suddenly I was surprised when a woman's voice said, "Hi, Hank; long time no see. What's it been, now? Eight years? I heard you got married. Hey, why does your badge say Philip Gold?"

"Hi Becky," I said. "Small world, isn't it?" Is this the same Becky who was naked in the hot tub? The girl I dated a few times in college? The one time I laid her is one of my most memorable times in the sack. I almost got hard just then simply by hearing her voice. Her face had matured; she looked even better now!

"Why are you wearing those Bluetooth receivers in your ears?" Becky asked.

"What are you doing here, Becky? You a techie, now?"

"Isn't everyone? I guess you, or at least Philip Gold, are, too, right? I've been watching you leer over my old friend Joanie. You don't stand a chance with her, you know. You're not in her league. She's in the fast set, you know, Mr. Gold?" Becky said. She seemed amused by my pseudonym.

"You mean fast as in powerful and on the way up in the industry?" I asked.

"I mean fast as in sex. Using sex to get ahead. Like me. We're birds of a feather," Becky said.

"Really. Did she get up to some shenanigans at the big Atlanta meeting?" I asked.

"Everyone thinks she did, yes. I don't know who she fucked, but she came out smelling pretty. Not as good as me, of course, but pretty," Becky said.

"So you don't know for sure if she fucked a guy to get ahead?"

"You should have seen her in the hot tub!" Becky said.

"From what I've heard, you're the girl I should've seen in the hot tub; am I right?" I asked.

"You're well informed. You know about that, do you?" Becky was nervous.

"You mean you and Doug? Yes," I said. "Tell me more about Joanie, the woman I'm leering over, as you put it."

"I can't believe you know about Doug. You don't even know about Joanie, and you know about me and Doug?" Becky seemed to be incredulous, as well as nervous, even upset.

"Tell me about Joanie. Who did she fuck in Atlanta?" I persisted.

"You seem much too interested in old news. A better question is, who is she going to fuck here in Chicago, Hank? You? She's married, you know, and so are you!" Becky said.

"Did that stop anyone in Atlanta?" I asked.

"Some, I suppose. But you're right: a lot of men like scoring with married women. It's quick, it's sexy, and the cheating wives are often willing to do anything the man wants, or so I hear. Also, there's no commitment, no complications, because they don't want to rock their marriages," Becky said.

"Who did Joanie fuck? Do you even know?" I asked.

"You're really sick. You should pay more attention to Joanie now. She's talking to the alpha predator, Mark Harris!" Becky said. "I'm so jealous. Maybe I should tell all these assholes that I'm married, you know? Mark Harris is rumored to be hung like a horse."

"You haven't verified that, yourself, I guess?" I asked.

"Nice talking to you, Hank. We should do this again in eight years. Bye," Becky said, and as she left, I turned on the sound again to hear Joanie.

Joanie: Will you shut up about Atlanta? Why is everyone obsessed with that city? What did you think of Rebecca Jorgensen's presentation today, Mark?"

Mark Harris: I was too busy fantasizing about taking her to bed to listen to what she had to say.

J: Is sex and new conquests all you ever think about?

MH: When the women look like you and Becky, then yes, I guess so. Becky is dynamite in the sack, you know.

J: I haven't had the pleasure, yet.

MH: I'll bet you're pretty good too, you know? Nobody seems to know for sure, except for Brad Jones, and he's not talking. But if it's true that he's bedded you, then you must be pretty special.

J: This is kind of an offensive conversation, Mark.

MH: Well, you let me pinch your ass just now, and you didn't complain.

J: That's simple: You know how to pinch a girl's ass. It felt nice. What comes out of your mouth, however, not so much.

MH: Lots of what I do feels nice. My tongue comes out of my mouth and women seem to love it when it does, you know?

I could see Mark Harris looking straight at Joanie's crotch as he said that. Subtlety is not his strong point, it seems.

J: Good to know. I'll verify with Becky. She's more your type.

MH: My type? I like all women. Blondes, brunettes, white, brown, Asian, flat chested and stacked, I like them all. I don't have a type.

J: Your type is available women. I'm married. Not available. Got it?

MH: Cut the crap. Married women are the best; no complications. Forget Becky; you can verify with me. Cut out the middleman, or in Becky's case the middleslut; I mean middlewoman. What do you say?

Another man walked up to Mark Harris and Joanie, and Joanie looked relieved to have an excuse to get away from Harris.

J: Hi, Brad. I heard you were going to be here. (kissing sounds.) You still kiss great. Mark here was just propositioning me. What do you think I should do?

Brad: Yeah, I saw the two you of kissing just now. By the way you kissed him, I'd say you want to enjoy the asshole. Still, I wouldn't do that.

J: Oh, Brad, don't be silly. You know that's just my default kiss. If I'm going to kiss a man, I do it right. You know that!

B: Sure, I know that. So you think Mark's a man?

J: What else would he be?

MH: Brad, Joanie, I'm right here, waiting for another one of those mind-blowing kisses, Joanie.

B: Mark would be a sex obsessed minion of the Devil himself.

J: (Amused giggles)

So that has to be the infamous Brad, the man who, according to Joanie herself, cruelly used her sexually when she was in college. Many of the stories of her and Brad had turned me on when Joanie told them to me in bed, even if they were cruel stories, and sometimes Joanie would cry after relating them.

I suppose it was because his name was Brad? Anyway, I was expecting Brad to look kind of like Brad Pitt, you know? He didn't. He was short, barely taller than Joanie herself. He was hollow chested, his face was a little lopsided, and he was not very attractive by anyone's standards. Maybe he had a ten-inch cock to compensate for his looks? What did Joanie see in him, anyway? Well, to hear her tell it, maybe she saw nothing, anymore.

That's not fair, actually. What Joanie loved about Brad was his mind. He was the only man she knew whose mind was more twisted, more perverse, more deeply in the gutter than her own, myself included. And it was more perverse by several orders of magnitude. She didn't feel like a freak when she was around Brad; far from it. Brad had the freak show cornered.