A Cuckold's Diary Ch. 18

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My question was answered when Sally called out my name. "Yes?" I answered.

"Come here," she said, over Ted's groans.

I opened the door again, and saw Ted fucking my wife. Right in front of my eyes. Sally was on her back, legs spread wide, and Ted was on top of her, fucking her. Sally looked right at me -- naked, her tits pointing up at her lover, her legs moving back and forth as she did pelvic thrusts on his cock -- and SHE SMILED AT ME.

"This is after he's cum twice," she said.

I can't remember when I've seen her look as happy as she was right then. Her face reflected pleasure, satisfaction and the sexiness which comes from knowing she just got a man hard three times in a morning. And what did she want to do with that happiness? She wanted to show ME.

There wasn't a hint that she wanted me to join in; nothing could have been further from her mind. There wasn't a hint that she wanted my cock, in spite of the fact that it was right in front of her, hard as a rock. She didn't want to touch me, or kiss me; she certainly didn't want to fuck me. She just wanted to show me how wonderful it was for her to be with Ted, and she felt safe knowing that I am a cuckold and would never interfere.

"He feels so good inside me," she said, and once again, I was speechless. I knew that saying anything would ruin it, but even if I wanted to ruin it, words failed me. My wife asked me to see how well her lover fucks her, and how well she fucks her lover; no book of etiquette contains the proper response in that situation.

Ted couldn't cum again, so after a few minutes he laid down on my wife and kissed her gently. She told me to go get lunch ready, that they would be out soon. So once again I closed the door on the lovers, and I went to prepare their meal.

Lunch was normal, if you can call a woman and her lover eating lunch while her husband jerks off on the couch nearby "normal." Sally wore just her robe, so I could see most of her breasts. Of course, all she cared about was that TED could see most of her breasts. Ted wore his button-down shirt and nothing else, so whenever he walked around his cock showed itself below the hem. They talked about food, about jobs, about the normal things that friends talk about over lunch. I actually had to remind myself that they had just fucked, since there was nothing at all exciting about their conversation. At the end of lunch Sally got up and said, "Let's go back to bed." Ted did not need to ask twice.

The moment the door closed I heard her vibrator start, and in just a few minutes I heard her grunt -- her orgasm grunt -- and once again I felt the bed shake through the floor. As I masturbated to the sounds of my wife cumming, I realized that their entire lunch conversation had been foreplay for her, getting her ready to cum in her lover's arms again.

Their conversation was now louder and more relaxed, and I knew they were reaching the end of their date. When I heard Ted's belt buckle I went back to the living room. Taking my seat in the chair I was in when he arrived, I waited for him to emerge. Often, he will sit with me and talk about what happened; sometimes he just says "thank you" and leaves. Years ago, when he first started talking with me (which was right after they asked me to leave them alone on their dates), I was horribly embarrassed to be jerking off in front of a fully-dressed man. But after hearing him describe in exquisite detail how he fucked my wife, I lost all self-respect and just masturbated like a madman, trying not to cum as I heard what he did, what she did... what THEY did.

This time, Ted sat with me for a long time. How long, I have no idea. He went on and on about how wonderful it was, how she got him hard right away, how she got him hard AGAIN right away, how he told her he'd never be able to cum a second time, and how she took that as a personal challenge. He said she gave him the best blowjob he'd ever had, and when she had gotten him good and hard she got on top of him, guided his cock into her pussy and, in his words, "she fucked the cum out of me."

I asked him, please, to tell me what it was like to cum in my wife. He got a faraway look in his eyes and said, "The first time, when I got really close, I pushed all the way inside her. I said to her, 'I want to cum deep inside you,' and I did. I got as far into her as I could and just held myself there while I pumped my semen into her. She felt warm all around my cock, and as I pumped I felt the semen squirting into her. It was like heaven."

What would YOU have said? If I were a real man, I would have punched him out. If I were a wimp, I would have run away and cried. But I am a cuckold, so I just sat there with cum dribbling out of my penis, nodding in agreement as if our conversation was the most normal thing in the world. After a few minutes of watching me shake, watching me try to formulate something to say in response, Ted got up, told me to let Sally sleep for a half hour, and thanked me for bringing my wife for him to fuck. I think I croaked out, "You're welcome," but I'm not sure. I am sure my response did not matter.

When Ted left I sat on the floor and masturbated. I felt beaten up and ashamed of myself, but I could not stop jerking off. This is what it means to be a cuckold, I thought. I can get upset at what is happening in my life and at all I have lost, or I can accept it and do my best to get off on it. I choose to get off on it.

After 25 minutes I cleaned myself up (I still hadn't cum; experience has shown me that we should be home and done with it before I cum, since if I don't have that sexual tension the shame and pain become overwhelming). I quietly entered the bedroom -- which was still THEIR bedroom -- and saw my wife sleeping soundly, completely naked; just the way Ted had left her. I woke her gently; she smiled and asked how I was.

"I'm fine," I said. "How about you?"

"I'm GREAT. Satisfied and well-fucked."

As she adjusted her eyes to the light, she saw I was already dressed. I could sense relief in her expression, as it meant I was not going to want to jerk off with her or try to talk about sex. She kissed me gently and asked me to get her clothes while she took a quick shower. As she walked naked to the bathroom I tried to picture Ted's sperm, which I knew were swimming up through her womb.

The drive home was peaceful; she said a few things about how great he was and about how wet she was for him, and I didn't push for more details. When we got home our son was waiting for us, so after she pulled out something to defrost for dinner, I asked her if we could talk alone downstairs in my office.

When she came down and shut the office door, I said I wanted to ask her a favor. I haven't masturbated in her presence even once in the nearly-three years since she stopped fucking me, other than when she was with Ted. But I asked her if I could jerk off while we talked. She seemed hesitant until I promised I wouldn't cum while she was in the room; with that, she felt better and agreed.

As I masturbated I talked to her about how much it all hurt me: seeing Ted handle her tits, hearing the sex that I never get to have, seeing them lying together, seeing Ted fucking her. I asked her whose idea it was to invite me into the room when they were fucking, and she said it was hers. She said it felt so good -- all of it -- the sex, the cuckolding, and especially the fact that I had stopped trying to run things, that she wanted to show me how she felt. I told her she had a beautiful smile the whole time I watched them, and she said, "I know. My smile was real. I love fucking Ted and I love knowing you are my cuckold. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Also," she added shyly, "I think I wanted to gloat."

I wrestled with her answer for a minute, and then brought up a difficult subject.

"I don't think we can go back, you know. I've seen too much, and we've said too much, to go back to a regular, you-and-I sex life. The pain really excites me, but after being cuckolded by you for so long I'll never be able to be the kind of lover that Ted is."

My wife -- my loving, caring, sexy wife of 26 years -- took my left hand in both her hands, looked at me with a mixture of love and sadness and said, "You never were."

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