After Friday Night

When I read a word I don't know, I look it up in the dictionary. When I read a concept I don't understand, I research it until I do. I've researched the concept of voluntary cuckolding, but until recently didn't understand it. Why? Because it seems, no one else appears to either. There are literally no reputable studies out there, that I could find, that explain it. What studies exist, are seriously flawed, particularly in the ways the samples are selected. I'll expound on that in an afterword. I kept reading and the story below is the result of my research and some theorising. It also presents my scenario on what might happen if a guy, not temperamentally suited to the lifestyle, at the behest of his partner, tries it.

I haven't read many voluntary cuckold stories, so if this one has been done before, I apologise.

This one is aimed at a very specific audience. Those of you who, like me, have read stories where men willingly watch their wives with other men and ask questions like, why? How? Even, WTF? If you aren't someone like that, you'd probably best not read it. You might find it offensive. For the rest of you, keep in mind you know me and my style so, though it may appear at first to be a cuckold story, I ask you to please persevere.

It is presented as a sequel to a story I read some time ago. Sorry I can't remember the name or the author. If it was yours, then I apologise that I can't acknowledge you. I mean no disrespect. The original story was about a childless couple that were deeply in love. The wife went with friends to Las Vegas and witnessed one of the other ladies getting it on with a well-endowed negro. She got obsessed with it and slowly convinced the husband to let her do it once. I think there was a little, 'If you love me, you'll let me do this', in there. After months of nagging and maybe withholding a little sex, he very reluctantly agreed. While still trying to convince him, she was corresponding with candidates on the net, effectively behind his back. Eventually, he relents and decides to prove his love for her by letting her do it. He witnesses her pleasurable experience.

This story begins the next morning. It has minimal sex in it. It is a far better read due to the efforts of CreativityTakesCourage, thanks Lovey.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

John awoke, after an extremely poor night's sleep, on the couch in the lounge, with the first feeble light of dawn. The feeling of dread that had started creeping into his soul the previous night had matured in his sleep. He just knew his marriage would never be the same as before last night.

He'd left the bedroom before the end of the first performance of his wife Sandra and her big, black-cocked internet buddy, Michael. He'd thought he was mentally prepared for the experience, but it hadn't occurred to him Michael and Sandra would kiss before the foreplay and the main event started. The intimacy of that act hurt.

And then there was the sight of his wife trying to cram as much of the monstrous organ into her mouth as possible—it did nothing for him. Then Michael returned the favour, before mounting Sandra for the first time. Initially, John was excited by her excitement. He'd even sported half an erection for the first few minutes of observing their mating.

Then her screams started.

John was shocked. He'd never heard her make anything like that sound with him. How could he ever compete with that? Not until they invented dick transplants. His erection immediately deflated.

He stayed there looking at Sandra thrashing around. He loved her. That's why he was giving her this experience. This one-off, loving gift. He sat there, waiting for her to acknowledge his sacrifice or even to check if he was travelling okay. Nothing. He might has well have been on the moon. Absorbed in the intensity of the moment, she was completely ignoring him, her husband. It just made him feel so... inadequate.

John tried sleeping in the spare bedroom, but the sounds of his torture were too close. The couch was as far away as he could get. The silence at about eleven finally allowed him to drift off to sleep. Only to be woken at just after 3:00 a.m. by the sounds of more nails being driven into his soul. Had he been asleep when Sandra came to see if he was all right? She must have come, mustn't she? Then why hadn't she woken him up?

He must have dozed until about five-thirty. All was silent upstairs, he noted with relief. Maybe Michael was an early riser and was gone. John tiptoed upstairs and looked in the master bedroom. He really wished he hadn't. The sight of Michael lying on his back, fast asleep, with Sandra nestled in his shoulder, hurt like hell. This wasn't sex, it was intimacy. Did that mean he'd been conned? Could they be that intimate after only meeting last night or was this only officially the first time? John wandered downstairs again in a daze. What had they done?

He was brewing a second coffee, just before 10:00 a.m., when John heard the next evidence of life upstairs. Sandra's shout drifted down the stairs.

"John."

John walked to the bottom of the stairs and shouted up them.

"Yes."

"Is that coffee I can smell? Can you bring us a cup please?"

That was it.

John's breaking point.

He grabbed his coat, phone, and wallet and walked out the front door. It shut quietly behind him. He turned, opened it again, then slammed it as hard as he could. The whole side of the house rattled. He jumped in his car and drove away. He checked his phone was on and started counting under his breath. He gave up at five hundred. Why hadn't she rung?

He drove and walked around for what seemed like an age. He was having a late lunch at a fast food restaurant when his phone finally rang.

"John, where are you?"

"Having lunch."

"Why did you leave?"

"If you don't know now, you never will."

"I'm sorry, John. We just got carried away, I suppose. Are you coming home now?"

"Is he gone?"

"Yes."

"Okay. See you shortly."

Sandra was sitting in the kitchen in her dressing gown when John walked in the front door. She rose to give him a kiss, but he held her at arm's length and averted his face. She looked confused.

"Have you had a shower yet, and gargled?"

"No. I rang you as soon as Michael left. Look, John, you agreed to last night. Why are you acting so upset?"

"Oh, I'm acting upset, am I?"

"Yeah. Almost busting every window in the house slamming the door this morning kind of gave you away."

"So, you knew I was upset three hours ago, yet you only rang me just now."

"Yes, John. I tried to ring when you left, but Michael, er, distracted me."

"What? You fucked again this morning?"

Sandra's averted eyes answered the question.

"Where did I sleep last night, Sandra?"

"I don't know, John. In the spare room maybe."

"No, I slept on the couch, Sandra. You would have known that, if at any time between nine o'clock last night and ten o'clock this morning, you gave enough of a fuck about me to find out how I was travelling with all this."

"I'm sorry, John. I guess I was a little caught up in it all last night. Then Michael woke me up in the middle of the night and, well, we did it again. Then..."

"Then, this morning, you were so concerned with how I handled last night that you yelled down for coffee so I could bring it to you like a servant."

Sandra hadn't looked at John for several minutes. She had no answer to John's very valid points, so she stayed silent.

"Sandra, will you at least acknowledge that what I did for you last night was the most loving gift I could give you?"

"Oh, yes, sweetie. Not only that, it was the most loving gift I have ever heard of."

"And you repay me by acting as selfishly and inconsiderately as anyone I have ever heard of."

"Yes, I see that now, John. It's just that last night was the most..."

She stopped, instinctively knowing a graphic description of how mind-blowing the experience had been would be a really bad move. She would take that secret to her grave, along with another one. She realised one of the reasons the previous night had been so special, was John clearly hated it. That was obvious when he walked out of their bedroom the first time.

Silence settled in what was once a very loving and comfortable household.

"I'm sorry, John. I'll make it up to you though. I promise. Just, well, just not tonight."

"Why not? Because you're too stretched out? Have you got friction burns?"

"No, it's just that...well, I don't like to say, John."

"Come on. Out with it. I doubt you could make it worse."

"Well, I... I've had so many orgasms since last night that I started to cramp. It's really uncomfortable down there."

"Okay, so I was wrong. Why do you keep looking at the clock, Sandra?"

"Um, I have an appointment in half an hour, John."

"Who with? Michael?"

"No, of course not, John. Last night was a one-off thing, you know that. I'm yours exclusively forever now. My itch has been scratched."

"So where are you going?"

"Can't you just leave it knowing I have to be somewhere, John? You know I wouldn't go if I didn't have to. I can see I have some damage control to do here. I should only be an hour or so."

"No, Sandra. I thought I knew you as well as anyone could know someone else, but I've seen a stranger since last night. Where do you need to go?"

"Okay, since you insist. I need to go to the doctor to get the morning after pill."

John felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He literally fell into a chair.

"I'm sorry, John. Like we agreed, I didn't wear my diaphragm last night. I thought Michael would be so big and long he might damage it. I know we agreed on condoms, and I used them last night, as you saw, and again this morning, but when he woke me in the middle of the night, I didn't notice he... Well, in the heat of the moment, you know."

"I can't believe you did that, Sandra."

"You had to be there, John. It was so intense, so all-consuming. I wasn't behaving rationally..."

"So, instead of ringing as soon as you woke at ten this morning, you fucked him again and rang at 1:00 p.m., knowing you had a much greater chance of missing out on a weekend appointment."

"Sorry, John."

"Just go, Sandra. You'd better ask for an STD test when you get there."

"No, he said he was clean. He sent us that certificate remember."

"Which proved he was clean three weeks ago. Just get the fucking tests done please."

Two and a half hours later.

"Where have you been.?, You said you'd be an hour."

"Yes, that's what I thought. But I had to wait for almost an hour and a half at the doctor's and then had to drive around to find a pharmacy that was open."

John stared into her eyes. He was looking for the truth and they both knew it. Their relationship had been damaged. They both knew that as well. If you'd asked either of them at this point whether the previous night was worth it, they would have given conflicting answers. Sandra, still basking in the glow of her recent experience, would have said, 'Shit, yeah.' John, who was never convinced it was a good idea in the first place, but allowed his love for Sandra to influence his decision, would have said, 'Hell no.'

"Is the job done?"

"Yes. I took it in the car outside the pharmacy."

"What about the other tests?"

"Well, there was a problem there. The doctor said that it was a waste of time testing this early. He recommended waiting two weeks before testing for gonorrhoea and chlamydia, but up to three months for syphilis, HIV, and hepatitis."

"Well, that's just fucking great."

"I'm sorry, John. I guess I'm not as strong as I thought I was."

"Never again, you hear. Never, ever, ever even dare suggesting it again."

"No, John, never again."

They both slept the sleep of the exhausted that night. There was no more mention of 'that' night.

Things were strained but returning to normal by the following afternoon. John and Sandra went to a previously arranged BBQ with nine other couples from their social circle. John was happy for the distraction. His stewing and second-guessing was getting a little obsessive. About an hour after they got there, John sought out Sandra to ask her if she wanted him to get her a drink. She was on the other side of the pool talking to her friend, Jenny. Thinking nothing of it, John approached them from behind. As soon as he was within range, he heard Jenny ask incredulously, "How big was it?" Before Sandra could answer, John reached them. He grabbed Sandra, not to gently by the elbow, and led her out of Jenny's earshot.

"You haven't told Jenny about Friday night, have you?"

"I had to tell someone, John. I can't tell you about it, but it's bursting to get out. It's like that time you got a hole in one at the golf club. You rang me straight away to tell me, you were that bursting with happiness."

"What the f...? Surely you can see the difference, Sandra? Golf is perfectly acceptable social behaviour. What we did on Friday night isn't. Fuck, if any of the guys found out, I would be finished."

"Sorry, John. I didn't think of it that way."

"Okay, go straight back to Jenny and make her promise not to tell anyone else for fuck's sake."

John noticed Sandra was looking at the ground.

"Please tell me you haven't told anyone else, Sandra."

"Just Debbie."

"What! I work with her husband. If she tells him and he blabs, I'll be finished at work."

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, John. They'll see it for what it was. A devoted husband giving his wife a loving gift."

John just shook his head.

"You really don't have a clue, do you?"

John spent the next hour standing alone, watching Sandra talking earnestly to Jenny and Debbie. Starting with Debbie's husband, he also watched to see if anyone cast any strange looks in his direction. He did consider asking Sandra if Debbie had already told anyone else, but subconsciously decided life would be more bearable if he didn't know. He avoided all eye contact with the two women, 'in-the-know'. Unable to bear not being able to tell anyone of the greatest event in her life for a long time, Sandra suggested they leave early. Besides, Sandra's privates almost felt back to normal and she didn't want to vacillate any longer with repairing John's ego. She thought she knew how much damage it had suffered. She was only out by about 65 percent.

Once home, she dressed in her sexiest lingerie, whether for her benefit or John's, she wasn't quite sure. She went and dragged John up to the bedroom where she impatiently stripped him. Once she had him nude and on his back, she started with the same act about half their sessions began with. After licking his shaft, she took about two inches in her mouth as she normally did. After a few minutes, and to her horror, she noticed him starting to deflate. 'Of course,' she thought. 'He saw what I did to Michael Friday night and wants the same.' She was pleased when John responded to her act of taking the whole lot in her mouth for the first time ever. 'See, John, this is what Friday night did for us,' she kept to herself.

Full hardness for John lasted only another half a minute. Sandra was confused. John wasn't. At first, the sight of her lips reaching all the way to his pubic hair was new and exciting. Then the image of her on Friday night, struggling to take even half of Michael intruded.

Sandra stopped, not knowing what to do. Then she thought back to what she normally did to get him hard a second time when their foreplay included her blowing him to his conclusion. She knew he'd always loved growling her out. She straddled his face. She loved that and knew John did too. John saw the familiar vagina approach, but unlike every other time, suddenly imagined it swimming with bacteria and viruses. On pure reflex, he dry-heaved. Sandra jumped off in horror. This time, she knew exactly what had just happened.

"I'm sorry, Sandra. Maybe if I got a plastic bag, I could use it as a kind of barrier..."

John dry-heaved again. A tear started to form in Sandra's eye. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Did John see her as somehow unclean?

"Don't worry about me, John. I just want you in me."

"Um, did you buy any condoms when you were in the pharmacy yesterday?"

Sandra cursed herself. This was turning to shit real fast.

"I know, Michael left the ones he brought over Friday. They're in my handbag."

She jumped out of bed and retrieved them from her handbag in the lounge. By the time she got back, John was lying on the bed with a fully flaccid penis.

"Why did you put them in your handbag, Sandra? Why not the bedside drawers, where the other stuff is?"

"Er, I put them in my bag yesterday when I wanted to remove all reminders of the Michael episode. I thought you would appreciate that."

"Why didn't you just put them in the bin?"

"Well, I thought you might see them in the bin up here in the bathroom and get upset. I had my bag on the bed, so I put them in there, so I could throw them away somewhere else. I didn't think we might need them."

She could see by the look on John's face he was unconvinced. That confused her for a few seconds until, "My god. You thought I intended to meet Michael secretly in the future and intended to use those condoms, didn't you?"

John just raised an eyebrow.

"No, John. Please believe me. I have never cheated on you and never would. I told you Friday was a one-off and it will be. How could you think otherwise?"

"Well, Sandra, you did contact and correspond with Michael behind my back. Before I'd ever agreed to do what we did on Friday. Some might say that was a little dishonest. Then, when I saw how out of control you were Friday and Saturday, I just..."

"No, John. You have it all wrong. I'll admit that Friday was fantastic on a purely physical level, but with women, sex is much more than that. For us, sex is a whole body and mind experience. I would rather have one loving session with you, one where I didn't even cum, than have a whole lifetime of sex with someone I don't love, like Michael."

She looked into John's eyes and saw she wasn't getting through. Time for actions to talk louder than words. Time to throw in the reserves. Time to be desperate. One of the unique experiences about Saturday morning had been when Michael licked her ass. No one had ever touched her there before and she'd never even imagined it as part of any sexual scenario. On Saturday, she'd cum immediately under the ministrations of Michael's talented tongue. Then, soon after, when he'd mounted her for the last time, Michael put a hand under each buttock and slid a finger from each into her anal sphincter. Again, she'd cum straight away and she'd cum hard. It was an eye-opening experience. She realised she had to be really careful raising the subject with John though.

"John, honey, I've thought of a way of repaying you for your fantastic gift on Friday night."

"How's that?"

"Well, you know you've asked me a couple of times in the past for my, how can I put this... my last virginity?"

The look on John's face was priceless.

"You mean..."

"Uh huh."

Sandra was ecstatic with the effect the offer had on her husband. He leapt up and grabbed the infamous condom packet. He opened it and grabbed one rubber along with one of the small sachets of lube. He noted there were only six rubbers left of the original twelve. It almost spoilt his mood until he realised that the packet may not have been new Friday. Sandra saw his hesitation and correctly guessed the reason.

"Here, let me put one on you, honey. It's sexier that way anyhow."

Thirty seconds later, the latest disaster was revealed. Sandra was two-thirds through her task before she really looked at her handiwork. With no real choice, she kept going until the rubber reached her husband's base. She glanced at John's face, hoping like hell he wasn't looking. Fat chance. The condom looked ridiculous in-situ. There was at least a two-inch air gap at the head end and a finger could quite comfortably be inserted between the condom and John's cock. As a protective, it obviously wasn't going to work. Sandra glanced at the box and for the first time saw the words, 'extra-large,' on the side. Before she could react, John leapt out of bed, grabbed his clothes, and ran to his study. The door was locked by the time Sandra got there and no amount of knocking and yelling elicited a response.