Author of Cuckoldry

Jack wished Clint were able to see and hear as she bounced in his lap. "Have I ever done it with multiple partners?" she mused aloud. "Would I like to?" She didn't answer for a long time, and seemed more interested for a while in the single partner she had. Until she paused and started typing again. "I haven't, but I've often thought about it. What it would be like to have a cock in my mouth and another taking me from behind. When I sixty-nine my husband, and he's licking my clit and fingering me, I always wish there were someone else there to fuck me properly."

It was the first time Jack had heard her fantasy of multiple men. This was the first time Clint had chatted with Melissa, and he had already got her to share this secret fantasy with him. There was just something about him, an easy confidence, that got people to let their guard down. As Clint and Melissa arranged to talk again in the future, Jack increased the effort of his thrusting, loving the way Melissa's breasts bounced in time, until at last she gave in to her orgasm, her cries of pleasure loud in his ear. Moments later it was his turn, and he held her tightly as he came inside her.

It was such a relief to be able to share his obsession with her, and such a relief too that she had taken it so well. Maybe, indeed, it was even possible that some of these erotic wishes could yet come true.

*

Melissa left Jack to sleep - he'd been up all night, and in more ways than one - and found her way back to the erotic story she'd caught him reading.

Bethany ran her hand along the wall for balance as she climbed, wary about her too high, too sharp heels on the marble stairs, made more precarious by the way her legs shivered with fatigue. She had never understood before what it meant to have too much sex. She hadn't expected Cole to be quite so literal about having sex in every room of the house. She certainly hadn't expected that he would be so determined to make her come in every room in the house.

Was this really what Scott had wanted? Not merely to see her have sex with a stranger, but to be treated almost like a sex doll. It certainly wasn't 'making love'. There was no finesse, no seduction, no romance. Cole had basically called her a whore and seemed determined to treat her like one.

The horrible thing was, she found herself enjoying it too, once she was over the shock of it. In the downstairs bathroom, she'd been surprised to see a tube of lube by the sink. Cole had bent her rather obscenely over the toilet, and as his huge, thick cock, still as beautifully hard as ever, pulsing erotically with desire for her, hammered into her once again, she was alarmed to feel his finger, coated with cold gel, piercing her virgin ass.

"Please no," she whimpered, though she lacked the will to resist. Already his rhythmic thrusting into her soft, surely bruised centre, so thoroughly stretched along its full length by Cole's magnificent length, the friction exciting her clit wonderfully, was driving her towards her third orgasm of the past hour. The finger penetrating her ass - a forbidden and unwanted pleasure - just added to the sense that she was a whore for Cole to use.

And then, even as she climbed towards that precipice once again, she felt Cole stiffen within her, his already too big cock seeming to expand until she wanted to scream - in pain, in pleasure. They climaxed together, and she was almost too distracted by the way her ass clenched about the invading finger to fully enjoy the sensation of his cum bursting out against the entrance of her womb.

What if she got pregnant by him? She shouldn't, but no birth control was wholly effective...

Climbing the stairs, she could still feel the echo of that finger in her ass. She knew what it meant. She knew that sooner or later, it would be Cole's cock thrusting into her rear - unless, of course, her husband phoned to tell them to stop.

But it was too late for that. She wouldn't stop now even if he did. There was a stranger's cum leaking from her pussy, and Bethany wanted more. (Although she wouldn't mind getting a few hours' rest first.)

"Poor Bethany," Melissa murmured with a smile, and read on.

Face Time

Late one evening, a few days later, Melissa received a message from Clint: "Hi Melissa, are you free to chat about the story I'm writing for you and Jack? Also, Evelyn would love to say hi."

It was the first she'd heard from him since that night. She'd avoided talking with Jack about what had happened, beyond saying it had been fun. On the one hand, she was relieved that her husband wasn't having an affair with another woman - or a man, for that matter - but on the other... Opening up to a stranger about fantasies of infidelity was not a clever thing to do. Fantasies were one thing, but talking about them like this made them dangerously close to real.

"Does this mean you want to have sex with other women?" she'd asked Jack nervously, and hadn't quite believed his denial. He'd insisted that he just wanted to watch her with another man, and not even necessarily be involved. She'd always known he had a voyeuristic streak, but this seemed unlikely.

She stared at Clint's message. It felt wrong to reply while Jack was away - away overnight on business - but then again, Jack had started it without her, and she had a feeling he had shared an awful lot of personal information with Clint. So why shouldn't she?

Feeling more than a little naughty, she answered, "Hi, Clint! I'd love to." Already she could feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of more dirty talk and erotic fantasies.

"Do you have a camera? Evelyn wants to see the woman behind our new story."

That was a bit of a shock. She hadn't expected they'd be video chatting. "Hold on a few minutes," she wrote back, and hurriedly made herself presentable. She opted for red lace lingerie that only her husband had ever seen, and otherwise only a black silk nightgown. She touched up her makeup quickly, and brushed her hair. It felt almost as if she was readying herself for a date.

Finally, sitting cross-legged on her bed with the laptop in front of her, she took a deep breath and switched the camera on. "Hi," she said.

To her relief, Clint and Evelyn looked perfectly normal, not weird at all. Clint, even, was ruggedly handsome, with steely grey eyes that caught her attention. His short, blond hair had a touch of grey, but he was very fit. His arms looked well defined and muscular, and his T-shirt served to emphasize his strong shoulders and chest.

They smiled back at her and waved as they chorused, "Hi, Melissa!"

She grinned back at them. The couple were sitting on a love seat together, and she wished Jack were there so they could do this together. Or maybe not, because Evelyn was gorgeous. Tall and full-figured, what Jack would no doubt describe as a voluptuous beauty - her pink silk pyjamas seemed hardly able to contain her. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her green eyes, intense and arresting, were half-hidden behind old-fashioned librarian glasses.

"We're drinking wine," Clint said as he poured glasses for himself and his wife. "Why don't you have some too." He smiled warmly at her, and there was a genuine happiness about him when he smiled, which made him even more appealing to her.

"Okay." Melissa dashed downstairs and returned not just with a glass but also the bottle. It was, she decided, much more fun to have company like this than being stuck watching the television alone. Clint and Evelyn seemed more like old friends than distant strangers.

"Cheers to new friends," Evelyn said, and Melissa was surprised by the accent.

"I'll drink to that," Melissa replied, and took a sip. "Are you British?"

"I'm a Manchester lass."

"Like the soccer team?"

Evelyn laughed. "The football team, yes. Though it's ten years since I was back." She leaned forward, closer to the screen, and Melissa knew she was being examined. Nervously, she took another sip of wine and tried to appear nonchalant. "You're so pretty!" Evelyn enthused, leaning back again. "No wonder my husband can't stop thinking of you."

Melissa felt the heat rise in her cheeks. More than ever, she felt like she was cheating on her husband just talking with Clint and Evelyn. "Don't embarrass the poor girl, Evelyn," Clint said. "It's just a story."

Evelyn snorted with amusement. "Melissa knelt before Clint," she said theatrically, "admiring the proud shaft that dwarfed her husband's lesser tool. At last she had found a challenge worthy of her oral skills. Ow!" She glowered sulkily at her husband as she massaged the nipple he had just pinched.

"Shush," he said sternly.

Melissa laughed at their antics, but could still feel herself blushing brightly. Had Clint really written that? Not only writing about her, but putting himself in the story with her?

She decided she liked Evelyn. There was an open playfulness about her that she felt she could relate to. "So tell me, Melissa," the playful sex bomb said, "have you read any of my husband's stories?"

"A few," she admitted.

"Yes? Which is your favourite?"

"The one with Bethany."

"Ahh... Bethany and Cole. What did you think of Cole?"

Honestly? That she wouldn't mind being in Bethany's position for a day, brutally fucked for hours... or maybe not. She shrugged. "He's a bit of a bastard."

"Aye, that he is," Evelyn said, chuckling. "Aren't you, dear?" She kissed her husband's cheek. "Would you like to see Cole's cock, Melissa?"

Stunned, Melissa could only nod. Clint sighed as if irritated by this turn of events, but adjusted position to allow his wife to remove his pyjama bottoms and boxers, and so reveal a cock that was, in truth, significantly larger than any Melissa had ever seen outside porn. "Wow," she said.

"Wow indeed," Evelyn echoed, stroking her husband's cock as it hardened. "They say you should write what you know."

Melissa could hardly believe what she was seeing. "Wait," she said. "Was that a true story? Bethany's a real person?"

"Yes and no," Clint said. "There's a man called Scott who persuaded his wife - Bethany - to have sex with me, and afterwards I wrote that story based on their experience, but the story itself is fiction. There was no coercion, and sadly no million dollar mansion."

"You remind me of Bethany," Evelyn said. "I can just imagine you dressed like her." She laughed. "Or not dressed, like her. Naked in the kitchen wearing nothing but red stilettos."

"Or perhaps black, patent leather boots," Clint mused, looking knowingly at the camera, straight at Melissa.

The heat was back in her cheeks. Melissa examined her bare feet, wondering if she dared. When she looked up at the screen again, Evelyn had bent down to suck on her husband's erect cock, and Clint was still gazing into the camera with those steely-grey eyes.

"Back in a minute," Melissa said. Jumping up off the bed, she discarded her nightgown and extracted the glossy leather boots she only ever wore in the bedroom - except for that one time at the motel bar. Again she felt that sense that she was being unfaithful to her husband, but was too excited to care. She was amused to feel how wet her red lace thong was, and wondered whether the wetness would be obvious to the others.

Excited, nervous, more than a little guilty, she slid back onto the bed in front of the camera.

Clint's smile blazed with warmth. "See, I told you she's an exhibitionist at heart."

Evelyn sat up, abandoning her husband's swollen cock to examine Melissa once again. "Tasty," she said. "And now I feel overdressed..." She unbuttoned her pyjama top, baring her huge, beautiful breasts.

Melissa cleared her throat, trying to maintain her composure. She poured a fresh glass of wine and took a big gulp. "You two are both so hot," she said. "I mean, your breasts are beautiful, Evelyn, and Clint..." She laughed at how ridiculous she probably seemed. "Your penis is... wow."

"I agree," Evelyn said, nodding. "And judging by just how hard he is, Clint thinks you're wow too."

On impulse, Melissa spread her legs and angled the camera towards the soaked crotch of her lace thong. "I'm so wet," she said. "Can you see how wet I am?"

"What do you think of that, Clint?" Evelyn asked her husband.

"I think I am in love," he murmured. "I wish I could reach through the screen and touch it."

Evelyn laughed. "Melissa," she said, "I need my husband to fuck me right now, but we'd both love to watch you finger that sweet pussy while we do. Maybe we can all come at the same time."

The tiny voice at the back of her head that was still telling her to be sensible urged her to exit now and leave the erotic author and his even more erotic wife to their private erotic pleasure. It pointed out quite reasonably that she wasn't a cam girl and didn't need to share a close-up of her intimate parts with horny strangers over the internet, and even sternly reminded her that there was no guarantee a recording of this wouldn't end up on a porn site somewhere. After all, both Clint and Evelyn would pass as actual porn stars, so who knew?

She couldn't resist any longer. With a whimper of need, she rubbed her clit through the lacy material. Even if she did end up on some internet porn site, she suspected her husband would be wanking off to it every chance he could get.

Evelyn was on all fours, side-on to the camera, Clint behind her, both of them keeping half an eye on the screen and Melissa's stroking fingers. Melissa had a perfect view in profile of Clint's cock easing into Evelyn's pussy, and Evelyn's breasts looked even more tantalizingly perfect as they bounced gently in time with Clint's lazy thrusting.

It was like having her own private porn show. It was even more like being part of her own private porn show. She might not be there in person, but in every other way that mattered she was there with them, fucking with them, indulging in a virtual threesome without her husband's knowledge or permission.

There was something almost hypnotically beautiful about the regular pounding of Clint's cock into his wife's pussy. Her expression of blissful happiness told Melissa everything she needed to know about how it felt. She imagined herself in Evelyn's position. She imagined herself on all fours while Clint's huge cock drove deep into her, as powerful and perfect as the piston of a steam engine.

She tugged her thong to the side so that she could touch herself directly. "Oh, lovely," Clint said, seeing her exposed pussy.

"Do my ass, honey," Evelyn said, looking straight at Melissa. "I want to feel your thick cock in my tight ass."

Clint eased out of his wife's pussy, and lined up instead at that other entrance. Melissa paused her self-pleasure, both disturbed and intrigued by what she was watching. In her experience - admittedly limited - anal sex was painful in every way, and she was convinced that the idea women could enjoy it was something of an urban legend, a fiction promoted by the adult entertainment industry. That it was something some women tolerated just to please their men.

But if it was a fiction, then Evelyn's acting was superb. She seemed genuinely to want it, and even to welcome that huge cock as it nudged its way, inch by inch, within. "Fuck," Evelyn whispered, her eyes momentarily closed. "Oh my fucking fuck fuck." Opening her eyes again, she looked into the camera. "You have to try this, Melissa. Seriously. It's fucking awesome."

As Clint gradually picked up the pace, Melissa returned her attention to her clit, working it with a feverish need. She imagined herself in Evelyn's place again, this time wondering what it would feel like to have Clint driving that monster into her ass. Evelyn's loud cries of pleasure crossed hundreds of miles to echo in her bedroom to blend with her own moans of aching need as she neared her climax. "I'm close," she called out to them. "I'm close!"

Clint's untiring cock continued pistoning into Evelyn's rear. "Yes! Fuck, yes!" Evelyn called out. "Come in my ass, Clint." Balancing awkwardly on one hand, she reached for her clit with the other. "Come in my ass," she repeated.

Melissa climaxed with a cry of relief, and made an effort to keep her pussy displayed to the camera as her body convulsed in helpless pleasure. On the screen in front of her, Clint grunted with sudden strained effort, and Evelyn cried out in ecstasy. "Yes! Fucking yes! Fill my ass with your cum!"

Still riding out the tail end of her orgasm, Melissa burst out laughing. It was funny hearing all that profanity in a British accent.

The Talk

"We met in Edinburgh."

"Edinburgh, Scotland, not Indiana."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Scotland, yes. We were both studying engineering, both of us foreigners - to be English in Scotland is to be a foreigner - and we got to be friends." She smiled fondly at Clint over a glass of wine, some Italian white with a touch of sparkle. Jack wasn't a big wine drinker, but it went well with the pasta carbonara.

He found Evelyn fascinating, and not least because of her voluptuous figure, like a character straight out of Clint's stories. She had a playful, earthy sexuality along with a British accent that he found endearing. Maybe, he hoped, there was a bit of wife-swapping on the cards, and he would get to know her better. Clint had said she loved anal, and Jack's thoughts kept drifting into Evelyn growling like a dirty slut as he held her long, dark hair like a rein and hammered away at her tight, beautiful ass.

"We even shared a flat in the final year, which was interesting," she was saying. "Clint was always bringing different girls home, and so was I. Sometimes it was even the same girls."

Seeing Jack's perplexed expression, she laughed. "Oh, I like men too. Nothing quite beats a hard cock, right, Melissa?"

"No," Melissa agreed, smiling.

"No, and Clint's always given me what I need in that regard, but we would never deny each other the opportunity to pursue new relationships - and it's no secret that Clint has his eye on your Melissa, Jack."

Melissa blushed, but didn't seem particularly alarmed, or even surprised. Jack wasn't surprised either. Indeed, he was hoping something would come of it. Ever since he had written that first message to Clint, he'd been hoping against hope that somehow his wife could be persuaded to fuck another man. Just the thought of it had his cock surging to life within his confining underwear. He tried to adjust position subtly.

"Indeed," Clint said. "Let us be honest, here. Lay our cards on the table, so to speak. The reason we invited you to stay the night here was to have this very discussion. What we have here, between us, is a confluence of interests. Jack - and correct me if I'm wrong - has a burning desire to watch his wife with another man. I would dearly love to be that other man. And Melissa..."

Melissa was staring down at the table, her cheeks aflame. Clint smiled as he regarded her. "Melissa, I do suspect, would take great pleasure in being watched. But - and this is dreadfully important - neither Evelyn nor I wish to be responsible for breaking up a relationship, and you, Jack and Melissa, have a wonderful and loving relationship. Unless you are absolutely honest with each other about what you want - and, more importantly, what you need - then we cannot help. The step from fantasy to reality is one that changes everything."

As speeches go, Jack thought morosely, that was certainly one to kill the mood, though he thought he understood the point being made. Melissa had lifted her head and was staring at Clint with a surprised expression.

"What my dear husband is trying to say," Evelyn said, "is that the two of you should have a nice long talk, and if you decide your relationship is fine the way it is, then we'll spend the night drinking wine and talking about sex, and in the morning you'll go home, live happily ever after, and always remember tonight as the night you almost threw it all away."