Buying His Wife a Drink

As a male having seen amateur porn that involves someone filming a couple in bed and labeling it "cuckold porn" for click bait, I expected that the number of real cuckold couples out there must be next to nil. Until last Saturday night, that is. Here is my story.

* * *

I am Mike, a 35-year-old computer software engineer. I am quite happily divorced for almost five years. At 5'10" and 175 lbs, I am a very average, good-looking guy. Regular trips to the gym, and sessions of hot yoga with horny housewives keeps me both trim and well fucked when I am not away at conferences or customer visits. You have to love working from home!

It is Saturday evening in Seattle and it is pouring rain as I cross the street from my hotel, to the Grand Hyatt. I am attending our annual three-day conference in a big, computer town. The meetings are done for day one, and I have already made my appearance in the hospitality room, so the rest of the evening is my own.

When I do go out of town, I like to check out hotel bars for a bored and lonely housewife who needs some real and strange dick to forget about how sad her life is at home. I never go to the bar in a hotel that I'm staying at. I don't need a colleague to interrupt and spoil any attempts at a hook up that I might have on the go. So that means a short walk in the rain.

Once inside, I flick off the rain from my shoulders, and look around the darkened space of the hotel bar, just off the main lobby. Candles at the tables add ambiance, whereas brighter amber lighting at the oak bar offers a more natural view of the staff on shift, and clientele seated there.

It is early, just after eight, when I check my watch, so things aren't very busy yet. A few couples at tables lean into each other over the flickering light, a large table of eight people is drinking merrily, and a lone man sits in the rear sipping a tall beer.

A scan of the L-shaped bar itself shows five patrons along the fifteen stools; two women nearest me checking out each other's phone, a mid-twenties couple a few seats farther down, and one fifty-something female sitting near the far end looking to catch the attention of the bartender.

On my way toward her, I take note of her black sequined skirt, mid-thigh in length; a silver satin blouse housing billowing breasts which would likely be 38DDDs or so. Her black hose show off her broad thighs, short stubby calves and silver 5-inch heels; her right ankle is adorned with a golden anklet. For most women, this is a sign that she is both taken AND on the prowl.

She has a bit of a solemn look, until our eyes meet, and she smiles with near perfect teeth. I guess that she would stand probably 5'8" in her heels, 3" shorter than I. The wedding ring is the important one for me of the five rings on various fingers, and she makes no effort to hide it. I'm not looking for a night with someone who might try to make things anymore complicated than that.

When I get to the stool next to her, a hint of jasmine emanates, and her blouse offers a view of the narrow chasm between her lovely pillows. I look back down the bar and raise a hand, and immediately catch the eye of a waiter at the far end. While he makes his way to us, I turn to her and place my left hand on the upholstered stool next to her and ask, "Do you mind?"

"Not at all. It appears that I'm invisible down her anyway", she says with a chuckle.

I straddle the stool, my knees turn towards her and offer, "Hi, I'm Mike. And you, my dear, are anything but invisible."

As she blushes, that bright smile returns and she replies, "Diane. Nice to meet you." I catch her furtive glance over my shoulder towards the lone male in the dark corner.

The waiter approaches as I return a smile, and I ask her, "What are you drinking?"

"White wine."

"Can you get the lady a white wine? And I'll have a scotch - Glenlivet 15." He nods and leaves us.

"Oh, a MAN's drink," she says. My eyebrow rises slightly and I keep my back firm. Women are keenly aware of slouching, bad manners and poor hygiene.

"Waiting for your husband, Diane?" I say, surely knowing that is not the case.

"No, not at all. I was hoping for someone much more interesting." She eyes me from the open collar of my polo shirt down my slacks and back up again as she speaks. She swings her knees toward mine and her hand touches me lightly on my thigh.

"And what brings you here?" she taunts; flashing a smirk that tells me she already has a very good idea. But this is part if the game.

"You know. Weekend conference, out of town.... Looking to make a night of it."

The waiter arrives and sets our drinks down, and I say, "Start a tab for me."

"Yes, sir," is the reply, as he wipes the bar of traces of moisture with a clean, white cloth.

Diane finishes her sip and says, "That sounds like fun. I'm glad you could come." I ignore the double entendre. I raise my highball glass and clink with her goblet.

"That is a lovely piece of jewelry you have there," I lead, looking down at her anklet, changing the subject. She raises her right leg up and across the other knee in a ladylike manner.

"Oh, this. My husband never lets me leave home without it. In fact, he enjoys setting out my clothes whenever I decide to have an evening out." Any uncertainty about her interests has vaporized, so now it is time to set the hook.

"He has great taste; in women and in clothes." Again, the older woman is smitten at my interest in her. "What is the bauble on it," I ask, my finger touching the luggage style key dangling from the gold braid of her anklet (as if I hadn't seen them in cuckold and hotwife videos before). Now it is just a matter of whether she is a hotwife, or the wife of a cuck.

"My husband wears a cage when I go out. Otherwise, he would play with himself way too much. He gets a little too excited when a real man is present." Her eyes looked to mine for recognition. I feign ignorance and furl my brow.

Diane continues. "A cage. On his wee wee. It is part of a game that we play."

I pause with a quizzical look and then signal the light coming on. "Oh, my, Diane. I have heard of that before but thought it was mostly a myth."

"It is a real thing in our household," she says emphatically.

"So he is locked up at home while you go out to play?"

"Sometimes, yes. Tonight, I have allowed him to tag along, to watch from a distance. He is sitting by himself at the back. But I can send him home if you would rather. He will book us a room right here if you like." Holy fuck! This is the real thing.

I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek and breathe softly in her ear, while I take the tiniest nibble on her earlobe. "How is he involved if he is allowed to stay," I ask innocently.

"That is entirely up to you and I. He craves being told what to do and he loves a dominant male in the room, as do I." I let that sink in for a bit and she peers toward the lone male at the back of the room and smiles coyly. She seems willing to relinquish, or at least share control. Her hand creeps higher along my thigh and finds a bundle of hardening flesh.

"Mike, that is quite a nice package," she teases, as she wanders its slightly aroused length.

I know her husband can see her overt actions from where he is watching. I reply, "And you haven't even opened it yet."

"Oh, believe me, it's already more that what I can get at home."

"It sounds like you enjoy his perversion as much as he does." Diane blushes once again and nods. She peers past me and moves her head side to side to invite her husband to join us. I take a sip of my scotch until a sixty-or-so year old male approaches; he is heavy set, barely 5'2" and nearly bald. He has a nervous, excited pace.

Her husband speaks in a hushed tone. "Yes, dear?"

"This is Mike. We will be needing a room for the night."

He quietly extends his hand and says, "Nice to meet you, Mike."

I grip his small hand more than firmly until I see a wince on his face. I note that Diane did not include his name in our introduction, no doubt purposely, so I look disinterestedly at him without responding to his greeting, and offer, "Make sure it has a king-sized bed. Diane is going to need every inch if it."

"Yes, Sir!" he says, beaming. "May I attend as well, Dear?"

Diane replies, "I'm leaving it up to Mike to make that decision. So you best do as you were told." The obedient male turns instantly to begin his task.

"Wait!" He stops immediately and turns to face me. I signal the waiter who arrives quickly, and when the server leans in, I tell him, "This gentleman will cover the tab for his wife and I." I take Diane by the hand and as we rise, I look into her husband's eyes and add, "There is no need for me to pay for the drinks. I had her before her first sip. I'm sure for you that it is a reasonable price of admission. We will wait for you in the lobby." The poor guy turns crimson as the bartender snickers out loud at my comment.

Diane and I walk into the large lobby where many people have begun to miil about, either on their way in to register, or heading out on the town. Her husband walks past us and checks in while Diane and I chat and flirt. While he waits in line, I ask Diane about their lifestyle. It was only a month ago that she decided to lock him up, after he kept begging to have his turn while her bull was still there.

I asked, "Do you make him wear panties?"

Diane looks around, mildly embarrassed, and says, "No. He is truly devoted to me, and would do anything I ask, but I've never put him in a feminine role."

Soon after her comment, her husband returns with two key cards. He offers me one, but I don't take it. "Keep it. You might be allowed to lead us up to the room, later. But for now, I have a question for you."

He freezes, unsure of what I might enquire.

"What are you wearing under your trousers?"

"My boxers... and my chastity cage," he says in a low voice, looking around.

"Did Diane make you wear it because of misbehavior on your part?"

"Um, yes. I became too demanding."

"Have you learned your lesson?" Diane looks at me with curiosity, while a look of excitement comes over him.

"Oh, yes. Yes, I did."

"So, if Diane gave you the option of wearing your boxers and a chastity cage, or wearing panties WITHOUT the cage, which would you choose?"

He searches our faces to see if this might be some kind of joke. Then, he offers, "Panties would be fine."

I take his wife by her hand and say, "Let's go then," and lead them to the row of stores that connect the hotel to the nearby train station. We enter a lingerie store where all blood drains from his face. "Find something suitable, Diane." A smile draws wide and her eyes gleam as she looks around.

"These?" she asks, holding up a pair of slim, hot pink satin bikinis between her index fingers.

I look to her husband and say, "Well?" Her husband nods, barely able to keep eye contact. I signal a saleslady and ask, "We would like these, in size.... what size are you?" looking directly at Diane's husband.

It looks as though his legs are giving out, and he takes hold of a display table next to him. "40," was all he could say. The saleslady keeps a straight face and pulls a pair from a drawer. Diane and I step aside so she could hand them directly to Diane's husband.

"Diane, he will need his key." His wife raises her right leg upon a seat and removes the key from her anklet.

I ask, "Do you have a fitting room?" The lady points to a mirrored door.

I lean into her husband and say in a low voice, "If they fit, leave them on, and bring Diane your cage. Make sure that you set the cage down on the counter as you pay for your undies. We will wait outside." The sullen man goes inside the room, while we thank the lady for her help. The sales lady grins as Diane does.

"You are diabolical, Mike," says Diane as we watch her husband pay for his new garment. The sales lady puts a hand over her mouth when she sees the cage set down and no garment in his hands.

"It's just knowing which buttons to push," I suggest. Her husband joins us and we make our way back to the hotel.

When we step into the elevator, there are two other couples who enter behind us; one elderly and the other in their twenties. I grab a handful of Diane's broad flank, and say to her husband, "You don't know what you are missing." The old woman gasps when I wink at her as she notes that the other two are wearing wedding rings while I do not. Diane's husband wilts in shame. Diane squeezes my hand; a smile showing that she is enjoying my efforts to charm her as well as playing along with their game.

When her husband slips the key card in the door at room 1215, his hand is visibly shaking. I whisper to Diane, "I think that your cuck is excited as you are." I sense her musk as her body has already begun to exude sexual heat.

Diane giggles out loud, much to her husband's curiosity. As he closes the door behind us, I take Diane in my arms and say to him, "You can remove the blankets and sheets from the bed and place them on the floor by the window." He obeys and folds them in half and then half again and sets them neatly as told. "Yes, like a doggy bed," I add, "That will be your place in this room unless you are directed otherwise. If you leave that place or speak without permission, you will be sent to wait in the lobby until we are finished. Do you understand?"

He touches himself through his pants, clearly aroused by my tone. "Yes, Mike."

"I prefer Sir from you. Acquaintances call me Mike. Your wife will call me Mike when her mouth isn't filled with my cock."

His head bows. "Yes, Sir."

I kiss Diane hard as he stares, and she melts into me. Her arms reach around my neck. My hands take hold of her abundant ass cheeks and I scrunch the hem of her skirt higher until I am able to feel the rumpled divots of cellulite through the gauze of her underwear beneath my fingers.

I open my eyes and see him standing on his handmade bed, watching. "Dogs don't stand on two feet. Get on all fours, or lie on your belly with your front paws stretched out in front of you." Diane nuzzles into me and smiles while her husband remains on hands and knees.

She wags her head side to side in mock disgust at his submissive pose, while my hands slip around her waist and help them themselves to her ample breasts through her blouse. I notice his hips involuntarily rutting. I picture his pent up cock enjoying the smoothness of his new satin undies.

"Perhaps your cuck does have a few uses in our room tonight. He has dressed you well. Do you think he could properly undress you for me?"

Before Diane can answer, he nods affirmatively. "Get over here, Clifford, and present me to my lover," she commands. As he makes his way to our side of the bed on hands and knees, I admonish her.

"Maybe his friends respect your husband enough to call him by his first name, Diane. But, while I am in the room, he will only be known as Cuck, or Cucky, and nothing else."

Diane responds with, "You heard the man, Cucky. Undress me for him." I turn Diane to face me while he stands behind her, untucking her blouse from her waist.

"Shoes first, Cucky! On your knees for her," I call out.

Diane and I kiss while he fumbles with the strap on one shoe. Diane raises her foot enough for him to slip the heel off. He sneaks a peek beneath his wife's skirt while he unclasps the other strap, and carefully removes the other shoe. In a more relaxed tone I say, "Now her skirt." He unzips it and lets it fall around his wife's feet. She steps out of her skirt and he dutifully picks it up and crawls to the writing desk next to the bed where he drapes it neatly over the chair. He kneels next to Diane, awaiting my next command.

"Blouse and bra."

Diane is trembling, undoubtedly aroused by our game. Her fingers tease my nipples through the shirt, and she proceeds to unbutton it. I end our kiss and step back while her cuckold unbuttons her blouse, and lays it with her skirt, then goes behind her and frees his wife from her burgeoning bra. Diane's huge, hanging tits fall free; her nickel sized nipples and almost three-inch beige toned areolas point straight downward. With hands at her side, she looks at me, awaiting any comment I might offer.

I smile at her. "You are a lucky man, Cucky. Your wife is gorgeous. Isn't she?"

"Oh, yes, Sir. She is." His nodding is overt and he looks to her. Diane is down to her pantyhose and panties.

"On your knees and remove Diane's pantyhose. He complies quickly. His face is at our hips with Diane's hand caressing his head, and he reaches between our bodies to take hold of the waistband of Diane's hose on the other side. I move in tight and kiss her while he lowers her pantyhose to the carpet; his elbow brushes against my half aroused cock. Diane pushes down on his head for balance as she lifts her foot for him to remove the garment. She repeats with the other foot until free of her hose.

"Place them on the bed, with the gusset at the edge of the bed," I direct. "Now, her thong. Place it on top of her hose."

Again, with no room between us, he slides his arm across to find and tug the stringed thong and lower it to the floor. When she steps free, her cuckold places the panties on top of her pantyhose on the bed. I kiss his naked wife and can tell that she is well past aroused. I toss my shirt onto the bed and take a step back.

Diane's belly hides most of the area above her pussy slit, but what can be seen is the fat hairless slit between her bulky thighs. I place my middle finger over her belly button and glide the digit down until it parts her slippery folds.

I withdraw my finger and offer it to him. "Wanna taste what I am about to slip my fat cock into?" Her husband greedily licks her tasty goo and moans softly. "That's a good boy. I will let you do that after I'm done with her...if you are good."

"Stand, Cucky." He looks at me, unsure of what might be next. "Let's see how those new undies fit you."

He looks to Diane for approval; his eyes beg for mercy. She has none of it. "You can go wait in the lobby if you would rather," she says, defiantly.

Her husband says nothing, and unhooks the snap on his pants. A quick unzip and his trousers are on the floor. "Oh, baby," she chides, " you are already stiff! Your little clit is showing." The shiny pink material is so snug, his erect member looks like a baby mouse is trapped beneath. There is a large stain that has turned most of the satin front panel to a purple hue, from his constant leak of precum.

"How cute," I offer with a grin. "Do they feel as feminine as they look?"

Her husband nods and admits, "Yes, sir. They feel very soft when I walk. And so much better than the weighty cage."

"Then, walk around the room. Show your wife how they look when you walk." He obeys, walking to the door and back. Most of the back of his panties is wedged between his obese ass cheeks, almost appearing to be more of a thong shape.

As he returns to the bed, I comment, "They definitely don't match that shirt you are wearing. Your wife might need to go out tomorrow and find you a camisole to match."

I am not even finishing my sentence when Diane chimes in. "Tights, too, maybe." His stubby cock twitches beneath the pink fabric.

I add, "Now, slide your panties to the floor." He bends over to slide his satin undies to the carpet and stands straight again, barely up to my shoulder in height. His hands instinctively move to shield his boyish cock from view.

Diane slaps his hands away, admonishing him. "Go ahead. Show him what I've been stuck with all these years." He hangs his head in shame and drops his hands to his sides. His barely four inches of length actually begins to lose its rigidity at her words.

I shake my head in mock disgust. "And you can't even keep THAT hard?" He reaches his right hand to pull on his cock, hoping his own touch might bring blood back to his failing manhood.