Cuck Ch. 02

Really? Hot? I was just thinking pathetic.

"Hey, you in there?" she asked. The towel pulled off my eyes in one motion. "You okay?" she asked, looking down at me. Her smile drifted off to a look of concern. Then the smile came back, a cheerful grin full of love and acceptance. I just wanted to cry.

"I'm okay." I nodded. "That was great. It was."

"You don't look great. What's wrong?" She rubbed the towel on her hand. Maybe I did get her with some spunk. Maybe she was just wiping off the lotion.

"I..." I didn't know what to say. "I...I just thought. You're not mad?"

She scoffed. "Why would I be mad? That was wonderful. You shared something with me." She touched her chest as if to hold her heart. "I thought it was fantastic."

Lynn leaned over to kiss me, careful not to touch my stomach. She smiled brightly. Then she rolled to the edge, stood up.

"What happens now?" I asked. I felt like a weight had been lifted, but a new one had fallen in its place.

"Now you clean up." She tossed the towel back at me. "Just let me wash my hands, then you can have the shower all to yourself." She stood at the sink gazing over at me through the open door. "Looks like you'll need it," she said above the running water.

She came back out with another towel in hand. She pitched it in the basket with the ever growing pile of soiled linen.

"You don't want to talk?" I said. I still hand not moved from the bed, though I began to sit up carefully. I had just changed the sheets after all.

"Do you?" she asked.

I didn't. Or maybe I did. "I thought,,," I didn't know what to say. "Did I surprise you?" I wasn't sure I wanted an answer to that.

Lynn scrunched her face and sighed. She came over, sat beside me on the bed as I started wiping the towel over my belly, trying to find all the cum. My cock was so sensitive, I could do no more than blot it dry carefully.

"Look." She put a hand on my shoulder. "You have a fantasy. That's great. Absolutely nothing wrong with that. That's great actually. You shared it with me. Even better." She tilted her head, rolled her shoulders a bit. "Was I surprised? A little. Okay, a little bit more than a little. When you said, he does, I was really taken aback. I thought, Oh my God, he's gay. What do I do now? Really explained a lot, though. But I love you, no matter what. I figure we could still work through anything."

She shifted, leaned back on her elbows. "Then you said, my pussy, and I was like, whoa, what the fuck. I was really lost for a second. Then I realized. Everything made sense then."

I was glad it made sense to her. I still had no idea. "You don't think that's a little gay? Fantasizing about being a woman?"

She leaned forward, put both hands on my back. She kissed my neck. "Look, if you were having dreams of getting fucked in the ass by some black dude, yeah, I'd call that gay. But you weren't. Were you?" She pulled back a moment, as if to confirm. I shook my head.

"No, you weren't," she went on. "No. You were having a fantasy about being the woman, and that's totally different."

I tossed the dirty towel in the basket with the others. "It is?" I really didn't see how.

"Not at all," she said. She made a face, rubbed my hair. "You're so hot for women, you dirty little perv, that you fantasize about being one. I suppose its natural, in a way at least." She shrugged. "But you said porn was an escape. Earlier. Do you remember?"

I nodded. I suppose I did.

"Well, it's like that, I'm guessing. Instead, you escape into the character of the women." She leaned sideways, looked up at the ceiling as if just making a revelation. "Ohhh. That makes so much sense now." She looked back at me. "You don't fantasize about getting fucked because you are attracted to black men. No. You fantasize about being a woman because you're attracted to the woman being fucked. Does that make sense?" She shook her head, as if even she was trying to wrap her brain around it.

"Really? You think?" It sounded plausible the way she said it. At least I think it did.

"And the tied down stuff. That helplessness. That's a whole other thing altogether I suspect. I don't know what to make of that. But hey, don't worry." She rubbed my arm. "It's out in the open now. We can work on it. Let's take the time to talk it out." She held both my arms, made me face her. "Hey. I Love you. Nothing's going to change that. You hear me?"

I nodded, trying not to weep. My eyes misted anyway. "I love you, too. I love you so much." I threw my arms around her and sobbed on her shoulder.

"I love you, too, babe." She stroke my hair, patted my back. "I love you, too."

—

After taking a shower and starting the laundry I went for a late morning jog to help clear my head better. Lynn had her Girl's Club, she reminded me through the bathroom door, but insisted we would talk about it more later, if I wanted to. Of course I wanted to. I needed to. I couldn't really get my head around it yet. I had a small dick and a short fuse and I had been harboring homosexual fantasies for months now, years really. Heterosexual fantasies, I reminded myself—just hetero fantasies in which I was the girl.

That was just how I watched porn. I didn't really think about it. I just fantasized what it would be like to be any one of those beautiful women getting fucked senseless by all those guys. It was a curiosity, really. What did it feel like inside you? What did it taste like in your mouth? I had tasted my own cum before—just to see—and I figured what guy hadn't done that at least once? I figured that was natural. Now I wasn't so sure.

I was not attracted to men, black or otherwise; that much I knew. When I did daydream, it was always about women. Cock's were more of just a prop to keep the fantasy flowing. My wife's pussy felt divine around my own. I had no desire for men. But watching porn always made me think about cock. I loved blowjobs. Lynn did not do that for me often, so I figured that was why it fascinated me. Watching red, willing lips slide up and down along those slick shafts, that always got me hard. Hell, just thinking about it usually got my dick itching.

The big black cock fascination just grew as an extension of that. Bigger dicks naturally presented more visual candy. It wasn't enough just to see a mouth with a cock in it, but a mouth literally stuffed with cock, that was beautiful. I could only imagine the feel of lips stretching around all that meat, trying to take it all down. It amazed me even more that some women could take it all down. Deepthroats were fascinating. I understand that the throat is just one big tube; but to realize it was that flexible to accommodate something that thick and hard, that just blew my mind. But then I realized, too, that real cocks had a flexibility of their own. Even a full hard on was pliable in its way. It frustrated me that I was neither flexible nor endowed enough to explore that sensation on my own. I probably wouldn't leave the bedroom if I was.

And then there was bondage. Lynn was right in that being a whole different story. I really got into fantasies of control, specifically the loss of it. I would never condone rape—the reality was horrific—but the fantasy of that was something else. I loved to watch forced sex, which was really just rough sex taken up a notch. Powerful, dominant men taking control of beautiful, helpless captives really turned me on. Bondage sex just looked so amazing. But there again, I found my mind played tricks on me.

Whenever I tried to be rough with Lynn, it never really came out that way. I never found the gumption to really take charge of her in the bedroom they way I imagined I would. Yes, I could initiate sex, but our lovemaking was just that. We made love, tender, slow and meaningfully. It was always great, or at least I thought, but I know it never rose to the fevered intensity I saw on screen. I couldn't do it. I couldn't grab her roughly or force myself down her throat they way I might have wanted to. I never wanted to hurt her or make her feel uncared for. I loved attending to her, touching her everywhere, being sensitive to her needs. I just would never force myself on her, to somehow put my needs, or wants, above hers. That would be wrong.

So the thought of bondage, amazing at it sounded, was never something I could see happening between us. I don't think I had it in me. And I wouldn't know where to begin anyway. It would just feel too uncomfortable, very awkward, trying to order my wife around like a slave. She would only laugh, I'm sure. And that wouldn't be very erotic for either of us.

Instead, I only ever watched bondage porn, again, imagining what it would be like to be the woman. In many ways, I think I really liked the idea of giving up control. If I didn't have to be in charge—or pretend to be—I might be able to just relax and enjoy myself more during sex. I could let go. Her handjob that morning proved that.

Of course, I had fantasies about that just as much. What would it be like if I just let her be in charge of me. How great would that be? Last night when she told me to sit down and not touch myself, I did it without argument. When she decided we needed to abstain for a month, I agreed, despite my reservations. Maybe she already was in charge. I just didn't know it.

After a second shower following the run, I spent the rest of the morning and afternoon getting a few Sunday chores done and catching up on some unfinished work from Friday. As a data analyst and part-time programmer, I completed a lot of work from the comfort of my study. I was only ever required to go into the office on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the occasional Wednesday morning staff meeting. Yes, dream job, dream wife. My life was incredible.

Later, when Lynn returned, my head was still swimming somewhat, but for the most part, it felt like life had settled back to normal. We joked, we ate dinner, we watched tv, all as if no earth-shattering revelations had befallen us since the night before. We ended up cuddling and kissing in front of our favorite Sunday evening drama, but nothing went beyond that while the show lasted. By the time we both got ready for bed, I may have been more nervous that the previous night.

Lynn slipped into the covers in her nightshirt as I came out of the bathroom in my boxers. She gave me a smile and checked her phone one last time, probably making sure the alarm was set. I slipped off my boxers and got into bed.

I moved close to kiss her, and she returned the embrace. We devoured one another's lips for several moments as the heat between our bodies made my groin stir. Once again, my cock was coming to life.

"I was thinking," we both began in unison. Of course, we both laughed and smiled. We lay facing each other, her stroking my arm while I caressed her hip.

"You go," she said.

"No, you go. I insist." I was far too nervous anyway. It would probably be better. "No, really, you. Mine can wait."

She nodded. "Okay." For some reason, she seemed more hesitant that usual, as if she really wanted to pick out the right words. "Last night was...fun. And this morning was great. I know the abstinence was my idea, and you didn't want to at first, but look where it turned out." She let her fingers trace over my chest. "I think you opened up this morning and that was wonderful. But I think we still have a lot to talk about. I'm really not sure if we can put these cats back in the bag, so to speak, and honestly I don't think we should. I'd love to explore this with you." Her eyes were bright, reflecting the light from the nightstand. "What happened this morning, I was thinking about it all day. If you want to, if, if you need to, I was thinking maybe we could do more of that. At least for a while. Hearing you describe your fantasy and watching you cum, that was really erotic. I would love to do that again. If you want to."

I listened, absorbing her words as my heart pounded. I really wasn't sure I could go through all that again. I was actually hoping to take the pressure off, to slip back into normal without having to worry about it. I started to deflate a bit. "Well, I guess," I said, without much enthusiasm. "Maybe we could try that again sometime. I did like the way you touched me," I told her with a smile.

"Did it help when I talked?" she asked, looking sheepish. "I wasn't sure if I was making it better or not."

Even with my own wife, I felt I was turning red. "Well, yeah." I had to look away a moment. "Actually...I don't want to admit it, but that may have been the best part."

"I didn't know," she said. "I was just trying to go along with what you were saying."

"Well it was hot. I kinda like it when you talk dirty." I smiled.

She smiled too. "It felt a little silly, more afterwards than in the moment. You were just so fucking hard. I couldn't believe it. It just sounded right in my head."

"Trust me, it sounded right in my head, too."

"Don't I know it," she said. "You should have seen yourself cum. I was afraid you might hit yourself in the face."

"Did I get any on you?" I wondered.

"A little. Just on my hand. Don't worry, I got over it."

I paused to study her, and to work up my nerve. "You know," I said, starting to get a little sheepish myself. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk about."

She frowned. "What? Cumming on me? I already told you—"

"No. Not that," I said. "I mean about the way you made me cum. That was so intense. I felt like you forced me to it. I don't think you gave me a choice."

"Yeah, about that."

"I mean, really," I went on. "You told me to cum, and I did. I liked that." I stared at her trying to see her reaction. I didn't want to have to say any more than that.

"I could tell," she said with a smirk.

"Well. That's all I was saying." I couldn't bring myself to tell her what I really wanted. "I liked it. A lot." Maybe that would be enough.

"Uh-huh." She scrunched her nose. "So...you want me to talk dirty to you? You like it when I call you names?"

My heart skipped a little. "Well, maybe." I was afraid I was already admitting too much. Everything was a little overwhelming already. "If you wanted to."

She propped her head on her elbow, thinking. "So...you got off when I called you a bitch? When I told you to cum?"

I nodded, my pulse surprisingly faster than normal.

"Wow," she said, as if unsure what to make of that. "No. No, that's okay. I can appreciate that. Its all part of the fantasy I guess. Just a little surprised by that is all."

"Really? That surprises you?"

"Well, this is a lot to take in," she admitted. "I'm still sorting it out. But yeah, if you enjoy it, I could talk dirty to you. Sure. I could make you my bitch," she teased, pinching me playfully. She had no idea.

I rolled to kiss her some more. I was hard all over again. She accepted it for a moment, then pushed me back a little. "I have work in the morning, though." She looked down under the covers between us. "And maybe we should keep the abstinence thing just a little longer. It's gotten us this far. Maybe we should see what else we can learn." Her voice had a taunting edge, the same one she was using the night before.

"Oh," I said. "Okay." I wanted to protest, but I didn't want to push it. I kind of liked where the ideas were drifting at the moment. Maybe she was right. Maybe we could both use a little time to process. My dick didn't agree, but I did. Sort of. "I suppose. But I figured we were getting somewhere, is all. Maybe we don't need to do that anymore."

"That's just it. We are getting somewhere. I don't want to mess that up. Let's see where it takes us. You like dirty talk. That's great. You enjoy masturbation. Well, we knew that. Let's just put a pin in sex for the moment. We'll get back to that. I want to get into your mind, honey. Let's just explore this a little bit longer and see what comes out. We don't want to rush anything, especially right now. Abby says the best way to get to know what a guy really wants is to cut him off. Not exactly what she was talking about, but she's right. You really opened up today. I'm proud of you."

I was a little startled. "You talked to Abby?" Great. Now her friend Abigail knew. How many of her other friends, I wondered.

"No. Not about you, per se," she said. "But we talked about hypotheticals."

"Great," She could not have made it more embarrassing if she tried. "How many hypothetical husbands do you have?"

She shook her head. "Don't worry. It wasn't like you think. Girl's talk about stuff, you know that. I didn't talk about anything specific. Your secrets are safe with me, baby." She rubbed my arm. "Besides, it's good to get some different perspectives. Most guys would sit on a fantasy like that and never talk about it. But you just opened right up with it. You're so brave. I love you."

Lynnette leaned in, gave me a kiss. I was stuck. I should be upset, but I wasn't. I couldn't be. I should always remember that girls talk. Hopefully she left the details out of it. Nothing I could do about it now anyway.

"Let's get some sleep," she said. "I'm sure we'll have so much more to discuss about it when we have the time. Hey," she said, touching my face. "You're a great guy. Don't ever forget that. I wouldn't trade you for anything. Now, roll over. Put that thing away," she quipped. "We don't need a repeat of last night."

No. She did not want me humping her thigh again, or any part of her for that matter. I didn't have much of a choice. Soon enough, we both rolled to our separate sides and fell to sleep. It probably took me longer because my nerves had been so frazzled after Saturday's events. I kept thinking about the way she came, about how she masturbated and got herself off watching the same porn that I liked. That had to be something, didn't it? A good sign maybe? I didn't know.

Anyway, sleep came and I rose the next morning with a regular stiffy. Nothing out of the ordinary. She got dressed and went off to work, and I put in my jog and settled in with my laptop. Work provided enough distraction to keep my thoughts occupied all day and away from porn. I did, however, keep her red panties beside me most of the time. I even took the time to sniff them periodically, rekindling her luscious scent in my mind throughout the more boring tasks. It was enough to keep me motivated, a pleasant pick-me-up to remind myself what an absolutely fantastic woman I had married. I was the luckiest man in the world. At my break for lunch, I also took the time to scrub the wet mark out of the sofa.

When Lynn got home, I was still occupied in the study, but nothing out of the ordinary. She came in for her kiss, and I paused to ask about her day. Everything as normal as could be. Of course, her red panties were sitting right out on the desk by my workstation, and that led to a slightly awkward pause from the both of us. Lynn just shrugged and said nothing of it, and I, after she left, slid them into the top drawer and out of sight.

At dinner together, she came right out and asked me. "Hey, you don't normally keep my panties around with you, do you?"

I almost spit my drink, but maintained myself. "Uh. No. I was just..." What was I just?

"It's okay if you do," she hurried to say. "I mean...I was just wondering."

We both took a few more bites amid a suddenly awkward silence.

"You know, because I'd be okay with that. If you felt the need to."

"It's okay," I said. "Really, I don't. You just gave them to me Saturday, so...you know...I thought..." What did I think?"

"Yeah. I remember," she said. She sipped her drink. "Thanks for cleaning the sofa, by the way. I noticed. Sorry about that."

"No problem." The way she was looking at me made me self-conscious. I felt on display.

"Do you like to sniff them?" I sat stunned with my mouth full. What could I say? "I mean, that's okay, too," she persisted while I finished chewing. "You can do that if it makes you happy. I mean, it might be creepy if you weren't my husband. But, actually I think it's kind of sexy." She smiled coyly.