Cucking the Snowbound Couple Ch. 04

*** Disclaimer ***

The following story is a work of fiction. It contains themes of cheating, cuckoldry, voyeurism, and NTR. If this isn't the fetish for you, don't waste your time reading the next (however many) pages, then waste my time sending me hate mail. If you DO read it, and DO send me hate mail, then I'm going to assume you really did enjoy it, and are struggling to not admit it to yourself.

Otherwise, I love hearing from fans, and welcome any suggestions, thoughts, criticisms, or fantasy ideas. Enjoy!

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Chapter 4...

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The rest of the day passed without incident, which I was grateful for. The fact was that I had withdrawn. I wasn't sure how I felt about that whole business with the shower. Brett had lied to us, with the express purpose of instigating a sex act with my wife.

The issue was that I wasn't innocent in all of it either. I had enjoyed myself, at least in the beginning. Alex had enjoyed herself all the way through, but was it thanks to me, or the both of us, or only Brett? My gut told me that Brett was the real turn on for her in this incident. Maybe she knew it too, which was why she didn't push the matter with me.

Then there was also the matter of why was I upset? I mean, I was turned on when we started up. There's no denying that. I thoroughly enjoyed those moments in the shower with my wife. I didn't have a problem with it, until I got out and Brett and my wife kept going. Were they supposed to stop because I came too soon? I want to say that they should have! The fact that they kept going felt like a complete betrayal. But was it really?

I spent the day asking myself that question. If I had been in Brett's shoes... if I was the third party to a threesome with a married couple, and if the husband had climaxed too early in the threesome, would it be fair to me if I had to stop just because he was done, even if the wife wanted to keep going? My wounded ego likes to think I would be respectful and stop. But if I was being honest with myself... really being honest with myself, then I suppose I would want to keep going too.

Maybe I was being too forgiving toward Brett. After all, he did lie to us. He manipulated the situation for his own benefit, and it had put a strain on my relationship, even if he had the best of intentions.

I didn't know what to think. Part of me kept seeing my wife... the way she stared at me through the glass. The distance between us. Why did she keep staring at me while Brett fucked her? Why was she cumming so much?

I stayed quiet. I didn't want to talk much. At least not until I sorted this out in my head. Unfortunately, there wasn't many places to go. The snow had let up to a gentle but steady flurry. The sky was cloudy, and the air was cold. Even if the weather relented, the snow fall wasn't going anywhere for a while.

I paced restlessly for a bit, glancing out the windows. At a certain point, I got settled into a chair and attempted to read in front of the fire. But that wasn't going so well...

Brett had put on some music, and was fixing an early dinner. Alex was hanging out with him in the kitchen. For once, she wasn't confronting me about my feelings over what happened. I kind of think she was aware that I was pissed off, and that maybe I wasn't totally in the wrong. She had been fooled too. But she'd had a bit more fun that I had. Ugh, I did have fun, but why did I feel so fuckin' insecure now that it was over? I ground my teeth and tossed the book aside.

Maybe because she was still hanging out with Brett, despite that cruel trick. Did she really have to be chumming around with him in the kitchen? He was listening to some old-school Johnny Cash through his speakers, and occasionally humming along to the tune.

I found myself tip toeing over to the kitchen and glancing in periodically, just to be sure there wasn't some sort of hanky panky going on. Each time, I was relieved to see that they were both fully clothed. Brett in warm sweat pants and a hoodie with his university logo. Alex in jeans and a yoga top— the baggier kind, meant for comfort. There was nothing interesting or titillating about it, it hung off her perky boobs, and her nipples weren't pressing through. She was wearing a bra. They were talking about normal things— shows on Netflix that they preferred to binge watch. Alex was chopping peppers and handling prep work, while they two of them made jokes and laughed... like normal people in a normal situation.

I stepped away and returned to the living room. Nothing sinister happening. It was as normal as could be. And I get it, Brett might have been a jerk earlier, but we did have fun. And I had no expectations that the three of us were going to sit in silence, just because I needed to sort my thoughts out. She was a grown woman. She would have hung out with anyone the way she was with Brett right now.

...But then why did I keep looking over at the kitchen door? Each time there was the smallest lull in the conversation, I would jump to my feet, tip toe to the door, and peek inside.

Each time that I did, I found nothing amiss. Brett at the counter, thawing a steak. Alex over by the table with a chopping board. The kitchen was brightly lit and warm, contrasting sharply against the darkening shadows and chilly winter backdrop beyond the windows.

At one point, Alex glanced up and caught me checking on them. "You can relax, our clothes are on."

I reddened and walked away.

Brett shook his head. "Maybe we went too far," he said to Alex. "I don't think you and I should see each other anymore." He tried to sound serious but couldn't contain his spreading smirk.

Alex laughed. "Yeah... this long distance relationship of ours just won't work. We'd better pack up on and move on." She used the meat tenderizer to smack him on the butt.

"Ohhhh," Brett let his voice raise a bit. "So you think I'm just some object that you can slap around whenever you want?"

"I know you're an object," she responded, and let her eyes wander his body for a second, just for emphasis.

"And I'm surprisingly okay with that," he said.

While Alex and Brett bantered in the kitchen, I sat down heavily on the couch, staring at the fire. "Fuck it," I muttered to myself and broke the seal on a bottle of bourbon that I'd brought along. I poured myself a heavy glass.

Dinner went by without incident.

I think Alex was aware that I was bothered by the shower incident, because she emerged from the kitchen after cleaning up. I was staring at the fire, quietly sipping my liquor and trying to turn off my damn over-thinking brain.

She plopped down on the couch beside me, folded her legs underneath her, and stared at me. I was waiting for her to start badgering me about my mood, but the fact was I wasn't brooding or pouting. I was just sort of meditating.

Eventually she put her hand on mine and caressed my knuckles with her fingers. The sensation tickled.

"Do you want to talk about earlier?" She asked, and instead of sounding impatient with me, she was sympathetic and slightly worried. Maybe I had been assuming too much about her feelings toward Brett.

After a few seconds, I shrugged. "There's not really much to talk about. We had a threesome." I was dismissive, mostly because I knew what having an argument would yield— Alex would over react, I'd back down, and by the time we were done, there'd be no resolution, and Brett would once again look like the more appealing man in the cabin.

"I know, but the way it ended..."

"That was a bit of an eye opener," I said.

Alex stared at me, until I started to smirk.

"I mean... licking cum off the glass wall of the shower... I didn't know you were so kinky," I chuckled slightly, my voice subdued, mostly as the bourbon relaxed me.

Alex laughed lightly and sagged in relief. "Yeah. I guess I just got caught up in the moment and wanted to try something a little crazy."

"It is a vacation, I get that."

She continued to prod me. "So you're not freaked out about other things...? Like after you got out of the shower, how me and him kept going?"

Whiskey has a tendency to make me mellow. I held my hand up in the air and tilted it from side to side. "Yeah, it freaked me out a little, but we were all a part of the action. I'd gotten off. It was someone else's turn."

Alex looked genuinely surprised, but said nothing. She seemed to consider this.

"I think what pisses me off is that he basically orchestrated the whole thing." She opened her mouth to say something, but I persisted. "And I don't know if he did it to loosen us up a bit, or try to undo what happened that first night with us. Maybe bring that whole thing to some sort of closure. I just didn't really like it." I explained.

"I understand," she said. "I don't think he was trying to be an asshole, but I can totally see how that might bother you." She must have been feeling guilty, the way that she seemed subdued as well. She was probably experiencing a mixture of emotions like I was.

She didn't see the way that Brett had been smirking at me the entire time that he'd bent her over. The look of triumphant conquest that was on his face. I shivered to see it again in my memory. But as the details replayed themselves, I also saw my wife's face. The way she had stared at me like a bug on the sidewalk while Brett was taking her, bringing pleasure to her body with his for what felt like hours. I could hear the way that she screamed in orgasmic ecstasy...

I shook that thought aside, and refilled my glass. "Do you want to watch a movie?" She asked. That was our classic way of smoothing things over if we ever got agitated (not just with each other but with work as well).

She poured herself a drink while I rummaged through the cabinet of DVDs. The cabin didn't have cable or Netflix, so that left us at the mercy of whatever movies were stocked. I'm not going to lie... when I stood, I was feeling it. Whiskey does that to me— I'm never sure how drunk I am until I stand. I was off balance and wobbly. Definitely a pleasant level of drunk.

I found a few titles with some potential, and couldn't resist smirking when I found one called "Cabin in the Woods." How fitting.

Alex went and changed into her pajamas while I set up the DVD player. It wasn't going well. Between my lack of coordination and trying to navigate the da Vinci code of someone else's TV (every person's entertainment center is always a nightmare maze of menus and inputs), I wasn't having much success.

Brett strode into the room after cleaning up the kitchen. "What's up, Quick Draw?" He smirked behind me.

I shot him a hard look, which only made him smirk wider. He'd shed his hoodie and was in a tank top that flattered his physique. His big arms were on display, and I had the briefest mental image of the way they flexed as they scooped my wife into his arms and bounced her on his manhood. His washboard abs stood out through the fabric.

"Relax buddy," Brett raised his hands defensively. "I'm just messing with you. Can't figure out the DVD player?" He changed the subject, looking past me to the TV.

I sighed. "Yeah."

"We had the same problem before you showed up. Try Component one," he instructed me. The DVD title appeared on screen. Brett flopped down heavily into an easy chair and sipped at a beer. Not at all asking me if he could join us— just assuming and making himself at home.

Alex returned from the bedroom in her warm flannel pajamas. For the first time in my life, I was grateful that her comfy sleep attire was nothing revealing. This past year for Christmas, to be funny, I'd bought her some "casual shorts" that were skin tight and hugged the bottoms of her big round butt-cheeks. They literally showed all of her smooth strong thighs.

She dismissed them for the joke that they were, and opted to dress in a baggy pajama outfit with pants, a button up shirt, and thick fuzzy socks.

"Are you joining us, Brett?" Alex asked, pausing as she spotted him lounging.

He shrugged casually. "Where else am I going to go?" His eyes wandered her body for a few second, assessing her outfit unabashedly right in front of me. He wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was checking her out.

"What?" She asked finally.

He shrugged. "I just imagined that a woman with a body like yours would spend a little more time... showing it off."

I looked up sharply from the floor, where I was still going through the motions of setting up the player. This guy had some balls just saying things like that without even hesitating.

Brett tucked his hands behind his head and beamed at my wife. His expression one of 'Yeah I said it, what are you going to do about it?'

"Ohhhh, you mean like this?" Alex's voice turned to an exaggerated tone of lusty— the classic caricature of a whore. She hiked up the bottom of her pajama shirt, tying it just below her breasts, exposing her smooth midriff and belly button piercing. Then she slid her bottoms lower until her hips were revealed, as well as the straps of her sporty gray thong.

She gave a little twirl to show off her body, and pranced around, making slutty coos like a bimbo cheerleader.

"Getting a little better," Brett grinned approvingly.

Alex rolled her eyes and pulled her pants back up, and let her shirt fall back into place, covering her up. "You know," she said in her normal, slightly sarcastic, voice, "it's possible I can walk around here and not be dressed like a slut." She flopped down on the nearby couch and pulled a blanket up over her.

"If we were married, you would be," Brett commented, still leering and grinning his insufferable shit-eating-grin.

This time I couldn't resist smiling through my whiskey haze. "Suddenly I'm looking pretty good," I muttered quietly.

Alex bristled, a little defensive, but not actually offended. One of those play fights that people have that can often escalate into real ones. "Well it's a good thing we're not married then," she said.

Brett didn't miss a beat. "It is. Because we'd be literally fucking each other's brains out twenty four, seven."

I sat on the floor, listening to this exchange with a sense of unreality. He wasn't holding back, and literally saying the most piggish things to my wife.

Alex folded her arms, but never got angry or lost her cool. She was good at using humor and wit in any situation. "Bleh. That sounds exhausting. It sounds like you want a sex toy, and not a wife."

"Oh no... don't misunderstand me. I don't mean I'd expect any wife to fuck me all the time. I just mean you. I don't think either of us could resist each other."

By now I came over and rejoined my wife on the couch. She put the blanket over me and laid a reassuring hand on my leg. She could sense how tense I was getting with this conversation.

She rolled her eyes, "Keep dreaming."

Brett smiled even brighter. "Okay... prove me wrong. If you can make it through tonight and resist all this..." he waved his hands over his body like he was a game show supermodel showing off a brand new car. "Then you're the strongest woman in the world."

Alex burst out laughing by his overly animated display and over the top statement. After a second, even I joined her. His hyperbole was so silly in the way he presented it, I couldn't even be offended by what he was trying to say to my wife. In my mind, it went from annoying flirtatious advances, to silly chest beating that it was clear he didn't really mean.

Brett joined in laughing, proud of his little joke.

We started the movie, dimming the lights for ambiance and letting just the gentle flicker of the fireplace illuminate the room with dancing shades of oranges and reds. It was an ironic horror movie that poked fun at the clichés of all classic slashers— the group of dumb teens venture to the middle of nowhere and find themselves the victims of all sorts of horrors. But it was lighthearted and made us laugh a lot. We paused it several times to refill our liquor.

It was actually a nice change from the tension of the last few days. For once, my wife was cuddled with me on the couch, the way it should have been. We held each other beneath the blanket. Brett stayed in the easy chair. Nobody was dressed scantily. And there were no more efforts on Brett's part to get my wife out of her clothes. It was like a bonding moment— just three people drinking and enjoying a movie in the dark.

I wrestled with my insecurities a bit, but I was able to defeat them quicker. A few times, I thought I saw Brett and Alex glance at each other. I couldn't be sure though. I was pretty buzzed, and it was usually during a funny part or something especially gory. It could have simply been one of those "did you see that?" exchange of looks. I dismissed their little sideways glances.

I was able to relax for once, which was a nice change of pace since I'd slept like shit ever since this three person prison sentence had begun. By the time the movie came to an end, I was good and drunk.

We alternated a bathroom break and I could barely walk. The room wobbled pleasantly, and I giggled to myself as I tried to control my aim in the bathroom.

"My turn to pick a movie," Alex said, hopping off the couch. She often gets like this when she drinks in excess— she wants to keep the night going for as long as possible. Me, on the other hand, would have been perfectly content calling it a night after "Cabin in the Woods".

I yawned, stretched, and propped a pillow beneath my head. My wife can pretty much stomach any movie from action to horror to sci-fi. But her favorites are the dramas that seem to have very little plot or momentum. So it came as no surprise when she picked out a vague title in that genre. It was called "The Vicious Kind."

I'd never heard of it, but the first five minutes told me all I needed to know— a cynical asshole who was still hung up on his ex and had a negative opinion of women, and his little brother bringing his girlfriend home from college for the holidays to meet the family.

I'll be honest, I wasn't that into it, but Alex was engrossed. The actress was cute, so that was a plus. The guy who played the older brother was scruffy and always seemed to have casual bump-ins with the little brother's girlfriend.

Alex laid beside me, resting her head on my chest. The warmth and the weight felt good... reassuring. As the movie went on, it became apparent that the scruffy main character was making repeated passes toward the girlfriend. She always kept her distance, but made no effort to tell her boyfriend what his older brother was up to.

My head started to nod at a certain point. The movie was definitely sexually charged, even though it withheld nudity. During one particular scene, the actress came dangerously close to kissing her boyfriend's persistent brother. But then they backed off. Later in the night, she snuck out of bed, and masturbated on the very spot where she'd almost cheated. It was a hot scene, but my eyes were drying out from tiredness. It was getting harder and harder to keep them open, and thanks to the whiskey, the room felt like it was spinning. I glanced at the bottle and realized I had finished over half of it completely by myself. I still felt good, but I knew there was a chance I might be sick. I shut my eyes for a few minutes before jolting awake again. It happened three or four times.

"Fading fast?" Alex teased me. Her voice was soft, more engrossed in the movie. Brett was also dead silent. He was probably exhausted too. He was lounging back in his chair, his feet propped up on the coffee table, and his hands tucked behind his head. But his eyes were open and he had a relaxed smile on his lips.

"The whiskey, that's all," I managed to mumble. The TV was a kaleidoscope of streaks and colors. The flicker of the orange firelight made the room appear like it was always moving and spinning. It was giving me a sense of motion sickness.