Cuckold Club: Tom's Story

It's been six months since I received that first email. All of you got one just like it inviting you to an introductory meeting. Like you, I was outraged, humiliated, embarrassed, shocked, that someone else knew that my wife had a lover. I went to that first meeting hoping to find him there. I didn't, of course. At least I don't think I did. Maybe he isn't a cuckold.

"Hi, I'm Tom, and I'm a cuckold."

"Hi, Tom."

I'm an architectural engineer. I'm the one who takes an architect's design and figures out how to build it. A building needs more than a floor plan. Big ones require a steel framework, a solid foundation, elevators, fire escapes. My team had a big problem one day, and the client wasn't very happy. We worked late to solve it. I called my wife to tell her not to wait up for me. She's a nurse and has to be at her job at seven a.m.

We got lucky. I was about to call for a pizza break when we found the problem, a typographical error on one of the spec sheets. One extra zero had kept six people from going home for four hours.

I had told Ann we'd quit at midnight even if we hadn't found the solution. I didn't expect dinner to be waiting for me. It was nine when I left the office.

I stopped at a restaurant to get something to eat before going home. It was a singles' pickup joint with a bar along one wall, tables in the middle of the dining room, and booths on the side opposite the bar. The dinner crowd had cleared out, so I accepted a booth.

I like to people watch when I go someplace alone. It helps pass the time while I'm waiting for my order. I have seen some interesting things. I've seen couples become engaged and marriages fall apart, both over dinner. This particular evening there was a couple at the bar having a drink. The woman's back was to me. Her blouse was tight enough, and sheer enough, to see she was braless. Maybe she was a hooker picking up a trick. Other possibilities ran through my mind. I couldn't hear what they were saying because of the music on the sound system. It was like watching a movie on tv with the sound off. I could make up my own dialogue to suit my mood. I decided she was his secretary, and that he was trying to get into her pants, which was what she also wanted.

I could see him in profile. He wore a suit and appeared to be in his mid-twenties. She was a bit of a mystery. From the back she reminded me of my wife. She had the same shoulders and rib cage and the same long blonde hair. Her skirt was very short. The hemline encircled the stool she sat on. If she stood up while I was there, I'd know what color her panties were. He leaned close to her, probably whispering sweet nothings in her ear, then kissed her cheek. He's making progress, I thought when she didn't pull away from him. She reached her hand out and stroked his thigh through his pants. He glanced down a bit surprised by her boldness.

Just then my sandwich came. My view was blocked by the waitress for a minute. When I could see again, he had one arm around her shoulders and was kissing her firmly on her mouth while his other hand explored her bare inner thigh. Her hand stroked his cock into a solid shaft. I was about to take the first bite of my ham and cheese when they broke the kiss. She turned around and slid off the bar stool. Her uncovered pussy stared at me. No wonder she reminded me of Ann. That's who she was. My beloved forty-five-year-old wife walked out of the bar with a much younger man in tow. Her slutty attire left no doubt she was taking him somewhere for a quick fuck. It didn't have to be a quickie. She wasn't expecting me home for another two and a half hours. She had plenty of time. As they went through the door, his hand went up under her skirt and caressed her bare ass.

Where would she be taking him? A motel mostly likely. Maybe he had a hotel room already. She wouldn't take him home and risk my catching them in bed. She was too smart for that. Which motel or hotel? I could drive around all night and not find her car. My sandwich dropped to the plate.

What could motivate her to want another man? We had been married for twenty-three years, twenty-three very happy, horny years. Our three kids would tell you we can't keep our hands off each other. Since they've moved out on their own, we've been even hotter. We spend most weekends at home naked and making love. Just thinking about her fabulous body is enough to give me a hardon. She has admitted to having orgasms while driving from thinking about the last time we were in bed. Many mornings my wakeup call is a blowjob. If it sounds like we have a great sex life, you're right. It's fantastic! I can't imagine wanting any other woman.

Why was she picking up that guy? Was she trying to relive her swinging single days? She wasn't a virgin when we met. I wasn't either. All her friends told me she stopped sleeping around after the first time we had sex, which was on our first date. Was she trying to assure herself she was still attractive? She wears a string bikini, very well I might add, when we go to the lake. The wolf whistles she gets should tell her how beautiful she is. Her tummy is flat. Her bottom is two firm globes. Her breasts are full and firm. The only time she ever weighed more than one-twenty was when she was pregnant with our children.

The sandwich was probably good, but I couldn't taste it. I put a twenty-dollar bill on the table and went outside.

Her car was nowhere in sight. She had a five-minute head start on me, so I didn't expect to see it. In the back of my mind I hoped she had dumped him once they were out of the restaurant. No such luck, of course. I got into my car and drove around the immediate neighborhood checking alleys, parking lots, and a couple motels searching for some clue of her whereabouts. After fifteen minutes, I gave up and headed home. I figured I would confront her when she arrived and demand an explanation.

When I made the last turn onto our block, I saw her car I our driveway. Another car I didn't recognize was parked beside it. She wasn't even trying to be circumspect about what she was doing. Was I the only one in the neighborhood who didn't know about her infidelity? I had to be the ultimate chump. She certainly had time to screw around. She got home around three-thirty. I didn't get home until six. For all I knew she could have slept with half the town. I parked at the end of the block and walked back to our house.

The living room lights were on, but the drapes were closed. The silhouette of their embrace on the curtains was anything but chaste. His hand caressed her breasts as they kissed. When their lips parted, their shadows disappeared from view going in the general direction of the bedrooms.

I dashed around to the rear of the house. The lights were on in our bedroom. Did she have to cheat on me right on our bed. Couldn't she at least use the guest room? The deck was high enough that I could see through the window. She didn't even bother to close the curtains. She had to have been very confident I wouldn't catch her. Unless she wanted to be caught. But why? Why would she want me to know she was being unfaithful? Did she think it would make me find her even more desirable? Maybe that was it. Was I taking her for granted? Was she getting bored with me? I crawled up under the window and slowly raised up to see inside.

His suit jacket was on the vanity chair. She was tugging off his tie while he unbuttoned her sheer blouse. Her breasts were plainly visible through the thin fabric, and her nipples pressed against it. He worked slowly savoring the moment. Ann practically tore his shirt off. She ground her crotch against the tent in his pants. When they were both naked above the waist, she crawled up on the bed. He followed her on his hands and knees. Their lips locked together as he plopped on top of her. Her legs were open, and he laid between them. After a couple minutes of fervent kissing, she rolled him onto his back. Sitting up she tore his pants open and dragged them down to his ankles. She took his shoes and sock off, then pulled his trousers off his legs and flung them on the floor. His rigid dick stretched his shorts. Ann fished his meat out through the opening and gobbled it up. I chuckled at the ridiculous sight of his prick protruding through his shorts.

A couple minutes later, Ann sat up and held his shaft at the ready and started to sit on it. He grabbed her arm and flipped her onto her back. Instead of trying to mount her, he laid across her side with one leg against her pussy and his cock against her thigh. His lips found her breasts. Slowly he kissed circles around each one. Only after he had covered the entire surfaces of both of her tits did he touch her nipples. I could hear her shriek with pleasure when his tongue touched the first one. The house wasn't as soundproof as I had thought.

Her ribs were next on the receiving end of his oral ministrations. I was pushing fifty, and that twenty-something was using techniques I hadn't tried on her. My aching boner clouded my thinking. I made mental notes not conscious of the fact if I did use any of his tricks she would instantly realize how I learned them. Her tiny skirt was bunched up around her waist. I extracted my cock from the confines of my pants and stroked it while watching him bury his face between her legs. My breathing slowed and deepened as I became more and more aroused by the spectacle before my eyes. I traced the rim on my glans lightly with my fingertip while he licked Ann's dripping pussy lips. Her thighs clamped against his head repeatedly as he sent her into multi-orgasm ecstasy. Her head thrashed violently from side to side in the throes of a prolonged climax. Dammit, that kid was good with his mouth. I had to learn his tricks. She grasped his hair tightly and dragged him into position over her. Her grip was so strong I feared she would scalp him. She took his shaft in hand and aimed it at her entrance. With his shorts still on, he sank slowly into her.

Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, a tiny voice was condemning her for her actions. She should be with me, not him. Another voice yelled, "SO WHAT! She's entitled to enjoy herself." From the day I met her, I maintained one philosophy -- her happiness was my most important product. If stepping aside for a few minutes while another man banged her would bring her pleasure, then I should do so. Those were my thoughts at that moment. Watching them thrust against each other made me so hot I could only think of my own release. The pace of my strokes on my pole matched his thrusting into her dripping cavern. As their tempo increased, so did mine. They established a rhythm I could not match. Faster and faster their hips pounded together. The white of his shorts made his prick seem disconnected from the rest of his body giving the illusion of a flesh-colored dildo flying in and out of her cunt. Ann's toes curled as her final orgasm approached. My hand tried futilely to keep up with them. My own feet balled up. My nuts grew tighter. My breath was ragged panting. His back arched, and he gave a final lunge into her as she dug her nails into his back. My eyes closed as my seed flew across the deck. My knees gave way, and I slowly slumped to the deck unable to breathe.

Minutes passed before I summoned up the strength to raise up and look back through the window. Ann laid on the bed with his cum oozing out of her while he dressed with a very smug expression on his face. He had made his conquest and would soon forget about her. For the first time I noticed he, too, sported a wedding band. Somewhere a young bride awaited his return unaware of his philandering ways. I tucked my wilted meat into my pants and sat in the glider at the edge of the deck. I let my head fall back against the seat and closed my eyes. A few minutes later in the quiet night I heard the front door open and close.

Ann returned to the bedroom. I could see her clearly through the window as she bent over, then straightened up before disappearing in the direction of the bathroom. My mind was in a turmoil as I mentally reviewed the evening's events, the pickup in the restaurant, finding his car in the driveway, seeing the contorted joy of an explosive orgasm in her face, my own voyeuristic pleasure in watching him invade her body. Nothing made any sense but the intensity of my arousal seeing them together.

She had a towel on her head when she returned to the bedroom, obviously fresh from a shower. She put her sheer blouse and skimpy skirt back on and toweled off her hair as much as possible. The bedroom went dark. Evidently she planned to wait for me in the living room and surprise me with that boner-making outfit. It was time for me to return to my car and come home. I was beginning to stand up when the dining room light came on followed by the lights on the rear of the house. The patio door opened, and Ann came outside. Her legs were clean, and her solid nipples showed through the gossamer material. The skirt hardly hid her pussy.

She gasped when she saw me. "When did you get home?" she asked with terror in her voice.

I looked at my watch. "About an hour and a half ago," I said calmly.

"I thought you were working until midnight."

"I did too. We found the problem at nine, a stupid typo. Luckily that was all it was, or the project would have been in big trouble."

"Have you had dinner?" She took a couple steps toward me.

"I knew you would have eaten long before I got home so I stopped for a sandwich."

"Where?"

"Same place you picked him up. Or had you arranged to meet him there?"

She began crying. I went to her, put my arm around her, and led her to the glider. She sat next to me. I pressed her head against my shoulder and held her in my arms until her sobbing ceased. I wiped her tears with my handkerchief. At last she sat up. "What are you smiling about?"

"I was just thinking that after twenty-five years, you are still the hottest babe I've ever met."

She gave a short laugh. "You mean the biggest whore."

"No. Not at all. You are even more beautiful than when I married you. How long have you been seeing him?"

She took my handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "Tonight was the first time. I won't see him again; I promise. I didn't even get his name."

"Have there been others?"

"A few. They were all one-offs."

"Why?"

"I know you won't believe it, but I don't know. You are a wonderful lover. I get sudden, uncontrollable urges for sex. Usually you are home, and I can jump you. You never refuse me. Every so often I get so horny I have to have a cock inside me, or I think I'll die. I got the urge this afternoon, so I stopped on my way home and bought this outfit so you'd want me the moment you came through the door. When you called I thought I could wait for you. By eight o'clock I was so hot and horny I thought I would explode if I didn't get fucked immediately. I went out to get someone. Where were you anyway?"

"In a booth behind you."

"Haven't you ever gotten that way? Haven't you ever had to get laid instantly?"

"Only around you."

She smiled for the first time. "You are the sweetest man. Tom, I'm so sorry. I never thought you'd find out, let alone witness it. I guess you'll be filing for divorce."

I thought a minute. "We've had a lot of good times together. Remember that dive we went to on our honeymoon in San Francisco? I can't remember the name."

"You mean that place we thought was a strip joint by the Cow Palace?"

"Right. What was it called?"

"I don't remember either. It turned out they did live sex shows."

'Remember the manager's reaction when we told him we wanted to do a show? I thought we were pretty hot together before, but that was really wild. All those guys hooted and hollered when you came out and stripped. Then I came on stage. You undressed me and got me hard. You could hear a pin drop. You laid down. I ate your pussy and fucked you."

"It was so exciting having all those people watching us. I wish we could do it again."

"Tonight I discovered what it was like to be in the audience. It was great! It wasn't like watching porn. I saw real live people doing it. What a difference that makes?"

"Then you don't want a divorce?"

I stopped and looked at my watch. Nine o'clock. It's rather chilly at night this time of the year. If I hurried, I could watch from the closet instead of through the window.