Cuckold Landing

No reply for a long time as I stare at my phone. My heart is racing, my mind is worse. I am on the verge of panic when the phone finally vibrates and chirps in my shaking hand. I pray it isn't too late, that she still loves and respects me after all I have allowed and admitted. I'm trembling so bad it takes three tries to enter my pin. I open the text and it just says "do the horns fit?" and then a picture appears of my wife, my soul mate, the woman I would do anything for, the woman I would die for, and she has a cock in her mouth.

Though tears I type "What happened to the deal? I didn't want to go through with it". Her reply hurts on a level I didn't know was possible "you no longer get to decide what happens with my body. I decide who and when I let have my pussy. Tonight it's Michael". Each plea from me after that went unanswered.

Those were the last words I got from her but a series of pictures of them followed starting with her taking him in her mouth and progressing through the night. After the second picture of her sucking his dick I shut my phone off. I drank myself into a stupor and finally passed out to at least try and stop the images in my mind.

I awoke just after dawn. My heart while still able to make blood flow, especially to my pounding heard, felt broken. I rose to go to the bathroom intending to relieve my bladder but ended up filling the toilet with vomit as the image of her sucking his dick slammed back into my frontal lobe. I lay there in the stench of my own vomit, my pants soaked with my piss feeling utterly humiliated.

Naked under the shower trying to wash away the mess I had made I still felt soiled. No soap known to man could clean well enough to remove the taint I had applied to myself. Finally I gave up and got out of the shower. I pulled on a robe and checked her GPS position; she was still in the room so she must have decided to spend the night. I didn't know if he stayed as well but assumed he must have.

There were many more pictures detailing their adventure. From the beginning with her sucking him, to him between her legs licking her pussy, him fucking her in all sorts of positions, his cock in her ass, just about anything you could imagine. All these images that I had fantasized would excite and thrill me only served to slowly kill me.

But the one that put the final twist to the knife in my heart was actually a series of four shots, shot one was of her lips on the head of his cock, number two showed her open mouth with a large pool of his cum on her tongue, twist number three was her mouth just closing with his cum in it, and the fourth and final kill shot of her smiling face with her open and no longer cum filled mouth.

I may have been able to abide the other acts in the pictures but that final act was a betrayal I cannot live with. In the twenty odd years we have been together I have cum in her mouth exactly twice, and in both cases she immediately got out of bed and promptly spit my cum into the toilet. Well wait there was the very first time when she actually tried to swallow for me and ended up gagging on it.

It's was a minor thing really considering how much we could do with each other, I mean I figured she tried and it didn't work so that's it. But seeing the smile on her face as she showed me that she swallowed his cum was too much.

The upcoming confrontation would not be pleasant for either party I was sure. First there was the phony "deal" to discuss, and if there was a way past that we would have to work through a lot of other problems before getting to the last act of betrayal.

The early dawn hangover had abated a bit, I no longer felt an urge to vomit, more an urge to go there and drag her from him by her hair and reassert my position. I guess at least that part of the cuckold lifestyle worked, I did feel a need to win her back and make her mine, or at least show him she wasn't his.

I checked in on her GPS position and they were apparently getting their money's worth. It was close to noon before it showed her moving back toward home. No calls, no text to tell me she was okay, thankfully no more pictures though. Maybe she regrets the whole thing and he was just trying to console her and help her cope, yeah I'm not buying it either.

I watched her progress toward home and she didn't make any side trips or stops, so Michael had his own car and she was in hers. When she was a minute or two away I shut down the computer and made myself a drink to calm the nerves just a little, if not I would blow up too easily. A lot rode on the first few moments. Her actions would carry more weight than her words. I knew her as well as she did me, I could read her face and know the truth better than I could trust her words right now.

Finally I heard her car in the drive and the garage door opening. Then she opened the side door and walked in towing a little overnight bag, funny I don't remember seeing that when she was getting ready. Just another point we might discuss, but then again with all the rest it may make no real difference.

She is dressed completely different than when I saw her last. Simple button down blouse and blue jeans with sneakers and her hair tied back. She is still quite sexy even when dressed down, but for me the bloom is off the rose a bit at the moment. I stand and she looks at me and there it is.

That smirk, the same one she wore in the last picture. I knew then just about how this was going to go but I let her begin. "So what did you think?" she says, and I can't believe she said it.

"What did I think you ask? Well I thought we had a deal there would be a chance to stop if we changed our minds, do you not remember that?" I answer.

"Oh that, I thought it was all part of the game."

"Part of the game, like the part where you started before you even gave me a chance to say I was okay with it." "Or maybe it was the part where you lied about where you were going to be." You mean that game?

"Oh I just knew it was going to be okay so we changed the plan a bit." "It wasn't a big deal was it?"

"A big deal? Yes Carol it was. Did you think that my pleading with you to stop and come home was just meant to make it more fun for me?"

"Well I had fun last night and I don't intend to stop, you're my cuckold now"

"No that's not quite correct Carol, a cuckold in the sense you are using is a willing participant. I am not. I stopped wanting to be a cuckold before last night, and thought I could stop it when the time came. You had other plans, plans that never allowed the possibility of stopping, did they?"

"No I didn't plan to stop, I didn't want to"

"So what are your plans now?"

"I plan on having the best of both worlds, my husband to provide for home and shelter, and my boyfriend to provide sex and excitement!"

"One last question and a lot rides on your answer so think before you speak, why did you make a point of showing me that you swallowed his cum?"

Her answer didn't take long at all. "That's simple you silly boy, it was to show you that he was my man and you were just my little cuckold."

I turned and walked away from her then. Going to what was our bedroom. I removed the wedding band I had worn with pride for twenty years and placed it below the picture of us. Then after taking a last look around I walked back to the living room.

Carol was in the kitchen on her phone. It was him, and she was gloating about how she had won and I was off sulking in the bedroom.

The last time she saw me was when she was coming down the driveway after me. She called me and I let it go to voicemail. She sent a text asking where I was going, I didn't answer. I didn't know then anyway. I just knew I was leaving.

It's funny how a little thing can set off a complex chain of events. I little over three months ago I laughed and made a comment about a sign I saw on the side of the road. Today I live out of cheap motels. I live off the balance of our bank account and money from odd jobs. My wife thought she had it all worked out but it turns out she was wrong.

She tried to call several times a day the first week, then just once a day the next week, then every few days for a couple weeks, till now it's every Friday night at 7:25pm. It's not lost on me that was the day and time they got to the hotel room. Maybe she's finally trying to honor the deal. My heart wants to answer the phone; my mind just shows it that fucking smirk again.

She and Michael had one more night together in our, no her house. Guess it wasn't the same without me to cuckold because they have never done it again. She pretty much goes to work and then comes home to spend her time alone.

He dates regularly and never seems to stay with the same girl very long. Maybe they just don't like him all that much. Maybe he's bored because they aren't fucking around on someone that cares deeply for them. It doesn't matter to me really.

How do I know all of this? Well I still have the tracking software on her phone so I can keep tabs on her, that and since I don't have a regular job yet I spend I every morning watching her leave, and every night watching her come home. And it's not because I want to try to forgive and forget, that will not happen, I can't un-see the utter contempt she had in her eyes. I cannot forget the tone of her voice when she announced that I was her cuckold.

I watch her from a pretty good distance, some 250 yards. There's a hill just perfect for this in the woods behind our old home. So far the chamber has been empty each time I have pulled the trigger. Too soon I tell myself, too soon. But the day is coming when I will have closure.

And believe me people if I ever see that fucking smirk on her face in my crosshairs she will die with it on her face. Until then it's gratifying to kill her each day for the torment I have to endure. Walking through what is now my life knowing that I both love and hate her with equal passion kills me a little more each day. If the scales ever tip over toward hatred the chamber will not be empty.

His day will come when Carol's does. No doubt the day I put a bullet into her brain the entire police force will be at my old home. While they are busy across town his turn will begin, His death will take time. Carol is sad and lonely so she's suffering now, but he is enjoying life so his death will have to be terrible. I know it was her idea, it was her that cheated, but he knew she was married, and he helped her destroy my love for her.

When it's his turn it won't be from a rifle at a distance. His will be delivered up close and very personal. I've done it in my head a hundred times. Usually it begins with a .22 caliber round to one knee, then the remaining knee. Once he's immobile it's time for a baseball bat, yeah I like that idea... It might even get me an insanity plea, but I'm more likely to end up as a suicide by cop than to stand trial, my heart is dead, my life is finished, the rest of the body just hasn't caught on yet.

About me: This is probably going to be my first submission to Literotica. I say probably because it is not a sure thing at this point.

The story above is based in part on my wife and I. Parts are true and some are purely fiction. The beginning of the story including the part where we see the Cuckold Landing sign and my comment on it are true, even the part of her reading some stories. It becomes a fictional tale after that point. She lost interest after a story or two and that was the last we discussed a cuckold lifestyle, and that is more than fine with me.

I have been reading the stories on Literotica for some time now and mostly it's the Loving Wives category that holds my interest. At first I read the ones where the couple explores her being a hot wife and they were fun. I freely admit here that at first I thought I could see the attraction to letting her explore her sexuality out in the open and even get turned on by it. And then there's the "Burn the Bitch" genre and those were good reads too. I mean she was cheating and deserves to be hurt as much as she hurt her husband / family.

After reading too many of these stories the mind starts to do strange things, or at least mine did. First was that too many of the hot wife, slut wife, or cuckold type stories painted the husband as some sort of subservient wimp. I began to think that there was no middle ground there. If you allow your wife to have sex with another man you are a willing cuckold, a lesser man in most cases. You're not some hip cool open minded guy, just a little man that can't please his woman.

Now please don't misunderstand me here. I know several couples personally that have open relationships and have been happily practicing that for years. Then again we have some friends that used to be married before they tried open relationships. It is not for everyone that is certain, but that does not mean is isn't right for some.

I talked about having sex in the same room with another couple and even in a room with several other couples in the story. And that part is true, I said then that we never had sex with another couple but that isn't 100% accurate. We got very close to another couple that we traveled to Hedonism III in Jamaica with several times.

We had had sex with them in the same room several times and even in the same bed more than once but always staying with our own partners. One day it became apparent they were ready to move on to swinging with another couple and asked if we were willing to try.

Now my wife and I had already had this discussion more than once. We knew that one day they would probably be ready to do more than just share a room with us. We had decided that we would not follow them down that path. Sure we had a connection with them that would be hard to explain to most people, including the fact that she was my wife's first bi-sexual partner.

Well they say something about the best plans of mice and men and how they don't always work out. The plan and the talk didn't hold as much power when you combine too much alcohol and yes a bit too much jealousness when they began to party with another couple. We ended up in our room with them and we did trade partners for what was either too long or just long enough depending on point of view.

It got as far as my wife sucking him while his wife was sucking me. His wife was trying hard to convince me that it would all be just fine if we went even farther. I looked over and saw my wife moving up his body and freaked the fuck out. There were some awkward moments following that and I think we all knew our relationship was not going to continue.

After the alcohol wore off a bit and the pressure of losing them to another couple was looked at in different conditions we agreed that it was a good thing we stopped when we did. She said she wasn't going to fuck him just tease him but I said it was still more than I wanted to see. When sober she said she didn't enjoy being with him and didn't really find him attractive but wanted to keep her relationship with his wife. I could understand that as she was at that point her only female lover.

They were divorced in less than a year and it was ugly. To be honest they had serious problems that we chose to ignore because we were having fun. She didn't respect him and he always seemed to be pushing her to act like a slut wife then got mad when she went a little too far. Not a good start to an open marriage. Those that we know that are successful are the exact opposite, they typically have a very strong marriage just want a little added fun in it.

The other thing reading all these stories did to my mind was cause me to overthink stupid stuff. The first time I called her cell and it took what I considered too long for her to answer it caused too many "Burn the Bitch" tales to flash through my mind. After all she cheated on her husband with me didn't she? And once a cheater always a cheater isn't that right?

In closing let me just say in the end you have to ignore what your mind says and go with your heart. I cannot say with absolute fact that she has never cheated on me. Nor could I say the opposite is an absolute fact. But my heart says she hasn't. I do know with 100% certainty that I could not share her.

I'm not happy with the end of the story. I cannot seem to get it to convey how it would be for me. It does serve to tell how I could not be with her if she treated me with the kind of disrespect the fictional Carol shows. And I would want to hurt her, possibly even kill her, but then again how can you hurt someone you love? Is it enough to just leave and let her live with the fact she killed what was us? Can letting her always wonder what happened to the man she used to love be enough? Is physical hurt better than emotional?

And what should be done about him? He didn't know all the details. She told him she was married, but also told him I was okay with it. He didn't know there was supposed to be a moment when it all could be stopped. Does he deserve to die for his part? Probably not but my love for her would most likely prevent me from hurting her and I don't even like him the least little bit.

They killed my heart and someone has to pay, and she has a sort of immunity from it right now. So at the very least it's a hospital stay for him.

*

I would welcome any constructive criticism or advice. And I already know my years of just barely passing English class shows. I didn't use an editor because in some ways I think it might have changed the story to something less mine. Again it's the not good at sharing thing...

ArkRebel