Cuckolding for Beginners Ch. 03

Chapter III

The knickers

We left as the Sun dipped below the horizon and my wife threatened to "put" me in ladies underwear as a punishment if I was ever errant. Christina and Bryn played with power exchange as a 24/7 dynamic but for Erin and myself it was more of a bedroom activity. While I wanted to go deeper and further in my fantasies, I wasn't sure how much I'd feel to be a submissive all the time.

It was something we'd talked about; something we'd discussed a lot. In truth, I wanted to try it, desperate to fall further into the world of kink and depravity, but wanted Erin to make that call. She had to want it too, and I still wanted to sometimes be able to passionately claim sex from my wife.

And we needed to take it slowly. One step at a time.

Moments after arriving home we abandoned our unpacking. I excitedly guided my tipsy wife into a bare room with a mattress and threw her onto the springs. She fleured seductively. Laughing as her ankles were seized by her horny husband, tearing at her dirty, sweaty clothes.

Passion flowed through my veins; she responded appreciatively, sighing as my fingers clawed at her flimsy panties and swept the moist garment from her body. Her eyes explained everything, our lips met as my touch flowed lovingly over her delicate button and plundered her sopping cunt.

She groaned, she cried, she swore and she bucked her hips, savouring her orgasm that I ripped from her aroused, squirming body. Her eyes begged for more, my lips kissed her sensuous clit.

Sapid floral honey flowed into my senses, a delicious aroma of lust and sin. I adored her taste, lapping gently at her cunt and swirling my tongue over her slippery button until her legs quivered and her breathless moans were replaced by echoing screams.

And lastly my cock looted her hole, filling my wife. My hands held the backs of her knees as I drove my cock deep into her. My flesh slapped against hers, her nipples saluted me and her smell of intense arousal filled the room as I hammered my cock into the writhing woman until I came, ejaculating into my loving wife.

Our eyes met, she cleared her throat. "Go down on me."

"Sure, I'll just..."

"No. Now." Her tone was commanding yet slightly uncertain. A moment passed, neither of us moved. My shrinking cock slipped from her drenched cunt as her order ticked away in my mind.

Could I go down on my wife after cumming inside of her? We'd done a few things similar but never after a pussy full of semen. But I loved my wife and I adored my domme, and this was an order. Sliding down her body I tentatively poked my tongue and pressed it against the slippery mess oozing from her cunt.

It was like being with Holly again; my mind transported back to my days as a horny teenager satisfying the most promiscuous girl in the town. I'd not done it since.

My cum mixed with her floral slipperiness was far from unpleasant: a musky taste that filled my nostrils and lingered on my tongue as my consciousness stumbled with what I was being forced to eat.

For the first time since I'd been with the unfaithful Holly I was consuming my own semen. The contents of her cunt slid across my tongue: the thick gloopy produce of my testicles gliding down my throat as my wife bucked her hips and her hands stroked her glistening skin.

She rocked, pressing her cunt into my face as my tongue swirled against her clit and my cum drained onto me. My face was slippery and wet; semen dripped onto my chin. I felt like a cheap whore, but my cock swelled into an erection as my wife squealed and groaned, panting loudly as her body was rocked by an explosive climax.

I'll never forget the expression on her face when I rose from between her legs: a mixture of total satisfaction and exhaustion. She slumped against the tired mattress, taking deep lungfuls of air. It was, undoubtedly some of the best sex we'd ever had.

And every day that week was the same, almost. My gorgeous brunette would meet our neighbour for lunch in the small Cheshire town and that evening, after the children were tucked up in bed, she would pounce. Demanding sex with ever more filthier fantasies being vocalised.

On Monday, she talked about whippings and beatings; she loaded hardcore female domination pornography onto her tablet as we fondled with each other's genitals. She squirmed and came several times as my finger ground against her clitoris and buried itself into her cunt.

She became adept at taking me to the point of my climax and backing off: edging me until I was almost begging her to let me come. Her stout expression, riding on the back of her umpteenth orgasm, was denial, making me watch her sadistic depravity as her fingers glided over the head of my prick.

The poor men in her videos were well beaten: savage whippings and desperately fierce beatings were interspersed with total sadism. The mistresses humiliated them by forcing them into bisexual positions, kicking them in their genitals or just plowing their arses with giant strap-ons.

"I want to do that to you," my wife admitted as my horniness peaked. She drew my cock to the edge of the orgasm and backed off with undisguised glee. "We can go so much further."

And in my incredibly heightened state of lust, a kick in the balls by the love of my life was almost appealing. Indeed, everything was! She giggled as we watched another couple of videos and as the last scene drew to a close, she took my cock towards the precipice.

I watched as two "slaves" were in a 69 position: desperately fellating the thick cocks stuffed into their mouths and groaning as the leather-clad women slashed weaponry against a pair of taut buttocks. My eyes were torn by the erotic imagery on the screen, my wife's fingers brought me into an intense, squealing climax that swept through my body and left me breathless for more.

On Tuesday, she considered the idea of putting me into chastity and withholding my orgasms unless I was a perfectly well-behaved submissive. I objected to this: I didn't masturbate often but orgasm control was something close to my red lines.

She teased and played with me, rubbing her naked body over mine as we kissed and then brought up a dozen different chastity devices on her tablet: the cage, the belt, the plastic prison and a whole load more. It looked scary, but Erin was insistent that it was something she wanted to try.

It was taking our play outside the bedroom for the first time and she pressed my face into her crotch as I voiced these thoughts; she rode my tongue to a handful of screaming orgasms until my face was soaked and her legs were quivering like jelly.

"I'd only want to try it," she pondered as she slipped into our bed. "For me."

"I'll think about it," I conceded, unsated from our evening's activities.

By mid-week, my wife's lustful overdrive had lead us to her panties. Or more to the point, I woke up in the morning and she had selected her fullest pair of old black satin underwear and slipped them over my feet as I dried myself from my morning shower.

She giggled as I stared at her. "Wear them today."

"I don't..."

"You haven't tried it," she interrupted, smiling at me as I stared at the frilly edges of the garment. "Try it today and see what you think."

I sighed. "Erin, we need to talk."

"Baby, later," she mused, winking at me, as she walked out of the bedroom door to prepare breakfast.

"Erin!" I shouted, and she looked over her shoulder in the doorway. "I'm not..."

"I know," she teased with a seductive lick of her lips. "Do it for your domme and we'll have some fun when the kids are in bed." And that was her last word on the subject: she had ordered me into those knickers and I knew she wanted to play with BDSM roles much more. She checked I was suitably attired at breakfast with a subtle slide of her hand into my waistband, and then passionately kissed me as the children went upstairs to brush their teeth.

It felt weird being in her knickers all day. The satin was soft against my skin and the delicious softness caused many unexpected and unwanted erections.

It also caused a feeling of shame and humiliation. What would happen if I was rushed to hospital and they found me in female underwear: I'd die of embarrassment!

But it was also exciting and thrilling. The utter naughtiness as I milled around the office, talking to my work colleagues as if it was a normal day when all the time I was hiding an incredible secret.

My wife sent teasing text and picture messages to my phone throughout the day; taunting me with degrading messages. I was her sissy, her slave and her sub. She sent pictures of her cunt and her boobs, as her job in the local gymnasium afforded her a private office. She used the privacy to take pictures to tease me.

Alas, I could not reciprocate and even though I was dreadfully terrified of turning up at A&E in a humiliating position, I managed the three-mile drive into work without crashing my car. Neither did anyone see the black panties and my perversions remained concealed. My wife winked at me when I arrived home, discreetly patting and rubbing my trousers. "Have you been a good little sub?" She whispered into my ear, gently nibbling on my earlobes as my hands reached for her waist.

I guess I had. I had done everything my crazy domme had requested, feeling the sliding soft smoothness of the underwear against my body all day as she giggled. "So wonderful that you'd so that for me," she gushed, pressing her lips against mine and pushing me against the tiled wall of the kitchen.

The butterflies fluttered in my stomach as her hands swept over my waist; my fingers tugged at the waistband of her skirt but my arousal dampened by a pair of tiny feet running to greet her father.

Moments after I had tucked my children into their beds, there was a knock at the door and Erin had opened the hand of hospitality to our crazy neighbours. They settled on our couch as I poured everyone a glass of white wine from the fridge.

Erin giggled excitedly as I passed Christina her drink. "I have some amazing news!" She gushed, clawing at my trousers. "Show her, show her!"

I blushed; tomato red cheeks showed my embarrassment at our neighbour beaming ominously. "Peter..." She calmly called to me as my mind churned. "We are all friends here!"

"C'mon," my wife impatiently snapped, pulling at my waistband; the women fidgeted expectantly as I stood frozen in our lounge, unable to move. I knew what she wanted me to show and my hands trembled at the thought.

I wasn't completely comfortable with the idea of wearing the flimsy, feminine underwear anyway, and to have my wife advertising that she had convinced me to wear a pair of her old knickers to her new friends was unsettling.

It felt wrong. I felt embarrassed. I felt humiliated. I felt as though she was savouring my discomfort. Yet, that was oddly stimulating; I wriggled at the warm feeling at the pit of my stomach, as disgust and excitement coursed through my thoughts at the same time.

The flamboyant Christina barked. "Bryn. Show him." The multi-millionaire didn't object, standing to remove his trousers and show a pastel yellow lace pair of feminine underwear, barely batting an eyelid at the dominant woman's orders. He didn't blush, just folded his trousers and put them on the arm of the sofa.

I tried hard not to look, but it was futile. I was curious at the sight, taking in the lattice of the flimsy fabric. The garments were very low-rise with the top of his pubic hair peeking over the top of the knickers straining to hold his semi-erect cock.

He was aroused; everyone noticed yet he wasn't conscious or cared. He twirled on the spot, exhibiting his barely covered buttocks to his wife and she nodded, turning her attention to me.

"I'll show," my wife excitedly called, putting her glass of wine on the table as she stood up to face our visitors. She looked at me as she unbuttoned the top of her short skirt, smiling as the red garment slipped onto the floor, and beamed as I stared at her hairless cunt.

"Oh love," she teased, running her finger down my nose as I processed the delicious sight in front of me. "I've worn nothing all day. How does that make you feel?"

"Ummm..." I panted, meeting her gaze for the first time. She blew me a gentle kiss as her hands swept down her body.

"I signed contracts with a short skirt and no knickers." My cock rose. "I met customers with nothing underneath. And I even got changed into my gym skirt in my private changing room and went for a circuit at lunchtime." I gulped. "On the rowing machine so many men were on the treadmills opposite."

I whimpered as my wife sat down on the couch. I easily imagined her skirt riding up as she frantically rowed on the exercise machine.

"Did any of them fuck you?" Christina asked casually.

"Just teased. So wanted to do more."

"Oh... it's so much fun doing it at the gym. We'll make you into a slut yet!" Christina barely acknowledged her husband as she stared at me, clicking her fingers. "Your turn!"

I gulped the last of my wine in the glass and stood up, standing away from my wife and our new neighbours. I couldn't bear to face them, holding onto the last shred of my dignity for the last few moments.

I wasn't like Bryn; he was unfazed, or even enjoyed the degradation and humiliation but I didn't. It almost troubled me. I thought I heard a female giggle as my hands trembled over the buckle on my leather belt.

Perhaps I was imagining it. Perhaps I was expecting Christina and Erin to gleefully enjoy the embarrassment I felt as I confirmed my knicker-wearing secret to them. Erin coughed as my trousers lingered on my hips for a final moment before I pushed them to my ankles.

"Turn around," Christina demanded, before I had even stepped out of my smart trousers. "Let's see."

I hesitated; my cock betrayed me, filling with blood as my cheeks burnt with embarrassment. My words stumbled and I stalled, grateful that my white shirt tails dropped to midway on the satin panties to hide my unwanted erection.

"Oooh..." Christina cooed as I stared at the ceiling, exhibiting my humiliation for our visitors. "First steps today." She smiled at my wife. "And he seems to like it."

My eyes implored my wife. "Can I put my trousers back on now?"

"No," she snapped derisively, holding her hand out to escort me back to our sofa. "I think he's so cute with them on."

Christina smirked. "So every day is a knicker day?"

Erin giggled at my shocked expression. "No. I'll just put him in my knickers when I am not wearing any," she said with a wink, and leant back on the couch. "But that might be most days!"

"Ahh," Christina replied with a knowing smile. "It's good, isn't it Bryn?"

He nodded, and our wives made us stand in front of them, shirts off, to compare the look of their husbands in feminine underwear. Or as Bryn admitted, his underwear. "I don't have many male underwear any more."

I didn't want to be like Bryn. I didn't want to have a drawer full of ladies undergarments and wear them without a second thought. I wasn't a "sissy" or a "slave" but a husband with submissive tenancies and irrespective of my fantasies of going much, much further, I wasn't sure I could let go of my boxer shorts. It was a step, and one that I was unsure of taking. She sensed my reticence; she sensed that I needed a push.

"My husband looks so much sexier when he is naked but for the underwear," my bottomless wife added, before dispatching Bryn and myself to the kitchen to prepare snacks and bring more drinks.

And if anyone had suggested 24 hours previous that I would be naked, but for a pair of black satin knickers, with another guy while my half-naked wife ordered me about and chatted with our neighbour, I'd not have believed it for a moment.

But at that point in time, with wine in one hand and crisps in another, I gazed up at my wife's cunt and everything felt so very natural.