Cuckolding for Beginners Ch. 06

Chapter VI

The cat's away

I knew Christina must have discussed the implications of that night with my wife: the mannerisms and behaviour of Erin changed slightly and every moment we were with each other felt like it was being savoured and enjoyed far more: reassuring touches on my knee, sexual kisses on my lips and loving cuddles in bed.

Nothing too much happened for a couple of days; we went away for the weekend to visit my family. We missed Christina's and Bryn's wild party, and I doubt we would have been comfortable going anyway. The salacious escapades and revelations of that previous night, though always conscious in our thoughts, were no longer centre-stage as we spent time socialising with relatives.

"Christina wants me to fuck one of her friends," Erin announced as we watched television the following week. Casually dropped into the conversation; as if it was a normal, everyday thing for couples to discuss.

"Oh right."

"Tomorrow." My heart skipped and my eyes met hers instantly. "What do you think of that?"

"It's... it's... wow! All very quick."

"That's Christina. I'll do whatever you say, love."

Whatever I said? Sure, I wanted my wife to be happy but in our kink discovery, it was all very sudden. Was I ready to know that my wife was being unfaithful? I wasn't the naïve teenager with Holly any more but it was a big step for me, for Erin and for our relationship.

But as I looked into her deceptively angelic eyes, I knew I wanted her to. I wanted her to feel the firm hands of another man gripping her hips and thrusting his manhood deep into her cleft. I wanted her to experience the beautiful pounding of her cunt to leave her writhing in delightful ecstasy. I wanted her to spread her wings.

There are implications to every decision we make, but as my mind whirred through the permeations, I became more certain. Certain that for us to continue to savour what love we have, I needed to allow her to experiment. To set the caged bird free knowing that it will return to me when she's ready.

Christina and Bryn had opened my eyes; every day they worked hard at their relationship because they had to. Every moment their connection grew stronger because of the freedoms Christina enjoyed.

And to make this new agreement work, we both had to realise that we needed to invest in our relationship like never before: communication had to be impeccable, the love complete and our trust in each other unwavering.

Which was missing from Holly and myself a dozen years previous: the trust. As she rode her other partners to riotous climaxes and kept her sex life from me, the trust was eroded. The connection between us sullied by the lack of honesty.

I would not make that mistake again. I smiled, her fingers trembled as she parted my dressing gown, sliding her hand along my thigh and onto the base of my cock. "I'll be begging for it," she whispered. "As another man takes his dick and plunges into me. How does that make you feel?"

My cock swelled in her hand, answering her question. "Ummm... good, I think."

"And he'll pound me, bringing me to orgasm until I can take no more. Your wife. He'll be fucking your wife. How does that make you feel?"

Her fingers tapped lightly on my shaft, watching as I felt several tingles dance the length of my cock. "Fine."

"Bryn sometimes helps fluff," Erin whispered. "Getting down on his knees to caress and kiss, to touch and arouse the man about to screw his wife."

My cock stiffened and Erin smiled. It was an arousing thought; deeply submissive as the cuckold prepares his wife's new partner for the act. For his act of humiliation and their act of dominance.

"Quite the little pervert aren't we?" She teased. "I must say, the thought of you playing with other men is so very sexy. I could watch that all day." Her eyes teased, her fingers sliding over my cock as I winced.

"Ummm... well I'm not sure..."

She gripped the firm cock in her hands. "Honey, this tells me more than words ever can!"

There was far more negotiation than that exchange; we discussed our new boundaries long into the night. As I said, communication was paramount and we needed to discuss what Erin could and couldn't do.

Ultimately, she promised to use protection at all times, and to be open about her dalliances. She didn't even know if she'd enjoy sleeping with other guys, but we needed some ground rules as we opened up our relationship.

In return, I promised to discuss any concerns with her and not to let them "stew" or "fester." Furthermore, I wasn't allowed to fuck another woman at all without her permission.

In truth, although I rarely mention it, we communicated lots and often since that day. I was never in any doubt what she had done with other men, what she wanted to do and how she felt. She always knew my feelings, my fears and my fantasies. We could never have worked any other way.

Our submissive-dominant relationship had taken a new turn and that night felt like the first step on a long but exciting journey into the unknown. The first word in a new chapter.

That morning she laid a pair of bright pink panties on my pillow with a smile; her skirt was worryingly short and she pushed my fingers against her slit with ease. "Your wife is going to be so naughty today!"

My erect cock strained the feminine underwear; I longed to slip into the wet slit of my lover. Her finger traced the length of the lace and my wife smirked as I whimpered at her teasing. "Later," she cooed. "for me at least. You can wait until whenever I want to give it to you!"

I wondered if anyone knew what I was thinking; all day I was wondering what my wife was doing, checking my phone at every moment I got.

I dreamt of a big, brutish hunk sweeping her up and drawing my dainty wife onto his meaty cock, slobbering at the thought of pounding her sweet cunt into a mess of orgasmic heaven. I saw my wife on her knees worshipping the thick beast of a well-built muscular man as his friend drove his cock into her from behind, watched by the ever-lustful eyes of Christina.

Watching, smirking, masturbating.

Every touch of another on my wife drew waves of sensual satisfaction from her; her skirt hitched to her waist, her make-up smudged and her blouse torn from her slender body. Her breasts kneaded and fondled like she was some sexual slave, groaning and crying with disgusting horniness.

And I saw her everywhere: on my desk, in the car, in the lunchtime café. Everywhere. She dominated my thoughts as I imagined a hundred encounters with my lustful Erin and her multitude of unknown partners.

It never faded. All day I dreamt and imagined it and it only got worse when received a picture message at 3pm from Christina: a hard cock impaling my wife. "Have you soaked your pink panties?" She asked.

I did. Pre-cum which had leaked all day gushed into the flimsy lace as my thoughts were dominated by the story behind the picture message I had been sent.

I studied it: the cock wasn't so thick but veiny. It possessed a slick sheen of sex over the condom as it thrust deeply into my wife on a hotel room bed. Her clothes, discarded; her expression, desperate. And so I looked at every pixel. Desperate to gather more clues, and elicit more detail. Who was he? Where were they? How long were they engaged in sex? Did she come?

But a snapshot in time of my wife's extra-curricular activities provided nothing but speculation and I didn't dare ring her. I just replied to her.

"You look amazing. I'm such a lucky husband. Hope you enjoyed yourself."

"It was incredible," she replied but it wasn't until I got home and kissed the lips of my wife that I got somewhere near the full story.

Terrence had met my wife and Christina at lunchtime; six feet of muscular student with deep brown eyes that undressed the ladies as they ate lunch.

I could see the lust in her expression, sinfully recollecting the café-based flirting. His fingers rubbed the top of her short skirt and then explored the beautiful bounty underneath while they sat and drank coffee.

He wasted little time in curling his fingers against her lust, teasing her horniness into a fevered point and leaving her gasping for sex. She needed it; she had met him to get fucked and the lunchtime sandwiches were an unwanted distraction.

Christina had the keys to a hotel room a few streets away; Erin suggested that she had not paid for the afternoon booking but had made a benefits-in-kind withdrawal from the hotel manager's testicles.

The room was small; the student took little time in caressing the desperate woman, rolling his hands over her tight clothes. She rubbed her body against his, both undressing impatiently as Christina watched.

Waiting and guiding my wife into her craven infidelity.

Every touch of the student was patience; my wife cried out for impatience. She wanted him. She wanted another's cock and my prick was as erect as it had ever been. My wife was begging and pleading for another dick to fuck her and it made me horny.

Desperately so.

I could imagine every touch and every whimper. Every lustful caress. I could see Terrence but I'd never met him. I wanted to feel his burgeoning muscles as the sheen of his skin flexed with every movement. I wanted to run my fingers over his elegant bumps and sweep over his manly body.

And I wanted to feel his body twist and contort as he laid my wife onto the bed and lined up his cock to plunder the lady that I loved and adored.

She squealed as his fettered cock slipped into her unguarded hole, groaning as the rugby player rammed his thick meat into her married pussy.

And her husband was on edge, my cock twinkled with arousal as she recounted her story, smiling as she reminisced the orgasms he had given her and the feverish passion of their union until they climaxed, groaning and crying with spent lust.

They showered together afterwards, sopping the nubile bodies of the two lovers in the warm drizzle of the small bathroom. It sounded wonderful, and it was no wonder that my wife was already planning her next extra-marital dalliance.

And unlike Holly, it felt so right. I wasn't threatened by Terrence, any more than Holly's other partners was a real threat to me. But this time I had the sexual maturity and the experience to handle the rampant infidelity of my partner and I loved it.

Indeed, the following day, my wife mixed business with pleasure. Her ever-naughty mind had seen that a businessman, eager to offer gym membership to his employees, was especially keen on her short skirt, and my loving wife offered herself if he signed up that day.

Again, she told me in every minute detail: the gentleman's desperate thrusting, groaning and fevered cries of defiance to his ex-wife. His undersized cock and disappointing performance made the sense of humiliation deeper.

She revelled in the story; my wife had chosen to be with a sexual inadequate and I felt incredible. Her eyes welcomed me warmly; she knew what her confession meant as did I: suddenly she wasn't trying out new sexual partners for the thrill of their prowess but because they were "new."

Because they weren't her husband, and because it was another notch on her bedpost. She was highlighting that I had lost control of my wife's fidelity; our relationship would be fundamentally different.

My horniness knew few bounds; my denial was absolute. Erin refused to sate my arousal, teasing me with long, wicked gropes of my crotch and gentle stroking of my shaft as I whimpered desperately.

I almost cried; she smirked with mischievous glee, but she had a solution.

Bryn would be coming 'round to visit: I was to be bisexual if I wanted to orgasm. Or at least try it.