Mari Trompé Présente!

This work has been written by INKENT and published solely on the Literotica platform. I have no issues with re-writes if someone fancy's it or extending the tale, but please let me know if you see this crop up on any other platform. I'm sure that any other author on here would appreciate the same courtesy too.

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This is a fairly short composition, a guy catching his wife, taunting he's nothing but a cuck. It's very tongue in cheek, and our hero, well, he may just rise to the occasion. Won't say any more than that, don't want to spoil it for those that do want to have a read. If a guy being cuckolded, irrespective of the circumstance or how it pans out don't do it for you, never mind, maybe something else I've written is more for you, or maybe some of the other authors that help keep Literorica alive with some excellent stories and tall tales will suit your taste.

I'm a Brit, so it is ye old English here, except for the French! My French vocabulary is fairly small, I can tell you my name, and ask you the time. There is some vagueness in the meaning of Mari Trompé, it's a story, please take it with a pinch of salt if needed, it's there for effect. I'll post the source in the comments, it's from the internet so it's got to be true 😊

Lastly thanks to TIM1135 for running through this, and tidying some of the French as well as the English. Go grab some garlic bread, a glass of red wine, here we go....

Mari Trompé Presenté

"What the fuck Ken! What have you done with our savings! Ted was right, he said you'd play the cry-baby and do something stupid. If it's not back in that account by tomorrow, I'll do it!"

My wife Tracy stood there; her breathing more akin to snorting. I couldn't help it, she reminded me of a bull that's been provoked for a bullfight. All that was missing was a gold ring through her nose. Unfortunately for me, the gold ring was on a finger of her left hand. The mental picture of her as part woman, part bull, tickled me. I think my little snort of contained laughter only inflamed her more.

"Oh, so you think it's funny do you? You're nothing but a sad, loser, cuck of a husband that can't satisfy..."

I burst into laughter, cutting her up short of her little tantrum. I really couldn't help it this time, the angrier she got, the more the image morphed in my mind. As I shut my eyes, she had transformed into a raging cartoon bull, stamping her front legs, getting ready to charge me. Thank you, Loony Tunes. I knew that watching all those madcap cartoons as a kid would come in useful one day.

As my laughter subsided, my short-lived piece of mirth subsided, I'd had enough now and my face returned to show its all too now familiar hang-dog expression. I turned and went back to the kitchen. My boys would be home from football practice soon, I did not want them exposed to the screaming, shouting slut my darling wife had shamefully turned into.

Do you know what was funny? I could make millions, if I could figure out how to do it. Fuck noise cancelling earphones. Somehow, I had adapted my brain to filter out my wife's all too common rants, as it now seemed her primary goal was to ridicule and berate me as much as she could. Mmm, I might do an internet search later. Maybe there is a way to unlock what I could now do with ease and share it with other husbands that were in the same sad boat as me.

Pulling the casserole from the oven that had been cooking on a low heat, I turned and there she was, her face simmering with anger. I'm sure the casserole could learn a thing or two from her, regarding simmering. She leant forward so she was right in my face, as she continued on her mission, spittle flying in every direction.

"Don't you ignore me cuck, where is my fucking money!"

"Excuse me, if you don't step aside, you'll be wearing this. It's exceedingly hot and I can only hold it for so long. Remember, I know how much you love wearing food!"

The expletives came thick and fast as she stepped aside allowing me to put the casserole dish onto a trivet.

"Damn you, you cocksucking cuck, where the fuck is my money? I'm warning you, don't try my patience, it won't end well for you!"

Ah now, there it was. Errors in her current assumptions. Now it was time to speak up.

"Let's consider your statement, it's only partially, factually, correct, dearest darling. First off, I've never sucked cock and I certainly don't plan to in the future. Second point I'll concede is, yes, you and your shithead boss have cuckolded me. Now, the all-important third point, money. What it all boils down to is, it's not your money, it's our money. But, even that's not right, is it? After I pay the mortgage, household bills, clothes and look after me and the boys, all my money ends up in that savings account. Now, if we log onto our banking and you show where one penny of your income had somehow found its way into our savings account, I'll forfeit all that money and hand it to you."

That did the trick. She stopped dead in her tracks. The upside-down smile on her face was now, the right way around. Well, it was, for about a minute. After logging onto our shared banking account on her phone and looking at where the credits for the savings account had come from, the smile was inverted back to where it had started and I'm sure she was snarling at me. I took the opportunity to carry on with the discussion.

"Let's talk money. I'm fairly sure you earn around the same as me, other than the odd take-away meal, I don't recollect a great deal of your income ever making its way into our bank account, but hey, I'm just a cuck of a husband, what would I know. Until a few weeks ago, I thought we had a happy marriage. Instead, I'm an unhappy cuckold stuck with a slut for a wife."

Yep, that did it, that released the inner slut-beast and it went into full on rage mode.

"How dare you, how fucking dare you call me a slut! I'm just making sure I'm getting what I deserve as a woman and since you fail abysmally to provide what I need, I've had to go find a man that can keep me satisfied. Just accept it...you're a cuck and will be for as long as I say you are! As for my money, I earnt that money! I have to pay for my new Mercedes and I'm expected to wear designer clothes for my work image. So, crawl back under the rock where you live, cuc..."

"Hold it Tracy, I need to check something!"

Not used to me cutting across her, she suddenly stopped, frozen, statue-like. I pulled my phone from my pocket and typed away. A subtle glance at her face could see the expectant look on her face, the face that thought I was rolling over to give her what she wanted. Up to three weeks ago, I probably would have returned the money but, today, no. In fact, there was no money, I'd spent it.

"Whew, that's a relief. I was really quite worried then!"

She looked at me quizzically and was quite lost as to what was going on. Confused, it elicited one sound from her.

"Huh?"

"With the state you're in, I was checking the local news to make sure there were no reports of rabid dogs on the loose, you never know, it could happen. With you foamin' at the mouth like that, I needed to be sure you hadn't been bitten by a rabid dog."

She exploded. I'm fairly sure that wherever the nearest device was that detected earthquakes was situated, it was registering this as a catastrophic disturbance in my household. It didn't take long for her to retaliate.

"Ooooh, think you're a funny man do you, well think again you pathetic loser. Once we send that teensy-weensy video clip of you laying in our piss to all your friends, family and work colleagues, we'll see who's laughing then!"

Yep, she was still one vindictive bitch, even if it had only come to light that fateful afternoon and ouch, it still hurt. But now it was different. You see, I'd been sick at work one day, around six weeks ago so, they sent me home. Yep, you've got it in one. Surprised to see my wife's car on the drive, I walked in ready to call out her name but, she beat me to it. The only problem was, she was calling out her boss's name, Ted, interspersed with other words like 'cock', 'big boy', 'pound me', 'make me yours' and 'fill this married pussy'. I think that's enough. You get the picture.

Despite knowing what was going on, I went upstairs. The bedroom door was open and underneath a somewhat energetic and sweaty Ted Smith, my wife's boss, was an equally energetic and quite vocal wife. I pulled my phone out making sure to grab a fair few shots then, I think the fake noise of a camera shutter from the phone, as it snapped away, finally grabbed their attention.

It was so nice of them to look back at me, even if their bodies were going through the motions that I thought were strictly my privilege to be doing with my wife. Of course, I did the one thing that sick people did; I threw up. I threw up all over the toilet but, actually, not the real toilet. The two beings that were no more than two pieces of shit that were in the toilet that was once my bed.

Unhappy at the intrusion on their little get together, plus the fact I had shared my lunch with them in the form of a puking projectile aimed at both of them, they really, really weren't a happy pair of bunnies. Ted jumped from the bed then, bang! He laid me out cold on the floor with a single punch. I'm no fighter, never have been, never will be but it turned out that Ted Smith was a fairly competent boxer in his younger days. Whilst I was out cold, they had an idea. Using their phones, they filmed me, as they both laughed, pissing on my prone body, saying quite derogatory things about me.

When I came to, they stood gloating over me before heading into the en-suite shower together. Next to me, on the floor, was my phone, smashed to pieces. Goodbye photos.

Picking myself up, I headed to the main bathroom to shower myself. Of course, they wanted to hammer home who and what I was. Apparently, according to my still vocal wife, who I could clearly hear from the en-suite, I wasn't a man. I couldn't measure up in any way to meet her needs. For ten minutes, I had to endure the sounds of a pair of alley cats going at it like hammer and tongs. It went quiet and a short while later, the front door opened and closed. They were gone. Once I was sure the coast was clear, I unlocked the main bathroom door and tried to understand what the hell had happened.

I'll admit it, I was broken. After all these years of what I thought was a happy marriage, it had now been thrown under a bus by Tracy. Why? Was it as simple as sex? Was he that much better than me? I'll have to look at the cheaters' handbook. There must be a clause in there that allows you to try before you buy and Tracy had decided to take the goods, by the looks of things. But what did that make me? I looked online and discovered the word was, cuckold. A man whose wife has sex with other men behind his back. It was a shameful feeling, adding the fact I'd had my arse handed to me on a plate then, the further humiliation as they continued fucking in my house, as they took a shower together.

When she returned home from work that evening, Tracy was as happy as Larry. With a cruel smirk, she carried on as if nothing was any different. In her eyes, they probably weren't. The exception was, I now knew. No apology, no begging for forgiveness, no 'it was only once and it won't happen again.' I seethed inside, planning to give her both barrels that night, once the boys had gone to bed but, that ship sank before I'd even sat on the sofa to fire my loaded cannons. She fired hers first and as I went to sit down, my boat sank instantly.

She wanted to strike hard back then, she knew I would come at her all guns blazing and she was well prepared. I'd thought I could fight back at that point, I was so very, very wrong. She handed me a manilla envelope that was in her bag.

"Take this, it's papers for our divorce papers. Ted's brother is a solicitor and I gave him all of our details and this will lay down what will happen if you don't want to do things my way."

Every sentence was like someone thrusting a knife in me. Keep the marital home until the youngest is eighteen or leaves higher education, if beyond the age of eighteen. Ted would be able to stay over, she would let him spoil the boys rotten, goading them to call him dad when he stayed. If that wasn't bad enough, she was going to hurt me using the boys. Restricted parental access, every other weekend only, paying alimony for years. Wait a minute, she earnt slightly more than me! I kicked off about that.

"Silly, silly husband, don't you remember, I told you earlier. I had to take a massive pay cut today. My income is down as Ted's business is having a bit of a downturn so he needs to trim some things back, including my pay. But don't worry, you keep depositing your pay into our bank accounts, and Ted...Ted will keep up the with his deposits in me in lieu of pay."

She was smiling. Actually no, she was giggling like a schoolgirl. It was a fix and I let it be known I knew what she was playing at so, I called her a scheming bitch. How can she say that? Good lord, she'd brought that new Mercedes a couple of weeks back and as for that prick, claiming he's a pauper, he has just moved into the swanky new gallery in the Battersea Power Station. Now it's finished and...wait a minute, I remember her telling me he has just bought a Bentley a couple of months back!

I can still hear her, talking to me like a child who noticed the kid next door had a better bike for Christmas than I did.

"Awww are you jealous? Does it make you feel insecure around the man that can get me off every time? He isn't just big down below. Everything from his bank balance to his lifestyle dwarfs you, my little cuckold. So, if you want to, I'm happy to file for divorce on the basis of irreconcilable differences. You can go for adultery, if you want to try but remember, you have no proof, with your phone turned to scrap. Behave, do nothing, say nothing and this petition for divorce stays safely buried. Of course, you may fancy your chances..."

Letting the sentence tail off, she looked at me, smiling like she owned the world. Let's face it, in a divorce, I'm guessing she'd probably get that too.

So that was that. Of all the things she had threatened me with, only one made me feel physically sick. It was my boys and having them taken from me. I would forgo everything else, they were currently the only thing keeping me sane, and I would not lose them. The very thought of them calling that greasy pig 'Dad' made my already churning stomach turn even more that night. As for only seeing them every other weekend, just that thought crushed me so, I yielded. I asked for one condition. As long as she kept him out of our house when they did their business, I would try to deal with it. Her answer, they would think about that, but no guarantees. Apparently, he enjoyed the feeling of marking my territory as his.

So here we are, five weeks later, I have tried to be compliant, kept quiet but, the worm had turned. I was enjoying the pissy tantrum over the missing money. She still thought I was frightened about what she'd done to me becoming public knowledge. There was one thing she had overlooked. To make me a cuckold, she had become...a slut. A woman that sleeps around, with low morals.

The following day, it was almost a repeat of the previous day, except there was no casserole. Instead, I'd cooked the boys one of their favourites, toad in the hole. After dinner, the boys retreated to their rooms to play some online games. She brought a big gun to bear down on me. Of course, I was frightened.

Little cuck, you haven't put my money back into that account, I warned you. With that she picked her phone up, scrolling backwards and forwards through the contacts.

"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe...who's little number do I know?"

She then dialled a contact. I only heard one half of the conversation.

"Hello Ash, how are you?"

"Your brother? Oh no, there's nothing wrong, well, not if you mean an accident or something. I need to tell you something, it's a little embarrassing for him but, I would hate to see you caught unawares. He's a cuckold."

"Oh, you don't know what that means? Basically, he has a thing about letting other, better and more well-endowed men, fuck me."

"No. Honestly, he is fine about it. He gets off on the humiliation of it."

"You don't believe me? I tell you what, this all started a few weeks back. He actually took it further, he asked for me and my lover to piss on him as he lay cowering on the floor. If you want, I'll send you the date stamped video."

"Well, your choice but, you can have it if you want it. When you see him, ask him all about it. He'll be so happy to share his experience with you."

Ok. What's that, you feel sick? I hope you feel better soon. I didn't realise you didn't feel well. Love to Susie and the kids!"

She looked and smiled at me.

"Where...is...my...fucking money! I'll ring everyone that knows you if I have to. Your sister tomorrow then, your mum and dad!"

I looked at her, dejected and lost. I needed to come clean.

"The moneys gone. I paid for some art."

I must have turned into an alien or something. She stood, looking at me, eyes and mouth wide open in shock. Now, it was her turn to laugh.

"You, you, YOU brought some art for fifteen thousand pounds? What did you buy, a million colour by number books! You know absolutely nothing about art! Christ, you should have given the money to me. That's what the fuck I do, deal with art!! What did you buy?"

"Erm, a photograph."

"She no longer looked at me as if I was an alien. She looked at me like I was an alien with two heads and tentacles sprouting from my arse.

"A PHOTOGRAPH! YOU FUCKING MORON. No photograph is worth that much money!"

She was so angry, I actually thought she would explode; her arms were waving around as her head bobbled angrily on her shoulders as she screamed blue murder.

"Erm, I'm sorry, I disagree. Le Violon d'Ingres sold for just a smidge under twelve and a half million dollars. There are loads of others I can show yo..."

"OH MY GOD, you really have brought some photograph, haven't you? What is it and who's it by? Maybe I can recoup some of the money you've obviously wasted!"

"Yes, I keep telling you, I have brought a photograph but, the artist is an unknown. I just felt it was worth the money, that's all."

She stalked up and down the living room, snarling like an angry lioness.

"You just wait, you think you're so fucking clever don't you. For that, I'll be fucking Ted in my bed from now on, fuck you! If you do want to stand and listen like you did when we were in the shower the other day..."

It was too late by then, I walked briskly away. I no longer wanted to hear the verbal diarrhoea that spewed from her mouth so, I went to my bedroom, once our spare bedroom for guests but, not anymore. I sent a quick text to my brother, thanking him for his excellent performance. You see, I'd already told my closest family and some others of the dire situation.

When I came home mid-week from work, the door to the bedroom I once shared with my wife was open. It was open when I left this morning. Unusual, as she had kept it firmly closed since the event from a few weeks back. In the morning, the bed was neatly made up. In the evening, in complete disarray, including a large wet patch in the middle. I got it, it was simply a message for me.

I cooked a meal for me and the boys. There was no sign of Tracy, as of yet. Not that I cooked for her any more but, I wanted to protect the boys. They weren't stupid. It made me cry when they asked if they could stay with me when we got divorced. They were smarter than me. They had already figured it was the only feasible outcome.