My Father Visits

I'm already in bed, reading, when my wife enters the room, a devious grin on her face.

"Hello, sweetheart," she says. "Did you miss me?"

"Always," I reply, honestly. She's still wearing the sundress she wore at dinner, revealing her shapely calves and her bare feet, not to mention a hint of cleavage. "Did you finish the movie?"

"Yeah," she shrugs. "It was, meh. But the company was good."

That causes me to stir a little bit, although nothing could be more innocent.

"Your dad gives good foot-rubs."

Okay, that does more than make me stir. The sudden picture of my wife and my father, visiting for the weekend, sitting on opposite ends of the sofa. Her turning sideways, and putting her bare feet in his lap. That was wrong.

My wife and I are both 35. My dad just turned 60. He and my mother got divorced about six months ago, and this is his first visit to us since then. He seems completely normal... neither depressed, nor ebullient and gloating over his freedom. It's been a nice, comfortable visit.

She's standing in front of her dresser, brushing her hair. "So, I'm kind of in the mood to play a little." Now I'm standing at attention in my boxers. But when she turns around, I see she's reached into her top drawer and pulled out the chastity cage.

"Ummm," I pause. "My dad's here!"

"Psssh," she dismisses me. "He's on the other side of the house." She extends the cage to me. "C'mon, go put this on."

Well, I'm almost always up for a little bit of kinky fun. So dutifully I get up, take the device from her, and step into the bathroom. I brush my teeth again, and then stand over the toilet, waiting for my erection to subside enough to urinate. (I never know how many minutes or hours I'm going to be in this thing, better plan ahead.) Finally I deflate enough that I can spread some lotion over my penis, and push it through the tube until my glans fills the bulb at the end. I fit the pin through the little hole to connect the ring to the tube, and head back into the bedroom so my wife can do the honors with the lock and the key.

When I emerge, my wife has changed into a stunning sheer white gown. It would be nearly floor-length if she was standing up, but she's sitting on the bed, one leg tucked underneath her. It's so diaphanous I can see the fullness of her breasts; the dark circles of her areola. The distinctive lack of panties.

I approach the bed and stand there as she inserts the hasp of the tiny padlock through the hole in the pin, and secures it with that delicious "click." Then she leans in and kisses it... not my penis, not the cage, but the lock itself. I feel myself swelling again, but fruitlessly now.

She pats the mattress and I lie down, my back against the pillows. I'm naked except for the cage now. She runs her manicured nails down my chest, past my belly, stopping just above my crotch, and then back up again. Then she reaches behind her and reveals the wrist restraints. Oh. She wants to use those, too.

I compliantly lift my arms above my head, and she straddles my chest to affix my wrists to the headboard. I can feel the heat from her pussy on my sternum.

"There," she finally says, satisfied. Then she wriggles back down until she is sitting on my stomach, her ass just inches from the base of my captive shaft.

"So," she begins. "Your dad seems to be doing okay."

My dad? We're going to talk about him now?

"I wonder if he's gotten laid in the last six months?" she muses. I look at her in amazement. I... well, I've wondered the same thing; but that's not where my head's at right now.

She's tracing her fingernails over my chest, over my nipples. "I asked him if he was dating anyone, and he said no."

She leans over me, her face hovering two inches above mine, and whispers, "So I was thinking about going to his room and seeing if he needs any relief."

Okay, so if you haven't guessed by now, my wife is a hotwife. And I'm her stag, or her cuckold, depending on how she wants to play at any given time. And right now I'm thinking I'm an uber-cuckold.

"You can't be serious," I manage to say.

She sits upright on me. Now her soft ass cheeks are caressing my cage.

"Really? You're that oblivious? He's been sparking on me all night."

No, I'm not oblivious; I just don't expect my dad to be hitting on my wife. Or vice versa. This has never been part of the game.

"You know, he's really quite attractive," she taunts me. "All that silver hair. That big, manly chest..."

It's kind of true. Suddenly, previously unimagined images start flooding into my brain. The physical contrast between my father and myself is substantial. I must have got mom's genes. I have a runner's body. He looks like a Scottish caber-tosser. I'm fairly smooth; his forearms and the opening of his shirt neck suggest that he's more of a bear. And it's been years since I casually saw my father in the shower, but I suddenly recall that unlike me, he is not circumcised...

The pressure in my cage is immense. I can't believe how this wicked scenario is turning me on. What's wrong with me?

"C'mon," I plead. "That's so..." I don't know how to finish.

"I know," she smiles. "Honey, I've been thinking about this for months. I can't imagine a better way to cuckold you."

She can't? How about my boss? How about my brother? How about the asshole at the gym who beats me at racquetball every week? Not my father!

"Oh, I just think it's so perfect," she coos, leaning back over me again, stroking my hair. "You love that twinge of humiliation, the fear of being outed, the loss of respect. And who's respect in the world do you need more than your father's?"

My eyes must be the size of golf balls. She cocks her head and says, teasingly, "All gone!" Then she starts grinding on me.

"And for me. Well. You know how much I enjoy alpha cock. And what could be more alpha than the cock that's actually responsible for your existence?" She rolls her eyes back into her head, melodramatically.

Then she climbs off of me, and looks down at my penis, trying desperately to extrude itself through the bars of my cage. "I can tell you think it's hot, too."

"So, do you think he'll like this... presentation?" she asks, posing.

Well, he's a man, I think. Hell yes, he'll like it. But...

As always, she's two steps ahead of me. "He may resist. Or he may fuck me, and then feel guilty. We wouldn't want that, would we?

"So I may have to tell him that you're a cuckold. Then he'd know. Forever. Would you like that?"

No, I wouldn't like that. But my straining cock begs to differ.

"We'll have to see..." she concludes.

She's moved over to the dressing table. She picks up an atomizer, lifts her gown up, and spritzes perfume on her rounded tummy, and then lower.

"So how do you think your dad's going to take me?"

My mouth is so dry, I don't think I could have uttered an answer if I had one.

"He's pretty old-school," she continues, providing her own answer. "I think he's going to put me on my back, and spread my legs. Maybe hook his elbows behind my knees and fold me up like a deck chair.

"I think that's a pretty powerful way to enter your son's wife for the first time."

She turns toward the door, then stops. My heart stops too, in momentary relief. But she's only returning to her dresser to open a drawer. She pulls out a tiny lacy pair of white panties, to match her peignoir. She steps into them, and wriggles them up over her curvy ass. She turns to me and winks, "In case he wants a souvenir..."

And then she's gone, heading down the hallway and across the living space, toward my father's room...