Rated C for Cuckold: Ch. 01

The woman in row three stood up and grabbed her purse. She leaned down, whispered something to her husband, and started to tiptoe down the aisle.

I sighed with relief. They had the wrong theater. I waited for her husband to follow. He didn't move.

Damn it! Just a restroom or concessions trip.

The couple in row three wasn't supposed to be here. The booking app had shown the theater to be completely empty thirty minutes earlier. It was miserably cold out, and this film--some lifeless rom-com made ten years past its prime--had flopped hard.

And yet, there they were.

Interrupting an unofficially-private showing would've been a minor annoyance on any other night, but tonight, it could be a deal-breaker. I couldn't blame them, of course. They had no idea that, five rows behind them in the back of the theater, we had big plans for this room--a practically secluded but just-risque-enough backdrop for a night to remember.

Despite this setback, there were still two things playing in our favor. Two things that could overcome common sense and see this night through. Namely, the two raging cocks on either side of my wife.

The first cock throbbed in Paige's warm grasp. It ached to be stroked again, but she held it still. Her deliberate pacing had us both on edge, but she had 123 minutes to work with, and we would abide by her schedule tonight.

The second cock fought valiantly to escape my pants. It was so stiff that a mere touch would have shattered it. My balls were swollen. Previously unknown parts of my groin ached.

Row-three woman was halfway up the aisle now. I glanced to my right and noticed my wife's hand hadn't moved. "Maybe pause for a sec?" I hurriedly whispered.

"It's fine, she won't notice," Paige whispered back. I took a deep breath and turned towards the screen, watching row-three woman out of the corner of my eye as she inched closer to our row.

Then I noticed something else out of the corner of my eye--the other corner. Paige was stroking Adam's dick again. Her forearm moved in unison with his dark green jacket as it bobbed up and down on his lap. Adam exhaled and closed his eyes.

The woman, now identifiable as a middle-aged woman with short red hair, was one row away now, but Paige didn't let up. If anything, she seemed to ramp up the pace. His jacket still concealed the action but was starting to slide towards the floor. Neither of them made any effort to adjust it.

As the woman passed our row and walked out the door, I frantically debated if the screen's flickering lights had been dim enough to conceal us at the end of the row. I doubted it. Paige's movements were noticeable up to her shoulders.

With the woman gone, I looked at my wife with a mixture of panic and painfully obvious arousal as if to say, "What the hell was that?!"

She shrugged and gave me an innocent half-smile. "I was just looking for something I needed." She slowed her movements, sliding her hand down to massage Adam's balls. "Found it."

Jolts of electricity shot through my dick as it made another desperate attempt to escape my smothering jeans and lunge for my wife, awaiting a turn it knew it wouldn't get. I couldn't imagine a crueler punishment, nor a more blissful night.

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Six years ago, I popped the question.

Not the question, but that question. I pussyfooted my way into it one night during foreplay, slipping in a joke about a MMF threesome. It went horribly. After nine years of an airtight bond and a very fulfilling sex life, Paige was taken aback, at best confused as to why I would sacrifice our intimacy, and at worst paranoid that this was my backdoor for bringing another woman into the fold. I vowed to shove the idea away forever, a commitment that lasted two weeks.

Hell hath no fury like a penis scorned.

Over time, I tried to fathom a way to communicate that as our relationship matured, I internalized our intimacy differently. Prior feelings of jealousy and possessiveness gave way to the realization that 1) I was indeed the luckiest man on Earth, but 2) Paige was meant for more.

She was the paragon of the hotwife ideal. She wasn't particularly outgoing or extroverted, but that didn't stop her from effortlessly stealing attention. In fact, she could steal the very room she was in. She stole its shadows and hid their secrets behind her dark brown eyes. She stole its textures and weaved them into her long and lush dark brown hair. She stole its light and reflected it back in that perfect smile. She stole its proportions to shape a can't-walk-by-without-grabbing-it ass and equally tempting C cups. Paige was the room.

But she couldn't see it. We were both raised in conservative settings that suppressed self-expression and exploration. My work was cut out for me.

After several years of frustratingly dropping hints, giving up, un-giving up, and giving up again, I finally noticed trace amounts of progress. Late night arguments became subtle roleplay. Roleplay became quips at dinner. We bought her first toy, a modestly sized dildo we lovingly (and drunkenly) named "Mr. Big." We started going out more often. She wore more revealing and tight-fitting clothes, occasionally skipping the bra or panties. The focus remained on our incredible bond and renewed sex life, but the dynamic was undoubtedly shifting.

Any time we talked up the fantasy, it was awkward and distant. I was admittedly growing eager for more and tried shifting the conversation to "I know it won't happen, but who would you pick?" She would always name some celebrity or public figure, but she had trouble connecting with the idea, and it usually fell flat within a few minutes. And then, on a red wine-fueled night (which I now recognize as a national holiday), the tide began to turn.

We were closing out at an intimate night at the bar with sex obviously on the horizon. I glanced at Paige across the table. "Who would you pick tonight?"

I expected one of the usual celebrities, but she was quiet for a moment and avoided my gaze. "I thought of someone who probably would."

I froze. "Oh?"

She quickly tried to play it off. "I'm just saying he would."

I felt an erection begin to unfold. I tried to lighten the mood. "You can't drop a bombshell like that without details!"

She rolled her eyes and lowered her voice. "Do you remember Adam from my first job?"

I vaguely remembered the name but didn't recall ever meeting him. I desperately wished I had. As the story goes, they had worked in the same department for a few months, and she had recognized very quickly that he was attracted to her. He had been respectful and kept his distance, only occasionally inviting her to lunch, but she knew the way he looked at her left an open invitation.

"So, what did you like about him?" I prodded.

"I don't know. He was handsome, I guess, but I didn't think of him that way at the time." She continued avoiding my gaze. "A few coworkers had the hots for him. He had a fling with one of them." She looked concerned. "I don't want this to change anything."

"Hey, it's just talk! It doesn't change anything," I said. It changed everything. I slipped my credit card back in my pocket and ordered us two more drinks. "I'm just curious what attracted you to him. In the... literature... the hotwife is usually after the young studs. Wasn't this guy older?"

"Yeah, I think he was around 10-15 years older," Paige said with an embarrassed smile. "You asked me who I would pick, theoretically. He just came to mind because he's the only one I can remember showing interest."

"Makes sense," I said. I tried to downplay him a bit. "So, he was kinda the only option."

Paige either didn't hear me or ignored me. "And if we were to hypothetically try this, it would be nice to have an older guy who would be mature about it. I feel like a younger guy would make it about himself and let it go to his head."

"And you don't think he would?" I asked.

"Probably not," she said. "He didn't with Lauren, anyway."

"Lauren? As in, your best work friend Lauren?" I asked.

"Yeah, that was the fling I mentioned," she said. She sipped her cocktail and finally locked eyes with me. We broke into an awkward "What? I'm not thinking anything. What are you thinking?" smile.

"Do women talk shop at work?" I asked. "Did you hear many details?"

"Of course," she admitted. "She was really excited about it for a while. Mentioned a few times how he was 'a complete package.' They didn't last too long, he didn't want anything serious. She wasn't happy about how it ended."

"Gotcha," I nodded. I sipped my scotch and tried to suppress my erection. We closed our tab a few minutes later and drove home. Both of us would be lying if we said the sex that night wasn't fueled by a new kind of fire.

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Paige found Adam on social media the next day and showed me pictures. He was reasonably fit, perhaps a few pounds overweight, with messy dark hair. The age gap showed in his salt-and-pepper beard and rugged face. He had moved away for work and still appeared to be single. With each new bit we could gather, the unspoken stars seemed to align.

This was a promising turn of events, if only to add a dose of reality to my headcanon. I was never naive enough to assume Paige was an incubating BBC slut who would snap one day and fuck her way across an NFL locker room, but the Adam fantasy felt real.

At my urging, Paige messaged him one night after we both got tipsy on a bottle of wine. We agreed that even a simple, "It's been a while, how are you?" message could provide me with weeks of roleplay fuel. Her willingness to risk a little awkwardness for me felt like a turning point.

Adam was quick to respond. They exchanged pleasantries and life updates as the conversation went on for a few nights. The topics remained casual, but Paige seemed to anticipate his messages more and more. Pet pictures and afternoon coffee selfies worked their way in. Adam eventually suggested they catch up soon, and Paige casually agreed. Knowing it would be inconvenient for either of them to make the four hour drive to "catch up," I could tell Adam remembered her quite well.

As fate would have it, we had been tossing around the idea of a weekend getaway in his city for a while now, so the trip nudged its way to the top of our priorities over the next few weeks. Neither of us would admit that meeting up with Adam was a real possibility, but the idea followed us both like a cool breeze.

After debating our next move for several days, we justified the trip with plans for several non-Adam activities and booked a hotel room. We settled on asking Adam if he wanted to meet for drinks before we went to a movie. We liked the idea of keeping it casual in a public setting and seeing where things went. Paige sent him the plan over text.

Paige: Hey, it turns out I'll be in your area two weekends from now! Going to hit up a bar and the movies that Friday night. Feel free to swing by the bar if you'd like! I can shoot you details later.

Adam: Awesome! I'll be there for sure. It's just you coming, or...?

Paige: My husband, Andrew, will be there too. It'll be a little weekend getaway for us!

Adam: Gotcha, Sounds like a party to me!

The stage was set.

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We arrived at the crowded bar two weeks later and nervously scanned the crowd. Adam was supposed to arrive thirty minutes later or so.

Or not. He was seated at a booth close to the door, slightly overdressed in a light blue button-down and dark jeans. He waved us over and stood up as he and Paige exchanged an awkward "hey" and casual side hug. He shook my hand and introduced himself. Shit, this was a bad idea. We had been here less than a minute and post-nut clarity was already settling in.

Paige and I took our seats opposite Adam in the booth. "So, a weekend getaway, huh?" he said. "You're starting it off right, this is one of my favorite spots."

"Yeah, it's nice in here!" Paige agreed. "We were hoping to ask you for some hot spots around town." I took in my surroundings as she asked him something else I didn't catch. I heard it as "get over here and shove your big cock inside me already!", but I believe it was more along the lines of "are you still working in IT?"

Adam insisted on ordering a bourbon flight for the table. He and Paige spent the next several minutes catching up, quickly falling back on old work memories and rehashing complaints and gossip about their old team. They both did their best to include me. The noisy bar and bad karaoke helped filter out some of the awkwardness, and the conversation started to feel natural.

Paige would frequently rub my thighs and go out of her way to refer to me as "honey," "babe," etc. She was loosening up after the bourbon and getting lovingly silly. She laughed loudly at our jokes. She high-fived Adam when they shared an unpopular opinion. Her red suede heels bumped his leg a couple times under the table, and she apologized for "playing footsie."

Adam seemed to be taking the night in stride, although I could tell he sensed the underlying awkwardness. "So, you guys are hitting up the movies down the street after this?"

"Yeah, we're going to see the new Clooney movie," Paige replied.

"Ah, didn't that one get terrible reviews?" Adam asked, pulling out his phone to Google it.

"Yeah, I think so," I replied. "There weren't many options, though."

"You're welcome to join us if you don't have anything better to do," Paige said. "At least gives you a couple hours for the drinks to wear off." She turned to me. "Weren't there plenty of seats left, babe?" she asked mockingly.

"Heh, I bet there are a few," I joked. "It was completely empty when I booked the tickets."

Adam laughed awkwardly. "Sure I won't bother you as a third wheel, though? I don't exactly have a date to bring. I've been... between girls for a bit." I bet the asshole meant it literally.

"Nah," Paige said. "You can carry the drinks." She leaned over and poked his bicep across the table. Shivers shot down my spine, and probably his.

"I can do that," Adam laughed. "Sounds better than sitting at home. Sure, I'll tag along." He glanced at the Rotten Tomatoes score on his phone. "Oh boy, good thing we had alcohol first."

"We probably won't watch the movie all that much," Paige winked.

My body went rigid. Adam and I exchanged--and quickly broke off--an awkward glance. Paige excused herself to the restroom, letting her mic drop linger. Holy shit, I had no idea she had that in her.

"Hey man, I'll go ahead and buy your ticket," I said, pulling out my phone and pretending to purchase the third ticket I had already bought.

"Appreciate it, boss," Adam said.

I looked up from my phone. Perhaps he was lost in the moment, but Adam didn't even try to conceal the fact that he was staring at Paige's ass in a daze as she walked to the restroom. I stared too. Her heels gave it the perfect bounce in her tight black jeans. Her wavy pony tail bounced along with it. Her dark red sweater--my favorite one with slits in the shoulders--fortunately stopped at her hips. Paige never accentuated her steps like this. She knew she had an audience.

Adam finally came to and let out a sigh, staring at his drink. He decided to call his shot. "You're a lucky man."

"Definitely," I said. "Hey, sorry if this has gotten awkward. You don't have to come to the movie with us. We're just cutting loose a bit while we're away from home."

"No sweat, man. It's good to cut loose sometimes. She seems to be having fun. It's been nice to see her away from work."

We sat in silence for a bit and waited for Paige to return. She arrived back at our table and tapped Adam on the shoulder. "You guys ready?"

"Let's do it!" I said.

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The movies were a sacred experience for me, ritualized by the exact same concessions in the exact same row with the exact same date. Tonight, however, I assumed we would forgo the rituals.

I had planned to skip the concessions and was darting towards our theater, both out of anticipation and wanting to avoid attention, but Adam insisted we grab a snack or two. There were any number of reasons a trio like ours might come to the movies together, but I imagined anyone who noticed us would immediately jump to "Look at those three over there, she's obviously fucking the older one!"

Adam stepped up to the register and turned to Paige who was a few paces behind him. "Anything for you?" That was my line, damn it.

"No thanks," she smiled, grabbing my arm. "I don't want to get too messy."

Adam purchased some candy, then the three of us found our seats. The theater was a bit old (which worked in our favor as I didn't spot any security cameras), but did feature renovated comfortable recliners. We settled in and chatted for a few minutes about recent movies.

When the lights dimmed and the previews began, the weight of the evening seemed to hit us all.

After a few moments that seemed like an eternity, Paige leaned over and whispered in my ear. "I think he's catching on."

"I think so too," I agreed. "He told me I was 'a lucky man' when you went to the restroom... while he was staring at your ass."

"I know," she giggled. "I kept rubbing my foot against his leg. He never moved it."

Paige kissed my ear. She started with a quick peck, then softly bit it. I had been stifling an erection since the bar, but her tease ended that game. My cock instantly hardened as her lips moved down from my ear, across my cheek, and met my own. We kissed as she grabbed my hand, our fingers interlocking.

She broke the kiss. "All good then?" she asked with a soft smile. I nodded furiously.

Adam had made a good show of pretending to watch the previews, but I could see his eyes following her every move.

Paige was definitely tipsy but still had her senses. "There's no going back," she said. I nodded in agreement. "But if we want to do this, I think he'll be good for us. He's been very respectful." She leaned in and ran her tongue across my lips. "And I want to make you happy."

"I'll be happy either way," I lied.

"Mhm," Paige smirked. "I know you better than that." She kissed my cheek farewell. "Don't touch it until I get back."

Paige leaned towards Adam who was trying to distract himself with a box of candy. She took a piece without asking and popped it in her mouth. Adam smiled and tilted the box towards her. She grabbed it and sat it in the cup holder.

"How long have you wanted me?" Paige asked softly.

"Day one," Adam said.

"I know," Paige said with a sympathetic smile. She laid a hand on his thigh and slowly drifted it across, stopping at his bulge. "Tonight, you can have me."

Paige whispered something inaudible. Adam nodded without hesitation and started to take off his jacket, then looked at me and asked her something. "Mhm," she replied, nuzzling against his neck. "He says it's your lucky night."

Adam tried leaning in for a kiss, but Paige shook her head. Those were still mine. For now. He finished taking off his jacket, sat it on his lap, and began working his hands underneath it. Paige rubbed his chest and waited patiently.

Adam brought his hands out from under his jacket. "Good boy," Paige whispered playfully as she patted his arm. She turned to wink at me and slowly slid her hand under his jacket.

I hated that jacket. The wool material was dumb. The dark green color was stupid. The buttons were too big. I wanted it to go away.

The jacket began to shuffle as Paige slowly worked Adam's cock underneath it. He closed his eyes and moved his hands toward her shirt, and when she didn't stop him, reached up to grab her breasts. Paige had skipped the bra tonight. He slowly massaged her boobs, groaning from his handjob.