Rob and Amanda Lundsford

I'm Robert Lundsford, age thirty-eight; stock broker for Hilling's Investments, husband, and as I now know an unknowing cuckold. My wife of ten years is Amanda Lundsford age thirty-six; works for Hammond Industries, wholesalers of kitchenware; she's a receptionist—oh—and a lover of men. We'd moved to Des Moines almost immediately after marrying. I had a friend, Bret Hilling's. He and I had attended state college together; his offer of employment was an opportunity too good to pass up.

Amanda is tall, at five-ten, and slender; I sometimes call her Willow. Me? Five four, also slender and still with all my hair—thank God. Yeah, yeah, I know she's way too tall for me; but fact is she'd assured me she liked short guys. Well, hell, there had to be at least one woman in the world who did—right? Seemed fair to me, I mean since I like 'em tall and slinky; which pretty much describers my Amanda, so shoot me.

Oh, and no kids.

Things have been mostly good for us. Sex good, incomes "really" good, and we get along socially pretty well. Well, that is until the last few months. Lately, I have been the object of what I consider some fairly obvious neglect by my wife. And, things are fast coming to a head.

******

"I am not the wimp you think I am, Amanda, no matter what your friends say or you believe. You have disrespected me for the last time," I said. She tendered me an indulgent smile.

"Robbie, I never said you were a wimp. And, neither has anybody else," she said, laughing. "Just calm down. Okay?"

"I..."

"Amanda, can I have this dance," said Chester Warfield, coming up to us for the tenth time this evening, or so it seemed to me.

"Sure, Chester. It's okay with you isn't it honey?" she said, as he pulled her away from me before I could even answer her.

The smiles from the cluster of little two person bar tables surrounding ours were telling. The tables were peopled all, or mostly all, by her friends on this night. I was humiliated and feeling real low. I wanted my woman, but it was beginning to look like I didn't even have a woman of my own. Fuck, maybe I was the wimp she obviously thought me.

I seethed and waited for her return. I looked up at the clock 10:30. I was almost surprised as she was back right after her dance with Chester. But, just as I was about to ask her to dance myself, Chester, rather than walking off, plopped down on the seat next to her: I was on one side of her and he was on the other.

"Honey would you get us a couple of drinks please," said Amanda. I decided to make a stand.

"No," I said. She proffered me a sidelong glance.

"Chester, would you be a dear," she said.

"Certainly," he said.

"Look, Amanda, You made me come to this thing tonight. You danced with me exactly once. Who the heck are you married to if you don't mind my asking?" I said. She gave me a look. There ensued a few minutes of pregnant silence.

Apparently concerned by my attitude, and my tapping foot, she opened up. "Now, honey, don't be like that. You'll get your chance to dance with me." Just then Chester arrived back at the table with two drinks—my glass had been empty too. Clearly he'd gotten one for each of them. I decided to make my stand now. I took the one he'd set in front of himself and downed it.

"Thanks," I said. "I needed that."

"What the fuck!"

"Robbie, what are you doing?" said Amanda.

"Standing up for myself," I said. Suddenly there was a flurry of subdued chatter from the tables around us.

"Robbie!"

"You know—fuck it!" I said. I rose and headed for the door. I was home twenty minutes later and waiting on her. We were going to have it out. She had to know I wasn't going to be putting up with anymore of her shit; or, if she didn't she soon would.

Well, as it turned out, I guess she wasn't especially worried about my stand; she arrived two hours after me.

I was sitting at the dinette, tapping my fingers on the table. She came in through the front door.

"Thanks a lot Chester. I don't know what I would've done without you," I heard her say.

She saw me. "So you're still up," she said. "We'll talk tomorrow. I'm tired. And, I need to cool off after you humiliated me like that."

"Humiliated you? That's a laugh. And, we'll either talk it out now, or I'm going to be going now, and I mean permanently," I said.

"What! Are you out of your mind! What's gotten into you," she said.

"Frankly I've wondering who might be getting into you. And, in case it matters to you my answer is not me for one," I said. "No sex for the past six weeks, not even any kisses of the 'I love you' variety. One dance in three hours tonight. Ordered to caddy drinks for you and your soon to be new boyfriend, I'm sure. Put another way, you've neglected me badly, and I'm done with it. Things do a one-eighty starting now, or we're through," I said. She eyed me.

"Robbie, I haven't been neglecting you; well, not consciously. Has it really been that long since we've done it together? I didn't realize..."

"You didn't realize it because you didn't care," I said. "Like I said, a one-eighty or nothing. Make up your mind now"

"Honey, yes we'll, I'll, do better by you starting now. But, just calm down. And, tonight was—well—whatever it was. An accident, nothing intentional, really," she said.

"Come on, let's go to bed. We can talk some more tomorrow. Okay?" she said. "I'm bushed." I was tired too so I nodded my okay.

Once upstairs I had a thought. "Amanda, don't bother wearing anything to bed. You won't need them," I said. Her look was one of frustration—no—exasperation.

"Honey, could we wait till tomorrow. I really am bushed," she said.

"No," I said. She shook her head slowly.

"Okay, but don't expect a lot of energy on my part. But, I guess I do owe you a little something tonight if it's really been six weeks," she said.

She stripped. I stripped. She lay beside me staring at the ceiling. She was clearly waiting for me to take the initiative.

She let me kiss her, but she didn't actively return it. She just lay there—what—enduring me.

"What nothing at all from you. You just gonna be like some blowup doll for me to get my rocks off?" I said. She wrinkled her brow and looked over at me.

"I'm tired okay!" There was that exasperated attitude again.

"And what about tomorrow morning or tomorrow night. Gonna be the same shit?" I said.

"No. No. That would be much better. Tomorrow," she said. I nodded and rolled over. I wasn't happy, but truth told I really was very tired too.

******

It didn't happen in the morning, and she was gone most of the day with her partner in crime Missy Dunlap. Where, I had no idea. I had yard work to do, it being Saturday, so her absence actually worked for me. She returned at around 6:00PM.

She made dinner, we ate, and we cleaned up.

"How about going to bed early," I said, testing the waters. There was that exasperated look again.

"Yeah, okay, if you can't wait," she said. All of a sudden I knew what I had to do.

"Never mind. I've lost interest. Just forget it." I headed up the stairs; she didn't. I began packing. The marriage was over.

It was maybe fifteen minutes later that she came up. She was startled to see me packing.

"What are you doing Robbie?" she said.

"Leaving you." I continued to pack.

"What the fuck! I said we could go to bed early if you wanted," she said.

"Yeah with all of the enthusiasm of someone awaiting execution," I said.

"Robbie, that's not true!" she said.

"Yes it is," I said. "Goddamn it, yes it is!"

"No, Goddamn it; no it's not!" Well, at least I was getting some reaction out of her, some show of emotion.

"I want an enthusiastic lover," I said," not just toleration. I'm not into mercy fucks as you might well imagine."

"What? What! You're nuts," she said.

I continued to pack, but then something happened that put me back on my heels—literally. I turned to say something as I snapped shut the second suitcase, and I was met with a left hook and a right cross to the jawline that put me down and out. I'd never seen it coming.

I don't know how long I was out, but when I awoke, I was tied hand and foot and spread eagled to the bed posts.

She stood over me, next to the bed. I tested my bonds; there was no give. She was dressed in a very sexy teddy. One I'd never seen before. She smiled.

"Decided to rejoin the world of the living?" she said.

"What the fuck! Let me out of this! Untie me now, Amanda. I mean it," I said.

"Not until I've made my case that you are not just some gofer for me and my friends. Rather that you are loved and appreciated for what you can do for me, and I do mean in bed. And, that you have completely misread my actions and attitudes of last night and tonight. I may not succeed, but I sure as hell plan to give it my best shot," she said.

"You may have the upper hand now, but you can't keep me tied up like this forever. I will get loose and you will pay," I said.

"Hmm, maybe, but I'm betting that you may want to rethink your attitude when I'm done with you," she said.

"Not hardly," I said.

"Hmm, your johnson seems to be on my side. Would you mind if I join you there on the bed and lick and suck it for a while?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She just climbed up and knelt between my legs.

She reached for my cock and toyed with it teasingly for some little time. "Hmm, only six inches, but it'll have to do." she said. "Sure you want to object to what I'm doing." I just shot her a look that was supposed to be threatening; she just laughed, bent forward and licked me from bottom to top swirling her tongue around the glans. She was driving me crazy.

Truth was that I was so horny that I would have killed for this moment. And also truth told, everything else notwithstanding, I didn't want her to stop, not even.

I began to stiffen. She stopped sucking me off for a moment. Looked up into my eyes and smiled. "I'm going to swallow it all. Then, we're going get you up again and we're going to fuck. And, god help you if you don't make me cum," she said.

She was true to her word. She swallowed every iota of my cum as spurt after spurt of my juices sprayed the insides of her mouth and she never even grimaced. I would worry later about how she became so good at giving head.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she began her campaign to get me erect once more. It didn't take long. She licked me, but did not suck me, and tickled my balls to the point of distraction. Hard once again, she mounted me cowgirl and began sliding up and down on my cock. Some ten minutes later—literally—I felt her squirm and mumble and groan and moan and finally scream as she made it. She kept drilling me until I made it maybe thirty seconds after her.

She plopped down beside me. "God that was good," she said. I didn't know if she was saying it to placate me or if she really meant it. That was my problem, I didn't trust her anymore. But, that said, it did sound like the truth. And, I do know she made it because she squirted.

"How about you, little man. Was it good for you?" she said.

I didn't answer her. Not right away at any rate. I had decided not say word one until I was untied. And, I really didn't like her little man comment. She wasn't insulting me exactly, but she was being—what—condescending.

"Not going to talk to me? Okay, well I tried. You can't say I didn't try," she said. She rolled off the bed and began to untie me. Free, I answered her.

"Yes, it was good. It was the best I've ever had from you," I said. She smiled.

"Well, thank you for that," she said. "And there is plenty more where that came from if you'd like to rethink your plans to move out on me." I nodded.

"Okay, you win. But, I do have a few concerns and questions," I said.

"Okay," she said.

One, where did you learn to punch like that, two where did you learn to suck cock like that, and finally whatever in the world gave you the idea to tie me up and do me like you did?" I said. She gave me a serious look.

"Missy," she said. "Her dad was a pro fighter, and she showed me a few things; said a girl needed to know how to take care of herself these days. As for tying you up and taking advantage of you, also Missy. She's done it to Randy, her husband. She said it was a hot way to get a guy into doing what his woman asked of him."

The elephant in the room was the clearly fact that she'd ignored my question about her cock sucking skills. "And the cocksucking?" I said, forcing the issue.

"Promise you won't go off on me or leave me?" she said.

"You saying it that way almost guarantees that I will," I said. "So, you going to answer me or not?" She sighed.

"Other men have taught me some things over the years, Robbie. None were ever a threat to you. You can believe that for sure. With you about to leave me, I had no choice, I had to give you my A-game. And, before you ask, no, Chester was not one of the men; though in truth I'd like to give him a shot at some point.

"So now you know the whole schmear. You going to leave me, or give me another chance?" I looked at her like she had two heads.

"You gonna continue doing other men?" I said. She gave me a questioning look before answering.

"Yes, she said. "And, if you want you can join me. I've long wanted to include you, but well..." My turn to be sending the looks.

"You want me to stay and be your cuckold, am I getting this right?" I said.

"Yes Rob, you are my cuckold, and you will remain one, and that's a good thing. Believe me. But, please don't think of yourself as some wimpy assed nothing; you will never be that to me. I just need a little on the side from time to time; maybe once every few weeks or so. And, in point of fact it's been almost three months since the last time," she said. Her look told she was getting it all out there hoping she could sell me on joining her or at least not dumping her: I made several times what she did on my job. I was shocked, but did I really want to leave without fighting for what was mine?

"I'll stay—for now. But we're not done talking, not even" I said. "Especially now that I know I've been your unsuspecting cuckold. That one I am not happy about, Amanda. Not happy at all, but we'll talk." She rushed me and kissed me and hugged me and made me feel good. Now, all I had to do was figure a way to rationalize living with a whore.

"Yes, and we will talk," she said pushing me back from her. "We are a team you and me, honey. You can't leave. I need you."

Yeah, she needed me, but for what, if she had all these lovers out there teaching her how to have fun. The clear answer to that question had to be my mid-six figure income.

******

The next few days were a malaise of mundane suburban life. We bought groceries. We went to the movies once. We did yard work and housework and watched inane TV shows. On the fourth night after our little—what—make up; she decided to lay it on me.

"Wanna go out tonight, big boy?" she said.

"Out? Where out?' I said.

"Dining, dancing, maybe pick up some guy?" she said.

"Huh?" I said.

"You know, an impromptu date. Have a little fun, sexual fun? Make you a knowing cuckold for the first time. Whaddya say?" she said this last kind of on the quiet. I just looked at her.

"Come on, Robbie. It's not like we didn't talk about it just a couple of days ago," she said. "You're a cuckold; that's not going to change, but you are a well-loved cuckold, and I want to include you in my fun. So, how about it?" I was becoming upset.

"Why would you want me around? Just somebody to laugh at?" I said.

"Heavens no. You're good in bed. You'd be adding a major dimension to the games," she said.

"And just how would I be doing that, having me take him up the ass?" I said. She smiled.

"Could be. Or, the two of you could take turns doing each other with me cheering you on. Or maybe it'd be me getting it in both ends: him fucking me and me sucking you off. You seemed to like what I did to you the other night," she said.

"I don't know..."

"Face it Robbie, you are my pussywhipped little man, or you would have kicked me out or left me the night of the party. I knew, was pretty sure, when I took advantage of you the other night, how you'd react. You'll do what I say because it will please me; I know it, and you know it. And, that said, I know that it is in my best interest to do what I can to make sure you are taken care of too. Sound good?" she said.

"It didn't sound good, but she had me. I was indeed her pussywhipped little man, and she was going to exploit it and there was precious little I could do about it, at least at the moment. But go out man hunting with her tonight? That, I was not into. Still..."

******

We were way early. Amanda wanted to get a few drinks into me before the games began, I suppose.

The Blossom was a bar catering mostly to the softer sex. It was run by Irene Compton, a feminist entrepreneur, and, some said, Christian Minister of all things—what church was anyone's guess.

The DJ was playing softer sounds for the dinner crowd. That figured to change once the crowd settled into a more social mode.

We'd finished eating and Amanda was already on the hunt. Not obviously so, but I could tell. Her eyes were nothing so much as a human appraisal mechanism. Then she stopped looking; she'd located her prey.

Christopher Amundsen was a tall man, muscular, reasonably handsome, and seemingly easy going. How to meet him? Well, that's the stuff of legend and myth: she spilled her drink all over his pants as she sashayed between the tables ostensibly to talk to a friend across the room.

She helped clean him up, plied him with a profuse string of high pressure apologies, and all but demanded that he dance with her. A half hour later he was walking her back to our table, and no I hadn't seen her except at a distance for the entire time.

"Chris, this is my husband Robbie," said Amanda by way of introducing us. He smiled at me, didn't quite crush my hand when we shook, and made with the usual polite pleasantries.

The two of them talked animatedly and candidly in front of me. His periodic glances in my direction were filled with questions. Chief among his verbalized queries was what was a short and unprepossessing man like me doing with Aphrodite for a wife?

And like I said, their conversation was candid.

"So, we'll be taking Chris home with us, Robbie, so he can fuck me. Okay?" she said. "You can be there too if you like. You can watch or join in, babe, your choice," she said.

"You okay with that, Rob," he said. "I'm not into busting up relationships. But if..."

"Yeah sure," I said. I wasn't, and my stomach was roiling. But, what else could I say. I knew what we'd come for, and Christopher Amundsen was it.

Back at the house, they'd disrobed and, naked, were feeling each other up on the couch. I'd been detailed to make the martinis for us all. Done, I was ready to serve them, but decided to wait just inside the kitchen's doorway and listen to what they were saying. I figured it might be interesting.

"I gotta ask, Amanda. I mean your hubby seems like an okay guy, but he's so short..." he said.

"He has other qualities that make him perfect for me," she said. I could almost see him waiting for an explanation. Well, hell, I wanted one too.

"Yes?" he said.

"He's a big ticket wage earner and he is totally pussywhipped. I can do whatever I want and he'll kiss my ass for allowing him to allow me. Well, I mean you're here aren't you. And, he's serving us and may even be going to watch you do me," she said. "I may ask you to let him be involved if he wants. You know take his sloppy seconds, or me give him a blow job to calm him down if he begins to feel a little left out. I screwed up a week ago and he damned near left me. I can't let that happen again. I need him to pay the bills among other things."