The Bull, the Cock, the Cuckold

Although Sam's coming into our lives was accompanied by lightning and thunder, we never could have imagined the impact of his arrival. I guess I still can't.

I'm seventy-two years old now. I was seventy when the story began. My wife, Corrine, was sixty-eight.

We have two boys and a girl, all born and raised in this small Midwestern town. They've moved away to start careers, families, and to follow their dreams.

Corrine and I stayed, though.

The winters here were cool. The summers were warm. Everything was in moderation in the climate and in our lives.

Before retiring, I worked as a salesman and then as a sales supervisor. I did okay. Nothing great. I received a few awards and, yes, a gold watch when I retired. We travelled a little after retirement, but eventually decided we were happiest at home. I liked the front porch. She liked the back. She cooked and cleaned. I did yardwork and minor repairs around the house, and took care of the small garden that provided all our vegetables.

Corrine had some minor surgery a few years ago and was beginning to have breathing issues, which resulted in a mostly sedentary lifestyle. She grew thicker around the waist and the behind, but still, to my mind at least, remained an attractive woman. She had a sweet personality and was always attentive to my needs. As best she could be, anyway.

Sexually, things dropped off and I attributed that to the inevitable effects of aging. We had sex only those few times when I could maintain an erection, which wasn't often. It was frustrating for me and, I'm sure, for her as well.

Sam's arrival was, as I said, a day of lightning and thunder, but it wasn't as bad as the storm that brought him here in the first place.

A few weeks back, an EF-4 tornado slammed into our town, destroying many homes and businesses, especially in the small downtown area. Luckily, our house escaped any damage at all. Out of town contractors and workers arrived by the busload, and the community was asked to assist with the berthing arrangements since the few hotels in town were heavily damaged, and the next town of any size was many miles away.

Sam arrived at our door shaking the rain out of his thick curly black hair as the lightning flashed behind him. I saw dimples when he grinned after introducing himself. He had a smile as friendly as a warm hello from an old friend. He must have been six-two and two-hundred pounds at least. He was broad across the shoulders, and he had brown eyes that never left yours when he spoke. He was thirty-five years old.

I'm sure when Corrine greeted him, she couldn't help but notice the contrast between his size and mine. I'm about one-hundred-sixty pounds and almost five-nine if I stand up straight.

Sam couldn't have been more gracious to Corrine, and she shook his hand in a polite and even businesslike manner.

He would be staying in our boys' room, they being long gone now. It was plenty large and he didn't have much luggage. There was a bathroom just down the hall. Our bedroom was farther down at the other end.

Few of the teams helping rebuild our city came with transportation, and at a community meeting it was decided that, when possible, the families putting up the workers would drive them to and from work for the two to four weeks it was expected they would be here. Sam was a contractor overseeing the efforts of about twenty men from Wisconsin who were conducting clean up in one of the destroyed residential communities.

The first night went well. Sam couldn't have been a better house guest. He joined us for dinner, helped Corrine clean up the dishes, and briefly joined me on the porch afterward, where he had a beer and I had some of Corrine's wonderful lemonade.

As I pulled up to the cleanup site on the first day, his expression changed from the cheerful, friendly guest I'd been socializing with the previous day, to something else. The men waiting in hardhats for his arrival were bunched together when he got out of my car, but quickly dispersed, looking back over their shoulders like frightened dogs.

Sam pointed at front end loaders, dump trucks, and the debris field, and began barking out orders to individual men. In one case he took a man by the shoulder and pushed him so forcefully toward a debris pile that the man's hard hat flew off his head. Sam apparently thought that was pretty funny.

I wondered which Sam I would be picking up later: the cordial, soft-spoken one, or the bully who intimidated his workers.

He was fine again that night when I picked him up. He didn't help Corrine with the dishes and didn't spend any time on the porch afterwards, but was convivial during the meal. So I put the other thing out of my mind and said nothing to Corrine.

There was a fabric shop in town that was undamaged from the storm, and Corrine asked to ride along when I dropped Sam off so we could stop by the store to pick up some material. She was one of the many women in town who were preparing window dressings for the families trying to redecorate their damaged homes.

Corrine sat in the front seat and Sam sat in the back. When he got out of the car, Sam laid into his workers again right away, actually grabbing one by the neck when he apparently got mouthy. The man slunk away.

The color rose in Corrine's face and I was afraid she was going to get out of the car and give Sam a dressing down for treating his men like animals. When she turned to me, her eyes were wide.

"Did you see how he took charge right away? This is a man who knows how to get people to do what he wants."

Corrine looked at me as if waiting for a reply, but I was shocked. It's true that when I was working, she sometimes had urged me to be more aggressive with my subordinates. I told her that as a small man, I had to use my wits, not brawn, to get things done.

"These men aren't plow horses, love," I said. "You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar."

"Oh, posh," Corrine said. This display of power had obviously moved her in unexpected ways, as I would learn later.

On the third morning, Corrine and I were leaving the bedroom together and heading down to breakfast. Yesterday, Sam had not joined us, even though my wife prepared a full country breakfast including both bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs and pancakes.

The door to the bathroom was closed and it appeared Sam wouldn't be ready for breakfast today, either. Not if he wanted to make it to work on time.

Just as we neared the top of the stairs, the bathroom door opened and Sam stepped out into the hall, naked as the day he was born except for the towel thrown casually over his shoulder. He stared at us both, then focused his gaze on Corrine who looked like the clichéd deer in the headlights.

The man had shoulders like a football running back, abs that were hard but not gym-rat hard. And a semi-flaccid penis that was longer and bigger in girth than anything I thought possible.

Corrine stared at his waist; she couldn't take her eyes off his huge penis - she was drawn to it almost instinctively, as was I - until she finally broke free of the spell, looked over Sam's shoulder at the wall, and reddened.

Sam wasn't the least bit embarrassed. The big smile, the dimples, the open stance suggested he was comfortable with his role as the alpha male, and had lived with that knowledge long enough to be unashamed at its impact on others.

"Don't worry," he said, turning around and heading for his bedroom. "I'll be ready in ten minutes so we can get out of here by seven forty-five."

Then he turned around and ambled down the hall, the powerful muscles of his ass flexing with each step.

Corrine and I said nothing to each other as we ate breakfast together at the kitchen table, her eyes never quite meeting mine.

Sam came down the stairs two steps at a time, acting as though nothing unusual had happened this morning. I grabbed the car keys and went to the door.

"I think I'd like to get out and take in the fresh air this morning, if that's all right, dear," Corrine said.

She used her demure voice, the one she employed when she was sweet-talking me and wanted a favor. In view of today's events, I could understand why she wanted to get some fresh air. I shrugged, and Sam smiled again and opened the car door for her.

Corrine sat in the front seat as usual, and I waited for Sam to get in the back, but he was still outside and behind me. He tapped my shoulder and it startled me.

"We running a little late," he said casually. "And you tend to drive kinda slow." He winked at Corrine and she turned away, smiling. "So I'm going to get us there this morning, okay?"

It wasn't really a question, and I nodded dumbly and got into the back seat. I should have been annoyed, I guess, but he was right. I tended to drive slowly these days, especially in morning traffic. I noticed Corrine never even rolled down her window, despite the fresh air comment.

When we got to the job site, the workers scattered as usual when he arrived. Sam slammed the gearshift into park and opened the car door, but before he got out, he turned to Corrine, placed his hand high on her left thigh and whispered something in her ear.

She pursed her lips, turned her head to look out the passenger side window, reddened, then smiled slightly. Sam smiled too.

"What was that about?" I asked her on the way home.

"What was what about?" She asked, smiling sweetly, as if nothing unusual had happened.

"Sam said something to you." I didn't mention that he'd squeezed her leg. "What was it?"

"Oh," she said, and reddened once more. "He apologized for missing breakfast again."

Corrine always was a lousy liar. I overheard part of what Sam had whispered to her. He said, "...in the hall this morning."

I don't think he was talking about breakfast.

When I picked up Sam for the ride home that evening - he let me drive this time - he remained quiet for the first few minutes.

"It looks like we're going to be here for at least four more weeks," Sam said. "Longer than I expected."

"That's nice," I said, not really thinking it was very nice at all, but unwilling to say so.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. "And I'm lonely," Sam said. "That special kind of lonely. You know what I mean?"

I didn't, but I nodded anyway.

"So I'm going to be fucking your wife, and I wanted to let you know."

I felt faint and flushed when he said the words, almost letting go of the steering wheel. I tried to act unbothered, but it wasn't working and he knew it.

"Is that so?" I said.

Sam rubbed his chin absently. "She's not really my type. Old, chubby, moves kind of slow."

"She's has, um, breathing issues," I said a little uncomfortably, feeling the need to defend her. "So when she walks up the stairs she moves ..."

"But I like her personality," Sam said, interrupting, and not really caring what I thought. "She's sweet. And I like fucking sweet women because, sometimes they surprise you. Do you think Corrine will surprise me?"

"I ...don't know."

"I've got a good feeling about her. Know what I mean?"

"She would never go along with ..."

Sam looked me up and down, appraising me, as I drove down the street. "You're kind of lumpy. That's understandable. Age, too many mashed potatoes. There's no way you're doing it doggy style with that little lady. That's even if your pecker can reach that far. Does it reach that far? Little man like you ... what is it, five inches long?"

"Her knees ache sometimes, so she doesn't spend much time ..." But Sam didn't seem willing to let me finish even a single sentence.

"I'll be doing her a favor," he said. "Both of us will. When I get my cock inside her, tickling places she's never been tickled, believe me, she'll forget all about her aching knees."

My own breaths picked up and my chest heaved as we drove along. But not, god help me, because I was angry, insulted and threatened. It was because I was aroused. I pictured this man's huge, erect penis penetrating my wife's body, his vital fluids flowing into the womb that brought our children into this world, her head back, screaming in sexual ecstasy in a way she had never done for me.

"Do you mind telling me how you plan to convince her?" I asked, my breaths obviously coming faster. Sam noticed, and he gave that great big beautiful smile. Not one you would expect from a devil.

He put his hands behind his neck. "Not sure exactly. It won't take long, though. It's fine with me if you watch. See what it's like when your woman has a real man inside her. Just stay out of sight until I close the deal."

"You won't ... force her to ..."

"No, no, no," Sam said. "Just a little sweet talkin', but it's better if you weren't around for that. She'll still be in a vulnerable state. When we get down to business, you're welcome to watch from the sidelines. I fly solo, though. You won't be able to participate. Feel free to jerk off, though."

"Have you done this before?"

Sam just smiled. "I do almost nothing else," he said.

When we got home, he told me to stay in the car while he went over the plan of action. He explained my role - such as it was - and I just nodded dumbly.

Tonight I would feign exhaustion and head off to bed early, leaving Corrine downstairs. Sam would then go down and begin the ... the wooing process - I don't know what else to call it - while I remained out of sight.

At eight o'clock, I went to bed early telling my wife I was feeling poorly, and Sam said he was going to head upstairs as well. We both went to our rooms while Corrine remained downstairs. I kept the door open so I could see when Sam was ready to make his move.

It didn't take long.

At about eight-fifteen he opened the door to his room wearing only a pair of speedos that looked, for all the world, like he was smuggling an anaconda in his briefs. He seemed huge, confident, and eager. My little willy shivered in anticipation of what would happen next.

I walked out of the room in my pajamas feeling like a naughty little boy. Sam smiled from ear to ear when he saw me, then sobered and pointed a finger to the floor, directing me to remain on the landing and out of sight. I nodded.

He tiptoed down the stairs. It was quiet for a while, and then I heard his deep voice, loud, assured, and slightly amused.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I noticed the light was still burning and thought maybe you left it on by mistake. I didn't know you were still up."

I would have given anything to see where Corrine was looking right now.

"Well," she said finally. "You surprised me. I'm just finishing up a few things in the kitchen."

"I'm down here now," he said. "Maybe I can help."

"It's not really ..."

There was silence for a few moments, then I heard Corrine's hushed voice. "That's ... that's not really helping," she said nervously.

I tiptoed down about four steps so I could see into the kitchen and prayed I wouldn't be heard. I leaned way over, my head in the dark, my body hidden by the wall, and looked out.

Corrine was over the sink, washing a salad plate, while Sam had his arms around her waist, the freakishly-sized member in his speedos pressed against her behind. He had his lips on her neck and seemed to be rotating his groin slowly against her generous backside.

Corrine looked unsure what to do. For a moment, I almost intervened. Then she dropped the dish into the sink, thrust her hands against the sink lip, threw her head back and moaned, her face flushing, her legs buckling slightly.

I threw a hand across my mouth and screamed into it.

Then I came in my shorts.

When I turned back, Sam was leading my elderly wife out of the kitchen to the living room couch. She seemed to be in a daze, and I thought for the second time that I should do something. Try to rescue her. Try to save our relationship.

Except a deep and ugly part of me knew she didn't want rescuing. Knew that this stranger in our house - bigger, stronger, and more assertive than I - had touched something in her that I could never reach.

Corrine was wearing grey cotton slacks and a light blue sweater as they walked together to the sofa. He held her hand, and then sat down, patting the seat next to him. She seemed as if in a trance, then I watched as she looked guiltily toward our bedroom, biting her lower lip. She sat down next to him, her feet on the ground, hands in her lap, looking like a proper schoolgirl.

Sam casually threw an arm around her shoulder and spoke quietly to Corrine while she looked straight ahead. Once she adjusted her skirt nervously.

I watched her nod once or twice. Sam looked directly into her eyes, smiled, and said something that caused her to smile back and nod again.

He cupped her chin and whispered something else. When Corrine nodded, he kissed her lips gently and her eyes closed, her one hand fell off her lap, almost, but not quite, touching his thigh. Sam picked up her hand and held it to his heart, and I could see the hand was shaking a little, but she smiled. Then he dropped her hand and it briefly touched his lap before she snapped it away.

Sam stood and walked to the stairs, not looking back. When I saw him get up, I hustled back to my bedroom where I laid in the dark, feigning sleep. In a few minutes Corrine came in. She leaned against the closed bedroom door, breathing heavily for a few moments before walking to the bed, reaching under the pillow, and withdrawing her nightgown. She took off her pants, sweater, and bra.

Even in the dark I could see her wonderful breasts fall to her belly, her saucer-sized areolae and the hardened nipples that three of our children had suckled from. She slid into bed and moved close to me, taking my hand and drawing it along her chubby belly, through the pubic hair, and pressed one of my fingers against her clitoris.

She was wet down there, something I hadn't felt in a quite a while. And she was moaning the same way she had downstairs. I put another finger inside her. Then a third. I pressed in and out, going deeper each time, trying to brush her sensitive clitoris.

Corrine arched her back and I wondered if she imagined Sam's great penis penetrating her. Soon she gave a crisp yelp of pleasure, fell against her pillow, and was quickly asleep.

I heard our bedroom door close, followed by steps moving down the hallway.

The next morning Corrine seemed ... satisfied. I don't know how else to put it. She smiled when she saw me, and prepared a big breakfast of eggs over easy, sausage, bacon and home fries. She kissed the top of my balding head as she put the plate down on the table.

Soon after, Sam came bounding down in that skipping manner he had. He called out "morning, all," then looked to Corrine and smiled. I had my back to them, but in the mirror over the sideboard I could see the two of them by the stove.

He whispered something to her, kissed her mouth before she could object, and placed his right hand firmly, but not aggressively on her behind for a moment. He looked into the mirror so I could see his face. Then he winked.

"Corrine came to bed primed for action last night," Sam said once we were in the car. "I hope you took advantage of it. No need to thank me. I'll get my thanks later."

"What does that mean?" I asked, annoyed at his presumption but curious and, despite myself, aroused one more time.

"Corrine and I will be meeting up again tonight downstairs."

"How are you going to pull that off?" I asked, my heart beating fast already, knowing that this man who knew what he wanted and always got it, had an answer.

Sam shrugged as though it was all so simple. "You can't go to bed early every night, can you? This time she's going to wait until you're asleep, and then she'll go downstairs and wait for me."

"She agreed to this?"

Sam shrugged again. "She didn't disagree. She'll be there, don't worry."