The Cuckold Entangled

Dear Reader,

I have always wanted to write a cuckold story, and this is it.

It's not a "Revenge of the Cuckold" or "How the Cuckold Got His Groove Back" type of Cuckold story. It's the opposite of those; if it's not your thing, I will advise you not to read and move on. If you do not heed my words and blow a fuse, I cannot help you.

It's not written to please everyone. It's written for a specific audience that enjoys this type of story. I consider this smut. 100% smut. There is no good, bad, or morality to the story or any other smut I write. It's not supposed to be realistic; it's smut. This is fantasy.

Enjoy.

The Cuckold Entangled - The Shiver and the Tingle.

My relationship with Tamika was a web. One of my own making and of my deepest and darkest desires. A web that was then shaped and reinforced by her own desires. And I was hopelessly entangled in the mix of the acute pleasures that were the fulfillment of my dark desires and the torment and pain required by such desires.

I had grown up in a middle-class suburban lifestyle, with both my parents scholars and white-collar workers. I was the typical black kid who got accused by inner-city black kids of being too proper. I was the normal middle-class black guy.

Tamika, on the other hand, was more of a city girl. I knew her family was different from mine—not as stable or conventional. Her father had been in and out of her life. She did not talk about it much, nor did she like to talk about her upbringing, so it's just not something we got into. She, however, liked to hear about mine, and I like to talk about it, so we focused on it a lot, especially at the beginning.

My attraction to her had been strong and instant. Not only had I found her physically stunning, she had the confidence, body, and worldliness—all characteristics that were often staples of the black starlets in black entertainment I grew up watching and fantasizing over. She was the unknown, the somewhat forbidden, the mysterious, and I was smitten.

The fact that she was interested in me to the point of actually seeking out my company made me feel like the luckiest guy in the world and extremely flattered. I knew it was definitely not the norm, but an exception.

We met at a young professionals mixer. I had already graduated from college about a year and a half ago and was working as a junior system analyst.

She was in her second year of a master's program in political science.

About five feet five, she had an hourglass figure with C-cup breast, wide but proportional hips, and heart-shaped buttocks. She had on a stylish and classy cream sleeveless blouse, form-fitting jeans, and stilettos, which enhanced her features.

I was instantly smitten by her beauty, but most especially by the combination of the infectiousness of her smile and her confident and bubbly personality.

Believe it or not, she had first approached me, stinking up a conversation. We seemed to have just clicked, as a few minutes later, we were talking and laughing, having a good time, like we had known ourselves for a long time. I'll never forget the feelings I had several times she touched my arm as we spoke, usually when she was amused or surprised by something I said. It made me feel so big.

———————///\\\———————

We went on a few dates, and by the fourth one, we were officially a couple.

I was on top of the world, with a stunning girl on my arm. I saw the way other guys looked at her, validating just what a catch she was.

We became intimate after our fourth date, when she accepted my invitation to come up to my place.

As we sat on the couch watching a movie, I reached out and kissed her, and smiling, she pulled me into her, accepting the kiss and keeping it going.

She broke the kiss after a while of some more heavy petting.

"As nice as that feels, that's as far as it's going to go tonight. I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me," she said, smiling big at me.

"I was not expecting anything more," I said, returning her smile, although I will admit that a part of me was disappointed. I wanted to have sex with the type of woman I had only fantasized about—the type of woman I never thought I would one day say was my girlfriend. "Although, I was hoping to show you a good time with this sex organ." I smiled big at her, sticking my tongue out.

"Really, is that right?" she asked in a challenging tone while still laughing. "You even know what to do with that? I did not expect that; you quiet types are the most freeky, I guess."

I looked at her, laughing and thinking of just how sexy she looked even doing that. She looked so confident and worldly.

"Yup," I said, laughing and joining her, "what can I say? I am full of surprises."

"So I see, so I see," she said, chuckling as she drew me back in, kissing me.

We continued to make out, and I started to kiss and nibble down her jaw line. I gently tugged on the bottom of her t-shirt and slowly started to pull it up, but chucking, she slowly pulled it back down.

I did not let that deter me as I slid down the couch and started to plant kisses on her navel over her shirt. I heard her sigh in pleasure, and it gave me the confidence to try to pull her shirt up again. I did so slowly again, and she let me this time. I lifted, continuing to plant kisses until I was kissing the naked skin of her navel.

I kissed her belly button, inserting my tongue into it and eliciting another hiss of pleasure. I licked some more and started to trail kisses down from her belly button to her pubic area while also bringing my hands up to undo the button of her shorts.

Her hands came over mine, stopping me but not pulling mine away. I held on, not letting go, as I continued to kiss just above the button.

I waited a little bit and tried again, tugging on her fly. She was still holding my hand, but the button popped. I took a hold of the zipper, but again, she held my hand, stopping me. We repeated the whole sequence, with me finally pulling down the zipper while she resisted, but not with enough force that I could not push through.

She let go of my hand as I opened up her fly and covered the front of her exposed lavender lace-covered crotch but now pushed her thighs together, resisting my attempts to spread them wider. I started to kiss over her hand while gently using mine to pry at hers as I tried to move them from my target. I was soon able to start making openings in her fingers, kissing her pussy through her thong, and now eliciting more hisses and sighs from her.

I felt more confident to keep going, and soon I felt her fingers and thighs start to relax. I slowly moved her hands away, and she did not resist or bring them back. I inserted my hands into the sides of her shorts and slowly tugged and pulled down, exposing the front of her pussy. I am not sure what I was expecting, but I was captivated. She had one of those clean, neat pussies—a bump that looked like a peach neatly split in two with a hint of pink showing. Her pubic hair on top was neat and groomed into a triangle.

"Your pussy is so beautiful, babe," I said, swallowing as I looked at it and then up at her.

She was smiling and looking down at me with a look in her eyes that I did not quite understand, but which sent a shiver that I would soon become familiar with through my body. It was like she was studying and recording every part of my reaction.

I felt the heat emanating from it and her aroma of arousal beckoning to me, and I could resist no longer. I kissed her pussy once, and I felt her shiver and pull in a sharp breath. Encouraged by her response, I dove back in and started to alternate between licking and kissing all over her pussy.

"Oh, fuck yeah," I heard her sigh, and I felt her hands grasp the sides of my head gently but firmly and pull me into her pussy. "Eat my pussy, baby; show me how well you can eat it."

I started to lick more aggressively, sucking and inserting my tongue inside her, and I could not be prouder of how well I was doing based on the noises, words, and reactions I was getting from her. Her reactions fed into my efforts as I threw myself into eating her out with abandon, and my efforts in turn fueled her reactions, creating a feedback loop.

My lower face was soon matted with a mix of my saliva and fluids from her pussy. Her pussy was also matted from the bottom of her pubic hair and over her pussy, soaked with my spit and her fluids.

I continued passionately eating her out. Screeching, her grips on my head and her thighs around my neck squeezed tighter just before she came hard, her body starting to shake.

I looked up at her, a smile on my face as she shook, her climax rolling through her, proud of how much I had rocked her. Her body finally relaxed, and she opened her eyes, her eyes meeting mine.

"Stop looking at me. I definitely did not expect that," she chuckled lazily, pushing me away with her feet before using them to feel my throbbing erection. "Hmm, I like that, but I warned you; I'm not reciprocating."

"It's okay. I don't mind. I wanted to do it for you to let you know how special I think you are. Plus, I want you to know, I'm not the type of guy who is just in to get mine and run," I said, smiling up at her.

She looked at me, still smiling but with a misterious look in her eyes, like I was from another planet, something I had taken as a compliment at that time but was now not sure if I should have. I was truly a nice guy, and I wanted her to see that I was different from any of the other types of guys she might have ever dated. It was what I had to set me apart from the type of guys she surely would have dated in the past, I thought at the time.

"Wow. That's so sweet, baby," she finally said. "You know, while we are at it, you should just go ahead and give your new girlfriend her keys to this bitch," she smiled, gesturing to my home.

"Ha ha," I said, laughing. "Yeah, not happening; you have to earn that."

I watched her smile turn into a smirk. "You know, very soon you will beg me to take them," she said.

I laughed again. "You are really full of yourself," I said, trying to make it seem like I found the whole thing silly, but looking at her smiling face and the confidence in it, I felt the strange chill of pleasure run through my body again.

The smile on her face seemed to suggest that she was aware of the feeling, which only seemed to intensify the feeling.

That night would lay the foundation of our physical intimacy. Performing cunnilingus on her became standard and an expected occurrence, sometimes multiple times in a row. I really did not mind it, as I really enjoyed seeing what I was doing to her and how much pleasure I was giving her. Her arousal in those moments aroused me. But as a few weeks turned into a few months, I started to crack, unhappy that our sex life had not advanced, mainly due to her not reciprocating.

I brought it up with her, and she turned it back around on me, accusing me of being like every other guy. She accused me of not being different after all, saying that all I wanted from her was just sex.

The accusation really stung and hurt. Being perceived as different from other guys by her was very important to me. It caused me to back down, and in a more gentle manner, I implored her that it was not the case. I told her that we were already a couple and I truly cared about her, which was why it made me happy to go down on her and make her feel good. I was hoping that she would see the illogical position of her argument and make her realize that performing oral on me should not be a big deal as I was already going down on her.

Her demeanor softened, making me hopeful. She straddled me, wrapped her hands around my neck, and started to kiss me. We kissed and petted heavily, after which we made our way to my bedroom. She laid down smiling, her head on the pillows, and spread her legs, and as part of our established routine, I went down on her, eating her out to a toe-curling orgasm.

As she came down from her orgasm, she slowly straddled me, pulling down my pants. She leaned down, kissing me. My dick bounced and pulsed rapidly when I felt her hand wrap around it.

I moaned into her mouth, and she chuckled.

"You like that, baby?" She asked, whispering into my ear, her warm breath sending tingles of pleasure through me, making my whole body go weak and limp.

"Yes," I whispered, nodding my head, the effort to respond seeming momentous to me.

"Just relax and stay still, baby," she said, whispering hotly into my ear again. "I'll be taking care of this for you now. You don't only have to do it yourself anymore.

My whole body trembled at her words, my mind unable to fully process the moment as her hand started to softly move up and down my cock. I felt like I had become boneless; the sensations I was feeling seemed to have rendered me unable to move. I felt my climax approaching, and it dawned on me that the hand job was all I was going to be getting.

I looked at her in desperation, my eyes pleading as I said, "Please, babe, I don't want to come yet."

She ignored me, nibbling my ears before leaning down toward my nipples. She took them one at a time in her mouth, swirling her tongue around them.

I moaned, my body withering as sensations I had never experienced before overwhelmed me.

I did not want to ask her to go down on me or for sex, but I had been hoping that she would transition to one of those options by herself, maybe even both, but it was starting to seem highly unlikely.

"Please, babe," I said desperately again hating what i sounded like. Somewhere, I knew this was a defining moment, and I suspected she knew it too.

"Shhh, baby, just relax and cum for me," she whispered hotly into my ear and squeezed firmly on my dick as she continued to tug.

My body went stiff, and whimpering, I let out a loud sound—a mixture of pleasure and agony—as my dick started to pulsate, shooting out strings of cum.

"Ooo, that's it, baby; come for me, baby; that's so hot," she cooed into my ear, directing my dick so that my cum was shooting onto my belly as she continued to stroke.

I closed my eyes as I gradually came down from my orgasm. A slow feeling of being "less than" came over me. I knew a shift had occurred in our sex life and in our relationship. I did not look at her face; I could not, not yet. I was not prepared for what I might see in it.

I felt her lean over me before she kissed me, and I opened my eyes when she pulled back up.

"Did you enjoy that?" She asked me. Her voice and smile were sensual and coy.

"Yeah, thanks, babe," I said, seeing the expectant look she had in her eyes. She wanted an acknowledgement from me.

"You are welcome, baby," she replied, her smile getting bigger. She hopped off the bed and went into the bathroom, my eyes following the sensual sway of the perfect ass.

Going forward, handjobs became the norm in terms of how she reciprocated during sex and what I got after going down with her.

I did not have it in me to bring up oral sex or ask for more after her last accusation and how the sex had ended that night. I instead chose to settle for the hand jobs with the hope and knowing that soon, our sex life would progress further to include that. It was not a hard mindset to fall into, as I soon discovered that she seemed to have a hypnotic type of control over my body, knowing all its secrets and pleasure spots.

———————///\\\———————

"What's your goal with Tamika?"

I was blindsided by the question and unable to respond. My mouth opened and closed like a fish.

The question was coming from Mrs. Shaw, one of Mika's closest friends and confidant.

We had recently arrived at her home, where she was hosting a get-together. There was a good crowd in attendance, and she had pulled me to the side, leading me to what was hers and her husband's home office.

I had always found their friendship strange, being that, at forty-nine, she was old enough to be Mika's mother.

I'm not sure how she and Mika met, but even though I found their friendship interesting, with it sometimes seeming more like a mother-and-daughter type of relationship than a friendship, I had liked her from the first time I met her. She was lively and an easy woman to be around. Plus, she had been approving of me from the start.

Her husband was the VP of a big company and traveled a lot, so Mika kept her company a lot.

"If it's just fun to you," she continued on my failure to respond, "with no plans for further commitment, then I think it's only fair that you let her know. You know? She is like a daughter to me, and I just don't want to see her get hurt."

"No, Mrs. Shaw, it's nothing like that, I promise you," I finally managed to say. "I am not like that, and I really like her. It's a long-term thing."

She looked at me, her eyes studying my face. "She is going places, but I also know she wants to settle down in a stable relationship and even marriage down the line. Plus, I know she likes you a lot. So I feel that if those are not in the cards for you, you should let her know so you'll both just know you both are just having some fun and nothing more."

"No, it's just not casual fun, Mrs. S. I promise you. Commitment is in the cards for me," I said, willing her to believe me.

"Hmm, okay. Still, also, we both know that, as attractive as she is, she likes to show herself off sometimes. You know she loves her some attention and the spotlight. Plus, sometimes she can't help herself around riches and power. You know she is determined to be in that world and circle. She is ready to do what she needs to do to be part of it. Are you sure you want all that? Are you sure you can handle all that? And most important, are you okay with that? It will be unfair to try to stand in her way, you know? Are you sure you just don't want to hit that and run? Are you that type of guy? I did not think so. But I might be wrong," she said, looking at me intently.

I felt tense, dizzy, and disoriented by the blitz of questioning and accusations as I replied, "No, Mrs. S, it's not like that. I will not do that to her. I want to be with her. I can handle it; I want to be there for her, and I will always support her."

I felt a sense of relief, and some of the tension left my body as her face broke into a warm smile. She said, "Well, that's good; I'm happy to hear that. I knew you were not one of those types. You are a nice guy."

We left the office to rejoin the rest of the crowd, but I could not completely shake the dark cloud that now hung over me as a result of the conversation.

Did Mrs. Shaw think I was not committed because of the things Mika had told her? Worse, did Mika? Was my relationship with her in jeopardy? I just could not lose a hot girl like Mika; lightning does not usually strike twice.

I also could not shake the feeling of disappointment about what I felt was another hit to the good guy image I desperately wanted the opposite sex to have of me. I did not want to be lumped in with every other guy with statements like, "You are just like the other guys."

Why did they have these doubts about my truthfulness?

I resolved to try harder, to show them I was different.

Looking back, I believe the party was the start of another shift in the establishment of what was to come in our relationship.

———————///\\\———————

I spent that next week planning an elaborate getaway for the weekend for myself and Mika. I purchased her a diamond promise ring and a diamond pendant, which I gave to her over dinner at our getaway. I told her that I had fallen in love with her. I was filled with pride and ecstatic when she said she loved me too.

The whole thing was a hit; she was very happy, smooching me all through the trip, and once again, I felt like the king of the world.

Her wardrobe had since started to change since I met her, becoming a little more sexy and risqué, and what she had brought for the trip was the most of what I had seen in that regard.