The Cuckquean

'Urgh!' Jemima Starr thought as she tossed her vibrator away, her clitoris throbbing and aching with need and her juices slowly leaking from her tight, slippery pussy. For fifteen minutes, she'd been fantasising and picturing her and her husband's latest conquest. But that was a month ago now, and the fantasy had run its course, no longer inflaming her mind and causing rocketing orgasms to flood through her tightly toned and muscled body.

She looked to where her husband slept. His head back, lying on his back, snoring fit to rattle the windows. She shook her head, 'He's still as gorgeous as when I married him ten years ago,' she thought. 'And still as dumb as a post.' Jemima pulled the quilt back, her eyes running over her husband, Cillian (pronounced Kill-e-an) O'Brien —first-generation Irish/Australian. Born only three days after his parents arrived from Belfast, intent on creating a new life for themselves away from the troubles in their hometown. A Roman Catholic father married to a Protestant mother. Yup, Belfast was still not the place to be in that kind of marriage.

Idly playing with her soaking pussy, Jemima remembered spotting him across the bar in that Melbourne student joint. Five years younger than her but seemingly chiselled from granite. Tall, taller than her, that was an added bonus. Lean, with barely an ounce of fat on him. Hung like a fucking racehorse! But that was something she found out later that night. Cillian played AFL. When she met him, he had a contract with The Melbourne Demons, but Cillian didn't quite crack the big show, playing only three senior games during his three-year career.

Jemima looked down at her body. She smiled, realising that although she was in her mid-thirties, she was in the peak of her beauty and looks. Jemima was tall, over 185 cm. Her body was almost as lean and chiselled as her husband's, except her curves were unmistakably feminine. Large, firm 16C breasts, a toned but sexily curved stomach that begged to be kissed, and what Cillian's dad called 'child-bearing hips. Her ass was tight and rounded, and her legs long and shapely, with no sign of the cellulite that haunted her mother and older sister.

Jemima closed her eyes, and the memories came. Born Jemima Khan to Indian immigrants in Melbourne's South East. The last of seven children. Five boys, all now university-educated and spread across all of the most esteemed professions: two doctors, one a neonatal surgeon, another a heart specialist. Two lawyers, both in criminal defence, and the third brother was an accountant—a senior partner in Deloitte's Australia.

Then, her older sister, Madhuri and she. Madhuri, as expected, allowed the arranged marriage to the cricketer Zaheer Khan (no relation). Jemima refused her match and was kicked out of the inner family for doing so. Only her beloved oldest brother, Jaspirit and her mother, Waheeda, still saw her on a regular basis as Jemima was now treated like a wayward cousin that had darkened and brought shame on the family name.

Jemima was gorgeous, and she had to acknowledge that. When Jemima had visited Mumbai, she'd had dozens, maybe even hundreds of 'admirers' following her, all calling 'Tabu, Tabu!' They thought she was the famous Bollywood actress Tabassum Fatima Hashmi, better known as Tabu. Jemima had no idea how they were confused because she didn't see the resemblance. Jemima was bigger than her apparent doppelganger in almost every way. Taller, heavier, and with much larger breasts, waist and hips. However, basking in the reflected glory and smiling at her 'adoring fans' was nice.

Jemima had thought of changing her last name when her father banished her from the house. Then, when she'd started a soft porn profile on 'PornHub', she invented the name Starr to save her parents further embarrassment. When she met her husband, Jemima had over five thousand subscribers and earned more than six figures a year selling her videos. PornHub had pleaded with her on numerous occasions to do hard porn. But her faux-lesbian movies, which only showed breasts and the top of her neatly trimmed bush, made her so much Jemima couldn't see the point.

Circling her clit, Jemima thought of trying to wake her husband again. She loved the big, dumb lug, but he didn't make her pussy throb like some of her female companions did. Cillian was a gifted lover, however. He was attentive and loved using his tongue on her. Those were the times Jemima could almost always get off. Holding her husband's head tightly to her snatch, Jemima could close her eyes and imagine it was the soft lips and tongue of a woman that delved deeply into her wanton pussy.

Because she was bisexual with a preference for women, she didn't make love to her husband as often as Cillian wanted. It had nearly caused the dissolution of her marriage, especially because they had no children yet. Cillian wanted them and blamed her for their absence. But Jemima had gotten herself tested, and she was not to blame. After those tests, she'd taken a sample of her husband's semen to have tested. It showed that Cillian wasn't infertile, but his 'swimmer numbers' were reduced compared to a typical sample, and they weren't as active as sperm should generally be. However, telling her husband would only create even more friction than they already had.

Jemima needed another plan. One that would give her what she wanted, a woman's touch, but gave Cillian what he wanted —better sex more often. The next time she was on a 'girl's night out', Jemima picked up a sexy young thing and brought her home for Cillian to share. To her surprise, watching her husband's massive cock split the beautiful little slut she'd taken home apart excited her more than anything before.

Jemima loved porn, and she now delved into the genre of cuckqueans —the female version of a cuckold. Only Cillian didn't bring home women to fuck in front of Jemima, forcing her to watch. Jemima went bar hopping alone and brought the youngest, sexiest legal-aged women she could attract home for her husband to fuck. Jemima lay on the bed, revelling in the sensual sexual action before her as she masturbated and waited. Then, after her husband had dumped his massive load inside the screaming with pleasure girl's pussy, Jemima would delight in eating it from her cunt.

Giving in to the inevitable, Jemima swung her long, toned legs out of bed and strutted to their en suite. It was time to go hunting. Time to find another object of lust she could present to her husband. Then, if the girl was keen, Jemima would help her husband fuck the young woman before eating his watery seed from the young woman's snatch. Jemima's pussy throbbed as she stepped into the almost scorching shower water and prepared herself to go out. It was barely 10:00 pm on Saturday. The party girls would only just be heading out, looking for prey.

An hour later, Jemima was ready. She turned back and forth in front of her mirror, admiring her taut ass and long, shapely legs in the mirror. Her unfettered, large, and firm breasts swayed and gently bounced as she swung, and she knew she'd drive the boys and girls wild tonight. Her bright yellow mini dress glowed against her milk chocolate skin, emphasising her supremely womanly shape. Jemima lifted her foot and smiled at the 7-inch tie-leg strappy heels she wore. The heels made her sexy ass protrude, and her muscly calves pop. Her pussy throbbed as she anticipated picking up tonight.

Jemima's phone dinged. Looking down, she saw that her Uber ride had arrived. With a final glance at her sleeping husband, Jemima marched out the door and got in the car. Purposefully, she let her dress skirt ride up her leg, showing the driver a generous amount of her outer upper thigh. She inwardly smiled as she saw her driver's crotch instantly tent.

The driver asked for her destination. It was already in his system, and Jemima knew that. However, she guessed people often changed their minds, so she confirmed she was headed for The Fox Hotel in Collingwood. This pub was run by a lesbian couple and catered for a variety of patrons, from straight to gay and bisexual. Lesbians, crossdressers and transpeople frequented this hotel, too. Jemima briefly considered trying to attract a pretty, feminine transgirl but dismissed the idea because she wasn't sure if her husband would cope, freak out or enjoy.

Reaching her destination, Jemima pulled open the door and strode in. Those nearest the door were stunned into silence as the very epitome of beauty strolled into their midst. However, Jemima was used to this attention, so she took no notice as the noise rose when people resumed their conversations.

She took her place at the bar, waiting for her turn to order a drink. Twice, men smiled at her, trying to catch her eye. Both times, Jemima grimaced and shook her head. Cock she could get at home anytime she wanted, and with a much greater length and girth than these mere mortals could possibly have.

"An expresso martini, please," Jemima requested when the bullish-looking woman serving her part of the bar looked at her.

The woman openly admired Jemima before saying, "Coming right up. I've only made one once before, though, so it might take some time."

"I don't mind waiting," Jemima smilingly answered, leaning forward to give the appreciative barkeep a long look down her deeply cut cleavage line, the edges of which barely covered Jemima's puffy nipples. Jemima briefly considered allowing the masculine-looking woman to pick her up and not taking someone back for Cillian. She hadn't had a butch lesbian in many years, and she missed their powerful presence in her life.

"You here alone?" Her barkeep asked as she began assembling what she needed to make Jemima's drink.

"Not for long," Jemima winked.

"Honey, you could have your pick of the bar," the powerfully built woman behind the bar stated. "My name's Leslie. My friends call me Leslie the Lezzie." She held her hand out.

Jemima took Leslie's hand and casually ran her middle finger along its palm before she lowered her head and lightly kissed its back before softly tonguing between Leslie's first and second fingers. "Not tonight, my dear," Jemima regretfully said. "But, the next time my husband is away for the weekend, I'll come and look you up."

"Anytime," Leslie averred, arousal evident on her mannish-looking face. "I typically work here Thursday to Sunday, but I can take off early when you're ready for me."

"Maybe next month," Jemima said. "My husband and his old playing crew often take off to Bali that month."

"I hope to see more of you tonight," Leslie stated, reluctantly pulling her hand back so she could complete making Jemima's cocktail. Finished, she handed it to Jemima.

Jemima took a sip of the drink. "Perfect," she smiled as she turned away, looking to see if she could spot a potential target.

"Yes!" Someone shrieked from Jemima's left. Jemima looked in that direction and saw a gorgeous young woman holding a pool cue and pumping her fist. "I win!" She crowed. "You have to take your panties off and put them on the table!"

Jemima studied the girl, but the first thing Jemima saw was that she wore a bridal veil pinned to her hair. She smiled to herself as she considered seducing the young woman, who was clearly at her bachelorette party. 'A final fling before she marries. Who knows? Maybe even her first lesbian experience,' Jemima thought. She knew that many hen parties chose The Fox as their venue because of its primarily LGBTQI clientele. Gay guys often loved hanging with girls, but they didn't try to pick them up. Meaning the hotel was safe for the girls to let their hair down.

Jemima watched the buxom young woman dancing a little jig as the rest of her crew chanted, "Off, off, off!" at the losing woman.

"Who said I had any on to start with?" The other pool player protested.

"Let's see, then." The winner stated before she grabbed the other woman's skirt hem and lifted it above what Jemima saw was a spectacular ass.

"Jenny!" The losing woman shrieked, spinning around and wriggling her hips, trying to pull her skirt down over her shapely bottom.

"You do have knickers on!" 'Jenny' exclaimed, now trying to pull her friend's G-string off as the other woman struggled to cover herself.

"Fine!" The other pool player huffed before lifting her skirt above her waist, taking hold of her panties and lowering them along her leanly muscled legs. Stepping out of them, the woman unabashedly pirouetted around, letting everyone see her tightly trimmed snatch, swinging the panties on her finger above her head. The panties slipped off her finger and landed between Jemima's breasts. "Oops. Shit!" The woman gasped, blushing bright red.

Jemima laughed along with everyone else in the bar. Then, to tease the young woman, Jemima picked them out of her cleavage, held them to her nose and appreciatively sniffed before tucking them into her handbag.

The bar erupted into cheers as Jemima turned back to the bar. Leslie winked at her and handed her another cocktail. "On the house," Leslie stated. "Boss' orders for being such a good sport."

Jemima turned back to the room but couldn't spot the young woman whose panties she'd purloined. The 'bride' leant over the pool table, lining up a shot. Jemima admired the lush breasts that appeared to be about to burst from the woman's top. Smiling, Jemima carried her dink into the midst of the gaggle.

"Can anyone challenge the table?" She casually asked.

"Sure," the 'bride' acknowledged. "It's a public table. All you have to do is put your coin on the table beside the slot, and when it's your turn, you're up."

Jemima looked to see where the woman gestured and saw ten coins already lined up. She grinned at the gaggle and said, "I challenge each and every one of you to a game of strip pool. The loser of each rack has to remove a piece of clothing. Me? I'm wearing these heels and this dress. That's all. Are you game?"

Unfortunately, none of the gaggle would accept Jemima's bet, so she placed her coin and returned to the bar.

Leslie the Lezzy tried chatting her up as she served drinks, but Jemima's mind was on procuring a woman to take home to her husband. Her pussy ached as she yearned to see Cillian's huge dick opening some young slut's pussy lips. She longed to drink his slippery spend from his lover's cunt, relishing their combined flavours. However, the only women who seemed interested were more on the lesbian side of bisexuality.

Only once had Jemima been fooled by a woman who insisted she was bisexual, but when Jemima got her home, the woman refused to allow Cillian even to touch her, let alone fuck her. Jemima made the best of a disappointing situation and put on an erotic show for her husband with the young woman. But eating pussy without Cillian's seed spilling from it just wasn't the same.

"May I have my knickers back, please?" A sweet, young voice spoke beside her.

Jemima turned and smiled at the gorgeous young woman, her pussy already tingling as she imagined how she would taste. "I appear to have forgotten to wear any," Jemima straight-facedly answered. "I put them on to cover my old, fat, saggy ass."

The girl giggled, "I doubt that there's even a gram of fat on you," she denied. "In fact, you seem at least as toned and fit as I am."

Jemima pulled the panties from her handbag and held them to her nose again. Deciding to take a chance, Jemima said, "I'd like to taste this from its source."

The beautiful young woman's eyes hooded, and she asked, "You're a lesbian?"

Jemima shook her head and replied, "I'm a married bisexual with a preference for women."

"You're married to a woman?" The girl asked. Same-sex marriages have been legalised in Australia since December 2017.

Jemima shook her head again, "No, I'm married to a man. A damned sexy one, even if he is as dumb as a box full of hammers."

"You cruising for pussy behind his back?"

Not sensing any disgust or withdrawal from the girl, Jemima reached out and tucked an errant hair behind the woman's ear. "No," she replied. "I'm looking for a sweet young thing to take home as a present for him."

The girl's eyes widened, "He makes you do this?"

"Oh, lawd, no," Jemima exclaimed. "I love watching his big, rock-hard cock splitting some fresh young thing's punani open, and I adore seeing him dump a full load of cum into her before I lick and suck it out."

"Fuck, that sounds hot!" The young woman exclaimed. She held her hand out, "I'm Angela. My friends call me either Ange or A2."

"A2?" Jemima queried, taking the young woman's hand and lightly kissing its back.

"My mum is Angela, too. Therefore, A2."

"I'm Jemima," Jemima added. "My friends don't call my name; they scream it ecstatically."

"All your friends all the time?" Ange teased. "That must get embarrassing on the bus!"

"Hah!" Jemima spat with mock haughtiness. "As if I'm putting this divine face and figure on a bus!"

Ange delightedly laughed as she took Jemima's other hand in hers. Then, dragging Jemima to the small dance floor where some reggae beats were playing from the jukebox, Angela pressed her lissom body to Jemima's and began to dance.

Taking the hint, Jemima cupped Angela's ass and pulled her tightly to her. Then, letting the beat wash over her, Jemima moved to its insistent cadence, Ange following her every movement, keeping her tight young body pressed closely against Jemima. Ange wrapped her arms around Jemima's neck and swayed with her. A2's eyes were hooded, lust for her older dance partner evident on her young face.

"Tell me about your husband and what you want to do," Angela demanded, grinding her pussy against the taller woman.

"My husband, Cillian, is a tall, lean, gorgeous hunk of a man," Jemima described. "He works hard at his labouring job and looks after me as well as he can. But, unfortunately, he's thicker than a lump of two by four. I love the big lug, though. He's good on the inside, you know?"

"What do you do?" Ange asked. "Do you work?"

Jemima nodded, "I'm a radiographer at The Children's Hospital," she explained, ignoring her 'extracurricular activities' in the porn industry.

"That has to be tough," Ange declared, moving her hands onto Jemima's upper arms, her thumbs touching the older woman's nipples.

"Sometimes," Jemima admitted. "Especially when you find bad news like a cancer or something."

"I've never been with a woman before," Angela suddenly blurted. "I'm not a virgin, but I've only been with a couple of men. Neither of them were ... satisfying, if you will."

"Would you like to try being with a woman?" Jemima asked, extremely aware of the heat pressing against her entrance, emanating from the beautiful young woman in her arms.

"Only you, or do I get to play with your husband, too?" Ange asked.

"I want to watch my husband's humungous dick ploughing your slutty cunt open," Jemima stated, squeezing the girl tightly and grinding her pussy against her. "I want to watch Cillian fill your fuck hole with his seed, and then I want to eat it from you. Then, if you're willing, I'd like to see my husband take your ass."

"I've never had anal, either," Angela pointed out.

"A night of firsts for you, then, if you'd like to, little one," Jemima purred.

"Let me tell Jenny that I'm going with you, then let's blow this joint," A2 gasped, letting Jemima go.

Jemima turned to the bullish-looking lesbian behind the bar and handed her a card. "Next month, after the eighteenth and before the month's end, call me," she stated before winking and looking for her latest conquest.

Jemima appraised her young friend. Jemima knew that Angela had to be over eighteen because the bouncers at The Fox carded people severely. Maybe an extremely well-crafted fake ID could get through, but it seemed unlikely because most of the girl gaggle looked to be closer to thirty than twenty. Although the bride, Jenny's assets were well-developed and enticingly displayed, Jemima thought the thinner, more muscular Angela had her beaten, hands down.