The Reality of the Moment

I was at the point of no return; no more than five deep, and forceful strokes from emptying my alpha seed into this forty-year-old wife. The last few moments have filled their bedroom with her needy moans and groans; fueling the frenzied masturbation of her husband as he witnesses his always faithful woman reacting to the intense fucking of another man, for the first time since they married.

The culmination of this act has been meticulously planned out - their three young sons were delivered to their grandparents for the weekend, so as to ensure no distractions. They purchased new lingerie so as to present his beautiful wife to me in the sexiest light. And, a fresh box of Trojan Magnum condoms lay on the bedside table, as they understood that the ones he uses just would not accommodate my formidable length and girth.

This evening has been in the making for almost a year, since the night he built up the courage to tell her his fantasy. Months of her hesitation at the thought of bringing another man into their bedroom, followed by the search for the right bull for her. They decided on a younger, experienced, and well-endowed male, who would lead them both through this fantastic event.

Their conservative values do not permit birth control, but after failed attempts at using the rhythm method over the years, these two broke that rule years ago, by using condoms to ensure a fourth child didn't arrive until they were ready to feed another mouth.

So, when he finally talked her into this erotic fantasy, the first rule that the two of them had set out was that I needed to be sheathed in rubber. Despite knowing that condoms greatly diminish sensitivity between the male and female, they had decided to err on the side of caution. Neither of them wanted to be reminded of this intoxicating evening, by raising a bastard child for the next twenty years.

What they hadn't planned on was that once her body was able to stretch enough to receive all of me inside her, my heavy fuck stick would feel to her like a large rubber dildo. Much like the one with which he had practiced fucking her, when he would utter things like, "Does his big cock feel good inside you, honey?"

She no longer wanted a fake, rubber cock filling her pussy up. She desired a real man who could give her the sensations that only a good raw dogging could offer.

She asked him if I could go without that protective barrier, to allow her a more decadent experience. His quest for her to be sexually satisfied while he watched, overruled the need for safe sex in the moment. He watched intently as she carefully rolled up the slick rubber condom along my bulging, mushroom-tipped shaft. She removed it and handed the rumpled balloon to her husband, who found himself uncomfortably in possession of my personal waste.

With no basket on his side of the bed, he put the heavy-duty wrapper on the bedside table. The cuckold marveled at the thought that, if he attempted to use one that size, how it would drape over his meager manhood like a sandwich bag over a gherkin. Her guttural moan as my thick spear pushed inside, made them both forget about this dangerous action, at least for the time being.

His eyes were glued to our union, and in seconds she launched into her first fitful orgasm. Her wide-eyed stare at him, as wave after delicious wave took her over, told him that it was possible for his wife to orgasm from penetration alone. There would be no need for me to satisfy her orally or digitally, as had always been a necessity for him.

Our lovemaking had caused her to secrete so much lubrication, that each thrust emitted a sound like feet splashing in a puddle. Her thighs and my veiny shaft glistened in the yellow light if the room, while a large puddle of her juices saturated the once crisp bed sheets beneath us.

My rhythmic, talented, and ever-so-deep thrusts soon brought her forth yet another climactic release. She uttered gasps and flailed uncontrollably while under my spell; noises that were unfamiliar to their regular bedroom routine.

He was unable to take in another sound, as she approached her third orgasm from my incessant pounding. He unfastened his trousers and yanked them to the floor, along with his tighty-whities. His stubby shaft stood erect in his fist, leaking precum at the slit. She could only look over at him with pity, mouth agape in her own selfish pleasure, while his fist pumped at a frenzied pace.

I had warned her earlier, with a whisper, that she ensure he not succumb to the moment before I deposit my illicit, and fertile semen, inside her. She was too lost in her own moment to get him to stop his self-flagellation before it was too late.

I have seen it many times before - the light switch moment that occurs when the cuckold watches his once meaningful cum splatter all over the bedroom carpet at his feet, while a large, virile man continues to pummel his wife, right before his eyes.

He instantly realizes that he is no longer a part of this fantasy as it finishes playing out. His car at the back of this roller coaster has uncoupled. His loving wife, and mother to his sons, is now on this wild journey without him. Her legs are folded back, thighs pressing into her modest B-cup breasts while she greedily accepts each forceful thrust. She is dizzy with excitement, her loins sending more lubrication and her brain spilling euphoric chemicals all through her body.

I am so ready to erupt; my masculine grunts forebode the inevitable, and his heart thumps in his chest. Her body is so attuned to the sensations inside her that she shivers at each delicious jettison of my youthful seed, as it paints the back wall of her pussy in pearly silver. Millions of tadpoles seep into the vestibule of her womb, swimming toward their ultimate prize.

His brain has begun to turn on him. Is this manly cock all too much for her? Is the thought of her own husband being sexually enough for her, gone forever? Will she crave only young, powerful, alpha males to give her what he has never been able to - shuddering climaxes from penetration alone? He looks at his shriveled, drooling cock dangling harmlessly, juxtaposed by my erect, forceful and satisfying phallus emptying its load inside his moaning wife

My hammer begins to soften with the completion of my delivery of goods, and now the volume of gooey cum that oozes from her most private place further denigrates him. The last few strokes of my speared knob only scoop out even more from her, darkening their bed sheets further, in a puddle of our mixed juices.

He is sat in the chair that was placed next to their marital bed for his use; a place that was once a front row seat to the greatest thrill of their sexual lives. In an instant, it now seems more of a back row seat in an adult cinema, watching his wife performing this pornographic scene with a stranger, to an audience of one.

I roll onto my side as her hands caress me the same way she has her husband for so many years - one combing through my curly hair and the other across my broad chest. His face indicates his worry that he has lost her; that she is now only focused on me. He peers once more at my ebbing member, still both longer and thicker than him at his most rigid form, even in my softening state.

I allow her the time to fall gently from her erotic high, and ask directions to their bathroom. When I return, they are bundled together, his body oblivious to the now cold and gooey muck of our wet spot. As I pull on my clothes that he had neatly folded on her vanity after undressing us both to begin this scene, I tell them the name if the 'morning after' product that she can pick up at the drug store. It will alleviate any fears they have about an unwanted pregnancy. Then, I tell the couple that I will see myself out, and leave him to reclaim her once more.

When she texts me later, she tells me that hubby is fast asleep, but she cannot. She can only replay our adventure over and over in her head. She wants a repeat performance, but has recognized her husband's angst at the suggestion.

I remind her that the error was allowing his orgasm to spoil the event. I tell her that it is time for her to assert her control, and that with a few changes; both of them will have a better outcome, next time.

First, she must take him to a sex shop, and pick out a cage for him. It is up to her whether she chooses a steel one, which will give him the feeling of loss of control of his own sexuality, yet intensify his fantasy through temporary denial; or, rather, a pink plastic cage, that does the same, but adds an element of emasculation.

Either contraption will ensure that he can't easily rub one out while on the sidelines. The cage also reinforces that his needs are secondary; she is the queen, and he is her supplicant in the bedroom. She will then be able to take him down his inevitable path to acquiescence and submission.

I explained that this is also the time to introduce limitations and rewards, such as making him listen to us from another room, or leaving him at home while we indulge in his fantasy at some other place. Teasing him with vivid descriptions of our play upon her return, or sending him a video and pictures from our hotel room, will give him a sweet dose of denial that revs his engine so well. Both of these guarantee a successful night for her, and firmly entrench her power in the bedroom.

She told me she had never realized his fantasy had such depth of emotion. She had originally thought it was just an unusual request that would require her to offer him the same chance to be with another female one day. She has now learned that the cuck has no interest in other women. She is both the central character and the director in this play, and he is relegated to whatever role she decides is best.

In only a few days, she had her cuckold call me to request an encore performance. I engage in his offer but advise that it will be at the downtown Marriot hotel, at his expense. I ask him if they've been to a sex shop recently. He admits to the purchase of the cold, metal cage. I tell him that I would enjoy servicing his beautiful wife for him, but under a few conditions.

I delight at the subtle changes in his demeanor, as he agrees to wear his device from this moment, until I return her to him. I want her both fresh and needy when we meet. She is to wear the key for his cage around her neck.

I then instruct him to hand her the phone. I have her tell me how much she looks forward to our tryst, and what she plans to wear to the hotel. Then she is told to have him fully undress for a picture of his compliance. Her giddy, yet assertive voice is obvious as she snaps a few pictures. She sends me the pic of her husband, caged and resigned to whatever she demands.

I have her put him back on, and offer him one consolation. I tell him that, if his wife becomes irritable and sexually anxious at having to wait until we meet in seven days, that he has my permission to orally please her. His relief is palpable, and I remind him that it is only fair that he is allowed to please her in the only way that he is able - at least until I can do that for her, the right way - with a man's cock.

When he hands her the phone as instructed, I tell her to call me as often as she wishes, as long as he is in the room when she does. We need to ramp up his angst as much as possible, so that his inevitable release at her returning to him is explosive.

Ah, the psyche of the cuck is a fascinating one.