Valentine's Day Cuckold

That's the problem with slipping into a rut. It isn't easily recognizable. It starts with a series of comfortable patterns, until the next thing you know 20 years have passed, the best years of your life, and what you've accomplished pales in comparison to the dreams you had when you were young.

Unless you are lucky enough to be Samuel Clementine.

And here he was offering us the party of our lifetime, and we, the boring married couple with children in their teenage years, were passing to watch a movie.

I couldn't take it.

I needed some excitement!

"Well, if that's what we're doing," I said, trying to lace my voice with as much disappointment as I could muster. "You're going to at least share that bottle."

Samuel gave an impish grin and instead of pouring a glass, simply handed me the whiskey. I took more than a belt from the bottle before passing it to my husband. He declined, content to simply find a relaxing position on the couch. I could tell from his body language he would not be awake for too long.

"Pick something out," I said. "I'm going to change into something more comfortable."

I went to the master bedroom where we had dropped all of our belongings without thinking about the consequences. I had been trying to jumpstart our marriage for some time. Sex, when it happened, usually involved a few minutes of oral before some satisfactory but unenthusiastic missionary style pumping.

I had suggested to Billy experimenting, needing something to spice up our marriage. For a few weeks, he had been particularly frisky, finding a few different ideas. That had been a few months ago, and we had fucked like teenagers again, back when the two of us were enjoying another person's body for the first time. I wasn't sure what had happened, but I didn't dare ask any questions in the moment. Billy would pull out his iPad, browse for a little while, and then jump on top of me.

When I had asked him what he had been looking at, he completely shut down. I told him it didn't matter to me, no matter what his fantasy was. After all, I was sure I had been reading worse. But he refused to share anything that he had been looking at online. My mind raced with the possibilities, but other than something really weird, I found myself willing to try nearly anything to feel sexy again.

On an impulse, I had purchased a few outfits from Amazon. Other than the jeans and t-shirt I was wearing, I had decided to pack nothing more practical than an elegant red gown for dinner and this very revealing white lacy nightgown. I had hoped to deny myself any possibility of backing out by packing nothing else and maybe even chancing nudity at the lake. Then the thought struck me that maybe by parading around tonight, I could at least tease my husband into using me like the desperate woman I had become recently.

I took longer than I needed. I stripped down to my underwear, then took it off, taking a second to eyeball myself in the mirror. All in all, my body had stood the test of time. My breasts, C cups, hung down a little bit, but still defied the rule of gravity. My large nipples started to swell at the idea of showing off - and after all, who was Samuel to complain?

I put on my favorite outfit that I had purchased and almost ruled it out instantly as being entirely too revealing. My breasts were almost spilling over the cups, the dark shade of my nipples visible at a stare. And when I twirled around, my ass was clearly visible.

I didn't know what to do. I had only brought the one nightgown, hoping to spend the day nearly naked or in just enough to cover myself. I got my T-shirt and threw it on over the négligée, turning around full circle to see the thin white fabric that at least covered my rear like a skirt. It definitely looked mismatched, barely covering the bottom of my butt cheeks.

I didn't need to look through my underwear to know that I had only packed thongs.

I sighed, deciding that this would simply have to do, and stepped into the living room. But beneath the butterflies circling my stomach, a lower part of me wanted to see the reaction at being on display for the first time in years.

"Samuel picked your favorite, Mean Girls - " Billy said, stopping to look at me wearing the same T-shirt as earlier. From his vantage point, it seemed that the longer T-shirt was the only thing that I was wearing.

"I thought you were changing..."

"Well... I didn't really pack anything for company..."

Samuel sat up at this.

"Dost Judith the Prudith clad herself like a twadery wench?"

"More than you were wearing earlier," I said, smiling a little. "We weren't really expecting a third wheel."

"I like to consider myself more of a big wheel..."

"It's not that big!"

I couldn't believe the joke even as it spilled out of my mouth. I put my hand over my mouth, almost snorting with laughter. For his part, Samuel could certainly take it as well as give it. His whole body roared, shaking, convulsing with laughter.

"Well, I'm sorry Billy boy, it looks like I am blocking your cock," Samuel said.

Billy scrunched up a little in embarrassment. Even though we had been married twenty years, something about other people knowing that we actually fucked always seemed to agitate him.

"It's really not like that," Billy stammered.

I rolled my eyes a little. We could at least be grown-ups about it. So what? We fuck. It's not something to get all excited over anymore. Especially the way we were doing it.

But still I saved him.

"It's just a nightgown..."

"Just a nightgown! That's where it starts! Then kissing and then... "

Samuel clasped both hands over his hand in shock.

"The post-marital sex!"

After a few moments of awkward laughter, Samuel started again.

"So this nightie... that's too scandalous for the general public. Are you wearing it now?"

"Yes..."

My eyes bored into the tile floor.

"So what you are saying is the only thing between us right now is a shirt, another layer of fabric and... my almost chauvinistic sense of chivalry..."

"Chivalry?" I mocked.

"Loyalty," Samuel shrugged, winking at Billy. "Trust me, I could think of a few unchivalrous things to say about your body."

I crossed my arms in front of my chest, enjoying his attention in spite of myself.

"So flatter me."

He never missed a beat.

"Inspire me."

"What?"

I looked down at my feet, involuntarily kicking at the ground.

"Let me..." He stopped himself. "Let us see this outfit you are so proud of. You are proud of it, aren't you?"

"I don't know..." I said.

"I do," Samuel said. "If I may say so, which is just a fancy way of apologizing before I offend someone, Judith your body is something to behold."

"You aren't beholding it yet!"

He looked me up and down, examining me in a way that made my hips tingle. I blushed.

"Do you... do you mind, Billy?" I asked.

"So long as you have something on underneath, I don't see the harm," Billy said.

I turned around, as much for my own nerves as anything else, even though my ass would be nearly nude with just a thong hiding the bottom half.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself, doing enough mental somersaults to convince myself that showing off a nightie this revealing didn't make me the worst wife in the world.

One quick motion and the shirt was on the floor.

I didn't really have time to connect with what I was doing. I just turned around, elevated a little above the men in the entrance to the living room so at least Samuel couldn't see down the teddy. I didn't realize until later that presented him with the perfect view of my ass, barely covered as it was by the skimpy white bottom and the matching thong. At least there were more lacy frills around the more sensitive areas around my areolas and at the fringes, covering only an inch or so above my panties.

Over the rest of the garment, the white lace was nearly see-through. My breasts had been squeezed into the top, and hadn't quite stayed put during this impromptu costume change. I found myself making an awkward adjustment in full view, nearly panicking as only my reflexes prevented my left boob from flying out of the ill-fitting cup. Even when I had patted and primed my cleavage perfectly, ignoring my audience as best I could, the tops of my nipples, a darker shade of brown than the rest of my skin, stood out clearly visible if anyone was close enough. Not to mention the ridiculous amount of cleavage that jetted out from the outfit.

"Fuck you're hot..." Samuel said.

"You look incredible, honey," Billy said.

"I'm sorry, man. I'm going to be completely distracted during the movie."

"I'm sure it's nothing you haven't seen before," I said, blushing.

"I'm sure you're wrong," Samuel said, speaking softly. "I'm sure what you have, every inch of you, is entirely different. That every inch of you, bare, exposed for all its beauty, surpasses anything I have seen, imagined, or dreamed.

I don't know what happened.

My voice just seemed to disappear.

"Come on, sit next to me! Let me get a closer look" Samuel said, patting the cushion. "That is, if Billy doesn't mind."

"Go for it!" Billy said, a little too enthusiastically.

"Really?" I said skeptically.

"You seem to be enjoying showing off..." Billy said, almost excitedly.

"I can always go masturbate in my room," Samuel said.

"No, stay!" I said, a little too quickly.

The room went quiet.

"Sure this is okay with you?" Samuel asked my husband.

Billy nodded.

"We're all friends here, right?"

I giggled a little bit.

"Use that silver tongue," I said.

"Given a choice, that's not how I would direct my tongue. Given the choices... it doesn't even crack the top ten..."

It was so validating, even if I did have a shrinking suspicion that the writer was just shining me on. Still, I did remember how good I looked for my age. I had a little more weight around my hips, but it only served to give my ass this plump, full look. I had the traditional hourglass figure, long dark hair that fell over my shoulder. A face I thought was pretty enough, at least when I'd had a little more time with it.

But something about Samuel's stare made me forget it all about that. He looked at me as though a girl from the magazines walked right off the runaway and into his lap.

I took delicate steps, my legs stretching the fabric of the very miniature skirt descending from the scandalous outfit as I walked. My breasts bounced, threatening to pour out of the top of the garment everytime I quickened my pace. I slowed down, finding a seat directly in between my husband and his closest friend.

This didn't seem to suit Samuel, who took his hand and patted at the cushion next to him.

I looked at Billy, who simply shrugged, indicating the choice was entirely mine. Longing for the new attention, I scooted closer, the hem of my nightie almost catching and exposing the scant thong I wore underneath.

Not that anyone but me would have been able to notice.

A small shiver slid up my legs at being so exposed in front of someone new. And after twenty years of marriage, I found myself thinking almost as an anxious teenager. Intellectually, I knew nothing could happen, but the idea, the possibility, wormed its way in between both of my ears, wriggling around in my brain as almost an obsession.

Then he put his arm around me.

We had been drinking as the movie played. At first, Samuel shared directly from the bottle. Then, when that was empty, he took requests. I nursed a glass of white wine, while Samuel and Billy downed gulp after gulp of Tennessee Whiskey. When Samuel returned to sit next to me, his legs pressed up against mine, our hips aligning perfectly against each other.

If there had been another light other than the soft glow of the widescreen television, I'm sure my constant wiggling against him might have been noticed.

Not that Billy seemed to pay us any attention. He alternated between an almost vacant obsession with Lindsay Lohan's Christmas outfit and small talk between Samuel and I. The two of them kept rehashing the same old high school stories I'd heard a thousand times, with Billy reminiscing about the old days as though retelling stories about the war, instead of running a high school newspaper.

All the while, the alcohol seemed to take more and more effect. Billy began slurring his speech, then even falling asleep on the couch as the movie wound down.

I looked over, my husband clearly unable to keep up with the rockstar lifestyle. Billy was snoring.

"Billy...."

He didn't respond.

"BILLY!"

"Huh... what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Do you want to go to bed? The movie is almost over..."

"No.. no I'm fine... I'll stay out here for a little while longer.."

I sighed. He would be asleep in another two minutes.

"I'm going to get another drink," I stood up.

Then nearly fell face first on the floor. I don't know what gave out, but my whole body gave out, the bottoms of my outfit almost ripping as I went forward. Thankfully the fabric held, even as the movement caused the nightgown to completely expose my ass, barely covered as it was with that embarrassingly small white thong.

I didn't have time to think about that; my legs were jelly, I managed to steady myself to take a single step like a baby deer before tumbling again, squeezing my eyes shut as I went headfirst towards the floor.

Only to feel strong arms propping me up. One around my waist, the other cupping my right breast. As Samuel righted me, his hand lingered, staying completely still as if in shock at the violation, however innocent. And so I stayed suspended, looking up at Samuel in the twilight as he felt me up.

"I'm sorry, that isn't where I meant to grab..."

"You don't... " I started. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

We looked awkwardly at each other, his fingers still resting on just below my nipple.

"You can let my boob go now..." I said. "I think it's safe."

"Please!" Billy said. "What's mine is yours..."

Samuel chuckled.

"It's not my usual route to second base," Samuel said, lifting his hands up in a who me gesture. I pushed down the bottom of my gown, making sure that my thong was again mostly concealed.

"What is usual?" I said.

"If it ever becomes the same each time, I'll retire from romance."

I didn't know if it was the alcohol, his subtle way of turning a phrase, or my own pent-up desperation, but every word seemed to melt my resolve. I had spent so much time fighting against what everyone else saw in the man; it had been hard to let go. But here he was, charming, sauve, a voice silky smooth and as effortless as he made everything seem.

"Is he asleep again?"

"I'm not..." Billy murmured.

"You're doing a very good impression then," Sam said.

"Maybe I should get him to bed," I said, somewhat reluctantly. I knew once we laid down, this night of mild exhibitionism might end, and probably forever.

"Unless you are still up," Samuel said slowly.

"But Billy?"

"I imagine he'll keep. Besides, I could use the company..."

I looked over at my man, who had started snoring on the couch. He was out cold.

"So what did you have in mind?"

"I left my guitar outside," Samuel said. "Why don't you come with, walk together alongside the beach, talk?"

"Sounds romantic," I said.

"I hope so. It's Valentine's Day," he said.

Samuel placed a long arm around my shoulder, holding me close to him as we walked towards the door.

"Wait!" I realized. "I can't go out wearing this!"

"I know this is a big step for you, Judith, but you are actually dressed pretty conservatively for Austin."

"Come on.." I said.

"You know there's a nude beach less than a mile away from here..."

"Yeah..." I said.

"I mean, I can see it from my small section of the lake."

"So that's why you bought the house," I teased.

He smirked back.

"I'm glad to be that transparent," He said. "Otherwise my career might seem hypocritical."

He held open the screen door, closing it behind me as we made our way past the wooden patio. We walked down past the tangle of trees on either side of the paths, between the large white rocks that had been cleared away to make a path down a few hundred feet to the lake. I could barely see in front of me, and Sam steadied me as I gingerly put one foot in front of the other.

"So do you usually take your guitar for walks?"

"Just this one in particular," Samuel said. "Though I'm finding the company is better on the return trip."

He grabbed my hand. I could feel the hardness, gripping mine both gruffly and gently as he led me down towards the lake. The moon just barely gave off enough light for me to follow, clutching close to his body as we walked hand in hand. We reached the water, never really looking out across.

He turned, and walked me further down the beach, past the pointed rocks that still occasionally jabbed at my shoes as I walked along the shore. He didn't have to take me very far, and the moonlight made the going easier. He stopped after a few feet and jostled my arm to point at his creation.

"It's a cave," I could barely contain my laughter. "You're a caveman!"

He laughed along.

With the way he had stacked up enough rocks, it had certainly created something close to that distinctive shape, if not the traditional size. Only four or so feet tall, and with only a slight curve up to the rocks, it would hardly have worked for even the most rugged neanderthal. Still, it had a lived in, almost natural sort of look. He had placed a large rock in the middle to sit, while another made a kind of table, his guitar resting diagonally between the two.

"I built it myself," He said proudly.

"So it isn't safe," I shot back.

"Not in the slightest," He said, pulling me up towards him.

He held me in his arms, our eyes meeting for a moment that stretched on until we became conscious of it and somehow broke the spell. I blinked first, looking down, and then up again into that face. Something about it had never seemed genuine, maybe it had been his wide-eye exuberance, those pouty, almost feminine lips...

And here I was thinking about his lips.

More than that, as I looked up at him, I thought about his body, about seeing his cock earlier. I wondered what he would feel like on top of me, holding me down, tearing through my nightgown and taking me right up against this rock. Then I thought of the fetishes and fantasies he must have played out through hundreds of whores and groupies. Beautiful young women, their bodies rubbing against his, probably even against each other. Sucking and fucking, fighting over a turn with that massive cock.

And instead of brushing these recurring thoughts, laughing at the adolescent fantasies as meaningless, empty exercises in excess; I indulged them. My mind raced with different possibilities, then overwhelmed, gave up the idea of knowing exactly what I would do to Samuel. If given the chance, I wanted him to decide what to do with me. To take me fully, to show me every depraved and lewd act possible. To put me in the same category as one of his teenage sluts.

He moved a little closer to me, almost as if coming in for a kiss.

I bit my lip.

He opened his mouth.

"Suppose I am a little romantic," Samuel whispered. "If only I had the backseat of a Taurus..."

Instead of laughing, a shiver went down my waist, rolling down to my pussy, already tense and tingling from even the slightest suggestion.

"Maybe some music," He whispered in my ear.

And in a second he bounded up to the seat, picking up his guitar with one hand, extending the other to help me up the last section. As I climbed, he stared down directly at my breasts which came straight up towards him at that angle.

"Any requests?"

"You know..."

"Anything other than Sheryl Crow?

"Never..."