Do you know what a cuckquean is?
A woman whose husband has sex with other women.
There is an unspoken kink out there for a woman, something even more taboo than anal sex. More taboo than being a slut. The kink of getting off knowing your husband is having sex with another woman. Now there are a lot of definitions regarding this term, and I could split hairs on this all night long, but for this post, let's just look at the woman who gets off on the excitement, the uncertainty and the humiliation of her husband, her "man", taking sexual pleasure elsewhere, and her powerless to her own base urges to allow this to happen.
Picture a man, home getting ready to go out. His wife, submissive, watching him in the bedroom. She is sitting on the bed on the corner as he changes from his work clothes, which are dirty and sweaty, to a nice pair of dark slacks, a midnight button up shirt, that she freshly ironed and starched that afternoon, and some dark leather buckled loafers.
She notices that his shoes have a few more buckles, and are shiny chrome; Just a hint out of place for the rest of his outfit. She is silent as she watches him splash some aftershave on his rough cheeks. He doesn't shave when he goes out, preferring the rough look, and the ladies prefer it too!
Her mind is a turmoil of emotions and thoughts. What quick glimpses of his body that she catches made her crotch itch. She can smell his scent on his work clothes, and she wonders how easy it would be to orgasm if he would just stop what he was doing at that very moment and push her down on the bed and take her rough and quick. His stubble would scratch her face as he laid his lips upon hers, preventing her from protesting. She imagined it would take only a minute before his actions and heat would take her over the edge.
"Tie, or no tie?" his words are short and curt and interrupt her fantasy. He holds out a tie that she knows has a stain on it. If he were to wear it, all the woman would notice, and perhaps that would turn them away from him tonight.
"No tie. That one has a stain on it anyway," she says. In her mind she mentally kicks herself.
He is almost done; ready to go. She follows him to the door, and he turns to her and takes her in while she does the same.
"Wish me luck!" he is such a bastard, and her heart leaps into her throat.
"L-l-l-luck..." she says, and he gives a knowing smile to her. He knows. He knows how this turns her on. He reaches to her crotch and is able to shift a finger inside her with ease. She gasps and almost climaxes right there in the entry way. The door closes and he is gone.
To where? To who? The questions invade her mind as she is powerless to stop them and braces herself against the wall. The bitch! Whoever it is that will share his bed tonight is the bitch. Will the bitch be better than her? Can she make her husband cum better than his wife? Could she steal him away from her? Maybe the bitch will come back here with him. Will I have to watch as she sneers at me while they fuck? Will he fuck her good? Of course
She comes to her senses and realizes that her hand is shoved up her pussy. Juice is everywhere. She is almost there, and realizes that she doesn't have permission to cum from her husband. He never gave it to her before he left.
It would be easy to cheat. He would never know.
But she would know. She would be cheating.
Perhaps if she fucks him well he will be in a good mood and will let her cum when he returns back to her. She will have to ask. Correction, she will have to beg. She always does.
She feels her hand wander back down to her crotch. She starts to repeat the cycle again, touching herself to the brink and backing off. She has gotten very good at that over the months.
Her mind wanders. What if when she begs to be let to cum, he asks the bitch to decide. She pictures the two of them on her bed, in her bedroom, naked, bodies slick with exertion, wrapped around each other, looking down on her as she pleads her case. The bitch smiles an evil smile at her and shakes her head no!
She shrieks and yanks her hand away from her pussy just in time. She doesn't climax, and her legs give out, dropping her shaking and panting body to her knees on the hardwood floor of the entryway. Once her breathing is under control, she gets up and tries to tidy the living room, but her mind and heart isn't into it. There are too many questions flying around in her head. She glances at the wall clock and curses as she realizes that her husband has been gone for only ten minutes.
Only another four hours before she could expect him to come home. She doesn't know how she will last. But she always does.