A Cuckold Fantasy
The three of us meet for dinner. The pretext is social and innocent. Perhaps I am a friend from work who has never met your wife, maybe we were going to meet as two couple interested in doubles tennis, but my wife couldn’t make it. Whatever.
But the three of us sit down to have dinner, a couple of drinks, and get to know each other better in a nice restaurant. At first the conversation is going well, we all seem to hit it off, and frankly, you are glad your wife and I seem to be hitting it off too: Sometimes she feels left out when you have male friends. You don’t mind that I’ve complimented her on her appearance early on, either, and she’s seem sincerely flattered.
It is hard to say when things cross the line into making you uncomfortable. Perhaps it is when you notice how I look at your wife, obviously finding her very attractive. Or when you see how she smiles at me, clearly finding me attractive and engaging as well. Maybe it was when the conversation turned to something your wife and I are both interested in and knowledgable about, that you can’t add anything on, and we seem to forget you are there. Maybe it when she seems to be deprecating you by mentioning that she makes more money than you and joking that she wears the pants in the family. By the time she’s mentioned it is too bad that you don’t dance, and I’ve asked her to, you know you feel uneasy. You’ve always felt insecure about your inability to dance. But I seem so nice, and you don’t want to let on.
And so I dance with your wife. When we come back to the booth, I get in first, and so I’m in between you and her. She has another drink. She still talks to you, but is talking more to me, and I to her. She seems flirtacious with me now. But still somehow it seems socially acceptable, how can you complain? You try not to feel upset. Yet you feel uneasy when I order a second round of drinks for all of us, knowing your wife normally gets more flirtacious when she’s had a couple of drinks.
But you can’t help it when I ask her to dance again a few songs later, and she seems a bit to eager. When we stay out on the dance floor for a second song. And then when the next one is a slow dance song, for a third. You watch as your wife and I dance close. Our bodies touching, our faces close to one another. Obviously both enjoying it.
You have a hard time sounding civil when she and I get back to the table. You are feeling sick with jealousy now. Your wife is openingly irritated with you for your attitude, and apologizes on your behalf. When she’s reassuring me its ok, you just get in moods, she puts her hand on my arm. You feel very upset. And yet to your suprise, you also feel the tightness in your pants, signaling to you that you have a partial erection. You notice your wife’s shapeliness, her cleavage. She is sexy when she is relaxed and flirtacious. As she is now.
But you are upset now and say you two have to get going. Is she really oblivious to the hint as she insists that you have me over for a “quick nightcap” at your place before I head home? Can she not see you are steaming as she volunteers to ride with me so I won’t get lost finding your place, while you drive home alone? Is she unaware of the effect it is having on you, as we arrive several minutes later than you, laughing as we get out of the car, as she puts her arm in mine on the walk to your front door? Is she oblivious, or is she deliberately antagonizing you? We all sit down in your living room. I sit on one couch, and she quickly sits on the one perpendicular to it and almost touching. She laughs and asks you to go get the wine. You feel angry, yet for some reason powerless, emasculated, unable to bring yourself to end this and kick me out. Perhaps that is because you see yourself as reflected in her eyes: Weak, bumbling, unattractive, especially in comparison to me.
She and I are engrossed in conversation when you return with a glass of wine for her and me. She and I each look up at you briefly and say thank you as you hand us our glasses, which we set on the table. We are laughing and looking intently at each other, which we quickly go back to. You sit beside your wife, feeling utterly foolish. You try to interject yourself into our conversation. Neither of us seem to hear you. You put your hand on your wife’s knee. Normally when you do this she responds by putting her hand on your’s. But this time she doesn’t. She is turned toward and leaning toward me.
As I make some joke she laughs hard at, I put my hand on your wife’s arm. As we both laugh, she reciprocates by putting her hand over mine. I in turn put my other hand on her elbow. Somehow it all seems so natural, and friendly. At this point, your wife does give you a quick backward glance, worried that this might be upsetting you, even as her hand is still on mine. Slightly worried. Not worried enough, considering the outrageousness of what has already taken place. But still, some concern for your reaction. An impulse rises up in you to put your arm around, and pull her close to you. But you freeze. You can’t. You feel so unsure of yourself. You just smile tightly back at her. And seeing this reaction on your part, her expression changes. In the instant before she turns back to me, you think you seem something like contempt in her eyes. Your hand retreats from her knee.
I lean close and whisper something in her ear. She moves her head to meet my whisper. She laughs, and then whispers in mine. I whisper back. You think you catch “…bet he wouldn’t, let’s see…”. Your wife glances back at you again, this time laughing and without a trace of concern. Then she turns and looks at me expectantly. And right there in front of you, I kiss your wife. And she kisses back, obviously passionately. Your heart is pounding wildly. You can’t believe the woman you love is kissing another man, right in front of you, as if you didn’t exist. It is no consolation that she is a bit tipsy from the alcohol. It has only lowered her inhibitions. Lowered them, so now she is doing what she wants to do. She wants another man. Wants me. And you know it.
I hold her face, she holds mine. I kiss down her neck. She sighs. And whispers, and you hear pieces, “You were right…such a wimp…” more kissing, more whispers. Something about “…taking what he wants…”, something about “…like a man…”. My whisper to her “…just sitting there”. You hear enough to understand. Your wife is disgusted with you. She felt attraction for me, but had you showed you would fight for her it might have been different. But she sees you too afraid to do that. And me not afraid to.
And yet in spite of that, you notice you are also very aroused. Your wife is beautiful. Any man would be very aroused, watching her make out like this. Any man watching this on film would be hoping more would happen. And yet you are close to tears from hurt and jealousy as well.
I take your wife’s hand and pull her toward my couch. She gets up willingly. I pull her to the side of me farther from you. I kiss her ears, her neck. Now she stares straight at you. Straight at you as I kiss her cleavage. Her eyes show no fear of your reaction now. But her eyes are searching your’s, wondering what your reaction will be. Her eyes daring you to do something. You just look at her. Submissively. You both know now you aren’t able to assert yourself to do anything to stop this. And as the gasps and tilts her head upward, and presses my head to her chest, you know your wife wants to fuck me. And you know she will.
You watch as the straps of her dress come over her shoulders and her breasts are exposed. You watched as she lets me nibble and suck at her breasts. As she reclines on the couch, and I lie on top of her. She does not look at you now. She gazes into my eyes. Kissing me forcefully, holding my face. Pulls my shirt off. You watch as my hairy chest presses against your wife’s breasts. As she and I begin to rock together, groin grinding against groin. As she spreads her knees apart, as my hand moves up between her legs.
Your mind is reeling. A few hours ago you were just having dinner with a friend. You never dreamed in your life something like this would happen. You know your marriage can never be the same. You know your wife is about to let another man inside her, and nothing can undo what has happened and what is about to. You don’t know what will transpire. Will you watch? Be asked to watch? Be asked to leave? Or told to?
You watch as your wife reaches down, fumbling with my button and zipper, and reaches in and begins to fondle my cock. You see us both struggle to get my pants down. And you see my cock. You don’t know how many inches. But much bigger, much thicker, than yours. You see your wife’s jaw drop as she sees it for the first time. Your heart is pounding. You can feel yourself actually shaking.
Neither of us has looked your way since your wife looked to the ceiling and broke eye contact with you. You are being ignored. You find yourself desperate for even the attention of her glancing your way. Fuck your wife is sexy when she is..in lust. As I press my body down on her’s again, she does turn her head and glance at you. A curious glance. Like someone might give wondering if the dog is watching. And you surprise yourself as you unzip your pants quickly and reveal your erection, and begin stroking it and looking in her eyes.
She immediately says “look”, looking up at me, then tilting her head your way. I look, and your eyes meet mine as well. We both see that your cock is an order of magnitude smaller than mine. All three of us see. Your wife laughs. And then she and I kiss, passionately. You hear her gasp and moan.
Your wife breaks the kiss, and glances your way again. You think you see a slight sympathy in her eyes. Pity. She holds your head and whispers to me, but loud enough so you can hear “not in front of him here”, and she pushes on me to get off of her. Which I do, standing, pulling my pants up temporarily. Half dressed, you watch as your wife and I walk by you as you sit frozen. She leads the way, to the bedroom.
You get up to follow. You are shaking, crying, and yet–hard. Your wife leads me into the bedroom. She pulls me in, then glances at you standing a few steps behind in the hallway. She closes the bedroom door and locks it. Now you can only listen. You stand at the door. You hear laughing, sighing, moans. The bedsprings. You wonder if it has happened yet. Have I entered your wife with my huge cock. Suddenly there is a loud gasp from her that leaves no doubt. The kind of gasp she used to release when you entered her. Though louder than you ever produced from her. You know I am fucking your wife now, and the rythymic sounds of our bodies slapping together begin and leave no doubt.
You wonder how she can be so loud. What surprises you most is the intensity of her screams and moans. How loudly she yells “Fuck me!” as I pound her. She has never been this loud with you. You feel like a little boy. A pussy. Not a man. A cuckold. A joke. As you stand timidly, masturbating, as your wife gets a fucking from me like she has never from you in your life. You stroke yourself faster. And when you hear your wife’s third prolonged “Ohhhhh Goodddddd…..” signally her third orgasm in five minutes, you squirt. Onto your hand, and onto the bedroom door you are standing in front of.
After coming like that, your arousal diminished, your feeling of sickness grows. You know your wife must have lost every ounce of respect she ever had for you. You walk back to the living room and lie on the couch. You cry softly to yourself. You can’t imagine what your relationship with her will be like after tonight. But you know somehow, you will be submissive as you never have been before. But you know you don’t want to lose her. You know you will humiliate yourself, tolerate anything, in order to keep her. You listen to your wife cum again and again, wondering how many times she can actually climax, and how long I can last in fucking her.
Finally as it starts getting light, perhaps exhausted by all the stress, somehow you sleep.
