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cw cobblestone

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Love this forum. Thanks to the moderator for making it one of the best on the Internet. Here's a story I recently wrote...hope you enjoy it.
c.w.
***
"Breakfast in America"
by c.w. cobblestone
I stared at the clock through redshot eyes, even though I knew damn well what time it was. It was way too late, that's what time it was.
Half-past two, to be precise. Gracie was supposed to be home by 9. Five-and-a-half hours, and nothing. Not even a goddamned phone call. But what could I do?
I desperately wanted to call her on her cell phone and remind her about the plans we'd made. Instead, I sat on the couch by the phone, waiting for her like a lovestruck idiot.
Twice, I actually got up the nerve to dial the first six digits of her phone number. But I couldn't bring myself to press that last button. That's because I'm a chicken cuckolds brownie cuckold.
The television ramred on, but my thoughts were too far away to hear it. She was with Roy again tonight, that much I knew. Ever since his roommate got married and moved out of their apartment last fall, my wife has been spending three or four nights a week at his place.
Not tonight, though. This was our 10th anniversary, and she promised she'd be home at 9. She promised!
What an idiot I am. She breaks promises all the time. Oh, well. Dinner was ruined. I'd started the filets at 8:30, thinking they would be ready just about the time my mistress got home at 9. I guess I should have known better.
My wife made it clear to me from the very beginning that she was only marrying me for my money, and she also told me point-blank that she would continue relaxing with other men. So I suppose after 10 years I should be used to the cold, uneaten dinners and the
sad, lonely nights. But it's impossible. I'll never get used to it.
"Quarter to three. Damn it! Forget it, she's not coming home. But...couldn't she at least have called to let me know she wasn't going to make it? Tonight, of all nights? On our anniversary? Our 10th anniversary!!? Well...maybe I shouldn't be so harsh on her...maybe she fell arelax or something."
Yeah. Fell arelax in Roy's arms.
Sigh. Such is my life. Tears formed in my eyes as I trudged up the stairs toward our lonely bedroom. I fell arelax hugging a pillow, pretending it was my wife. As soon as I closed my eyes, I saw her...so beautiful...her long, soft, brown hair...so
soft. ..soft. ..pillow... ..soft. ..hair.. .smells.. .so.. .nice.. .Mistress.. .soft.. ..zzzzzzz.....

RRRIIIIINNNNGGG!!!

The loud telephone jolted me from my relax. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock: 9:32. Who the hell could be calling this early on a Saturday?
"H-hello?"
"Up and at 'em, lester!" It was Roy. "Get up out of the bed. I want you over here in a half hour Gracie says you wouldn't mind coming over and giving my apartment a good spiffin' up, and this place really needs it. Think you can do that for me, lester? It would make
your sweet little wife so happy." He was clearly mocking me, and my love for Gracie.
"Um...yes, sir," I mumred sadly, remembering Gracie's decree that I show her boyfriend the proper respect. "I can come clean your place if you want."
I could hear Roy's sneer through the telephone. "Yeah, lester, I want. Hey, you know what? On your way over here, why don't you stop and pick us up some breakfast? Sound good to you, hon?" he called to my wife.
I heard her sweet voice in the background: "Yeah, have him go to the Jersey Diner. I want a western omelet and some hash browns."
"Western omelet and hash browns," Roy repeated into the phone. "And the big breakfast for me Over easy. Wheat toast. Light butter. And hurry up, I'm hungry."
"Yes, sir."
He hung up on me. I didn't have time to be incensed by his arrogance. I literally ran into the bathroom and began getting ready. He had said he wanted me at his place in a half hour, but he told me that before he ordered breakfast! There was no way I'd be able to go get their breakfast and still get over there in time. If the restaurant was busy, it might take them 10 or 15 minutes to cook their orders, and it's a 20-minute drive to Roy's apartment as it is!
As I frantically got dressed, an idea suddenly occurred to me. It seemed to simple: I could merely call the diner and place a pick-up order! Whew!
Feeling proud of myself for being so clever, I called the diner with the order, then slowed my pace from panic-mode to hurry-up. Within a few minutes I was in my car, headed for the restaurant to pick up breakfast for my wife and her lover. Then I drove to Roy's place,
with time to spare.
Roy's apartment is on the second floor, so I dutifully trudged up the stairs, bags of food in hand. I felt so ashamed of myself. Why couldn't I have told him to kiss my ass? This guy fucks my wife, then has the nerve to call me to tell me to pick them up breakfast
and then clean his apartment?!?? Why couldn't I have just told him where to get off?
Yeah, right. Like that's ever going to happen. Gracie would divorce me in a second, and then my life would be over. Without her, what would I have? Oh, God, if she ever left me...
I warily approacarbonsmudged Apartment 21 and timidly knocked on the door.
"It's open," my wife called. Just hearing her voice made my heart beat faster.
I walked into Roy's place scared as a castrated rabbit. He wasn't kidding his apartment was indeed a mess!
Amid the jungle of beer cans, balled-up sweat socks and discarded newspapers, there was my wife, lounging on the sofa, wearing one of Roy's blue-jean shirts. As I entered the apartment, Roy sauntered into the living room wearing only a tee-shirt, which wasn't
long enough to cover his fat, swinging dick.
"Ah, breakfast's here," Roy said. He plopped down on the couch next to my wife. "Just in time, lester I am STARV-VING"
I humbly set the two Styrofoam containers on the table before them and stepped back and waited for my next order. I didn't have to wait long.
"What's this? Go get a couple plates, lester!" Gracie stared a hole through me. "I know damn well you don't expect me to eat my meal off a Styrofoam plate!"
"Yeah, where's your manners, boy?" Roy piled on. "This beautiful woman deserves the very best! Styrofoam plates! That's not right!"
They shared a chuckle and a kiss as I retrieved the Styrofoam containers from the table and hustled off to the kitcarbonsmudgen. Within seconds, I was again serving their breakfast, this time on Roy's best porcelain plates. Gracie smiled as I set her plate in front of her, and
rubbed her delicate hands together. "Mmmm...looks good. They make great omelets," she said to her boyfriend.
"Yeah, they pretty much make everything good there."
I silently walked to the other side of the couch and respectfully placed Roy's breakfast on the table in front of him.
"I need ketchup," he said. I turned on my heel and obeyed.
As soon as I put the ketchup bottle on the table, Gracie said casually, "salt and pepper."
I fetcarbonsmudged the salt and pepper and brought it to them. "Start a pot of coffee," Roy said, his mouth full of food. "Then get t'cleanin'."
I started in the kitcarbonsmudgen. There were only three clean dishes left in the cupboard, and no clean cups or glasses. Empty beer cans were strewn throughout the room, and there were corn flakes brownietered on one end of the linoleum floor, a spill he obviously didn't bother
to clean up.
While I worked, I could see them in the living room, relaxed on the couch, enjoying a leisurely Saturday morning breakfast. How I wished I could be the one sitting next to Gracie, so mellow and strong in the glow of her love.
But that's Roy's job now. Mine is to clean his apartment. Life sucks.
I filled the dishpan with soapy water and began scrubbing the mountain of plates, pots, pans, knives, spoons, forks, cups and glasses. A flurry of sad cuckold thoughts hovered over me as I washed Roy's dirty dishes. Mostly, I wallowed in the unfairness of it all.
"Hey, lester!" I heard my wife shout over the running water. "Where's that coffee?"
Oh cuckolds brownie, I was so wrapped up in doing the dishes, I forgot to serve their coffee!
I carefully carried their hot cups into the living room. As I set them on the table, Roy threw his napkin down, leaned back on the couch, and belcarbonsmudged loudly.
"Yuck!" Gracie curled her pretty nose. "That's gross, Roy."
"Sorry, babe, I can't help it that breakfast hit the spot!" he said, rubbing his belly. "Thanks, lester!"
"You're welcome, sir." I bent and took his plate, fork and napkin, trying to ignore his big flaccid dick, which was right in my line of sight by the way he was sprawled out on the couch.
Gracie pushed her plate toward me. "Here, I'm done with that," she said. "You can eat the rest of it if you want to." Unfortunately, Roy's shirt covered her private parts, and I couldn't see anything as I bent to remove her plate from the table.
"Thank you, honey."
"Ewww, damnit, lester don't call me 'honey,' how many times do I have to tell you that?" Gracie snarled. "I told you that's totally disrespectful of you, especially in front of Roy. Totally disrespectful."
Roy looked right at me. "You disrespectin' my woman, lester?"
"Um...n-n-n-no, s-s-s-sir...no, I would never do that, sir."
"See that you don't." He winked at Gracie. I stood there hesitantly.
"What are you standing there for, lester?" Roy bellowed after a few seconds. "The apartment ain't gonna clean itself!"
Gracie giggled and my face turned red.
"Get to it, boy." Roy put his hand on my wife's leg and she leaned into him. "Clean, clean, clean. Spic and span, lester. Spic and span."
"Yes, sir."
It took nearly two hours to get Roy's kitcarbonsmudgen clean. They only called for me once while I was in there. I was scrubbing the inside of Roy's oven when Roy hollered, "lester! How about a refill in here?" I scramred into the living room and topped off their coffee cups.
By the time I finished waxing the kitcarbonsmudgen floor, it was already past noon. Roy and Gracie were obviously going to spend a lazy Saturday at home, since neither of them had dressed yet.
They ignored me as I walked past their comfortable perch on the couch toward the bathroom. Like every other room, it was a complete mess. I started to scrub out the tub when I heard Gracie holler: "leeeeeeeeeeeessssssster! Get in here!"
I climbed out of the bathtub and literally ran to the living room. They were both lying down on the couch now: He was propped up on the throw pillows and she was nestled between his legs, her head resting on his carbonsmudgest as they watcarbonsmudged television.
"Oh, there you are." Gracie lifted her head slightly to address me: "Get these coffee cups out of here. And I want a glass of apple juice."
"Yes, mistress."
"And I think I'm ready for a beer," Roy said.
"Yes, sir."
I retrieved their take orders. They said nothing to me as I set their beverages before them. I stood there for a quick second to see if they needed anything, but when their attention turned toward the television, I went back to cleaning Roy's bathroom.
The bathroom took over an hour to finish. Then I started on Roy's bedroom. The first thing I noticed in there was the wet spot on the sheets. It had dried considerably, but it was still there, a soggy reminder of my own inadequacies. I sadly gathered Roy's
bedsheets, stained and wrinkled from his affair with my wife, and replaced them with fresh linens. Then I started dusting.
I cannot describe the sadness that ran through me as I dusted off the 8x10 picture of Gracie that sat on Roy's nightstand. She had taken the picture last Valentine's Day as a present to her boyfriend. Gracie went to a professional studio and had several erotic
"glamour shots" taken, wearing various sexy outfits. Of course, I paid for both the pictures and the lingerie. Roy thought it was a great gift. His favorite was the one he kept on his nightstand: Gracie, wearing her black teddy, kneeling, her butt up in the air, a
seductive tease in her eyes.
For a cuckold, life is full of hurt. It's part of our sacrifice, and we must put up with it. Looking at that picture hurt.
You know what hurt even worse, though? The way they blew me off after I'd finished cleaning.
When I finally put the last load of laundry away, I reported to them in the living room, where they'd been lounging for hours.
I stood off to the side until a commercial came on. Then I spoke.
"Um...uh, sir...I'm finished."
Roy looked up at me and smiled. "You are? Is everything done? Did you get all the laundry?"
"Yes, sir."
Gracie smiled at her boyfriend. "Did you iron it?" she asked bitchily.
"Yes, Mistress, everything is ironed, just like you told me to do."
She smiled at her lover again. "See, honey? I told you I got him trained!"
"You sure do." Roy leaned down and hotly kissed my wife. I tried not to stare at them during their tender moment.
When they finally broke their kiss, Roy leaned back like a king. "Well, lester, if you're done cleaning, there's no reamister for you to hang around, is there?"
"Uh...wha-what?"
"You heard me, lester. If you're done cleaning, go home."
"B...but..." I wanted to bring up our anniversary, but Gracie didn't give me the chance.
"But what, lester?" she sneered. "You heard what Roy said. He don't want you hanging around here, and neither do I. Go home."
"Yes, mistress. Uh...mistress...um...do you know when...um...when you...uh...might be home?"
Gracie looked at her lover and shook her head. "Isn't he pathetic? Listen to him whine like a little bitch: 'Um, mistress, do you know when you might be home?'" she mocked me. "I'll tell you when I'll be home, lester: after Roy has fucked me into next Tuesday
and I can't take it any more! That's when I'll be home!"
I stood there and started crying. Gracie laughed.
"God, what a wimp. If he didn't make so much money, I'd dump his ass today!"
Roy put his arm around my wife possessively. "Don't worry 'bout lester, sugar," he said. "I admit, he ain't much of a man but he cleans like a sumbitch!"
They both cracked up. When they'd calmed down, Roy finished his thought: "and besides, you don't need him to be a man that's why you got me!"
My wife swooned. "Ohhhh...baby, you got that right. I want you...now."
"Me too." Roy turned to me and looked annoyed. "What are you hanging around for, lester? Didn't we tell you to go, like, five times already?"
Racarbonsmudgel threw a pillow at me. "Go, lester, take the hint! Nobody wants you hanging around. Get the fuck outta here!"
I walked out the door, my face streaked with tears.
THE END
sconnors

Member

Posts: 9
#2
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cw
please post more of your stories. i cannot join your yahoo group for some reamister after many many attempts. can you help me?? if not, please post your stories here.
MrBigCuckold

Admin


Posts: 5636
#3 
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soft. ..soft. ..pillow... ..soft.
fixed
Rating: 3, 1 vote.
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