Cuckold Calculations - A New Fiction Story

Hello everyone, this is the first chapter of what is intended to be a long (100 pg) cuckold story. In the past, my cuckold stories have incorporated sissy elements, etc., and are quite far fetched. In this story, I am trying to tell what I think is a fairly realistic-style story, completely absent any sissy aspects. I have written the first three chapters, this is just the first. I would like feedback on it. I am also interested to know how good quality a piece this is - I am considering dedicating some time to really writing some cuck stories for purchase on kindle. Is this the type of story (at 100 pgs or so) you would buy, for $4.99 say? Or is it only worth posting onto here. Does anyone on here buy cuck fiction for the kindle? Is this work as good, better, or does it require improvement?

Any feedback at all is appreciated. I hope you enjoy the story.


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Cuckold Calculations
by Sissy Schoolgirl BC
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Like most people, I am many things. I’m a third-generation Canadian from English extraction. I’m a successful businessman. I’m a husband. I’m nominally a protestant Christian although I don’t practice. I’m an NFL fan.

I am also a cuckold.

I have been my wife’s cuckold for the entirety of our two-year marriage, and one might argue even before then. Of course, the technical definition of a cuckold is a man with an unfaithful wife so in that sense I have only considered myself as such for the past two years. Semantics aside, we can put it this way: my beautiful wife Katherine has never been faithful to me, even before we married and has always made it very clear that she never intends to be.

While this has always been our agreed-upon arrangement, it has become so normal and everyday over the last number of years that I don’t think about it often. Sure, there are times when I’m up watching TV late at night and I can hear the passionate sounds of my wife making love to another man coming from the bedroom next door and it occurs to me what a strange and peculiar life I lead.

This night was one of those such nights, although I couldn’t hear their lovemaking on this occasion as I was in my home office in the den of our condo. Of course I was still very much aware that my wife was entertaining a paramour here in our home, but tonight I was focused on the April 30 deadline to file our income taxes.

Such is a perfect demonstration of the lives we lead individually - my wife, now in her second hour of marathon sex in our bedroom, and me, doing our taxes!

It was on this night though, and owing to my doing our taxes that I first began to discover what had been hidden in plain sight for the last number of years; that is, the full extent to which she cuckolds me.

You see, I track our spending very closely, and for that reamister (as well as for the benefit of accumulating air miles, which I must confess a certain obsession with) I buy most things with my credit card and pay it off at the end of the month. That way, every month I’m provided with an itemized bill of all our spending.

Tonight, in the context of doing our annual taxes, and with 12 statements’ worth of credit card bills on my desk, I made a fascinating discovery. But first, there was a knock at the door of my den.

“Yes?” I asked.

Katherine entered, closing the door gingerly behind her. What a beautiful woman. Now 32, at 5’7’ she could stand beautifully at my side, while still being fairly tall. Her milky white, almost alabaster-like skin was flawless; not a scar or blemish in sight. She would always keep her toes painted, tonight they were hot pink, while her perfectly manicured hands showed off a french manicure.

As she closed the door, she turned to me and ran those manicured nails through the coppery locks of her reddish-brown hair and looked at me with her full, round brown eyes and smiled.

Sitting down on the edge of a small love seat I kept in the den, she crossed her legs and leaned forward. Attired in a flimsy white babydoll nightie, her cleavage teased forward, beckoning my eyes, which did not escape her notice.

“Ahem.” she mumred with a hint of sarcasm.

“Hey! What’s up?” I ask in a whisper. I don’t know why I always whisper to my wife when she has “company”, it’s as if I’m trying to hold onto something the two of us have that is just ours.

“I know you’re working hard...I really don’t want to ask you to do this, but you’re still up, and dressed...”

“Anything” I interrupt.

“Well,” she says with a sheepish shrug, blushing slightly, “we ran out of condoms.”

I stared back at her.

“Would you mind walking down to the havestore?” she asked with anticipation, hoping I would say yes, despite the fact that in this situation I had never said no.

“Yes, yes. Of course I will. I won’t be two minutes.” I assured her as I got up to leave.

She hugged me and in that moment I could feel the sweat of her body, the sweat she had produced over the course of the last two hours or so of intimacy with a man who I knew nothing about other than the fact that my wife must have found him attractive enough to invite him to invade our marital bed and *** the sanctity of our marriage, as so many others had before.

“You’re the best.” she says, giving me a quick peck on the lips, unknowingly leaving me to contemplate different scenarios in my mind, such as wondering just how recently her lover’s penis had passed through that same set of lips. “I’m so lucky to have you. I love you.” she tells me reassuringly.

We left the den together, she returning to her waiting lover, and me heading out into the cold night.

This was one of those such moments where I contemplate the peculiarity of my situation. I think aloud to myself; my wife has just interrupted her cuckolding of me, only to ask that I purchase the condoms necessary for her to continue cuckolding me upon my return - and what’s more, I’m actually doing it! How many men out there furnish their cuckolding spouse and her lover with the very accoutrements that will culminate in what, for centuries, has always been considered a husband’s ultimate offense?

I have wrestled with these thoughts before and always considered them fruitless. Whether I, my wife, any of her lovers, or anyone else considered this humiliating or not, it does sum up the relationship between my wife and I over the course of a two-year marriage and of another two years of dating before that. Simply put, it is our reality and it works for us. So, I tell myself to just put the machismo thoughts aside and return with the condoms as quickly as possible.

Buying a simple three pack at the end of the block, I pay with my credit card and I head back into the apartment and walk into the living room. Katherine isn’t there, so she must be in the bedroom.

I stand outside the door to my own bedroom and knock lightly at the door. There’s always the chance they have drifted off to relax.

“You can come in,” I hear my wife say.

I enter the dimly lit bedroom, illuminated only by one bedside lamp covered in a handkerchief that has the room glowing a soft red. My wife is sitting up in bed, in her babydoll. There is no look of condescension or mockery, truth be told this is all a little strange as I am rarely asked to enter the bedroom when she is entertaining a lover.

I then look to the left, Katherine’s right, and see her lover. He is lying down and most of his body is covered by the blankets, but just from that part of his upper arms and upper chest that is visible, you can tell this young man is in great shape.

And he certainly is young, as Katherine tends to prefer them. With blond locks and a crude, leather necklace featuring what appears to be some kind of a shark tooth or something. You could say that this young man, no doubt in his early 20’s, looked every bit the stereotype of a surfer dude. He looks at me, expressionless, then to his sexual mentor, my wife.

“Uh...this is what you wanted.” I say, meekly holding up the bag containing the condoms. With that, I toss them onto the blankets.

It’s an awkward situation for all of us, and perhaps for that reamister I can detect just a hint of a smile across Katherine’s face. We are all caught in a pause. I decide I should just leave, after all what am I waiting for, a thank you?

But before I can turn to the door, the young man pipes up: “hey, thanks.” I look him in the eyes and he stops and looks to me for a reaction. He looks like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, with an apologetic expression, not knowing if I’m going to explode any minute or just walk out or what.

“It’s no problem.” I say, smiling weakly, and inviting another pause. Strangely, Katherine says nothing when the silence is cut once again by the young man, who’s name I don’t even know despite the fact he has spent the evening fucking my wife.

“Do you want a few bucks?” he asks me innocently and sincerely, reaching for his jeans on the bedroom floor beside him. “I’m happy to pay you for them.”

This is a first. Never before have I had one of my wife’s lovers offer to reimburse me for the condoms I purchased. Is he being smart, trying to humiliate me? No...I can see in his face he’s quite sincere. It’s the whole general scenario that’s humiliating. Finally, Katherine speaks up.

“No, no, don’t be silly. We’re good for it.” she says while reassuringly placing her hand on his arm. Turning to address me again, she says,”thanks, Robert.” I take that as my cue to leave, and I return to my den, leaving them to resume my cuckolding.

I sat down again, looking at the paperwork strewn across my desk. That’s when it hit me. A seed of an idea had been planted. I picked up the first of the credit card statements, from last January and began to read down the items.

I found the first one, picking up the highlighter, I pulled it across the page, highlighting the item that read “REXALL PHARMACY....../JAN/3/2010, 00:50AM, $3.75.”

From the name and the time stamp, as well as the amount, I knew that purchase was a package of condoms. I found the next one:

“REXALL PHARMACY........./JAN/7/2010, 10:27PM, $3.75”.

Caught up in my “cucky angst” as some might like to call it, I went through and highlighted each package of condoms purchased for the year of 2010. The year we had started having been married just six months.

I took out my calculator and tallied it all up. In the end, I purchased 71 separate 3-packs of condoms in the year 2010, for a total of $266.25. That made for a total of 213 condoms.

I do not wear condoms when I am having sex with my wife. She is my wife after all, and she does use the pill. She regularly uses condoms for the practical reamister of limiting any chance of getting an STD, which thank goodness, she has not so far. I did not use a single one of those $250-plus worth of condoms which I purchased last year.

Facing the total for one year, I asked myself: did Katherine really cuckold me over 200 times last year?

Then there was the much scarier number of which I was instantly aware. I work long hours, and sometimes am required to take business trips. I eat a lot of big meals with clients. And sometimes, even when I’d like to make love to my wife, well...she has made other plans.

The number I was aware of was 7. Despite being newlyweds, I had made love to my wife a grand total of 7 times last year. Christmas, each of our birthdays, Valentines day, our anniversary and twice on summer vacation. Dividing 213 into 220, I realized and said aloud, shocked:

“Katherine is only having sex with me 3% of the time.” Then, I turned the stat around the other way.

“My wife is cuckolding me 97% of the time.”

I sat there in amazement. This was a profound moment. A moment where I felt compelled to act. Perhaps I had agreed to be her cuckold, and had turned a blind eye so many times before, but the information I was confronting myself with now spurned on a desire in me to protect my marriage. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, but I felt I needed to do something.

I bolted upright from my chair. I stormed out of the den and down the hall until I was face to face with the bedroom door. Taking a deep breath, I leaned in.

I could hear the mattress squeaking for a few seconds. The first voice I heard was the young man’s. “You like that?” he grunted.

I leaned in for the answer, even closer to the door, until my ear was just barely touching the plasticized wood of the thin bedroom door. The next voice I heard was definitely Katherine’s.

“Oh GOD yes! God, yeah! Yeah! I love the way you fuck me!”

My red was boiling. What do I do? Do I burst in there and tell them the party’s over? What would Katherine do? What would the young man do? He was in good enough shape that if I provoked a fight, I had little doubt he would win. Besides, isn’t it a little late now to barge in telling them to stop given that just a few minutes ago I was out buying them condoms to continue?

My train of thought was interrupted again by the young man’s voice.

“Do I fuck you better than your husband?” he asked through a series of grunts.

I was instantly intrigued - though I didn’t have to wait more than a split second for the answer.

“Oh FUCK yes, you fuck me better than my husband, oh Josh, you fuck me better than ANYONE!” she screamed so loud I thought the neighbours might hear.

In that split second, my resolve weakened. What was I going to do? After agreeing to this arrangement, in marriage, and going along with it for so long, only now was I going to barge in and tell them that enough was enough?

The number shot back through my head again - 213 times she did this last year, and I have done absolutely nothing but continue to facilitate it with my passive behaviour, even up to the point of supplying condoms to the men my own wife have invited to cuckold me with?

Scurrying back to the sanctuary of my den and my paperwork, I sat down again and stared down at the calculator.

I was struggling to find a way to divide up the statistics in the hopes that I wouldn’t feel like such a wimp. I struggled to tell myself: “you’re not a spineless, cuckolded husband! You’re an open-minded man who merely doesn’t feel a need to ‘possess’ his wife! You’re enlightened!” I knew I was telling myself a lie.

I knew that Katherine had sex with a lover probably twice a week on average and that during each sex session they probably had sex two to three times. Grabbing at the calculator, I typed in: 52 weeks times twice a week, OK - that’s 104, and 104 times two fucks per session, that’s...208. Almost met the 213 number exactly.

But wait...there were weeks that she was on her period. I know some of the condoms got ripped, so not all of them were used....but no matter how I tried to divide up the statistics, there was no denying it. The numbers worked out to approximately what the credit card statements, now highlighted with 71 condom purchases, were telling me: I was a regular, frequent cuckold and that sex with her husband was a rare event for my wife, compared to her adventures with her many young lovers. Could I have been this blind?

Could I really be this big a fool?
~sissy~

I like it, interesting how numbers sometimes open our eyes to facts we rather not know.

Looking forward to your next chapters.

Regarding your other questions. No I haven't purchased any cuck stories in any format and most likely won't.

excellent story, very well written

SSBC,
In a big story, you have to start the picture somewhere and this is a decent start.

I'm left wondering why they married, why she actually wants to stay with him and whether she actually loves him in spite of his shortcomings. He could be a clueless submissive but not enjoy being a cuckold so far.

I'm sure in 100 pages you will answer all this and more though. Should be an interesting ride.

Off to a great start... I don't own a kindle though - would prefer it be a Nook book

I've always been a bit fascinated by my wife's numbers.

She started having sex around the time she got out of high school, at around 18. We got married when she was 28, after going out for 6 months, breaking up for 6 months and then getting back together for 6 more before getting married. She was seeing other guys during the first 6 months, saw many men in the middle 6 months, and has continued to see others before and during for our entire marriage.

The ten years before getting married, she got laid all the time, and has told me that she "went home with a different guy every night" for years, but I'm sure there were repeats here and there. If she had sex each night twice, for ten years five days a week, that would be getting fucked over 5000 times, and if she had sex three times five days, that would be over 8000 loads in her pussy. That could also be as many as 2500 to 4000 cocks buried in her. All I can say is awesome, awesome, awesome! Some might say I'm sucking 4000 cocks by proxy every time I go down on her.
Natural Born Cuckold
Pussy-Free For Life

Hello again, everyone.

Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who took the time to post a comment. Your comments have inspired me to post the next chapter (first four are already written now) but for now, here is chapter two.

Peakmb, I think some of the questions you asked are answered in chapter two, and a few more in chapter three. I wanted chapter one to start in present day where the main character has already arrived in his current situation and we go back a little bit to tell about how it came about. Just my choice.

I appreciate everyone's comments and hope that anyone with a comment chooses to share it. It's very helpful to me, and really my only motivation to dedicate the time to this story to continue. I have it mapped out to continue for much longer.

For now, please enjoy the next installment.
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Cuckold Calculations - Chapter 2
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CHAPTER TWO


A few weeks had passed since the evening I filed my taxes. Shortly after that, I booked a weekend away with Katherine and had a serious talk with her. Did she still respect me? Was she happy with out arrangement? Would she change it if I wanted her to?

Katherine was, by every measure, still the woman I fell in love with. She was my type right from the get go, and for me, a one in a million that I knew instantly to be the girl for me.

My first girlfriend starting at age 16 had been a good girl I’d met in church. While we did start having sex closer to graduation, after a two-year teenage romance, as great as I thought it was I really had no idea. When she left for University in Europe, I was heartbroken but I got over it.

As I went on to University locally myself, I began to meet other girls, and each one of them more experienced sexually than I.

That’s roughly when I discovered that I loved a girl with a reputation. They were fun, they were outgoing, gregarious and exceptionally good in bed. I would find myself incredibly turned on when they would allude to a past sexual experience, or be teaching me a new position I’d never even heard of before, they had obviously perfected with other men.

If at a party someone pointed out a certain girl and said “she’s a real slut” then that was the girl I wanted to meet.

The night I met Katherine, at a crowded new year’s party hosted by mutual acquaintances, nobody introduced us. She started talking to me as she did every man there. She was extremely outgoing and chatty with everyone, and very, VERY flirtatious. I remember at one point her asking one guy who was headed into the kitchen to bring her another beer. He came back at her with: “And what’s in it for me?”

Her response was to use the empty bottle she was holding to mime giving a blowjob and said “maybe some of that if you play your cards right.”

I knew I wanted to ask her out right there and then. It was just a matter of picking my moment. Once I’d summed up the courage, I couldn’t find her though.

I was waiting, by myself, to find her again, when I overheard one guy say to another “I just went into the guest room for my coat and there’s two people really going at it in there!”

I knew immediately it must have been her. I staked out that coat room, then sat myself down in the next room where I could keep my eye on it. The party was winding down, but I saw a man leave the room first, buckling up his belt as he went.

Then just about five minutes later, flushed and sweaty, emerged Katherine. She was still here. I went to get another beer just so I could have a fresh approach, then immediately returned to her and was greeted with her big beaming smile.

Pretending I knew nothing of what had just happened, I asked her out, and she said yes. The rest was history.

Back in the present, the numbers I had calculated the night I was doing our taxes had been going back and forth in my head for the past few weeks.

It was this moment I picked to ask a question that I probably shouldn’t have. A question no woman likes to answer, no matter how sexually liberated they might be.

“Kathy...if you had to add it up...how many different men do you think you have been with?”

She looked at me with a hint of offense. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just thinking back, it’s just pure curiosity.”

“Over my lifetime?” she asked.

I nodded.

“I’m not exactly sure...” she started....

“What about in the past year?” I asked.

She paused briefly. “About twenty.” she replied matter-of-factly.

Rather than press her I just counted backward in my head. Over the course of our four-year relationship, it would be safe to assume then that Katherine had awarded 80 different men the privilege of cuckolding me. That only takes her back to age 28. She had lost her virginity at 14.

I know that she had been a wild young and shortly after we met, when we had the conversation that ultimately ended in my agreement to be a faithful cuckold, she had disclosed that she had felt she had been with approximately 100 men. For some reamister that figure had always stuck out in my mind in a sort of permanent stasis, but reflecting on the last four years which had flown by it dawned on me that that number had probably almost doured.

On top of that, Katherine had probably had as much sex in her 14 years of sexual activity prior to meeting me as she had in our relationship and ultimately during our marriage of just two years. We had agreed when we became serious about each other that our relationship would not disrupt her sex life with other men, and it certainly had not, but in fact, the more I thought about it, it seemed that perhaps she was having even more sex with other men since marrying me!

She interrupted my train of thought, asking: “what’s going on? What’s all this about?”

Foolishly, I just blurted out the question that was at the root of my thinking.

“Kathy, do you still respect me?”

She appeared shocked. And hurt.

“I respect you more than any man I’ve ever met.” she told me, quite sincerely. “You’re not hung up on silly things, you’re hung up on making me happy, and providing for me, and having a great time with me in every moment that we do spend together. You are my husband and I wouldn’t have married you if I weren’t absolutely crazy about you. I’m happy with our arrangement, but look....” she stopped.

“But?” I asked.

“But...” she began, regretfully “if you want me to stop seeing other men, then I guess I can. I don’t want to lose you.” She said sullenly. Then in her defense, she offered, “but, I told you when I met you that I had never been faithful to anyone before and didn’t think that I could do it. When you married me you promised you would never complain about being a cuckold. But I don’t know honey...what are trying to say?”

This was a moment of truth. Did I want a faithful, but sexually unsatisfied wife? Worse yet, even if she thinks she could stop, would she? Would she just go behind my back? My head was swimming. I didn’t even know what I wanted in this situation.

“Ideally....” I asked her, “what would you want to do?”

“Well,” she began, “I would love to just be able to continue with our current arrangement. I love you more now than I did on our wedding day, and that will never change. And I love how you’ve given me the freedom to do what I want, I appreciate it and I respect it about you. I never thought I’d be able to keep a husband until I met you. But if it was my choice, I’d want to keep everything the way it is now. But I don’t want to lose you.”

She finished by looking up into my eyes. I immediately felt guilt. What was I doing to this poor woman, to my wife? I had married her on the promise that she was entitled to unlimited sexual freedom, and here I was trying to back out of that promise, mid-stream, at the cost of her happiness. There was genuine concern in her eyes. Maybe it was enough for me that I could see that concern.

“I’m sorry, honey.” I told her. “I’ve been selfish and I’ve just....well, I don’t know what I’ve been thinking, honestly.” I assured her. “I don’t want to change anything. You’re happy, we’re happy, I just get certain thoughts sometimes, and--”

“And what?” she demanded. “Did you think I would leave you?”

I sat motionless.

“Well, did you?” she pressed. “I love you more than anything. You are my husband. I always assumed I would never get married until I met you. You gave me everything I wanted, including sexual freedom. But even that I will give up...if you want me to.” tears had started streaming from her eyes. Now I felt really guilty.

I gathered her up in my arms, “no, my love, no!” I assured. “I just had some weak moments lately, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to stop. I love you and I want you to be happy. And I’m happy for you when you are carrying out your adventures - you know that! I just needed to get this off my chest, I don’t want anything to change in our relationship.”

She stared up at me. “Really? You don’t want anything to change?”

“No.” I was quickly to reply. “I don’t want anything to change. I just heard you saying to one guy that he was fucking you so much better than I do, and it just made me worried.”

She gave me a sympathetic look, “oh, no, honey. That’s bedroom talk. No. I would never leave you. I love you too much! You really think I would leave you for some college kid just ‘cause he’s good in bed? Of course not.”

I wasn’t totally sure how to digest that, but I took it in the way I felt it was intended and just replied “good...I love you.”

Seeking clarification, she looked me right in the eyes and asked me, point blank with a smile: “So you still want to be my cuckold?”

My head swam through several years’ of high school and university English literature. From Chaucer to Shakespeare, she was essentially asking me, point blank, was I still agreeing to accept a lifetime of never-ceasing offense. She was waiting on an answer.

“Yes.” I replied simply.

“Really? You are absolutely sure?”

“Katherine,” I looked her dead in the eye and paused for effect. “I want to be a cuckold.”

And that ended that.
~sissy~

Wanting to be a cuckold is one thing, living a life of near celebacy is quite another. There is no suggestion of the "Dom" in Katherine at the moment. She says she loves her husband, yet she seems blind to his true sexual needs. Being excited by her activity is understandable but being unhappy about her making love (as apposed to fucking) with him is another. It just makes a long term relationship one sided and unrealistic to me. Katherine must see having sex as little more meaningful than a kiss or a jog round the park. Yet she doesn't see the need to do it with her own husband at this point.

I'm not trying to be harsh SSBC, just trying to understand your characters here. If your story ended here, it would be fine but you are going to keep them together a lot longer and I just don't see them binding yet.

I'm posting chapter three, although I'd be interested to know whether or not anyone thinks its worth my continuing.

CHAPTER THREE

It had been a quiet Wednesday night, despite the fact that once again Katherine was entertaining some lucky guy in our bedroom. They had slipped in a little after nine o’clock, while I was in my den. She had texted me on her way home to let me know she was coming home with someone so I could stay out of their way.

I was fiddling around on the internet, just wasting time really, waiting to see if I’d be able to relax in my own bed next to my wife tonight, or if this would be a night spent on the couch. Usually if the fellow visiting her hadn’t left by about 1a.m. it would mean he was spending the night and I would quietly make up a bed for myself on the couch.

They would be a while yet - the clock was just striking 10 when all of a sudden there was a knock at the door.

Given that we were in a condo, this was a rare event. It almost had to mean that it was a neighbour from in the building given that anyone else has to be buzzed in over the intercom. Who could it be?

I don’t recall ever having to answer the door to an unannounced visitor since we lived here shortly before we got married, and definitely not, as I was quite conscious of, while Katherine was entertaining in our bedroom.

I checked the peephole. It was three members of the Condo Board. Pretty much the last people I wanted to see, busy bodies all of them. What the hell did they want? Maybe it’s not in the spirit of community, but I quite frankly did not wish to serve on the social function board or the gardening committee. Perhaps they would go away.

Not so, they knocked again, louder. If they had been really snoopy, and they usually are, they would know that I’m home if they’d checked my parking spot. Still, wasn’t it a little late?

They knocked again.

From the bedroom, I heard Katherine yell: “Robert, someone is at the door!”

Christ. Would they have heard her? Probably not from out there. I took a deep breath, and with a sinking feeling, I opened the door.

“Good evening, Robert.” greeted John, the condo board president. An older man with a studious appearance, he was flanked by Charlotte, an attractive enough younger woman with a short blonde page cut, and another fellow who I’d seen around and knew to be active in the building but who’s name I didn’t know.

“Yeah, hi John. What can I do for you?” I asked, standing in the gap of the door, praying that my dear wife would have the common sense to keep things down for a few minutes.

“We have something we need to talk about. Something...fairly serious, I’m afraid” stated John solemnly.

“O...K....what’s that?” I asked, sincerely curious but utterly confused.

“This might be more easily done inside.” he said.

As a sudden rush of total fear flowed through me, I replied as calmly as I could: “This is not a great time.”

“Well, perhaps it isn’t.” acknowledged John. “But I am afraid this is a serious matter that cannot wait, and it involves you.”

Now I was really curious. My mind racing, I quickly tried to offer the compromise: “Could we discuss this somewhere else, maybe down in the lobby, or someplace else?”

“I think when we get into the matter you will much prefer that we do this in private.” John’s eyes gestured into the depths of my hallway.

I felt trapped. What do I do? At least Katherine heard the door knock, she knows someone is here. And from the living room, despite the fact it shares a wall with the bedroom, most of the time you can’t hear much from there unless she is climaxing.

Oh God! What can I do? I’m sure I’d left the TV on. I’m sure they won’t hear anything over the TV...

“Robert?” asked John. “Please?”

“Yeah, sure, come on in.” The trio all entered my condo and began removing their shoes. “Don’t worry about shoes, guys.” I offer, not wanting any of them spending a second longer than would be necessary in the place.

“No no, it’s easy enough to be a good neighbour.” John replied with a smile, removing his shoes. The other two followed his lead and did the same.

Reluctantly, I led three of my neighbours down the short hallway, past the bedroom door where my wife and her lover were in the midst of cuckolding me, and to the living room where the three of them sat on the couch in a row. I took my place in an easy chair facing them.

“Where is Katherine?” asked John.

I paused. “Um....out. She’s out for the night.” I decided on.

“Do you know where?” he inquired.

Before I could answer he cut in again, “you know, it doesn’t matter.”

I stared back at him. John removed his glasses in sort of a dramatic fashion and placed them onto my coffee table. Cupping his hands together, he launched into a monologue you could tell he had practiced a few times over.

“Robert, we just finished our monthly condo board meeting, and we have an issue that involves you and your wife. This isn’t going to be easy, but, let me just start by putting the facts as they are directly out in front of us.” he paused and looked up at the ceiling before beginning again.

“The hot tub downstairs, as you might have noticed, was damaged this past month, and it cost the Condo Board over $1,500 to fix. This isn’t anything permisteral, but as you know, if we can find the permister responsible for the damage, it is our job to see that that permister pay to repair the damage rather than ask the entire Association to do that. That’s fair isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Well,” John began. “We came to visit you with this because this conversation will not leave the three of us, but with myself as President, Tom here as security committee and Charlotte on finance, each of us is involved in this. But I swear to you it goes no further than that.”

“OK.”

“Going back over the security tapes, we know that Katherine is the one who broke the hot tub. So, basically, we are here to reclaim this bill in the amount of $1,500.” he said. Just as he said that, Charlotte produced a bill and placed it on my coffee table next to John’s glasses.

Well, we all know the expression that curiosity *******ed the cat. Naturally, I asked the next most logical question which proved to be the beginning of my undoing.

“How do you know it was Katherine?” I asked, in defense of my wife.

John paused. “Well, you can see a description of the damage in the work order...” and with that he nudged the bill an inch in my direction.

Picking up the work order I read the tradesman’s description of the problem.

“Hot tub filtration system found to have been disrupted by the intake of a condom, jamming the system’s motor and causing it to overheat. Recommend replacement of motor.”

I should have known better at this point but without the whole story and wanting to know exactly what they knew, I repeated again, “and you know it’s Katherine because...?”

“Again,” started John. “The security tapes...well....geez, Robert. Look, I’m not wanting to get in the middle of anything here, I just want to see this bill get paid. Tom here checked the security tape, and the night before we discovered the engine was broken, well....Katherine was in the hot tub with a visitor.”

Genuine shock was spread across my face. Despite the fact that I knew full well my role as Katherine’s cuckold, to the point that even as I was being presented this news she was cuckolding me on the other side of the drywall not more than 10 feet away from me, I was surprised.

I thought back to the that very first conversation, while we were still dating, when we had first agreed upon the terms of our unique coupling. I had caught her cheating on me, to which she immediately confessed and I had just finished stunning her with the revelation that it did not bother me and that in fact it was one of the things that I found so sexy about her.

Sitting in the driver’s seat of my parked car, I had told her: “Katherine...I love you for who you are. For everything you are. For that reamister, I am willing to be a cuckold to you. I don’t mind being a cuckold,” I had said, emphasizing the word being.

“I just don’t want people knowing that I’m a cuckold.” I finished, this time emphasizing the word knowing.

She had readily agreed to that, with the proviso that while her lovers would obviously be aware of this humiliating fact, that she would do her utmost to limit any sense of shame I would feel for having accepted the role of a cuckolded husband.

We agreed on three rules that night; the only three things I would ask of my wife in exchange for her total sexual freedom and my absolute fidelity to her.

The first rule was that she never relax with someone I know permisterally, or with whom I have or may be likely to have contact with. That was easy enough, there were plenty of fish in the sea.

The second rule was that as I was concerned for her safety, any time spent with lovers she would spend in our home. I would be happy to go out, relax on the couch, or whatever, but all of her cuckolding activities were to take place in our home. I knew that she bent that rule on the odd occasion, but it was infrequent enough that I never made an issue of it.

The third and final rule was that she always, always, always use a condom. She had admitted to me that in the past, she wasn’t quite so diligent about this. Despite that she had never become pregnant or contracted a disease, so she had been lucky. But luck runs out as I pointed out to her, and I told her I would always keep the nightstand well supplied with condoms so long as she promised to use them. This was another rule where I was pretty certain that she made the odd exception to, but again, so infrequently that I never pressed the subject.

Those were our three rules. Now it seemed that pledge had been forgotten.

Of course, John and his colleagues thought they were breaking the horrible news to me. I really had no choice at this stage but to go along with their assumption that my pride had just been wounded by this new piece of information.

“It’s definitely Katherine on the tape? Who has seen the tape?” I asked, defensively.

Tom, the man whose name I did not know moments ago until I’d heard it from John, the head of the evidently-diligent security committee, then produced an iPad without a word.

Finally, he spoke. “I take no pleasure in this, Robert.” he said, ashen. “But I have the tape here if you’re sure you want to see it. We are absolutely positive that it is Katherine, but it is your right to see it if you have any doubts. And I assure you, only the four of us in this room have viewed this tape -- which we will destroy just as soon as we have received the $1,500.”

All of a sudden, a shrill giggle from the bedroom broke the tension. Of course, I knew instantly that it was Katherine. But I was on-edge...listening for it. I knew she was there. I scanned their faces, did any of them pick up on it?

Nothing on John’s face. Tom was preoccupied with the iPad. Charlotte had crooked her head quizically. Did she hear it? Even if she did, she probably wasn’t sure. “Jesus Christ, Katherine” I thought to myself “keep it down, would you.”

With that, Tom slid the iPad over to me, facing me and gave me the opportunity to view the evidence of my offense. Something the three of them thought might shatter my whole world, but something I knew to be just the tip of the iceberg. I was playing the part well.

Picking up the iPad, I hit play. There was no sound, and while the footage was in black and white, it was surprisingly crystal clear. There was certainly no doubt that it was Katherine.

There she was, at first just making out with this large, young man who looked like he might have belonged in the army or the police. Trim, neat haircut and powerful upper body.

“It goes on....” Tom offered...”but, maybe you have got the picture.”

Despite my curiosity to see the rest of the tape, I paused it as a hurt husband would do. They had made their point. How could she have been so stupid? Not only was this going to cost me $1,500 now, but my image and dignity amongst these three was tarnished forever.

“Yeah.” I agreed, “I’ve got the picture.”

“I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, I don’t want to get in the middle of issues between you and your wife, I’m simply here for the money.” John said. “I don’t want to know anything more unless there’s anything you feel that needs to be added.”

For the first time, Charlotte spoke. “A cheque for $1,500 and we are out of here.”

“And the tape is destroyed.” Tom added.

“Do you have your chequebook handy?” asked John with a certain relief, feeling that perhaps this meeting was coming to an end.

“Yes, yes of course.” I agreed, rising to go get it.

Then once again, fear rushed through my veins. I was frozen. The chequebook was in my nightstand. In the bedroom.

“Robert, we’ll just get that cheque and we will be right out of your hair.” said John.

“Yes.” I replied weakly, my stomach in knots.

I made my way over to the door. My red was churning. As I got to the door I realized I couldn’t knock, I’d already told them that Katherine was out. I leaned in to the door to see if I could hear what was going on. Over the TV, over my nerves, over the red rushing through my head, I couldn’t hear anything.

And so I opened the door.

Interrupted, mid-sentence, the first word that amplified out of that bedroom door, filling the living room was “cock!” It was Katherine.

No longer facing my guests, I don’t know what their initial reaction was. But I was past the point of no return, the door was now open. Katherine continued half out of breath,

“....YEAH!...give me that cock you big stud! Oh GOD, you know how I like it!”

Then she must have realized the door was open. They both stopped suddenly.

“Robert?” she asked, not angrily, but more worried. I never interrupted Katherine’s lovemaking with her visitors, so this was very out of character. “Robert, what’s going on?”

Peering into the darkness and with what little light was filling the bedroom from the hallway, I could just make out Katherine, on all fours, tonight’s guest having mounted her from behind.

“I need my chequebook.” I said calmly.

“Jesus, Robert, can’t it wait until the morning? I’m a little busy here.” she replied sarcastically, for me and my guests to hear.

“The condo board is here.” I replied. “We owe them $1,500 for a repair to the hot tub.” Having offered the explanation, I walked right into the room, quickly snatched up my chequebook, and stormed out. Closing the door behind me, I now had no choice but to return to my guests.

Not only would I be revealed as a liar, at least in the sense that it was now plainly apparent that I knew all about my wife’s extracurricular activities, but of course I would be revealed as what I was. What I had agreed to be.

Three of my neighbours, all three being members of my condo board no less, all knew that not only was I a cuckold, but that I was fully aware of that fact and that by my behaviour I was completely acquiescent to my role as cuckolded husband. My true status was out in the open, at least to these three people.

Now they knew that when I had responded earlier that Katherine was out, I had lied. I knew full well where my wife was. I had stood aside and allowed another man what should be my privilege alone.

The initial offense of being presented with a video of my wife’s cuckolding of me now paled in comparimister to the audible proof emanating from my own bedroom, in my presence and theirs. I would now have to return to face these people, knowing that the looks, gazes and stares I would get in return would all contain the knowledge that they were staring a cuckold in the face. A knowing, willing cuckold who had evidently agreed that his offense would take place no where other than in his own bed. Or at a minimum, a knowing cuckold who was unable to convince his wife otherwise.

It was probably the hardest thing I ever did. But I sat down in front of them, fifty shades of red, and wrote out the cheque in the amount of $1,500.

None of them said a word. I merely handed them the cheque and escorted them over to the hallway where they put on their shoes and filed out, me locking the door behind them.

They were returning to their lives elsewhere in the building, as I would return to my life; which they now knew to be the life of a cuckold. Retracing my footsteps back down the hallway, I stopped only momentarily at my bedroom door where I could hear the bed squeaking. My bed squeaking.

I collapsed back into my chair. As I could hear my wife giggle softly followed by a short, sharp scream I wondered how I would be able to cope with this new reality.
~sissy~

Excellent segment, please continue.

Super sequel mate. Do continue.

gotta continue mate..... This ure is hot.....

I am really enjoying the story! Please continue! Very well written!

Must continue this one buddy

brilliant!

sissyschoolgirl_BC
Great story. Very well written! ,I hope there is a lot more , Please ,Please continue

SissySchoolgurl BC, very good quality so far! I do not buy any e books in any format, nor do I buy any erotica on the web. But I am not the target market demographic for e books, so no worries there.

Please continue, this is nice. A bit high of a bar you've set for yourself, putting some sort of tension in each segment, and so far not resolving a bit of it. I do hope you can and will continue.

I will save my two cents worth on the characters for after seeing how this current crises gets dealt with. I know how I want it to go, especially the romantic side of me, but I got too much Mexican, "Bear", and dom in me to think or write or represent the true cuck. So please keep going amigo, and show us how he does things!

Hey Sissy
Let me add to the great comments so far. Good Story. Please keep writingf
Meijer

Hi Sissy, I hope you post more !

CHAPTER FOUR

“You’re over-reacting.” was Katherine’s reply.

“No, Kathy, I’m not.” I said. “There is no way I can go on living here. Every time one of the three of them passes me in the hall or in the garage...how am I supposed to live with it? I can’t face them!”

“Look, I understand that it was embarrassing. It was embarrassing for me, too. But I don’t think that it’s reamister enough to get up and move from our home! How often do you seem them around anyway, once for thirty seconds or so every few weeks, or months? We’ll move past it.”

“What were you thinking? You’ve never risked being that open in public. In the hot tub area of our own building? I mean, why?” I pleaded with her for an explanation, sounding every bit the pathetic cuckold I was; not even protesting my cuckoldry but rather just begging my wife not to publicly humiliate me...as much.

“We just got caught up in a moment. No one is ever down there, you know that. I was sure it would be safe, and even if someone came down, I figured I’d hear them open the door and then we’d stop.”

“You didn’t hear me open the door to the bedroom last night!” I retorted.

“I was facing the other way and we were right in the middle of it.” she responded calmly. “Anyways, I forgot about the cameras completely. Talk about embarrassing!””

“Embarrassing?! Our condo board came into our home last night to inform me that I had been cuckolded, only to be treated to a live demonstration! I have never been so humiliated in all my life!”

Katherine stared into space, lost in thought, before wistfully acknowledging “yeah” and letting out a short, soft giggle, as if she were pleased with herself.

“Do you not see how serious this is for me? Look, I’m simply not going to go on living in a building where all of our neighbours know I’m a cuckold! If you didn’t want to move, then you should have been more careful. Besides, we could use a bigger place anyways.” I said. We’ve been here about three years, and a one and den isn’t much room. We should see about getting a two bedroom, we could use the space.”

“Maybe” she replied, in thought. “It might make sense, if we had a second bedroom with another bed in it you wouldn’t have to relax on the couch anymore, you’d probably be better rested. Any maybe a little less cranky!” she hinted.

“I have every right to be upset, you must give me that. You remember, when we made this agreement, I told you then and I will tell you now, I don’t mind BEING a cuckold, it’s having people KNOWING I’m a cuckold that I can’t deal with.” I reminded her.

“I know, I know. It was a mistake. What can we do about it?” She asked.

“We can move!”

Katherine said nothing.

“Katherine! Think about this a minute from my perspective. Think about me having to see John in the mail room, or share the elevator with Charlotte! I’m telling you, I can’t deal with the offense!”

“Alright,” she relented. “Let’s look into moving.”

A rare moment for any husband, but particularly for a cuckold husband - I had won the argument.

The following weekend we were standing in a 2-bedroom condo for sale close to where we lived, it was a slightly older building, but a much bigger condo that had been tastefully updated. The real estate agent was picking up on the fact that we liked the place and was hungrily eyeing us as his next sale.

“Can my wife and I have a minute to talk alone?” I asked of him.

“Certainly!” he replied, and with that he stepped out into the hallway.

“What do you think?” Katherine asked excitedly. “I had my doubts about moving, but this place really does offer so much more. Do you like it?”

“Well, I love it...but I would really prefer something with a privacy layout.” was my answer.

“Privacy layout?” Katherine inquired of me almost mockingly. “Has someone been watching a little too much home and garden TV?”

I smiled back at her. I liked these moments. Despite our lifestyle, these little private moments always reminded me that we were a real husband and wife. Anyone privy to a vignette of our life such as this one would never suspect that my wife routinely and enthusiastically cuckolds me and that I accept my many offenses without complaint.

“A privacy layout.” I stated, seriously. “It means that the bedrooms are on opposite sides of the living room, that the bedrooms do not have a shared wall.” I explained.

“Ahhh....” she said, picking up on it instantly. She embraced me and held me close as if to kiss me, but instead started whispering seductively. “Worried that I’d keep you awake at night?”

“Well...” I started...”not worried, but if we’re going to make this move then I’d like to be getting more relax out of it at the end of the day.”

“Really?” she asked in her seductive whisper, “You wouldn’t miss it at all? I thought you kind of liked hearing the sound of me in there with another man.”

With that, she reached down and touched my cock which was hardening as we spoke. God, she knew me too well.

Embarrassed at the explanation I was being powerd to offer, I replied; “Well, yes...sometimes it is kinda fun and kinky to hear a bit of what’s going on” I said, now blushing in front of my own wife as her grin widened. “But, being practical here, I really think we’re better getting another room where I can get a good night’s relax.”

Her smile softened a bit almost as though she were a bit disappointed. But without a hint of that in her voice, she replied, still whispering; “then let’s go look at some other places.”

We stepped out into the hall and the agent greeted us with one word:

“Well?”

“We’re not sure yet.” I replied. “We just started looking and I think we need to see a few more.”

“If you’re looking in this neighbourhood, I’m a specialist in this area. Can I give you my card?” I reached out to accept it, introduced ourselves, and minutes later we were on our way back out the door.

Two weeks later, having viewed another dozen or so 2-bedroom condos in the area with our new agent, we still had not found “the one”, if there ever truly is such a thing, and increasingly we found ourselves wondering whether or not we should have bought the first one we had seen and both liked so much, despite the adjoining bedrooms.

That one was still for sale, and Katherine wanted it badly.

“I think we need to make a decision.” she told me. “If we can’t find the ideal one with that privacy layout you so desire, then we should just grab that one. It works so well for us in every other sense.”

She was absolutely correct. I knew in my own heart I’d regret losing that one all because I was searching for an ideal neither of us could agree on.

“OK, I will make you a deal.” I offered her. “Let’s give it just this last weekend of looking, and if we can’t find anything, then we will go for it.”

“Really?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes really.” I smiled. I truly love making Katherine happy.

We decided to split up - I would cover four on the East half of town, Katherine was going to cover the West. At the end of the afternoon we met at Mulligan’s Pub, a favourite spot of ours where we often found ourselves when at a loose end of looking for a quiet moment out together.

I was sitting at a table myself, beer in hand paying passing attention to the baseball scores. Katherine walked in with a big smile on her face, and headed directly to my table and sat herself down.

“Find anything?” she asked.

“Honestly, no.” I answered. “I think I’ve made my peace with that first one. It really would suit our needs...almost...perfectly.”

She smiled and blushed. That was cute.

“I went back and saw it again.” she told me. “You know how they’re asking $240,000?”

“Yeah.”

“Ryan says we can get it for $225,000. Wouldn’t that be incredible?”

“You were talking to him?” I inquired.

Despite my very real awareness of my literally incessant state of cuckolding, I was always defensive when she would bring up another man. And Ryan, the real estate agent we had met just two weeks ago was a cocky and good looking guy.

“Yes, I phoned him after I looked at the four I saw. The only catch is that he wants to list our place on the market also. Does that seem OK?”

“Seems fine to me” I replied. After all, somebody had to sell it and if it meant getting a few bucks of the price we paid on the new one, so much the better.

“Who’s the new bartender?” Katherine asked, motioning her eyes to a young stud behind the bar.

“I don’t know” I said somewhat impatiently.

“Easy baby, I’m just asking. I’m not going to do anything!” she said with a wink and a smirk. “Even if I’d like to...” she said staring back at him before adding “....he’s hot.”

Just then her phone received a text. She looked down at it, then back at me: “Things are going to be so much easier when we get into that new place.”

“Yeah” I agreed.

“...but until then....” I looked up at her. She gestured towards her text message. “Think you’d mind another night on the couch?”

How could I say no?
~sissy~

CHAPTER FIVE

Well, as promised we bought the new place for $225,000. Today was the first day our agent Ryan had our home available as an open house, so Katherine went shopping while I ran some errands close by. Ryan had told us that he was previously committed for the day, so a colleague from his office was holding the open house.

I’d finished most my errands, and looked at my watch. Shit. Still just quarter after three, and the agent was going to be in there until 4:30.

Then I had a fun and wicked little idea. I thought, since the agent won’t know me, why not go in and see what people are saying about the place!

I casually walked into my own door, careful not to show my familiarity with the place, and was greeted by another young guy from Ryan’s office.

After taking off my shoes, he thrust his palm out at me saying simply, “Chad”.

“Hi Chad, I’m Robert” I told him cheerfully.

I walked around for a bit pretending to be looking while Chad spewed off some facts about the neighbourhood.

Finally I asked him what I wanted to know: “Had many people through today?”

“It’s been pretty good” he told me, “had four pretty serious couples through here.”

I smiled to myself. That’s great!

“What do you think of the place, in your professional experience?” I asked him.

“I think it’s great!” Chad reassured me, going on to compliment, unbeknownst to him, our paint, our furniture and talking about what a great layout we had. I was trying to contain my smiles.

“Hard to believe they’re leaving such a great place, eh?” I asked him, doing a poor job of containing my pride for all the nice things he was saying about our home.

“Yeah, well....” he said “everyone has their reamisters to move, and this guy definitely has his.”

My heart sunk. What did he mean by that. “What do you mean?” I asked, simply.

He motioned me closer to him with his index finger. Despite us being the only two in the suite, he looked over both shoulders and began speaking to me in a hushed tone.

“Just before i started the open house today, one of the neighbours came by and told me a bit about these folks.” he said, a grin emerging on his face.

Raising a brow, I asked inquisitively; “yeah?”

“Yeah.” He replied with a sadistic smile. “Get this - apparently, this guy’s wife is one real hot piece of ass, and apparently....”

My red was beginning to boil.

“...apparently” he continued, “she’s been caught banging every guy in town, even down in the hot tub. I assumed it was a divorce case, like the husband had found out, but apparently one night the condo board came in to meet with the guy, and she was getting laid right in the next room!”

He started laughing out loud. “Can you believe it? Wild!”

I didn’t know what to say but I managed to stammer out something about different strokes for different folks.

“I don’t know which one of them I’d rather meet,” he continued, “her, to see if I could make a pass at her myself or him just to see what a wimp the guy is.”

Just then another couple walked into the suite. I took that as my cue to exit. I was angry. Just as I suspected, our neighbours were openly discussing the scandal and no doubt having a good laugh behind my back. Or in the case of the real estate agent, directly to my face.
Before turning his attention to the new arrivals, the cocky agent escorted me to the door, offering his card.

“Give me a call if you’re looking in the area.”

I was just tying on my shoes when I noticed a quizzical look across his face. Looking to see what he was looking at, it was one of our wedding pictures hanging on the wall.

“Wait...a minute...” he said. “Are you?”

My shoes on, totally humiliated and ready to get out of my own home as fast as I could, I cut him off:

“Yup. I’m the wimp.” I replied tersely, without making eye contact and storming out in a huff.

I headed down to Mulligan’s, when I got a call from Katherine. I told her I was headed down to the bar and she said she’d meet me there.
By the time I had walked there, Katherine had got there first and was deep in flirtatious conversation with the hot new bartender. I walked over and introduced myself.

“This is my husband, Robert!” Katherine told him.

“Hey,” he came back with, “I’m Jimmy.” he certainly did have an easy smile.

Hopefully my having introduced myself qualified him now as “someone we know” meaning that he’s off limits for cuckolding.

We sat down together and I decided to tell Katherine about my spy mission into the open house, deciding to omit the humiliating conversation and subsequent revelation the agent had made.

“That’s great, honey” Katherine said. “Hopefully someone out of the bunch will decide they want to buy it.”

Katherine began telling me about her day of shopping before at one point suddenly interjecting; “do you think it would bother you if I was with a black guy?”

I was almost confused but managed the politically correct answer (which, in this case coincided with my true feelings) “No, I don’t see how it would bother me at all.”

“Hm.. Okay, cool. I don’t know if I’ll do anything, but..”

“You met a black guy today?” I asked.

“Yeah!” She answered with a seductive excitement. “He seemed really nice and really cool. Big guy. The whole idea made me kind of curious.”

“You mean you’ve never been with a black guy?” I asked her. I’d never given it much thought but I would have sort of assumed she had been.

“No!” she answered, almost like she was surprised herself. “It could definitely be fun - I’m kinda curious to see if....you know....if the rumours are true.” she said with a wink.

I didn’t know how to comment on that, but I restated once again that as always she had my complete blessing.

“You’d tell me if it did bother you, right?” she asked.

“Yes, of course I would! It really doesn’t make a difference to me. It’s your business.”

“Well it will be yours when you’re on the couch!” she replied jokingly.

“Yes,” I answered “but I’m on the couch often enough anyway, regardless of the guy’s race. Hmm, I’m surprised you’ve never met up with a black guy before.”
“Nope.” she confirmed. “Plenty of white guys, hispanic guys, natives...I had a Middle Eastern guy once...but no, no black guys.”

“How did you meet this guy?” I asked.

“He was working at the cell phone kiosk - I was paying my bill there.” she explained. “We were flirting and talking about how ironic it would be to exchange phone numbers since we were at a phone kiosk!”

I paused.

“You had to be there.” she said. “But anyway, he was really sweet, in fact when he noticed my ring he stopped and said ‘no, I can’t give you my number, you’re married.’”

“And what did you say?” I asked.

“I explained to him that my husband is a cuckold and told him that if he wants to take me out for dancing and takes, then we’ll end up back at our place and that you can be counted on to take the couch.”

I almost felt like I’d been punched in the gut, but then again every word of it was true.

“Is that always how you explain it?”

“Nope, but after he’d seen the ring there was no denying it, so why not? You don’t know him.”

All very true, but I thought back to the real estate agent laughing about me being the cuckold husband during the open house. Now my thoughts wandered to picturing a cell phone kiosk with a couple of guys listening to this stud brag about how he was going to fuck a married woman while the silly cuckold slept on the couch.

“Anyways,” she continued, “Josh has a new girlfriend he’s pretty serious about, and Paul...” she paused for thought before continuing “...you’ve never encountered Paul, but he just finished his degree and is moving back East, so at any rate I need to find a couple of new studs here PDQ.”

Just then I made eye contact with the new bartender, Jimmy. He wore a quizzical look with a raised brow...almost as if he’d overheard us.
~sissy~

CHAPTER SIX

It was Saturday afternoon and we were moving into our new place on a typical Edmonton winters’ day; snow and plenty of it. Coming from a small 1-bed and den we were quite certain we could handle moving in ourselves, so we had opted just to rent a small truck for the day, and had succeeded in moving over our boxes, most of the small furniture and the important stuff like the TV.

We put off the stuff we wanted to move ‘til last, our third load, and this was it. That consisted of our couch, a reclining chair, our boxspring and mattress, plus another boxspring and mattress we’d bought for the second bedroom. It wasn’t much fun getting those downstairs and into the truck, but once we had got them on there it didn’t seem so bad - this was the last trip!

When we got over to the new building, we were in for a nasty surprise. The building manager greeted us in the lobby. “I got bad news for you guys. The timing really couldn’t be worse, but the elevator has broken down. I’ve called out our techs to fix it, but I don’t know how long they’ll be on the weekend.”

“You’re kidding me!” I protested. “We brought all the big stuff this time too. How long will the wait be?”

“I really don’t know. What floor did you move in on?” he asked.

“Fourth.” Katherine answered. God did she look fantastic today. Even on a day doing something as simple as moving, not particularly made up or wearing anything special, she looked amazing. She had on some of her yoga wear; tight yoga pants that really showed off her ass and a matching form-fitting top. I am such a lucky man.

“Hmm.” the maintenance man pondered. “Well, You could be waiting a while - I guess if you wanted to leave me your cell number, you could go get something to eat and when the guy shows up I can give you a call.” he offered.

“Sure!” Katherine accepted, enthusiastically.

“No, no no.” I interjected. “Don’t forget, we have to have the moving van back in two hours. I don’t think we can afford to wait very long.”

“Right.” she acknowledged.

I looked to the maintenance man sympathetically. “Do you think you could help us up the stairs with a few of these things?” I asked - then, lying: “we don’t really have much.”

He stopped me in my tracks. “No can do. Insurance regulations with the company. If I put my back out or something moving in your furniture the company gets nailed with workman’s comp and the whole nine yards. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to help, it’s just...can’t do it.” he shrugged.

That made enough sense. “Thanks” I told him.

Katherine and I retreated to a corner of the lobby to discuss what to do.

As I was pulling my cell phone out of my pocket Katherine said “Phone Jamister.”

Jamister was my friend from high school, my best friend, and that’s exactly who I was going to phone when I pulled it out of my pocket.

“Good call.” I said, crediting her for the idea, as I rang his number.

A few rings later “Hey, it’s Jamister - can’t come to the phone right now, but leave me a message and I’ll all you back. Cheers.”

I hung up the phone. “Asshole!” I hissed at the phone. “He knows we’re moving today, I bet he’s deliberately not answering.”

Katherine smiled knowing it was probably true.

“What’s your brother up to tonight?” I asked her.

“He’s in St. Louis on business, remember?”

I didn’t remember as luck had it, but that didn’t really matter in the moment anyway.

“Who else is there?”

Katherine looked down to the ground then looked back up at me “well....”

“Well, what? Well, who?” I asked her, getting desperate.

“I don’t know if you’ll care for the idea...but we could call Tony. He’d come over to help.”

Tony. Katherine’s first black lover. The man she had only recently met at the mall and whom she had been seeing on and off for about six weeks now. I’d yet to actually meet him or see him but I have had the pleasure of listening to the sounds of him orgasming into my wife as I slept out on the couch.

“I’m not particularly keen on it, no.” I answered truthfully. “You know that as much as I love you and our arrangement, I hate having to interact with your....” I stumred looking for a word before I settled on “...paramours.”

She smiled. “I totally get it, but if we’re absolutely stuck then it’s an option.”

I began flipping through my contact list.

Jim! Bad back.

Stephen! I fired off a pleading text message.

Who else...who else...I had another friend, more of a loose acquaintance who I phoned up and I could tell immediately from the noise in the background that wherever he was, he wasn’t leaving there. Lots of noise and too much fun. Even before he shot me down, I heard the beep indicated Stephen had replied - “not feeling well” - sure. You really find out who your friends are when you move!

Frustrated, I just blurted out: “OK. Phone him.”

Concerned, Katherine asked me “are you sure?”

I thought about it another minute. I’m going to spend the next hour or so having to make polite conversation with a man who is cuckolding me, and worse yet, he knows that I know I’m a cuckold, I can’t even play dumb about it.

Well, it would definitely be a bit embarrassing, but the alternative was to return the truck tomorrow morning and pay the $200 charge for having it all night. And where do I park a goddamn truck over night? Plus, what if the elevator guy doesn’t come. I knew what I had to do.

“Yep.” I answered back. “Call him.”

“OK.” and with that she dialed him. Walking away from me, I could hear from her end of the conversation that it had taken a very flirty tone, which I suppose made sense given that she was about to ask him for a pretty big favour - and on no notice either.

After hanging up, Katherine walked back over. “He’ll be here in 20 minutes.” she answered, smiling.

Twenty excruciating minutes later, in walks Tony and my God, he’s about 6’3’ and must weigh 200 pounds - and it is definitely all muscle.

He first approaches Katherine and in deference to me (I guess) settles for giving her just a polite peck on the cheek. Then this giant confidently strides up to me, extends his hand and says just: “Tony.”

I shake his hand. “Robert.” I answer weakly.

“Nice to meet you, Robert.” He replied quite sincerely. “Well, let’s get you folks moved in”

And with that, we got to work. Katherine held open the stairwell doors for us as moved in each piece. It was a little embarrassing for me as he was clearly in much better shape and it showed as our physical abilities were on display moving the furniture. I was glad to be doing something menial to keep me focussed because every idle moment I had I spent examining Tony, thinking: “this is the guy who is fucking my wife.” With plenty of the typical awkward bends around corners and achieving funny angles through doorways, 40 minutes later we were in.

Putting everything else aside and in perspective, when we were done I walked over to Tony as he first had for me and said “thanks, man. We were really in a jam and it was nice of you to come through for us like that. Sorry we didn’t give you much notice.”

Tony smiled and said “it’s no problem, really. So, what now?”

“Well, now I have to make sure the truck gets back - which I should do now, I really only have another half hour to return it.”

“Cool.” says Tony. “You want me to come with you?”

Before I could answer, Katherine interjected “you’ve done more than enough today, Tony. Why don’t you stay here with me while Robert returns the truck?”

I could see the glint in her eye. What could I say? Tony smiled at me almost sympathetically. “Can’t turn down an offer like that, man.” he told me casually.

As I put on my jacket to go out and return the truck, my wife Katherine led Tony into our new bedroom by the hand, giggling like a schoolgirl.
As I closed the door behind me, I felt pathetic. “Let’s review my day” I told myself. “First, you were too cheap to hire movers, so you put yourself in the position that you needed to ask for help at the last minute from your wife’s lover - who showed you up while he helped. Then, once you’d moved in, they made it clear to you that they were going to have sex while you returned the moving truck. Great job, Robert. You’ve lived there for less than an hour and you’ve already been cuckolded.”

Still, I guess I couldn’t complain. He seemed like a nice enough guy and he certainly made Katherine happy, from what I had heard - and I don’t mean from her, but what I’d heard from the next room with my own ears these past few weeks. Katherine has always been a screamer, but this guy knew how to get her really hitting the high notes.

I dropped the truck off, picked up my car from where I’d left it on the lot, and drove home - to my new home. Arriving in the hall, I could see Tony’s shoes still in the hallway so obviously they were still in the bedroom. I was exhausted from moving and so I was very grateful to finally have a second bed in the second bedroom to resort to rather than the couch. I couldn’t hear anything coming from the master bedroom so I assumed they too must have fallen arelax.

I pulled back the sheets on my new bed, which I guess Katherine must have been good enough to make up for me. We had briefly left this mattress outside being snowed on for a few minutes while moving the other one into the lobby earlier in the day and I could still feel a bit of dampness on it.

Getting into my bed, I quickly realized that they weren’t arelax - they must have merely taken a break. Moments later I learned how important that privacy layout really is. They began going at it again and not only could I hear them - that after all, was not unusal - I could feel them. With each thrust of Tony’s and each moan, yelp or scream of Katherine’s - my bed shook, if only slightly. Thinking back on all the pieces we’d moved into our new home and where we set them up, I realized, the headboards of each of these beds were touching the same wall. My cuckolding was taking on a new sense - in addition to listening the sounds of my own cuckoldry, now I could feel it. I could feel the vibrations being created by the man who was fucking my wife and cuckolding me.

I didn’t relax a wink, but I was very turned on listening to the show playing out before me in my own bed in the next room. About an hour and a half later, I could hear Tony leaving, only after giving Katherine a big kiss in the hallway. Moments later, Katherine came into my bedroom.

“Robert, sweetie, are you arelax?”

“Not even close.” I answered right away, adding, “You guys certainly put on quite a show.”

Katherine took that as a compliment. “Thank you! Can I come in?” she asked.

“Please.”

Katherine got into my bed, next to me. How odd that our master bedroom would be next door but here we are in the second bedroom together. I held her close to me tight and gave her a kiss.

“What do you think of the new bed?” she asked.

“Great! Very comfortable. Funny though, I could still feel a bit of dampness from leaving it in the snow earlier.”

Katherine grinned from ear to ear. “That wasn’t snow baby. After you left, Tony had a naughty little idea...”

“Oh, don’t tell me...”

“Yeah.” she sighed. “We decided to christen the new bed.”

Katherine wished me a good night with a kiss and cuddled into me. I waited until she was arelax to get up, and go to the bathroom where I could jerk off to the days events. Not only did Katherine cuckold me immediately upon moving in, but even saw it fit to go out of her way and to cuckold me in my new bed and leave a damp puddle for me to relax in - only upon her and her lover reclaiming the master bedroom. She must - I thought to myself - take a certain delight in humiliating me like this. I came into my hand and cleaned myself up. I had to be honest with myself - clearly I didn’t mind being humiliated, either.

With that, I returned to the bed - the second bed - and laid back down next to my unfaithful wife, in the still damp puddle of her infidelity, knowing this time that it wasn’t snow - it was yet further proof of my station in life as Katherine’s cuckold.
~sissy~

really hot story mate.

Very nice. We need to hear more about your wife's adventures!
Loving Wife, Mother, and Bryan's Slut

Well folks, here's another installment. Please remember that my only compensation for this is your comments, so please, be generous! It will inspire me to continue - and I have plans for this storyline to continue for a long time.

CHAPTER SEVEN

It had been a tense moment - one where you have to wonder whether or not, inadvertently, your secret could boil to the surface. Not necessarily with the style of life-changing dramatic offense heaped upon me during the visit from our former condo board, but just a moment’s indiscretion which spills the can of beans.

We were down at Mulligan’s, our favorite local bar with some of the other regulars and the staff, all in a general conversation at the bar. Sports were on TV, the women were talking with the women and the men with the men, mostly. Some of the women were trying to vie for the attention of Jimmy the handsome young bartender who had quickly become a fixture in the establishment.
I had been really only half listening, so forgive me if I forget how we originally arrived at the subject, but I do recall that it stemmed from a comment made about one of the athletes playing one of the many games featured on one of the many TV’s hanging over the bar.

The conversation had turned to black men and more particularly, as to whether or not they had larger penises. My heart immediately skipped a beat.

First to pipe up was one of my friends, Steve, oddly enough. With an embarrassing admission of his own, although not nearly embarrassing as my own dark secret; my double life as regular good old Robert by day and as willingly humiliated cuckold to my wife by night.

“They definitely do from the pornos I’ve seen” Steve offered, without a trace of shame over his choice of entertainment.

“Every guy in porn has a big cock” Jimmy shot back. “White, black or anything else. If you don’t have a big cock, they don’t let you star in pornos. Doesn’t mean your average black guy is any bigger, its a myth.”

One of the other regulars, Trisha, a hot little blonde just asked openly of the other women: “have any of you been with a black guy?”

Melissa, Steve’s girlfriend, answered no. Jennifer, another regular and a gorgeous woman with alabaster-white skin and long, straight dark chestnut brown hair answered: “Nope.” Trisha, having asked the question followed with “I haven’t.”

That left my lovely wife Katherine to whom all eyes peered. I figured in safeguarding our way of life she would answer no.

“I have.” Katherine answered.

My mouth fell open. Fortunately, no one was looking at me anyway. They were hanging onto every word Katherine was no doubt about to say.

“Before Robert, of course.” she said stealing just the slightest, almost indistinguishable knowing glance my way.

“And was he big?” Jennifer inquired.

After a pregnant pause, so to speak, Katherine answered: “Sorry, Jimmy. He was enormous.”

Jimmy raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Enormous.” Katherine reiterated. “About 9 inches long - but more than that, thick. That’s what really makes the difference boys. ”

Many husbands might consider this sort of open conversation somewhat humiliating, but given what I’m used to with Katherine, to me it’s nothing. Perhaps it speaks to the extent of my cuckolding that this isn’t enough to humiliate me. I almost have to remind myself to look more upset by this than I really am. As far as they know, my lovely, committed, faithful wife merely had a playful past. Or so they think, I tell myself.

Steve looked at me, kidding. “Well I guess you gotta be thick then, Robert, cause I know you sure as hell don’t have 9 inches.” Everyone laughed of course. It hurt me, but I knew I was just taking it more permisterally than I should given my own knowledge of my own circumstances.

It didn’t matter, the conversation turned away from me: “You packing more than that in your pants, Jimmy?” Trisha asked of the bartender.

“Trisha” Jimmy began, leaning into her all serious-like, “What I got is bigger than anyone else’s in this bar and thick as a beer can. To be honest, I don’t think you could handle it.”

It was one of those moments where you have to admire a guy who has the kind of confidence to say something like that. Certainly, it had its effect on the women although it only invited playful laughter.

Steve picked up where Katherine left off, and all of a sudden it was me under the gun again.

“Katherine, I didn’t know you’d had a black boyfriend. Robert, you must find that a little intimidating.”

All eyes on me. I need to answer with something clever. I chose an entirely truthful statement, if only for the fact that I omitted some salient points:

“I am completely confident that Katherine is fully satisfied in the bedroom.”

Jimmy shot back. “That’s ‘cause she kept the black guy’s phone number and has him in the bedroom when Robert comes down here with the boys.”

Everyone laughed of course not knowing that Jimmy was prophetically speaking the God’s honest truth. I had no choice but to conceal it by saying “ha ha - really funny, Jimmy” aloud. Simultaneously, Katherine playfully slapped at Jimmy saying “Jimmy, I’m not that kind of girl!”

The night wore on with no further such discussion, and I was grateful to move off the topic.

It was just after 11 when we headed back home, my arm around my beautiful sexy wife as we entered the lobby of our new building together. Just before we were about to step into the elevator, Katherine’s phone rang. I had a sinking feeling I knew who it was, but waited for Katherine to confirm, which she did not soon after fishing her phone out of her purse.

“Looks like it’s my booty call.” Katherine said to me casually before answering.

“Heeeeeyyy.” she answered flirtatiously. I could only hear her end of the conversation of course, but she began: “I dunno, what time is it? 11:09 - that’s a little late. Well, yeah. Mmmhm. I have a meeting first thing in the morning, I don’t think -- oh, Tony! Hold on -”

Katherine looked directly into my eyes, whispering, with a sympathetic face: “You don’t mind taking the second bedroom tonight, do you?”

I shook my head no. She returned to her call.

“Alright, lover, but you better hustle your tight butt over here because I want to get some relax tonight.”

Tony obviously said something cheeky, as Katherine then shrieked, saying “naughty boy! OK, get here when you can.”

Hanging up, we stepped into the elevator and went up to our unit. Inside, we kissed and I retired to my second room. I was still wide awake so I sat down at the desk and began to do some work. Not 20 minutes later, I could hear Tony arrive and after some brief, inaudible conversation it wasn’t long before I heard what I recognized to be the sound of the mattress in our master bedroom bounce along with a squeal out of Katherine which suggested to me that Tony had just thrown her onto the bed.

I tried to return to my e-mails, but of course only moments later the moaning began.

I knew it would be useless to work hearing the commotion next door so I slipped my hand into my pajama pants and began to play with myself against the audio backdrop of my wife being fucked.

Minutes later Katherine had graduated from moaning into the screaming stage, so I knew they were really going at it now.

While muffled, I could hear; “Yes, oh yes! God, yes! Oh Tony - Oh Tony that is so FUCKING GOOD!”

It was her next comment that sent me scrambling for my calculator again.

“Fuck me, Tony, fuck me! AAAAAH! GIVE ME EVERY INCH OF THAT COCK!”

Given the evening’s earlier conversation, this sparked something in me. I looked down at my semi-hard penis as I was playing with it and knew what I’d known since I was a teenager - I measured up at precisely 5.5 inches.

Tonight was the first night I had learned that Tony was packing 9 inches.

I reached for my calculator - knowing I was probably making a mistake.

We’d moved in a month ago and Tony had come over about twice a week. Approximately 8 visits. Tony was also gifted in the stamina department as I knew from staying awake and staring at the alarm clock that they usually went at it for about 40 minutes.

I quickly worked it out, with a little help from Google in addition to my own calculator.

If Tony was thrusting into Katherine every two seconds. that’s 30 thrusts per minute. Over 40 minutes, that’s 1,200 thrusts. The nine inches of Tony’s cock travel inside of Katherine 1,200 times for 10,800 inches of cock.

Tony’s cock can be expected to travel 900 feet inside of my wife tonight.

Over 8 visits, that’s 7,200 feet of Tony’s cock inside Katherine this past month.

5,280 feet make up one mile, so this month Tony gets to travel about a mile + 1/3rd inside of my wife.

Meanwhile, doing my own calculation - I’ll cut right to the chase: I travelled 96.25 feet inside of my wife this past month.

So in terms of distance, the amount of sex Tony is having with my wife is the equivalent of over a mile’s walk, while I probably wouldn’t make it to the elevator in the hallway.

If Katherine’s average lover has a 7” cock, and fucks her for 25 minutes at one thrust every two seconds, and Katherine has sex (with other men) 2.5 times a week on average, we’re already at 13,125 inches PER WEEK.

Over the course of our marriage? 2,730,000 inches. On average. That’s 69.34 kilometres. Just over 43 miles. 227,500 feet. That’s greater than the length of Manhattan. In four years.

I could walk from one end of New York to the other and still not have walked the equivalent of how much my wife has been fucked by other men since our wedding day only four years ago.

I have been cuckolded the length and width of New York.

On average. Tony was certainly doing his best to pull the average up.

I played with the numbers over the next half hour or so, comparing them to familiar distances and points of reference, hardly able to grasp the fullest extent of my ongoing offense.

I was disturbed from my thinking when I heard Katherine scream out “OOOOOOHHH!” loud enough that I’m 100% sure the upstairs neighbours would have heard. They must think I’m a stud.

“CUM IN ME! CUM IN ME! CUM IN ME! CUM - OH YEEEEEEAAAAH!”

And with that, it went quiet. Looking down I could see I had cum all over myself.

I figured I should just go to bed, Katherine would be arelax before I could make any attempt to rearrange the relaxing arrangements, even if Tony was leaving. After all, she had travelled the equivalent distance of 900 feet tonight, all without leaving our bed.

I needed my relax too, to regain some clarity of mind. After all, I had been cuckolded the length of almost 10 regulation NBA courts tonight - and let me tell you, that revelation is every bit as humiliating as it sounds.
~sissy~

SSG,
I said it before. I know you have this planned out and all but so far there is no evidence that Katherine does or ever did love Robert. No reamister why she chose to marry him, or stay with him. Without this your story lacks some of the tension built into every cuckold story. The inherent risk to the relationship of a cuckold and wife. Here, there is no risk. Robert just accepts everything. It doesn't make sense to me. I only say all this because I actually like the rest of the story. You can write well enough. I just think the cuckold scenes would actually be hotter still with a bit more love risk and angst in the background.

Great reading. Thanks.
Loving Wife, Mother, and Bryan's Slut

great. take it higher, challenge the cuck

Wow! I really enjoyed that! I liked the characters, the ideas, the complexities of the relationship and the rules (and rule-breaking). The husband's obsession with numbers made him feel very real to me and, maybe weirdly, I really like Katherine's sense of humor as well.

I think it's of a quality that could sell. Message me if you want any advice on publishing on Kindle, Nook, iTunes, Kobo etc.
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com

CHAPTER NINE

Chapter Nine, Part One

Katherine had called Jimmy the following day after I had caught them to explain in no uncertain terms that she would not be seeing him again and pleaded with him that the whole incident remain our secret. He agreed, apparently being quite sorry and extending his apologies through Katherine to me.

Even despite that, we hadn’t been back to Mulligan’s since. I wasn’t sure how to face anyone there, and neither was Katherine. We were emboldened with confidence that Jimmy hadn’t blabbed anything because our friends were still asking to meet us there, but we always found a way to make an excuse out of it. So, if he had told anyone, a friend or co-worker anyway, it likely hadn’t made it through to one of our friends, which is all I cared about.

It had been nearly two months since the incident, and Katherine had not cuckolded me since. This was now, without a doubt, her longest dry spell since I had met her. One Saturday night, while lying in bed, I finally brought it up.

“You’ve been without company for quite a while.” I offered up, not knowing what she might come back with.

“Yeah.” she acknowledged, halfheartedly. “Well, I don’t have to tell you what a close call it was last time. I guess that sort of shook me up.”

I paused, considering every possible interpretation I could come up with of what Katherine had just said. A thousand questions raced through my mind and I asked none of them. I just waited to see what she might add to her answer.

“I guess...” she began. “I guess it got me really thinking, actually. Thinking, what the hell am I doing with my life and my marriage?”

I sensed this was going far deeper than I’d imagined. I looked at her quizically, prompting her to continue.

“Here I am,” she began “I have a great husband,” she touched my arm as she said that.

“And here I am carrying on like a horny teenager. I could have ruined our friendships with people, I could have ruined your reputation or mine and depending on how much damage I did I could ruin our marriage!” she seemed almost aghast. “I just think maybe the sign we got out of the last incident is that it’s time for me to grow up. I’m a married woman. I have been blessed, I have been so lucky to have so much extra fun in the last few years, way more than most women get. Maybe it’s time to just cash in my chips and say ‘enough’s enough.’”

I was shocked. I sat upright.

“You mean it?” I asked.

“Yes.” she replied. “You have been amazing to live the lifestyle we’ve lived the past few years, but I think just maybe I have finally sowed all my wild oats. I think back on things and I’m kind of ashamed sometimes.”

“You have never needed to be ashamed.” I told her sternly. “You had my support all the way, I know I wasn’t that supportive of the last event, but...”

“I know.” she stopped me. “That’s how incredible you are. And now that I stand back and look at things, I know for sure no one could ever love me as much as you do. I cannot think of another man that could tolerate the amount of offense I have caused you, in our old building and with Jimmy. That was never my intent -”

“I know.” I told her reassuringly. She smiled and we were both silent.

“So, you’re done for good you think?” I asked of her.

“Yeah, I think so. I feel more grown up in these last few weeks. I’m not running around applying makeup and chasing after boys. I’m thinking more about my career now and honestly, I think it’s made a difference.”

“This is really what you want? A normal, married life?” I asked her.

“I think so. I’m not 100% sure, but I like the way I’m feeling right now.” she answered simply.

“And, sexually, am I enough for you?” I asked.

She smiled. “I love our sex, together honey. Life isn’t all about sex anyway.”

I began to wonder if this was the woman I’d married.

“Are you OK with me not playing around?” she asked.

“Yes, of course.” I answered. “If that’s what you want. It just strikes me a little offguard right now. It’s just a strange change of context I guess. I mean it’s almost like it’s part of my identity....I’ve been a....I have been your....I’ve always been a....” the shame which came part and parcel with the word was preventing me from saying it, but Katherine had no such issues.

“Cuckold?” she asked with a smile.

“Yeah.” I answered shortly.

“Well you know something?” she asked me. I shook my head. “If a man ***s another man when he’s 18 - and goes to jail for 50 years, and is paroled - he’s still a ***er. Because he committed a ***, he will always be a ***er. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Despite my confusion, I answered: “Yes.”

Katherine leaned in to whisper in a sultry voice into my ear while reaching down and placing her hand over my dick.

“You, Robert...” she hissed. “Will always be a cuckold. If I never relax with another man again, you will have still spent countless nights relaxing next door being cuckolded while I have been getting fucked in this bed.”

My penis went rock hard instantaneously. Katherine leaned out, no longer whispering in my ear, but now stating to me, emphatically,

“So don’t worry about that part of your identity. You will be a cuckold for the rest of your life.” with a smile, she turned out the light and went to relax.

==============================================

Chapter Nine, Part Two


Another two months had gone by and my dear wife Katherine had been a dutiful, faithful wife for four months now. She had never been as faithful to me as this and I was getting sex from her about once a week, which I was very grateful for. And while I was always conscious of that fact that I would never have the endowment or the prowess or longevity of some of Katherine’s previous lovers, I was getting better at it too, in my own way to the best of my ability.

It was late Spring and we decided to take a short outdoors trip up to a cabin we had rented in a small collection of resort cabins on a picturesque lake about two hours from our home.

We got there and found that of the six cabins on the lake, only three, including ours had been rented and thus we figured we could rely on a quiet, serene and relaxing weekend.

We were wrong.

Not long after we had unpacked and settled into our cabin, four carloads showed up, presumably the renters of the two other cabins. Each carload was listening to a different variety of music, one screaching with rock and roll, one vibrating to hip-hop beats, while another belted out syrupy boy band mistergs, but each blaring its own content into a hideous medley of assorted crap.

Then as the cars stopped, so did the music.

Katherine and I had just taken a seat out on the front porch of the cabin, gingerly sipping away at some bottles of beer, when we observed three girls and four boys all get out of these dusty vehicles.

They were obviously all young people, taking a trip together who had rented out these cabins. As they spoke to one another they yelled, and one of the boys walked right up to the lake, thrust his arms skyward and yelled out “woooooooooo!” for no reamister at all.

Katherine and I looked to one another and thought it was time to go inside to enjoy the view from the living room perhaps!

We retreated inside, and as the hours passed, we soon began dinner. As we were barbecuing some nice pieces of steak I had bought in town, I went out to light up the open-flame grill. As I was lighting the grill, two of the boys came over.

“Hey man!” one confident young man said to me. “I’m Rick” he said as he extended his arm. “This is Nathan.” he introduced the other.

“Hey guys, I’m Robert.” I said, introducing myself. “What brings you fellas up here?”

“We just finished up our semester at U Alberta” Rick finished. “Figured we’d all get a break in before we head out to look for summer work.”

“Smart man.” I told him, as I reflected back on my own youth enviously.

“We’re - ahh - gonna do a sort of fire pit later.” He confided. “If you and your old lady wanna join in, just come on down, be nice to have some community going!” he said.

“Sure!” I offered back, thinking that the chances of it were extremely unlikely. “Although I don’t know if I’d refer to my wife as an old lady when you meet her.”

They laughed a little bit, and with easy smiles headed back to their own cabin.

After dinner, we sat together on the couch in the cabin watching the night fall over the lake, the stars come out, and the flames ripple in the fireplace. Enjoying a glass of wine, we sat in a contented silence, me gently caressing Katherine.

Our tranquility was disturbed by a knock at the door. I went out, half angrily to find Rick standing there.

“Hey man, you guys wanna come out and join?”
As I mentally prepared our excuse to refrain, I heard Katherine from behind me take him up on his offer “Yes, why not! Let’s find out what the young people are up to these days, what do you say, hon?”

Glasses of wine in hand, we joined the seven young people around the fire. After just a few minutes, I was glad we went. All of a sudden we were opened up to discussions ranging from pop culture to philosophy and all sorts of views on life which were as yet untempered by the realities of the working world. In truth, it was more than a little refreshing.

Soon things broke down by gender and the four boys were talking with me as Katherine exchanged stories with the three girls.

All of a sudden, Rick wanted my attention. “Hey, Robert - are you and Katherine cool if we....?” I was waiting for him to finish asking his question when he held up a joint.

“Oh!” I answered, somewhat surprised. I hadn’t seen a joint in a few years now. “Yes, of course.” Despite being a grown man in my 30s, I found myself actually preoccupied with whether or not these youngsters felt I was cool!

The conversation continued, and with it, the joint began to be passed around. It finally made its way to me and while I declined with thanks, I did pass it over the the next guy, who took a toke and then got up to walk it over to the girls.

My curiousity was piqued as to how Katherine would react to it. When she took the joint, she looked in my direction with an evil glance and then, while looking into my eyes, pulled a strong, three or four second hit off it before exhaling into a coughing fit, to the laughter of all the kids present.

“That takes me back!” Katherine shouted out, to more laughter. I loved her out-going nature and the easy way in which she made friends.

The conversation around the fire continued unabated for about another hour with the takes still flowing and the joints being passed around. Judging from the giggles coming from Katherine she’d had more than her share but at this point I didn’t mind, we were on vacation.

Suddenly, we were down to seven as one of the girls and one of the boys paired up and headed for one of their cabins. Were there any doubt about what was going on, one of the girls cooed “ooooh, looks like someone’s off to have some fun!”

About fifteen minutes later, another couple paired off until finally the last couple did, leaving us with one extra boy, Nathan, whom Rick had introduced me to at first.

Robert, Katherine and I sat there in silence at first, which I chose to break by asking simply: “what’s your major?”
“Engineering.” he answered, adding, “Minor in English Lit.”

Katherine then interjected a question of her own: “so, are all your friends there couples?”

“Yup.” he answered.

“So what’s up with you, why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Come on, Katherine!” I inserted, feeling that maybe the weed had impacted her social sensibilities to some degree. “That’s none of our business.”

“I know, I’m curious!” she shot back, sporting her goofy stoned face. “Nathan you seem like a nice guy, I just wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Oh, I dunno.” He answered. “I guess I’ve never been too confident with girls. I’ve been more of a quiet type.”

Poor guy, I could relate.

“How old are you?”

“19.” he answered.

“What are you, about 6 feet tall?” Katherine asked.

“6’1”.” he replied.

“You’re a good looking kid, Nathan, you need to do the young women of U Alberta a favour and get yourself a girlfriend.” Katherine told him reassuringly.

He laughed off Katherine’s compliment with a shy chuckle.

“I’m serious, Nathan. You shouldn’t waste your young years here being too shy to talk to girls. The worst that will happen is they’ll say no and if they do, the hell with them anyway. That’s gotta be your attitude.”

“Yeah I know,” he replied. “I guess easier said than done with me.”

Katherine began to ask again in a hushed tone; “Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

I rolled my eyes, but Nathan seemed to be appreciating the sympathetic ear.

“Yeah, I had a girlfriend in high school.” he said. “We met at church and we’d known each other since we were young so, we kinda went out through all of high school. She was really my only girlfriend.”

Katherine smiled. “Nathan, we’ve got some more beer in our fridge, do you mind going in to get me one?”

“Not at all.” Nathan said, getting up to happily oblige.

As Nathan disappeared into our cabin, Katherine turned to me, looking at me with as serious an expression as could muster onto her silly, stoned face.

“Do you think I should fuck him?” she asked me.

“What?” I asked, surprised.

“Come on.” she said, sternly. “Do you think I should fuck him? That’s what he needs, a fuck, he needs some confidence. Would you mind?”

I racked my brain about what to say, but the twitch in my pants told me I was OK with it.

I was being asked by my wife at point blank, did I want to be cuckolded tonight?

I felt the twitch again.

“Uh, sure. If that’s what you want.” I answered.

“You’ll be cool with this.” she reiterated.

Just then, Nathan started walking out of the cabin, and Katherine stood up, took me by the hand and went to meet him on our porch.

“We’ll take that inside.” she told him.

With that, all three of us were suddenly inside our cabin, and Katherine shut the door and bolted it. Turning to me and pointing at the couch, Katherine said simply “sit.”

Katherine was definitely inebriated. Did she really want to do this? Would she regret this in the morning, and subsequently blame me? I wasn’t sure what to do. So I just sat, as I had been instructed.

“Nathan,” she began, “are you a virgin?”

Nathan paused, his mouth agape in shock. “Um...”

“Nathan.” Katherine began again. “I’m not trying to embarrass you. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes.” Nathan answered, his eyes downcast to the floor with a certain shame.

“I thought so.” she answered. “You need confidence my friend - the kind of confidence you’re only going to get when you fuck a woman.”

“Uh....yeah.” Nathan answered, somewhat confused and perhaps a little scared.
“And tonight,” Katherine continued...”Is your lucky night.”

“Pardon?” Nathan asked.

I was watching, unable to speak. Katherine all of a sudden pushed Nathan up against our wall and kissed him powerfully on the lips.

“Nathan...” she hissed at him seductively. “I want to take your virginity.”

With that, she crossed her arms at the bottom of her top and pulled it off in one fell swoop, exposing her ample breasts, showcased as they were inside of her deep purple, lace covered satin bra.

Nathan couldn’t help himself but to stare down at Katherine’s breasts. Then glancing at me, he began to stutter at Katherine “what about....what about...R....your....what about, him?”

“Nathan.” Katherine began again as if in whisper, stroking his forearms exposed by his T-shirt. “Robert is a cuckold. Do you know what a cuckold is?”

The word cuckold hit me like a ton of bricks. I had a raging hardon. I felt like I was receiving an unexpected gift.

“Yeah, I think so.” Nathan answered nervously.

“Tell me.” she asked of him.

“Well, uhm...in Shakespeare, the character of the cuckold was, uh, usually used as a comedic device -”

“I don’t want a history lesmister, Nathan. Tell me what a cuckold is.”

“Well, I guess, to put it simply...a cuckold is a man who’s wife has been unfaithful.” he answered.

“Very good, Nathan.” Katherine answered, continuing in her tone just audibly above a whisper. “I have cuckolded Robert many, many times. He is OK with it. That’s why he is sitting there. And that’s why you have no reamister to be nervous. Now, are you OK with this?”

“Um...yeah!” Nathan answered, his face the perfect definition of shock. As was mine.

“Alright then, Nathan, so do you want to fuck me?” Katherine asked lewdly.
“Yes! Definitely!” Nathan answered, glancing over at me.

“Nathan.” Katherine started again, leaning in close to his face before turning to look me in the eyes then back into his, “Do you want to make a cuckold out of my husband?”

“Yes!” Nathan answered, “Yes!”

Katherine undid the buttons of her jeans and peeled her way out of them, throwing them over towards me on the couch, although they only made it about halfway and ended up on the floor.

My gorgeous, sexy wife now stood in front of this teenager in just her matching purple lace bra and thong. She leaned in to kiss him again, while placing her hand on his crotch.

“Nathan.” she began again. “If you want to fuck me, then you need to walk over to my cuckold husband, and to tell him that you are taking me into the bedroom....to FUCK ME.” she said with great emphasis. “And that he is to go back outside and watch the fire. Do it now.”

Katherine stood aside, looking at me as Nathan took a few short paces in my direction. He stood there silent, unable to speak. I suspected maybe if I looked away from him perhaps he could do it. And after listening to the whole humiliating exchange, I could hardly stand to look at him anyway, so I looked down towards the floor and in the opposite direction thinking it might make him more comfortable.

Nathan began with “uh, hey, sorry Robert, but uh....”

“Come on, Nathan, You’re taking me...” Katherine prompted him.

“I’m taking Katherine into the bedroom.” He blurted with a gulp. “I am going to fuck her. Would you please watch the fire outside?”

I finally looked up, and Nathan looked away from my gaze.

“Certainly.” I answered, getting up to leave. As I did, I heard Nathan under his breath exclaim “holy cuckolds brownie!” As I was closing the door to the cabin behind me, I could see Katherine and Nathan getting on top of the bed.

I paced out to the fire and sat.

Tonight had been strangely familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Equal parts humiliating and exciting. Nothing was the same. Was this because Katherine had been bottling it up? Or because of the weed?

My penis was harder than it had been in months. “If it is the weed,” I said to myself. “I better find out the name of Rick’s dealer.”
~sissy~