#1 · Edited by: VictoriaWessex
The cuckoldplace.com admins have very kindly allowed me to post extracts from some of my published cuckold stories here. I'm including a good long chunk (three chapters). There are links to the full thing at the bottom if you like it I only wanted to save my marriage. When my wife told me she fantasized about sex with another man, I thought it'd be the perfect way to get our sex life back. I thought I'd be the one in control... I made the mistake of introducing my wife to Greg: moneyed, handsome and black. I didn't know that Greg had a cruel streak a mile wide... that he'd turn my innocent wife into his whore, and power me to watch him take her, unable to stop them: not once, but time and time again. I didn't know that he had plans to use her body in every way he could, or to breed her... I didn't know that I'd be cuckolded, or how humiliating it would be. This is my story.Chapter 1
I remember the night it all started. If I could go back in time to undo the whole thing, this is the night I’d go back to. I could have said a few words differently—just one word, in fact—and everything would have been alright.
I know it seems naive now, but I’d never heard that word—cuckold—back then. I didn’t know what I was getting us into. If I had, I’d never have lost my wife.
The weird thing is, it should have been a good night. After months of being too tired or too busy for each other, my wife Carla and I had agreed we needed some romance. We avoided calling it “date night”, even though basically that’s what it was, because... well, hell, I was only thirty and Carla was only twenty five. Desperate things like “date night” start a lot older than that, right?
And yet.... I felt like we were drifting apart. There’d been too many times when I’d ask her what was wrong, and she’d just shrug and walk away. Or be chatting with her friends on the phone, and go quiet when I got near. I didn’t think she was having an affair – nothing like that. I totally trusted her. But I could tell we were on a dangerous path, and I wasn’t stupid. Carla was, if anything, a little out of my league. Meeting her had been the best thing that ever happened to me, but I sometimes wondered if she regretted rushing into the marriage, less than a year after we met. I knew one thing for sure: I was ready to do whatever it took to keep her.
I’d cooked her dinner, we’d gone through half a bottle of wine, and it felt like things were going well. We were both starting to unwind, and it seemed like maybe we’d get to talk about some of what was wrong. Then it got better. She suggested taking a bath together, which was the nearest we’d come to anything sexual in at least a couple of weeks. I practically ran to the bathroom and filled the tub. I even dug out some scented candles someone bought us as a gift and lit those, and brought the rest of the wine through.
She kind of laughed when she saw the candles I’d lit. “Oh honey. You’re so sweet.” Innocent enough. But there was an undercurrent—her lips pursed a bit when she said it. Almost like she was disappointed.
As I watched her undress, I told myself how lucky I was. Carla looked no different than she had when she’d walked up the aisle five years before. Long, straight brown hair, rich and glossy, that spilled back over her shoulders, a trim but curvy body with full, pert breasts and a beautifully rounded ass that together made her a bombshell in a tight dress—and even better naked. And me? I’d never been a big guy—I’m actually only 5’6”, which puts me at the same height as Carla—a little shorter, if she’s wearing heels. But it’d never bothered either of us—at least, not that she mentioned—and I ran a bit to keep myself in reamisterable shape. I figured I was doing my part.
We sank into the bath with her sitting behind me, and lay back. My head was resting on her chest, her wet, warm breasts cushioning me. We sipped wine and stared at the flickering candles for a few minutes.
“I’ll start,” I said at last. I took a deep breath. “I feel like something’s wrong. We don’t have sex like we used to—we barely have sex.”
She lay there silently below me and sipped her wine, the foot of her wine glass stroking gently along my shoulder. I could tell she was thinking.
“I still love you,” I tried.
“I know—I love you too,” she said quickly, “I just—”
“What?” I seized on it.
She hesitated, like she was embarrassed.
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “Tell me.”
She took a deep breath of her own, then. “What if... we maybe tried some different things in bed?”
A slow smile crept across my face. Was that all it was? Did she just want to try some kinky stuff? Hell, I could do that. I figured she’d read that book everyone was talking about, and wanted me to tie her up. “Carla, that’s fine. We can do that.”
There was another hesitation. “Really?” she asked.
“Really. Whatever it is.”
“Whatever it is? You won’t be... mad?”
I could feel myself frown. Why would I be mad?
“No, of course not.”
The foot of her wine glass rubbed against my shoulder as she spun the stem between her fingers. “What if... we introduced another permister?”
This came so out of nowhere that I was thrown. For a moment I actually thought she’d changed the subject, and she was hinting at trying for a baby. We’d both agreed to wait a while, so she could concentrate on her law career, but she was approaching that age.... Then my brain kicked in, and it felt like I was listening to someone else speak—that’s how strange my words sounded. “You mean... have sex with other people? Like... swinging?” I hate the fact it’s still called swinging. It makes it sound like it’s the seventies. But if that was what she wanted....
“No,” she said carefully. “I don’t think—I don’t think I could handle it, watching you with another woman. I want to keep you for myself.” OK…well, that was good, right?
A pause, then she asked, all in a rush, “How would you feel about me being with another man?”
My mouth opened and closed a few times. Was she serious?
“Pretty fucking pissed off!” I told her, my voice thick with the rage that was building inside me. I couldn’t believe she’d even suggested it.
“OK,” she said quickly, her hands coming up to rest on my shoulders, calming me. “Forget it.”
We sat there in the darkness for a few seconds. The tension unwound, but only by about an eighth of an inch.
“Like an affair?” I asked at last.
“No! God, no, not like an affair. I meant like.... I don’t know. Like we’d all be in a room together and you’d watch us.”
I’m not the most perceptive guy. I admit that. But even I could tell there was something wrong with the way she said it. The I don’t know
was completely unconvincing.
“You’ve been thinking about this.” For the first time, I turned around to look at her. She was looking back at me with huge, guilty eyes, and my heart nearly broke. The last thing I wanted was to make her unhappy. “Is it... someone specific?”
She shook her head firmly. “No! Not at all. It’s just a fantasy.”
I watched her carefully. “But you’d like it to not be a fantasy.”
She bit her lip and shrugged, watching me as closely as I watched her.
I thought about it – actually let the idea enter my head for the first time, instead of just getting pissed off. Carla with another man. My wife, with another man. While I was right there in the room. “I need to think,” I told her, and turned away.
I wasn’t sure what I was feeling—shock, at first. A stab of anger, that she’d want this. That she’d need this. A cold clenching around my heart: pain, that she’d do this to me.
And something else, something I hadn’t expected. An image swam up into my mind, some nameless, faceless guy on top of her, between those smooth tanned thighs. Fucking her. Me being able to watch as she twisted and thrashed in passion, like back when we’d met, when I’d admired her from afar for months before plucking up the courage to ask her out. I’d get to be the observer, the voyeur. And it was me she’d want, I told myself, me she’d be going home with. I thought about the other man, frustrated, wanting to keep her but being denied by me. She was mine, and I’d decide how much of her he could have.
I felt my cock twitch and swell between my thighs. The more I thought about the idea, the more turned on I was.
I guess I’ve always felt like I’m playing second fiddle to my wife. She’s the one with the high-powered job, the one who gets all the attention. This would be a chance for me to get some power back, I thought. It’d be almost like I was pimping her out. I’d be the big dog, the alpha male, the guy generous enough to let other men share in my good fortune.
“I might... be okay with it,” I said at last.
I felt her stiffen at my words.
“I think so.” My cock was hard, now. “What sort of man would you want?”
The fact I was in front of her, not looking at her, made it easier, I think. She could talk without having to look at me, open up. Even so, it took her a while to work up to asking, “Would it be okay if he was... black?”
My head swam. On the one hand that seemed better. If what she really wanted was a black guy, then... well, that was something that she couldn’t get from me, no matter how hard I tried, my own skin being light verging on pasty. On the other, having a preference kind of suggested she’d been thinking about this for a while....
“Sure,” I said, and it sounded like my voice was coming from a distance. “That’d be okay.” I turned to look at her.
Her eyes were still big, her expression still guilty, but she was flushed, too. From thinking about it. From thinking about being fucked by a black guy. In front of me.
My cock was rock hard now, standing up out of the water. I’m not the biggest guy, down there, but Carla’s never complained. I saw her glance down at it, surprised.
“Get out of the bath,” I told her. And my voice didn’t sound like me own. It sounded... gruff. Authoritative.
Without argument, Carla climbed out of the bath, her body glistening. God, she was gorgeous, her full breasts shining wetly, bouncing and swaying as she stood. I scramred out of the bath after her and grabbed a condom from my pants. I was so turned on I didn’t want to bother, but they were the only protection we used, and we’d agreed to wait a few years before we started a family.
She reached for a towel, but I knocked her hand away. “No,” I told her. “Here. Down—Down on your knees.” My voice was breaking with excitement.
She got down on her knees, bent over the edge of the bath, her upper body hanging over the steaming water.
She’d tied her hair back before she got in, exposing her slender, elegant neck.
I knelt behind her, running my hands over her ass and thighs while I rolled the condom on. Her naked, wet pussy gleamed between her thighs, the lips jeweled with moisture. I guided my cock to her and then drove in hard. Carla gave a little cry of surprise and delight. I immediately started thrusting, already close to coming.
“You’re going to fuck this guy, in front of me?” I panted, leaning over her so my mouth was close to her ear.
She had her eyes screwed closed, and she’d raised her hands to her breasts, kneading them. I’d never seen her do that before. “Yes,” she hissed.
I started fucking her hard, my thighs slapping against the firm globes of her ass. I could see her hips twist as she ground her clit against the hard edge of the bathtub. “You’re going to lie there and let some strange guy fuck you for your husband?” I could see her now, in my mind’s eye, spread and moaning as a black guy pounded her.
“Yes!” she moaned. “Yes!”
I came, in a rush, spurting inside her in quick, hot jets. She continued to grind herself against the tub, and I saw her fingers were pinching her nipples now, almost cruelly. A few seconds later her body tensed and shook as she came.
It was the best sex we’d had for months. Afterwards, as we wrapped towels around ourselves, she asked me,
“Was that just a fantasy? Or were you serious?” She looked guiltily at me again. “Do you really want to watch me fuck a black guy?”
She’d given me an out. If I could go back in time, I’d want to change what I said right there. Everything could have been different.
“Yes,” I said.Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com
#2 · Edited by: VictoriaWessex
The hotel was high-end, nicer than any place we’d stayed since our honeymoon. Except we wouldn’t be staying there, I realized with a shock. We’d just be there for a few hours. Long enough for Greg to have his way with Carla.
Doubts were circling in my stomach. I kept telling myself that I wanted this. My cock was hard, the idea of seeing the two of them together was turning me on and yet... something was wrong.
Greg paid for the room. As we turned away from the reception desk, I thought I saw the guy behind the desk give a little smirk, but I couldn’t be sure. Did he know? Did he guess what was going on?
The room was up on the eighth floor. In the elevator, Greg pushed Carla up against the wall. She gave a little gasp, shocked.
“Careful,” I warned.
“She likes it,” Greg told me disparagingly. His voice was different now, thick with lust. “Don’t you, Carla?”
She didn’t answer. But the truth was, it looked like she did like it. Her breath was coming fast, her face flushed.
She kept swallowing and looking up at him, her eyes glazed, like she was takes. Greg pushed his knee between her thighs, spreading them, then lifted it a little, making her dress ride up almost to her crotch. His hands slid up her sides and then they were on her breasts, fondling and kneading.
The lift suddenly stopped, one floor too soon. A couple in their forties were standing there. The woman looked shocked as hell, the man less so. They didn’t attempt to get in, just waited while the doors closed again. But what I mainly remember from those few seconds is how the man turned and looked at me, and gave me an expression of sympathy. He presumed they were some couple in love, and I was some poor schmuck who’d had the misfortune to get in the lift with them.
Greg and Carla barely noticed.
We arrived at our floor and made for the room, Greg leading Carla by the hand, me following behind them. It was all going wrong: it wasn’t meant to be like this. I’d imagined me leading the way, Carla at my side, some hapless guy following in our wake, happy for whatever taste of her I deigned to give out. I was meant to be the one in control!
The room was big, with a king-sized bed and expensive, tasteful furnishings, cream and brown, leather and polished wood. Carla and Greg were kissing even as they went through the door. As they got close to the bed,
Greg suddenly broke the kiss and stopped, letting Carla get a few feet in front of him. Then he told her to take off her dress.
Inwardly, I gave a little smirk at that. No-one told Carla what to do. She’d take her dress off in her own sweet time, when—
I froze. Carla was stripping her dress off, her breasts rising and falling magnificently as she panted, her body alive with lust, almost trembling before him. What the hell was going on?
She stood there in black, glossy push-up bra, black briefs and heels and just...waited. For him. For orders. I’d never seen her act like that.
Greg stripped off his t-shirt and threw it aside. His shoulders were broad and thickly muscled, his chest strong and chiseled. But what drew my eyes was the tattoo of a spider’s web across his chest. Suddenly, he didn’t look like a studio owner: he looked like a rapper—a gangster, even. I was beginning to get a bad feeling about this...
He looked down at Carla and told her to get down on her knees. My mouth fell open. Carla was strong minded, domineering, even. That’s what made her such a good lawyer. She wouldn’t obey even me like that, let alone some stranger.
I watched as she sank to her knees, her breasts bouncing softly in her bra. Greg glanced at me, just for an instant, and there was a look of total victory on his face.
There was a chair behind me. I sank into it, stunned. It wasn’t…it wasn’t supposed to be like this….
“Come here,” Greg told my wife, “and take my cock out.”
Carla looked up at him, wide-eyed. Then she crawled over to him and knelt in front of him, hands working at the front of his jeans. She slowly pushed them down, then lowered his jockey shorts. His cock sprang out, already hard. God...it must have been eight inches long, and thick, with a heavy, bulging head. Seeing the way Carla looked at it, an expression of raw need on her face, brought it home to me how much bigger he was than me.
This is all wrong, my brain kept repeating, over and over.
“Do you like it?” Greg asked her. She nodded dumbly. “No,” he instructed. “Tell me. Tell me what you think, Carla.”
The bastard! He wasn’t satisfied with having her on her knees—he was going to make her humiliate herself!
Carla actually licked her lips. “I like it,” she breathed. “I—I want to suck it.”
Greg glanced at me again, grinning. “Well, go ahead,” he said generously.
And I watched as my wife took his hard shaft in one hand and opened wide, pink-painted lips stretching around him, a glimpse of shining white teeth and moist pink tongue and then he was in her. In my wife’s mouth. I saw her cheeks move, and I could imagine how her tongue was swirling over his head, the way she’d done it to me. I saw her cheeks hollow and knew she was sucking him. Her eyes were huge…scared? No, not scared, more like...when an natural knows who’s boss and it sits and looks up at them.
“Do you take it deep, Carla?” he asked.
“No,” I said quickly. I knew she didn’t like that. We’d tried, a few times, and she hadn’t liked taking even my cock. She certainly couldn’t take anything like his.
“Really?” asked Greg. “Is that right, Carla? Pretty girl like you? That don’t sound right.” I felt myself bristle at this.
Pretty girl like you? What was he implying?
Carla looked at him and nodded. I felt a warm glow of satisfaction.
“But you’ll do it for me, won’t you, Carla?” Greg asked.
I jerked like an electric current had hit me. Of course she wouldn’t!
And then I watched, horrified, as she hesitated... and pushed forwards with her head, tilting it back, letting his cock slide back in her mouth. Her pink-painted lips were stretched drum-tight around his black flesh.
Back to the very back of her mouth, and she gagged. And then pushed further. Greg let out a groan as she took him, the head of him sliding down into her warm, wet throat. He turned his head to me and gave me a long, unhurried look. He kept his eyes on me, smiling. And then he pushed forward with his hips and another few inches of his cock slid into her. His girth must have filled the tight tunnel completely, stretching her. Carla’s eyes bulged, but she didn’t pull back.
“Should I go further, Mark?” Greg asked.
“No,” I said quickly.
He just smiled. And pushed forward again. Carla made a noise like “MMMFF!” but didn’t try to move away. He was more than half in her, now. I could see her cheeks moving as she sucked and licked, her lips stretched tight around him. She was still trying to please him, sucking on his shaft even as the head was in her throat.
“Maybe I should go all the way in,” teased Greg. “What do you think, Mark?” He was trying to deliberately humiliate me.
“Don’t,” I said. It wasn’t like Carla wasn’t enjoying it—in fact, that was what bothered me most. But I didn’t want to see him doing that to her.
And then he was doing that to her, putting a hand on the back of Carla’s head, on the thick knot of pinned-up, mahogany-brown hair, and pushing slowly but firmly so that her mouth slid down the rest of his cock. His size meant that each millimeter was a panting, slippery squeeze. Carla’s eyes went wide and she made a little sound like “MMMFF!” but she made no attempt to stop him. Her lips bumped against the dark hair of his groin and he was in her to the root. It was quiet enough in the room that I could hear her breath hissing in and out through her nostrils.
Greg gave a long groan of pleasure as he looked down at my wife servicing him, her mouth moving as she licked and sucked on the shaft, the head lodged deep in her throat. “She sucks like a pro,” he announced. “Sure you’re a lawyer, Carla?”
I actually saw her cheeks flush at that, and anger swelled inside me. How dare he talk to her like that!
Greg started to thrust in Carla’s mouth, and she gagged a few times, panicked. But he didn’t hold her head, and she didn’t try to move away. She was trying to take him, eyes upraised, looking only at him. And after a few strokes she seemed to relax and sat there passively as he poled in and out of her shining lips. God... the sight of that thick black length sliding in and out of her...I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to stop or not. I was mad as hell, but incredibly turned on.
“I could shoot straight down your pretty little throat,” Greg told her, and she stiffened, which made him smile. “But that’s not what I want. Do you know what I want?”
She just knelt there staring up at him, her breath coming a little faster.
“I want to spread you open and fuck you until you can’t walk straight,” he told her, and even as he said it he pulled suddenly out of her mouth. As he pulled off his trousers, pants and shoes, I stared at his cock, darkly thick and shining from her mouth. It looked like a weapon. She’d barely been able to take it in her mouth. What would it do to her pussy?
I got to my feet. “Stop,” I said. They both turned their heads to look at me. “You can’t,” I said lamely. “You’ll hurt her.”
Greg was naked now, his legs as muscled and solid as his upper body. He gazed down at Carla. “Do you think I’ll hurt you, Carla?” he asked innocently.
Carla swallowed thickly. Her eyes seemed to be glazed. She gave the tiniest of nods.
Greg smiled. “Do you want it anyway?”
Horrified, I watched as she gave another nod.
“Stand up, Carla,” he told her, while looking straight at me.
I stood there helpless as Carla got slowly to her feet.
“Take off your underwear,” said Greg. Then, “Wait. Got an idea.” She stopped dead. He got his phone out and touched the screen a few times. A rap track with a low, thumping bass track blared out of its speakers. “Strip for us,” he told her.
Of all the things she’d done so far, this amazed me the most. Carla had a thing about strip clubs and hookers, saying that the sex industry exploited women. She’d even sued a few strip club owners and forbid me to go on any bachelor nights. That she’d even consider stripping like that just blew my mind. But I watched as she started to dance, her hips swaying and twisting. She looked a little uncertain at first, but as she found the beat her movements grew bolder, sexier. The rapper was talking about how much money he had, the “bitches” he was banging—exactly the sort of music Carla usually detested. But now it only seemed to excite her more.
She lifted her hands to the clasp of her bra and turned away from Greg while she unfastened it, toying with him, like a real stripper would. I don’t know if it was deliberate, but she turned towards me while she teased him, and for a few seconds she was looking me straight in the eyes. She held my gaze, unashamed, and I watched the bra come off, her full, ripe breasts exposed Even with all that was going on, I still caught my breath at the sight of them, soft and perfect. I could see that her nipples were already standing to attention. But as she glanced over her shoulder at Greg, I knew that any view I got was accidental. This wasn’t for my benefit.
She turned back to Greg, covering her breasts with one arm so he was still denied a look. Greg just stood there, grinning, takeing in the sight of her. As I watched, she dropped the arm and he grinned even wider. “Sweet,” he told her. “You wait till I got my mouth on those, pretty thing.”
I saw her give her a little inward gasp, and her dancing grew even more salacious, if that was possible. She was bending her knees now, spreading herself wide, sinking down towards the floor and then rising up again. Her hands came up and she started to play with her breasts. I’d never seen her do that before that night in the bathroom, when this had all started. It all seemed so far away, now.
Carla started to inch her panties down over her hips. “Turn around,” Greg ordered. “Bend over and do it.” She immediately complied, bending at the hips, her legs straight. As she hooked the panties down her thighs, Greg was rewarded with a perfect view of her firm, smooth ass cheeks, the delicate rosebud between them, the soft pink lips between her thighs. Carla stepped out of her panties, kicking them aside with one high heel.
“Stop,” Greg told her. “Open your legs and stay like that.”
Carla froze...then slowly moved her feet apart. Greg *******ed the music, and the only sound in the room was Carla’s soft little pants. I could tell just from that how turned on she was.
Greg walked up to her, stopping only a few feet away. I could see his eyes roving over every inch of her, as she was presented so obscenely for him. Her long, shapely legs, made even longer by the high heels she wore, were trembling slightly with her desire. Her pert, smoothly rounded ass gleamed in the room’s soft mood lighting, the puckered bud of her asshole exposed to him. Her spread thighs had made the delicate outer lips flower open just a little and I could see them glistening. She was wet for him.
I bit my lip. This was wrong. I’d wanted to show off my wife, make the other guy envious. But he was examining her, making her spread and show herself like some slut.
When Greg spoke, his voice was low; but loud enough for me to hear. “I’m going to enjoy fucking you,” he told her in what was almost a growl, and I heard her catch her breath. “Get on the bed,” he told her, and she straightened quickly and climbed on, lying down on her back. She kept her heels on, which only made her look more slutty. My wife. A slut.
Greg climbed unhurriedly onto the bottom of the bed. As I saw him approach her, I felt the fear rising in me. I didn’t want this, I realized. I’d been wrong.
“Stop,” I said, my voice breaking. “I—I‘ve changed my mind.”
Greg was sliding up the bed towards Carla. His knees were between her feet, then between her knees. He turned to look at me. “Well, I haven’t,” he told me. He rolled a condom onto his shining cock. I looked to my wife for support, but she as gazing up at Greg, deaf to my protests. Her mouth was open, a look of raw lust on her face.
“Carla!” I called plaintively.
She rolled her head to the side to look at me, and her mouth moved as if she was trying to say something—to apologize, to explain. But nothing came out.
Greg moved up between her thighs, bending Carla’s legs as he did, so that her feet were flat on the bed, under her knees. Then he planted a huge black hand on each of her raised knees and with an almost careless gesture, pushed them hard out to the side. Carla groaned as her knees flopped open, spreading her wide. His cock loomed up between them, inches from her now, long and heavy, obscenely thick.
This was really happening, I realized. In another second he’d be inside her, a stranger inside my wife’s body. I stepped forward. “S-stop,” I told them both. “I’m sorry! I’ve changed—”
Greg just made a motion with his shoulders, like he was being bothered by a fly. My eyes went to Carla, still with her face towards me, but it was too late. Even as she looked at me, I saw her reaction as the head pressed against her lips, that huge, thick ram pressing and spreading her slickened lips. Her eyes went suddenly wide. He pulled back his hips, and I saw him glance at me, a huge, victorious grin on his face. And then he plunged into her.
Carla’s mouth opened in a dark, shocked ‘O’. I could see the head disappearing into her, stretching her wide, the dark shaft rushing into her body. Her back arched up off the bed, pressing her breasts against Greg’s broad chest. Her arms came up around him, fingers clawing at the muscles of his back. “God!” she cried out, her voice high and strained. And still he was moving, plunging deeper into her. I imagined him sliding up inside her, stretching her tight, soft channel. Already I knew, with a horrible pang of jealousy, that he was deeper than I’d ever been.
Carla took in a huge pant of air and then her head tilted back and she gave something like a scream, her whole body going rigid. He was right in her, to the root. The thick head must have been pressed right up against the end of her, deeper than any man she’d known. My hands hurt, and I realized I was digging my nails into my palms.
I wanted to ask if she was okay, but then he started to move in her, the shining black cock slipping from her, and she groaned as he powered back in again. Her hands pushed at his shoulders—she was trying to slow him down, to take it easy, but I could see her resistance fall away, her hands dropping down to the pillow as she stretched to accommodate him. Getting used to his size, I thought. What will I feel like to her, afterwards? He’ll ruin her for me.
Greg’s powerful muscles came into play now, his hands thumping down on either side of her head, his ass flexing as he drove into her again and again, a steady, pumping rhythm that had her first gasping, then groaning, then clutching at him with her thighs. With every thrust into her, his lean, hard pecs were dragging along her erect nipples, making her tremble and pant. He reached up with his hands and delicately stroked her cheeks, then leaned down and kissed her, his tongue diving into her open mouth even as he penetrated her below.
I’d been standing. Now I sank into the chair again, my legs no longer able to hold me. Between kisses, Carla was starting to talk, little cries of pleasure she’d never made with me. “Yes!” I heard her pant, “Yes! God!”
I could hear the cruelty thick in Greg’s voice when he spoke. “Say my name,” he ordered.
She didn’t. I was thankful for that, at least. Then he put one hand on her breast, caressing it while he fucked her, and firmly pinched the nipple. “Say it,” he told her again.
“G—Greg! God! Greg! Fuck me, Greg!” Her cries seemed to rattle around the room, reflecting back to me again and again. I could hear her building towards a climax, each cry higher than the last. And then suddenly, just as it seemed she was about to come, he stopped.
Her eyes, which had been screwed shut, flew open. She looked up at him, desperate. He sat back a little, drawing his cock completely from her, and ran his hands up the outside of her thighs.
“P-Please,” she moaned. “Please...” She’d never begged me like that.
Smiling, he wrapped his muscled forearms around her legs and dragged her down the bed a little, shuffling backwards himself. Then he lifted her legs so that they were vertical, pressed together. My heart was racing: I could see her tight, pink slit, shining with her juices, between her raised thighs. He was going to fuck her like that, like they did in porn films.
Bestselling author of the "Cuckolded" stories, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks http://victoriawessex.com
#3 · Edited by: VictoriaWessex
He teased her with it, running the head over her glistening lips, and I saw her hips jerk towards it, seeking it out.
Then he was driving into her, his shoulders holding her legs in the air, his thick black cock plunging deep, deep into her—even further than before. She let out a groan of pleasure as she was filled again, and it changed to a high squeal of shock as he slid right up inside her. As he started to thrust, he leaned forward, his weight pressing her legs back, back. She was gasping, eyes wide, bent almost double, spread as wide and open for him as it was possible to be. He could go right into her now, his hard groin slapping against her outer lips with every stroke. Her climax started to build again, and now she was thrashing and bucking under him. Her whole body was coated in a light sheen of sweat, her face flushed. His cock hammered into her hard and fast, drawing her up, up, up...and she cried out long and loud as her orgasm swept through her.
Just as it did, I saw Greg’s face contort into a snarl, and he thrust into her almost savagely. He was about to come too. Inside my wife. The thought of him doing it made the rage rise again inside me. That he’d actually spend himself there, where no man but her husband was meant to be. The only saving grace was that he was using—
And then I saw it. The condom.
Half-unrolled, on the bed by Greg’s knee. He must have stripped it off when he pulled out of her to change position.
I jumped from my chair and took two staggering steps towards the bed. But it was too late—I saw Greg’s hips jerk and shake, and he turned sharply to look at me. He grinned as he unloaded inside her, his ass clenching as he shot again and again, the head of his cock right up against the unprotected opening to her womb.
I stood there frozen, watching as Carla, too, reacted to it—the feeling of hot blasts of cum coating her insides, something she hadn’t felt in years, since she came off the pill. Her head jerked up off the bed, her mouth moving soundlessly, eyes huge with shock and fear.
Then it was over, and he was pulling out of her. Without him holding them, her legs sank back to the bed and she lay there, dazed, her thighs spread, knees up.
I tried to find the words. “You—You—”
Greg turned to me, picking up his pants. “What?”
“You took it off...you took the condom off, you bastard!”
“Hey!” he suddenly snapped. “Relax! Everyone had a good time. Carla, did you have a good time?”
She was still panting on the bed. I turned to her for support. But instead she swallowed and said, “Y—Yes.”
Greg stared back at me challengingly. Now I looked like the bad guy, spoiling the fun. “She isn’t on the pill,” I explained weakly. “We use condoms—she could get pregnant.”
As I stood there open mouthed and Carla lay stunned on the bed, he pulled his clothes on. Then he walked over to the bed, leaned down and drew Carla into a kiss. At first she didn’t react, but then her mouth opened and she started kissing him back, hard. When he broke away, he was smiling.
“The room’s good all night,” he told me. “You might as well use it.” He looked back at Carla on the bed. “See you soon, Carla,” he told her with a smirk, and it felt like it was for my benefit as much as hers.
When he’d gone, I walked slowly over to where my wife lay, thighs still spread wide. From the way he’d been coming, I’d expected it to be running out of her, but only a trickle of thick, white fluid was spilling down from her lips. It was all inside her, I realized, horrified. How long had it been since her last period? A few weeks, at a rough guess. She was right in the middle of her cycle.
This was insane. What had I done? Everything I’d thought about how I’d feel, about how I’d enjoy sharing her, had been wrong. I felt utterly humiliated. The worst part was, the horror and shock did nothing to quell the other side of it. The sight of them fucking, even the sight of her like this, used and dazed, filled with his cum, was a massive turn-on. My cock was almost painfully hard, and I pulled down my pants with shaking hands. It looked so small, after seeing Greg’s. I climbed up onto the bed, between her thighs.
She looked up at me, her eyes still only half-focused. “Use a condom,” she told me. “We still have to be careful.”
It made me curse under my breath, but she was right. I grabbed one and rolled it on, then plunged into her. God! She felt different, so loose and stretched. Greg had changed her forever. I could feel his cum, wet and sloppy inside her—and so much of it! And then suddenly I was over the edge and coming myself, my own seed safely trapped inside the condom. As I leaned forward, gasping, I could see that even now, with her husband fucking her, she was looking past me, eyes glazed. Thinking about her new lover.That's the first three chapters, but we're just getting started. The full story is 6 chapters and 17,000 words.
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