I stood in the hall, trying to time my entry for maximum effect. As the guy rolled off my wife of 22 years, I carried the tray of bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee into the bedroom. It took a moment for Gwen's eyes to focus on me, and another second for her mind to realize the ramifications. I saw fear in her beautiful blue eyes.
"Wow! I bet you guys are hungry after that hard fuck!" I gushed. "I have just the thing to help you get your strength back, Jack. I hope you like your coffee strong."
As I spoke, I placed the tray on the bed with the stands on either side of his naked body. To his credit, he remained calm as he watched me closely.
"Gwen's been needing a good hard fuck for sometime, now. I'm so relieved she found a real man with a big cock. I see you gave her a real big load, Jack," I told him as I motioned toward to Gwen's sloppy pussy. "Thanks for riding her bareback, man! If we have a boy, we'll name him after you. You don't mind, do you?"
"Jim! I didn't know you were home... I thought you were coming back this evening," Gwen finally managed to croak. "When did you get back?"
She tried to pull the sheet up to cover her tits as she spoke, but I had been careful to sit on her side of the bed with the sheet was still in a wadded-up ball, directly under my ass. She was unable to gain the modesty she sought.
"Sometime between the first fuck and the world class blowjob you gave Jack, Darling," I smiled. "Man, did you gobble his knob! I just had to beam with pride when I saw how well you could handle Jack's rather impressive tool. You are a cocksucker extraordinaire! She's quite the cocksucker, don't you think, Jack?"
Jack was beginning to relax and actually was sipping his coffee when I posed the question. Grinning, he looked over at Gwen and nodded.
"She sure is that," agreed Jack. "She's a natural and she never spilled a drop. If I knock her up, you can name the little bastard Jack, but use your own last name."
Gwen was recovering her senses and becoming quite agitated. Her eyes searched my face for some indication of where I was headed with the conversation. She held her left hand over her swollen pussy and her right over her chest.
"How did you like her tits, Jack? I know they aren't real big, but they still feel pretty firm, don't you think? Do I see a few little bite marks on them, you devil?"
To my surprise, Jack reached over and grabbed Gwen's left tit and pinched it as he answered, "Yeah, I've seen better, but they aren't bad, especially for her age and having a couple kids. I just couldn't resist chewing on her nipples," admitted Jack.
"What the hell is wrong with you two?" erupted Gwen as she pushed Jack's hand from her breast. "You shouldn't be having this conversation! I'm your wife, Jim. How can you talk about me like some common..." and her voice trailed off as the sentence went unfinished.
"Gwen, I know when I'm beat. Jack's made me a cuckold. I may as well get used to it. Congratulations, Jack. You really pinned the horns on me. I'll probably be eating your sperm out of Gwen's pussy after you leave. I'll bet it won't be the last time you leave a cream pie for me," I chuckled.
Jack was actually eating with gusto now. He grinned and nodded again as he finished his poached egg.
"I'll do my best to keep that cunt stuffed with cream. It looks like a win-win situation. Gwen will be getting a good fuck, I'll be getting some extra ass and you'll have dessert. Thanks for the breakfast, Dude. I have to get to work, but I'll be glad to stop in and fuck her for you a few times a week," Jack stated as he slid his legs to the floor and stood.
"I've heard of guys that like to have their wife fucked by men with big cocks like me. I'm glad you're one on those guys. It makes this whole situation a lot better. Thanks for the breakfast, and the fuck. The breakfast was especially good," he laughed as he walked from the bedroom.
"Let me show you the door, Jack," I offered as I jumped to my feet and followed him down the stairs.
I managed to get to the door to the garage ahead of Jack and I opened it and motioned for him to exit in front of me. As he walked past me, I estimated him to be about six foot-two and around 230 pounds. He wouldn't be easy, but I had it to do.
I stepped into the garage behind Jack. As he pulled his keys from his pocket and pressed the button to unlock his door, I clenched both my hands together and hammered him behind the head with all my strength. He dropped to his knees, like the poll-axed steer John Wayne always referred to in his westerns.
Then, as Jack kneeled before me stunned, I pulled my dick out and grabbed my digital camera of a nearby shelf.
"You look a little shaky, Jack. Let me help you revive."
Earlier I had finished off three cups of coffee and now was the time to rid myself of them. I began to piss on Jack's head and shoulders. I directed the stream with one hand and snapped a few pictures with the other. He came out of his funk and turned his head to yell something at me, so I just aimed for his mouth. That was my favorite photograph, by far. Jack's mouth was stretched wide open with piss flying in it. Jack started to get to his feet so I stepped back and put the camera back on the shelf as I squeezed off my stream and replaced my cock in my pants. A man cannot respond to danger very well while as his cock is exposed.
"You miserable little bastard!" yelled Jack as he started for me with clenched fists. "You cold-cocked me. Let's see how you do in a fair fight!"
I pulled my Smith & Wesson from my waistband and cocked it in his face. Suddenly, Jack wasn't as belligerent.
"A fair fight? You weigh 50 pounds more than I do and have three inches on me. That may be your idea of a fair fight, but not mine. You shit all over me when you fucked my wife. Surely you had to expect I'd be just a little resentful, you dumb fuck. In return, I pissed all over you and have a few pictures to prove it, asshole," I raged.
"A fair fight is when the rivals are equally matched. If you have the balls, show up at the county fair grounds at six this evening. Bring your biggest gun and we'll have a fucking fair fight! Now get the hell out of my house. If I ever see you near here again, you'll get a "blowjob" you won't like. I'll blow a fucking hole in your balls!"
I pushed the button for the garage door to open. Jack backed away and climbed into his car. As soon as it started, he sped out into the street. I closed the door and headed back upstairs.
Gwen was in the shower when I reached the bedroom. I stripped and went down the hall to the guest bathroom for my shower. I was back and getting dressed when Gwen finally turned the water off. I was completely dressed by the time she entered the bedroom.
It was obvious she had been crying. Her hands shook as she clung to the towel wrapped around her.
"Jim, I'm so sorry!" she wailed. "It was a mistake. I am so ashamed. Are you going to leave me, or throw me out?"
"Why would I do that, Sweetheart? I asked. "You've made me a cuckold. I'm new to the whole thing, but I've been reading up on it all night. I'm not an unreasonable man. I'll have to give it a chance and see if I like it before I do anything rash, like tossing your cheating ass out. Why did you shower so soon? It was my job to clean our your pussy with my tongue."
"Oh, Jim! I know you wouldn't do that! The very idea is sickening. Please don't suggest it again," cried Gwen.
"That Jack seemed like a nice guy, didn't he?" I lied. "Now that we have a bull, I'll be expected to do things to please him and show him my gratitude for fucking my wife. Maybe he'll give us a son! Wouldn't that be an honor?"
"Jim, don't talk like that. I don't want his baby. I feel nauseous considering such a horrible thing. Our two daughters are the perfect family."
"Gwen, you had him cum in your pussy, God only knows how many times. I'm sure you understand that's how women get pregnant. You wanted him to cum in you, so I can only conclude you want to have his baby. If it's a girl, let's name it Mary, after your mom."
"I don't want his baby!" bawled Gwen. "It's the wrong time of the month for me to get pregnant."
"Well, that's only reliable to a point. I remember how surprised you were when you got pregnant with Jen. No matter, the next time Jack sleeps over, he'll take another shot at it," I reasoned.
"Jim! What's wrong with you? He'll never get another chance. It's over! I'll never be unfaithful again. I swear!" sobbed Gwen.
"I have to get to work, Gwen, but we'll discuss this later. If Jack isn't a suitable bull, it's my job as the cuckster to find someone that is. I'll think about it while I'm working," I told Gwen.
She burst into louder sobs and threw herself on the bed as I headed out the door. I was hoping she was beginning to feel some of the torment I had experienced when I returned home a day earlier than scheduled.
It was around ten in the previous evening when I pulled into our drive. I decide to leave the car outside because the garage door opener was noisy. Gwen wasn't expecting me and hearing it open could upset or frighten her. It wasn't till later that I saw Jack's car in my spot in the garage.
I found a pair of man's pants at the bottom of the stairs, along with one of Gwen's dresses. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what was transpiring. I went upstairs and heard moans and other noises that should not come from my bed. At least not when I was standing in tthe hall.
Gwen and the asshole were doing the dirty. They had a light on and the door open. I could see them quite clearly in the full-length mirror on the closet door. Stunned, I went back downstairs and poured myself a stiff drink. It helped, so I had another.
I considered the situation. Gwen and I had been married 22 years. We had two daughters in college. We had worked and sweated for everything we owned. We had always been a team and it was difficult to consider life without her. Still, I had to accept that she fucking another man in my bed at that moment. What should I do?
Divorce was the obvious answer, and the most likely. I knew that. Then I thought about how I could divorce Gwen anytime. That was the simple part. What could I do to make Gwen see what she had done to me, and my trust? How could I make her feel what I felt? With the help of another scotch, I decided on a course of action.
She wanted to act like a slut and make me a cuckold. I decided that I would become the cuckold she seemed to want me to be, and then some. Why do anything half way? I knew I couldn't eat her out after sex with another man, or even allow her to have another man as long as we were still married. I also knew she would be scared to death when she realized I had discovered her having sex with that asshole. I would talk the talk of the cuckold, but I wasn't going to walk the walk.
I dug out my camera and managed more than a few clear pictures of my bride and her houseguest. I downloaded them and printed some. I checked the wallet in the pocket of the guy's pants and found out who he was and where he lived.
I Googled the word "cuckold" and found all kinds of stories, articles, and web sites dedicated to that fetish. I printed out a lot of them. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, so I spent most of the night on the computer. Then I placed different stories and articles, as well as pictures of Gwen and her lover, in various rooms of the house.
Finally, it was time to make some breakfast and begin my life knowing I was a cuckold. I had no idea how long I had actually been one. I realized I'd never know that unless Gwen told me the truth, and how would I know it was the truth? That seemed unlikely.
Later, as I sat at my desk at work, it occurred to me that I had pretty much challenged that asshole, Jack, to a gunfight. Now that I had cooled off, I could see no upside to a duel to the death with some dumb fuck. I had to get out of it. That is if the asshole was going to have the balls to show up with a gun.
I left work early and went to the street where Jack lived. His car was in the driveway. It appeared that he took the day off. Around five, I saw him walk out of his house. He had a large golf bag in his hand, and it contained no clubs! I watched as he opened the car door and carefully placed it in the back seat. It looked like he was keeping our appointment and he wasn't planning on using a putter, or being on the short end of a gun battle!
Luckily, I had kept his cell phone when I returned his wallet to his pocket. I dialed 911 and anonymously reported a deranged man making threats with a gun of some kind in the area of the county fairgrounds. He was driving a blue Ford sedan with "motherfucker" spray painted on the passenger side. It seems Jack had not yet noticed my detailing efforts on his chariot. Even the town cops should be able to identify that car! I wiped the cell phone clean and tossed it in the Lehigh River and went home.
Gwen had dinner ready when I came through the door. It smelled good and I was hungry, so I sat down and ate. Gwen picked at her food and kept watching me as if I was a cat and she was a mouse. She jerked when the phone rang. I answered it before she could get to it.
It seemed that a detective Anderson wanted to know if I knew a guy named Jack Sherwood and if I had challenged him to a gunfight for having his way with my wife. He had been picked up after a tip, and he had a sawed-off shotgun and a colt revolver in his possession!
"I don't know the guy. Maybe he's thinking of running for vice president or something," I opined to the detective.
The cop admitted Sherwood's story sounded strange. Then he let the other shoe fall. He told me that Jack Sherwood was on parole for assault and was not allowed to have any weapons in his possession, let alone an illegal shotgun. It looked like he was going back to the big house!
I was glad to hear he was going back up the river, but felt a nagging concern about my safety when he was released. Would he harbor any grudges? I made a mental note to use the internet to track his progress as a guest of the commonwealth. I made another mental note to pick up a few more weapons and ammunition.
Gwen had listened to my end of the conversation, but I knew there was no way she could have determined what I was talking about or with whom I was speaking. She didn't yet have the nerve to speak to me.
I moved my personal hygiene products into the guest bath and went to bed early. It had been a long night and I was exhausted. Gwen watched silently as I closed the door of the guest room.
Things went on that way for almost a week. Gwen finally screwed up the nerve to speak to me.
"Jim, I've apologized to you. I can't go on like this. Tell me if you're divorcing me or not, please. Tell me if you hate me. Tell me what you're thinking," she pleaded.
"I'm not sure what to think, Gwen. I haven't any plans for divorce. I'm still trying to get a handle on being a cuckold. There's a lot to it! I'm kind of waiting for your lover Jack to come over and fuck you properly so I can eat you out. I know that's one of my jobs. If you still feel that he isn't the bull you had hoped he'd be, I should try to find a suitable one for you. It's my duty to see that you are well fucked by a real man. I'm just not certain how to go about it, but I've been reading up on it," I answered.
"Jim! It was a mistake! That idiot will not be back. I won't have any more lovers and I don't want you to be a damn cuckold, okay?" she cried.
"It's a bit late to not want me to be a cuckold, Gwen. I am one. You saw to that. This is all very confusing. You decided to make me a cuckold and now you tell me you don't want me to be one. I don't know how to respond to that, Gwen."
"I made a horrible mistake. I love you the way you were. I don't want a husband that eats me after some other man climaxes inside me. I don't want you to find men to fuck me. I want only you to fuck me.. to make love to me," wailed Gwen. "I swear it only happened that once and it will never happen again. That's the truth."
"So, it was just coincidence that the one time I came home a day early, I found you sleeping with some guy? If I had come early any other time I would have found you alone, not giving some guy a blowjob?" I queried.
"Jim, I know you're upset and I deserve that, but it's true. You caught me the only time I ever strayed and even before you came in on us, I regretted it. He was rough and self-centered. It wasn't a very good experience," avowed Gwen.
"If he had been another Warren Beatty in the sack, you'd still be sleeping with him? Is that what you're saying? You're quitting because he's not a great lover? Was his cock too small?" I persisted.
"No, I'm stopping because it was wrong, it felt terrible, emotionally. I realize I could lose the one man I truly love. I was stupid, but I'm a lot smarter now, Jim. Please believe me and forgive me," begged Gwen.
"I'm having a great deal of trouble getting past the fact that I can't trust you, Gwen. You admit to the one affair of which I have photographic evidence, and deny any other lapses, so to speak. How do you make this right? How do we resume a normal life? How can our marriage ever be balanced again?" I asked.
"What do you mean by 'balanced'?" Gwen repeated the word. "Do you want to have an affair to get even? Would that let us get past this? If that's what it takes, I'll go along with it. You can have one night with some tramp and then we'll be even, okay?"
"No, that isn't okay, Gwen. That would be accepting your story as the truth and I can't do that. It could be the truth, but it's also possible every male in the state has banged you. I have no way of knowing how many men you've had, so excuse me if I don't take your word for it. I'm a born skeptic," I admitted.
I was forming a plan as I spoke. I didn't know if I wanted to stay married to Gwen, but I did know I wanted her to suffer more, a lot more. If we divorced, my opportunities to influence her misery would be minimal, at best.
"Just to keep things fair, I reserve the right to have as many affairs as possible until you actually catch me, and have evidence of my infidelity, like the pictures I have of you and Romeo. You didn't have my consent to fuck Jack and you would never have told me you had, if I hadn't caught you. I have no idea how many men used your pussy before Jack, so I'm not going to limit myself to a one-night stand. Your limit was fucking until you were caught, so I'm insisting on the same opportunity," I asserted.
Gwen was desperate. I could see that. I watched her mull over my offer and slowly reach a decision.
"If that's the way it has to be, Jim, okay. I don't like it and I never had any other men but you and that fucking bastard, Jack. I just allowed him to flatter me and charm me until I weakened and slept with him. I'll never make that mistake again, no matter what happens between us, Jim," Gwen vowed.
"Can I conclude from your statement that Jack isn't going to be spending any more nights in my bed?" I asked cruelly.
"Yes! How can I make it any clearer? Jack hasn't even been at work since that day. I heard today that he was arrested for gun smuggling or something and he's in jail. I was horrified. I can't help but think he could have killed me, or you, or both of us. I was extremely foolish, Jim, but I've learned from my mistake. Believe me."
"Well, Gwen, I really can't believe you, regardless of the subject. That is the crux of the problem," I replied. "Will I ever believe you again? I have no idea."
"I know that, Jim, and that is the part that really hurts. We were always so honest with each other before my fall from grace," sobbed Gwen. "I've destroyed it and I'll do everything in my power to restore it, at least as far as it's possible."
"I guess we have an agreement, Gwen. You should make no mistake, however. If I even suspect you're fucking around on me, I'll use the pictures I have to win a very favorable settlement in a divorce. I sure as hell won't give you three strikes!" I pronounced.
"That part is easy, Jim. You'll not have any new reasons to toss me to the curb. I'm sure of that," Gwen responded. "Can I get rid of those terrible pictures you have all over the house? The one on the refrigerator makes me want to vomit every time I see it. I'm so afraid the kids, or my family, will stop in and see them. I'd appreciate removing all the material about cuckolds and slut wives, too."
"I'll gather it all up this evening and put it all away, for now. It seems ironic that you were so willing to make me a cuckold and be a slut wife, but you want to keep it from everyone. Isn't that a clue as to how you should have thought before you fucked the guy?" I reasoned. "If you're ashamed of it, why do it, Gwen?"
Gwen gave no response as she sobbed quietly. I went and picked up all my literature and photos and placed them in my desk in the den and locked the drawer.
I had no intention of sleeping with other women. It just didn't seem like a reasonable response to Gwen's actions. I did plan on making Gwen wonder and worry and try to keep tabs on me. I knew from Gwen's infidelity, not trusting your spouse eats you up. I had decided that I wasn't going to play the game. If she wanted to cheat again, I'd find out sooner or later. To spend one's resources, sanity, and time trying to keep a spouse faithful is a real waste of energy. If it comes to that, you are better off divorcing them. Would Gwen reach that decision, too?
Things settled down into a routine for the next few weeks. Gwen was really trying to be a positive, caring wife. The house was kept perfect and the meals were delicious. We even began discussing our kids and work again. After dinner one evening, she broached a subject she must have been thinking about for sometime.
"Jim, when are you going to come back to our bedroom to sleep? It's been over a month since that incident. I'd really feel better if we slept together as husband and wife," admitted Gwen.
"Gwen, you can join me if you like, but I'll never again sleep in that bed, or that room. My reasons should be obvious to you," I added.
"I understand, Jim. I thought you'd feel that way. I'll move into the guest room with you. I really want you to make love to me again, Sweetheart," smiled Gwen.
"I don't have any condoms, Gwen, so don't get your hopes up," I replied.
"We're married, Jim! You don't need to use a condom. You know that," replied Gwen with surprise.
"Sorry, Gwen, but I do. I've been to the doctor and my health seems to be good, and I have no STD's and I want to keep it that way. Here's the results," I told her as I tossed the papers on the table. "Do you have any you can show me?"
Gwen gasped at my question. It seemed the possibility she could have been infected by Jack never crossed her
"No...no, Jim, I don't. I'll make an appointment tomorrow and have it done. I did have my period so I'm not pregnant. I'm so sorry this all happened! I've been so stupid, but we both know that. I'm still going to sleep with you from now on, if you really meant it when you said I could," pleaded Gwen.
So Gwen and I began sleeping together again. Sex wasn't an option, but I did sleep better with Gwen at my side. It's one of those things that become part of you that you don't really notice. Sleeping with a woman is better than sleeping alone; that is if she isn't sleeping with anyone else!
A couple weeks later, Gwen was in tears as she told me she had contracted gonorrhea. I wasn't overly surprised, but for some reason, she was stunned. She began treatment immediately.
Time tends to dull our emotions. Eight months after I caught Jack Sherwood with Gwen, she and I had gradually inched back into most of our old habits and activities. In some ways we were doing better because Gwen was trying so hard to be the wife I wanted her to be. We joked, worked in the house and yard together, dined out and traveled. We had not resumed making love.
Gwen had been cleared medically for sometime, but I still saw Jack between her legs, or feeding her his cock and it made me ill. I just couldn't muster any sexual desire for Gwen. It was obvious to her that I felt that way, but she never said anything about it. I often woke up with her clinging to me as she slept and I wondered if I'd ever be able to forget the doubts and fears Gwen's fling with Jack had created in my mind.
I had pretty much forgotten my agreement with Gwen that I was going to have affairs until I was caught. It was a moot point, really. I wasn't looking for any complications and never even came close to an affair.
One evening, Gwen told me she had to travel overnight the following week. There was a seminar she had to attend to keep her job. I could tell she was very nervous about it.
"I'll call when I get there and every couple hours after that," she promised. "I'll be with other married women from the office and I won't drink anything, Jim. You have no reason to worry, I swear."
"It hadn't occurred to me to worry, Gwen," I answered. "I don't have the time or energy to chase you around and watch you. I'll know if you give me reason to doubt you again. You realize that, don't you?"
"I do, Jim, and you'll never get any reasons from me. I love you and want so much for you to love me again. I'd give anything for that to happen," replied Gwen sadly.
It was around seven in the evening. Gwen had just called from her hotel and I convinced her she didn't have to keep calling home. Her guilt and fear were getting on my nerves, but I knew it had to be bothering her even more. I was just finishing my third beer when the doorbell rang.
I opened the door to see Sandy Moore standing on my step. She had on a pair of shorts and a tank top that clung to her body.
"Jim, Ed is out of town on a business trip and our air conditioner has stopped working. If Gwen can spare you for a little while, I was wondering if you could come over and see if you can get it working," she pleaded.
Sandy Moore was about 42 and two of her kids had been in the same class as my daughters. To say she was well preserved for a woman her age, or any age really, was an understatement. She lived on the next block and I had helped her husband, Ed, fix his dishwasher a few years ago. Maybe she thought I was some sort of mechanical genius, or something.
I considered her request. I knew nothing about air conditioners, or anything electrical. On the other hand, I would have the opportunity to look at her ass and tits on display in her outfit. I made my decision based on my little head's desires.
Sandy handed me a cold beer, which I really didn't need, but greatly appreciated, as I looked dumbly at her AC unit. I couldn't even see a reset button. One thing I had learned years ago, after having a TV repairman charge me $92 to plug my TV back in, was to always check the power supply.
To that end, I went down to the basement and looked at the electric service. Bingo! I found a breaker that had kicked. I pushed it back to the 'on' position and returned upstairs. Before I got to the unit, I could hear a soft hum. It was working.
"Jim! Thanks so much!" exclaimed Sandy as she listened to the soft purr of the machine. "There must be some way I can repay you for helping me out like this!"
I woke up and tried to remember where I was and what I had been doing. Then it all came back to me. Sandy had offered me a few more beers, and by nine o'clock we were in her bed, fucking like monkeys! I smiled to myself as I recalled a few of the positions we had enjoyed. I looked to my side and saw Sandy sleeping next to me nude. Her tits were fantastic, so I began to massage them. Soon I was trying to feed from her. Within a few minutes, I was on her, pumping for all I was worth. We climaxed together and I rolled off, feeling better than I had in years.
"Boy, you two must be famished after fucking so hard," sounded a voice from the door. I turned to see Ed, Sandy's husband, carrying a food tray as he entered the bedroom.
"Ed!" gasped Sandy. "I thought you were going to be gone two more days!"
"I can see that, Sandy," laughed Ed. "Jim, you've pinned the horns on me good! I have to give you credit, Man. I guess I'm a cuckold and I'll be eating your cum from Sandy's pussy from now on. She has needed a good fuck for some time. It looks like your big cock really did the job. Look at that messy pussy!"
As he spoke, Ed moved to place the tray in front of me. I realized how the game would end. I decided right then to change the script. I leapt from the bed and actually dove through the bedroom window. The fact that the window was closed and I was on the second floor, mattered not. My life was in danger!
I felt glass gouge my back as I smashed through the window. Luckily, that was soon forgotten as I landed on my shoulder and heard a loud crunching sound. I was stunned but I was still gripped by fear, so I struggled to my feet and ran for safety. At least I tried to run. My right arm hung at my side, swinging in every direction as I staggered for home. Through my shock and pain, I told myself things couldn't get any worse. I would be safe once I got inside my house. I could call an ambulance. As I approached my front door, I heard someone call my name. With some difficulty, I turned.
"Hey, Buddy. You look a little under the weather," chuckled Jack Sherwood as he sauntered toward me.
