It was the day — Adam’s birthday had arrived. We’d gone out the night before with some friends and done the standard celebration, complete with a cake and plenty of jokes about how, at forty, he was now “over the hill.” But Adam had been waiting for his real present, and the day had finally come. His deepest fantasies were about to come true. He was going to watch me have sex with a series of men and become the cuckold he’d always dreamed of being.
We’d been dancing around his fantasy for a couple of years, almost since the beginning of our marriage. Several times a month he would choose a provocative outfit for me, and we would go out to a bar, or a hotel, or a club. Once at our destination, Adam would choose a man for me to seduce, and I would see just how far I could get him to go without actually having sex. Adam would watch from afar, becoming more and more aroused as my partner grew bolder . . . tongue down my throat . . . hands groping my breasts . . . fingers sliding into my pussy.
In all of our previous encounters, Adam would essentially come to my rescue before things progressed to me screwing the man I had picked up. Often his hard-on would be so insistent that we never even made it home before he had to have me, taking me in bathrooms, closets, or the car as he satisfied his pent-up need.
Our little game was all well and good, but it didn’t truly scratch Adam’s deep-seated itch to be cuckolded. He wanted to be present as a stranger fucked me, unable to intervene, humiliated by another man having his way with his wife.
About a month ago, I had finally agreed — an acknowledgment of his upcoming birthday. Adam was ecstatic and set about finding a participant, or participants, for his little role-play. A few days before his birthday, he announced that he had it all lined up.
Although I had said yes, I was worried about what all this meant for both myself and our relationship. Adam had promised to make sure I was physically safe, and I believed he would do his best, but who knew what would happen in the heat of the action?
I was even more concerned about how this would potentially change our marriage. Although he claimed it was what he had always wanted, I wondered if he would change his mind and resent me once it actually took place.
Most troubling was the possibility that he would want me to keep doing it beyond his birthday.
“You’re sure you want this?” I asked on multiple occasions. “You won’t be jealous? Some men think they want this, but then they end up angry at their wives or themselves.”
“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, babe. Do you know how lucky I am to have a wife who will do this for me?”
“How did you find them? My, um, partners I mean. Did you put out an ad saying, ‘Hey, fellas, come cuckold me?’”
“Well, pretty much,” he admitted. “When I got the responses, I followed up and explained the parameters of what is and isn’t allowed to them. And I made them prove they’re clean.”
“And there are men who agreed to this?”
“There are plenty of freaks in the world, baby. For every guy like me who wants to be cuckolded, there’s at least one more willing to oblige him. Showing the volunteers your photo just sealed the deal.”
He crossed the room to kiss me, then handed me a wrapped box. “But it’s your birthday,” I protested.
“Believe me, this is part of my present,” he replied. “I’ll have another box for you before each of the guys. Now go put it on. The first one will be here soon.”
We agreed that inviting strange men into our home maybe wasn’t the greatest idea, so we rented a house in Monterrey, right on the coast. The men would meet me in the living room where I would give them the thumbs up or down. If they passed, I would then take them to the bedroom where Adam was waiting for us.
I had just finished changing in the powder room and had returned to the living room when there was a knock on the door. I looked around, but Adam had apparently already taken his place in the bedroom. It was now up to me to bring his fantasy to life.
I swallowed hard, then opened the front door. In front of me stood a man from central casting — tall, lean but muscular, incredibly handsome, and wearing a suit and tie — just the sort of guy Adam knew to be my type. He must have chosen this one with that in mind to help me “get in the mood.”
I blushed as the man in the doorway looked me up and down, his eyes drinking in the sheer white lingerie Adam had chosen, which just about hid my curves. “Hi,” he said, smiling. “You’re even more beautiful than your photo.” He took my hand, then leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I stood there blankly, unsure of what to do next when he spoke again, “This is the right place, right? I mean, you and I, we’re going to, uh . . ."
I snapped out of it, and invited him in. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry. I . . . we don’t do this all the time, despite what my husband might have told you.”
“Adam told me it was your first time. Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle . . . with you anyway.”
“Do you want something to drink? Wine? Something harder?” Now that my first partner was there, I was beginning to wish for something to drink myself.
“I want you to show me the bedroom,” he said, taking my hand again and pulling me into him. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he whispered, giving me a gentle kiss on the lips, “and make him feel like shit.”
I nodded, reminding myself again that this was what my husband wanted, and led him to the first-floor master bedroom where Adam was waiting in the seating area. He closed the door behind us, then gestured for me to get on the bed. He took off his jacket and began loosening his tie as he spoke.
“Look at you, lying there so beautiful,” he said in a low voice. “You’ve been waiting for a man to satisfy you, haven’t you?”
I glanced at my husband, my eyes asking what I should do. His eyes flashed back the message to play along, and he smiled faintly. My partner caught the exchange, and growled to Adam, “You stay out of it.”
“He’s the problem, isn’t he sweetheart? He couldn’t even satisfy you on your wedding night, could he? Pathetic excuse for a man, not knowing what to do with a woman like you. Well, don’t worry. I’m going to make you cum, and I’m going to make him watch.” He continued to divest himself of clothing until he was standing in just his shorts, his healthy cock threatening to escape the fly at any moment.
Suddenly the white lingerie made sense. Adam had created a scenario where his brand-new wife was taken—on their wedding night—by another man.
“Couldn’t he get it up? Or did he cum too soon, dribbling out all over you from his sad little pecker? My lover climbed into bed with me, removing his underwear as he did so.
“Put your hand down here,” he said, taking my hand and placing it on his throbbing member. “Try to get your fingers around this piece.” He was rock-solid and huge — definitely bigger than Adam — and I wondered whether he had been chosen because the size of his dick would further emasculate my husband. “Stroke me, sugar,” he urged. “Feel what a real man can do for you.”
His hands traveled to my hips, where he pulled down the thong I was wearing and lightly ran his fingers over me, causing me to shudder. He pushed my thighs apart and slid a finger into me, then lifted it to his mouth and tasted. “Mmm. You’re wet, but I want you soaking.”
He slid two fingers back in and curled them upwards until he found my spot. I arched my back and moaned involuntarily as he manipulated the sensitive place. “There it is,” he murmured. “He’s never found it has he?” Despite my loyalty to Adam, I had to admit that my current partner really had it — like I’d never felt before — and I writhed on his hand, the pressure building, until an orgasm tore through my body. As my breathing slowed, I looked over at Adam, afraid of his reaction to another man getting me off, but he wasn’t angry or hurt. He was mesmerized.
“Did you like that?” I closed my eyes and nodded. I had never been finger-fucked so thoroughly. “Good. I know how to treat you right, don’t I?” He kissed me deeply, then pulled me up to my knees, facing him. “We know you like my fingers. Let’s see how you like my cock.”
He lifted my negligee off and turned me, now naked, toward Adam. “Get a good look at what you’re missing, cuck.” His hands cupped my breasts as he continued to taunt Adam. “These tits are too good for you . . . so is this sweet ass,” he said, moving his hands to squeeze my backside. “And let’s not even get started on this exquisite pussy. Bend over, baby, we’re going to give this wretched excuse for a man a real show.”
Once he had me where he wanted me, he positioned himself behind me, poised to penetrate. “I’m going to take your woman now, and she’s going to love every minute of it.”
He entered me with one forceful stroke, and I gasped. His dick was a monster, and I was stretched, but I was also wet and relaxed from my previous climax, and it felt amazing. He pulled me up close to him, sliding me up and down on his cock, mouth on my neck, hand on my clit.
I hadn’t planned to enjoy the experience, but my lover was truly skilled, and soon I was truly into it, forgetting Adam was even there as pleasure coursed through my body. It was only when he pushed me forward onto my hands and knees again and announced, “I’m going to cream in your wife,” that I remembered what was really happening, but it was far too late for me to stop it. The force of his cum flooding me again and again brought on my second orgasm of the afternoon.
My partner waited until I had stopped contracting around him before he pulled out. As I sank to the bed, he ran a finger down his softening organ and showed how wet it was to Adam, “See? That’s your wife. She’s all over my dick.” He put his fingers on my thighs, which were quickly becoming slick with the cum flowing back out of me, and showed my husband some of the copious semen he had deposited. “Her pussy is full of me, too.”
He leaned down and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “God, you’re hot. If you ever want to do this again, just give me a call.” He began getting dressed. “He,” he snarled at Adam, contempt in his voice, “has my number.” I heard him zip up, and then he was gone, leaving Adam and me alone.
Adam was quickly by my side, stroking my hair. “Hey, how are you?” he asked. I wasn’t sure how to answer, so I didn’t.
Adam tried again. “It’s okay if you liked it. I want you to like it. You did like it, didn’t you?”
I began to answer, “Adam, I don’t know if I can . . ."
He cut me off by grabbing my hand and placing it on his groin. “You feel how hard I am, don’t you? This is the greatest day of my life.” He handed me another box. “Here, put this on.”
I wanted to protest, but he was clearly thrilled by how his plan was working out so far. I opened the box, and found a button down shirt, v-tab tie, and short plaid skirt. “Adam, what the hell?”
I was about to tell him I couldn’t do it again when there was another knock at the front door.
To be continued . . .
Copyright GWinterbourne 2018.