No two marriages are exactly alike just as no two people are exactly alike.
Colin and his wife Rachel love each other. They live happily together in a pleasant detached house not far from the seafront in Southsea on England’s south coast. She is his second wife and, in her early forties, is a good ten years younger than him. Like most middle-aged couples they have a modestly active sex life but unlike most middle-aged couples, Rachel regularly sleeps with other men too.
Because Rachel is an honest person, Colin knows about this, has always known about it and is content to live with it. He believes it enriches their marriage. The light-hearted evidence of his story suggests that for them at least, he is right.
Colin’s first wife Sarah slept with other men too. Sarah was not an honest person so Colin did not know about it for many years. When he found out, it destroyed the trust they had in each other and soon afterwards, it destroyed their marriage too.
Colin realised he values honesty more than fidelity; at least the way most people think of it.
This is Colin and Rachel’s relationship told in my words. Like so many of us with a big secret, Colin felt the need to tell someone and asked if I thought it would make a good story. I believe it does, both as an erotic tale in its own right, and as an example of how the life less monogamous can be lived well or lived badly.
It also shows that happy marriages come in many shapes and forms.
I have changed all the names but this time, none of the places so if you are ever in the Southsea area, you might well come across one or both of them as you walk down the streets. If you meet a man walking a dog along the seafront alone, he might have more on his mind than appearances would suggest.
And if you book a holiday house there, you might even sleep in a room where Rachel and one of her lovers have recently fucked.
I hope you enjoy it.
***
The wind blew spray over the sea front walkway as I trudged along, collar raised. It was a cold Sunday afternoon in February; by rights I should have been at home with my wife Rachel in our snug, warm house, watching football or perhaps a movie on TV, or maybe even be at the cinema followed by dinner in one of the town’s many local restaurants.
But not this Sunday.
There was a whimper from Jessie, our black Labrador. Soaking wet from the spray and from playing in the shallows, even she was beginning to lose interest in the walk but it was still far too early to think about returning.
I looked at my watch; another hour to kill; another hour which my wife and her latest lover would spend together in bed. I walked on in the cold knowing that at that very moment, in the sweaty heat of a familiar bedroom, my wife’s soft body was being used by another man.
Or perhaps she was using his. On reflection, that seemed a better description.
I reached the sad, almost empty amusement arcade at the end of the promenade and looked at the brightly coloured but half closed buildings. The cafe was open so I bought a large takeaway coffee, sipped it, staring out at the choppy grey sea and looked at my watch once again.
He had been there for an hour already. A lot could happen in sixty minutes.
Young, fit and strong, he would probably have inseminated Rachel’s forty-three-year-old body at least once by now. A generous wad of the young man’s semen would be lying deep inside her vagina, his wriggly sperm fighting their way through her cervix and into her womb though task would be fruitless. There would be no egg waiting in the darkness for them; a minor but very necessary medical procedure ten years ago had ensured that.
Rachel never uses protection. At first, I had insisted she used condoms with her lovers and for a few months she had tried but had hated them; her overpowering craving to feel skin on sensitive skin had been too great and her desire to feel real, hot, sticky semen inside her too powerful to resist.
After that, she chose her lovers carefully to reduce the risk but there was no way to guarantee cleanliness. So far we had been lucky; in five years of regular infidelity she had only picked up one infection. She had passed it on to me before we noticed but a week of antibiotics had seen us both return to normal.
Rae had used condoms for a month afterwards but soon reverted to her old bareback ways and had remained there ever since.
A strong gust blew a wave hard against the sea wall sending foamy white spray over the dark, damp concrete. I laughed hollowly; as a metaphor for what was going on right now it couldn’t have been more appropriate. All that was needed was a train rushing into a tunnel or a factory chimney falling down in slow motion and the picture would be complete.
I took another sip of coffee and let my mind wander in familiar directions while the dog eagerly ate one of her treats in the shelter provided by my legs.
My first marriage had lasted eighteen years; my second nearly five so far. Both had been to unfaithful wives but there was a big difference. Second time round I had known how Rachel would be from the very beginning and had gone into the relationship expecting and accepting it.
Not so with Sarah.
Being so close to Portsmouth, Southsea is very much a Navy town as well as a holiday destination and there is no shortage of bored, lonely Navy wives to be found among its narrow, low rise streets. Fortunately for them if not for their absent husbands, there is also no shortage of young, fit, virile young men willing and able to provide those wives with the essential staff of life they are missing.
Though not a Navy man myself, my job had frequently taken me away from home and my first wife had felt the loneliness that so many of her Navy-wife friends had expressed. Unfortunately she had also found relief from that loneliness in a similar way and for a prolonged period.
As a result, somewhere on the high seas there is a young man who bears my name, who calls me ‘Dad’ and whom I love dearly but who is no more a blood relative than any of the people I had passed on the sea front that afternoon.
I had discovered this devastating fact just after his sixteenth birthday when the results of his Navy entrance medical arrived showing that he had a blood group that couldn’t possibly have come from me. After a tense few days, his equally stunned mother had confessed if not all, then enough to let me know I couldn’t live with her much longer.
It was a shock to discover that the woman I loved and had been married to for eighteen years had cheated on me repeatedly for all but the first year of our supposedly happy marriage.
You are no doubt wondering how I could possibly have failed to realise that my wife’s body was being used by other men on a regular basis for so long? I have asked myself the same question many times. All I can suggest is that there are none so blind as those who will not see; I had deliberately kept myself in a state of ignorance and had eventually grown to accept the condition of her body as normal.
Though not in Rachel’s class in terms of multiple infidelities, it quickly emerged that Sarah had enjoyed a number of long-term lovers over the years including, it emerged during the nastier parts of our divorce, a short period with my own, much younger brother.
Sarah assured me that she had truly believed me to be our baby’s father. I have no way of knowing if this is true. When the rows calmed down enough for the two of us to begin speaking again, I discovered that the only other possibility was a colleague from work with whom she had conducted a six-month-long affair prior to him going abroad.
Sarah had not heard from the man since long before she knew she was pregnant and had no idea where in the world he might be now. He had no idea he might be a father as well as a seducer of other men’s wives.
We agreed not to tell our son; as if his parents’ divorce wasn’t bad enough, how could it possibly benefit a young man to have his world turned upside down just as he began his career at sea?
Nonetheless, it was the final straw and our eighteen-year-long marriage came to an end shortly afterwards. There was a lot of anger and resentment, especially when the truth about my brother emerged but our son was at sea for most of it and the worst was over by the time he returned.
It was a horrible time for us all but from it I learned some surprising things about myself. I had been selfish in concentrating so hard on my job; I had been inattentive to the woman in my life; I had been naïve in believing so many lies over the years simply because it suited me to do so.
But the biggest surprise was realising that it wasn’t the act of infidelity that had hurt me so badly. I could actually have accepted sharing Sarah physically. I could have lived with her, knowing I was being regularly cuckolded. I could even have knowingly brought up another man’s son as my own – indeed I am doing so now.
What I could not live with were lies.
Given all that has happened since; indeed what was going on at that very moment in between Rachel and a boy not much older than the one I call my son, I know for certain that I could have continued to live with my first wife despite her infidelities. I might even have been content to let them continue if only she had been honest with me.
But that amount of honesty wasn’t in Sarah’s character.
In contrast, Rachel is honest to the point of being brutal. From our very first date, she made no secret of her inability to remain faithful to any one man; confessing that she was quite literally addicted to sex and that this character flaw had cost her two previous marriages.
Her love of sex was not accompanied by a desire to be a mother so both marriages had been childless. The two divorces had been painful, but the damage had been confined to her and her two now-ex-husbands.
When Sarah and I separated, my trust in women was shattered. I retreated to the celibate lifestyle for over a year, the occasional visit to one of Portsmouth’s better class escorts being my only sexual outlet. But as time dulled the pain, so my interest in the fairer sex began to return and I took the first tentative steps into the world of dating once again.
Both Sarah and I had been high earners so even divorced, my standard of living was more than adequate. When, thanks to the internet, my sex life resumed, I soon found out that this relative affluence made me a target for some of the more desperate divorcees in the area. It took several unsavoury episodes before I understood what was going on and learned the hard way not to lower my guard too quickly.
At first I suspected Rachel of having gold-digging motivations too. We had met using a well-known phone App and agreed to have dinner in a local restaurant. I was well on my guard; Rachel is a good ten years younger than me and from her picture, was very sexy.
What else but money could possibly have attracted her to a slightly overweight, middle-aged businessman like me?
I confidently expected her not to show up at all but to my delight, there she was, bang on time, dressed in a stunning short black dress that showed her soft, smooth legs off to great effect.
Short and blonde, Rae isn’t perhaps a classic beauty. Her diminutive, curvy figure is perhaps a little fuller than she would like but she has a pretty, impish face and an aura of sexuality about her that is hard to define but impossible to ignore. There is a mischievous glint in her blue eyes too which I have seen in many sexually aware women but which few actually follow through on.
That’s the Rachel difference; she actually delivers what most women only pretend to promise.
Even if she hadn’t been so forthright and honest with me that first evening, I would have guessed she had a wandering eye because she managed to flirt with the waiter and a man on a nearby table during our date while still making me feel special and attractive throughout the whole, highly enjoyable evening.
I can’t explain why but I left the restaurant that night absolutely smitten with her and have remained so ever since. A second date followed, then a third which ended up in bed in her clean, tidy but small terraced house.
I can say without fear of contradiction that Rae’s prowess as a lover is every bit as impressive as her sexy demeanour would lead you to expect. I left her house shortly after midnight, stunned by what we had done, my cock red raw from overuse, a contented smile on my face and my feet floating inches above the ground.
Three months later she moved in with me. Within a year we were married.
Many jokes are told about sex and love addictions but to those who suffer from them they are not funny. Those who love the sufferer are often hurt too. The two are often confused with each other but they are not the same.
Rachel loves me and I love her. The emotional bond between us is very strong. It is important to understand this.
My wife’s dependency is on the physical act of sex rather than the need to be involved in emotional relationships. She believes she is addicted to something generated during that physical act and needs to have regular fixes to maintain her composure.
Where this explanation gets less clear-cut is that her craving cannot be satisfied by one lover, however frequently the act is performed. She needs novelty too which in her case mean a constant supply of new partners.
Though I was expecting it someday, my life as a willing cuckold did not begin straight away. At first Rae tried hard to be faithful but like addicts of all kinds, the call of her craving was simply too strong to be resisted for long.
Deep down we both knew it wasn’t in her nature to stick to only one man, so it wasn’t too great a surprise when, around six months into our cohabitation and before our wedding, she broke the news.
We had just finished dinner in our favourite restaurant, the coffees had been poured and liqueurs were being sipped when she reached across the table and took my hand, the engagement ring sparkling on her third finger.
“Colin, we need to talk,” she began.
From her tone of voice I could tell it was serious.
“What is it?” I asked, stroking the back of her hand.
Rae took a deep breath.
“I promised I would always be honest with you,” she began.
“That’s right,” I agreed. “And I will always be the same with you.”
She took another deep breath.
“Well, there’s something we need to talk about,” she began seriously.
“You want to call off the wedding?”
My instinctive reaction was to go for the worst, most serious possibility but she squeezed my hand hard.
“No,” she exclaimed aloud then silenced herself. “No,” she repeated quietly. “But you might want to when I tell you.”
“Then you’d better tell me now and get it out of the way.”
Rae sat back for a moment then leaned forwards in her chair.
“I just can’t do it,” she said, distressed.
“You can’t tell me?”
“I thought I could, but I can’t!”
“You’re not making much sense Rae,” I frowned.
She took a deep breath then out it came.
“I thought it would be different with you. I thought that this time maybe – maybe I could do it; be faithful to one man… But it’s not going to work. I can’t. I’m sorry Colin but I just can’t do it.”
Now it was my turn to sit back. I let go of her hand and looked into the pretty, anguished face of the woman I loved and intended to marry.
“I’ll understand if you want to break it all off,” she told me, pulling off her engagement ring and placing it on the table in front of me. “It’s broken two marriages already; I don’t want it to break a third.”
I looked into her troubled eyes. I had known this moment was going to arrive one day; it was just a question of how long it would take. Now that it had arrived I was taken a little by surprise but having already gone over in my mind what I would say, my composure returned quickly.
“Why do you think it will break our marriage?” I asked quietly.
“What do you mean?” she asked, wrong-footed.
“What if I say I could live with it? With you and your little problem?”
“What?” she seemed to think I was taunting her.
“I’m serious,” I carried on. “I’ve never been as happy as I am living with you. You never made any secret of what went wrong in your past. That means a lot to me. I love you Rae and want to marry you and live with you. If that means setting you free from time to time, then in my book that’s a small price to pay.”
It was a long speech for me but I meant every word of it. I passed her back the ring.
“You would have to keep being honest; to tell me what you were doing and answerer any questions I might have without holding anything back. But if that’s a kind of marriage you can live with, then I can live with it too. Put the ring back on your finger and let’s get on with our life together.”
We walked out of the restaurant hand in hand then went home and made love hard and passionately.
Afterwards I lay awake for hours wondering what on earth I had started. I didn’t have long to wait.
A week later and with my agreement, Rae met an old fuck-buddy for dinner in a hotel near the city centre.
When she returned home around one o’clock in the morning she was clearly anxious, not sure what my reaction would be. To be honest, I wasn’t much clearer myself. Being positive and understanding in the restaurant before anything had happened was one thing. Being with her so soon after another man had fucked her might have been completely different.
When I smelled the odour of sex on her body I was so jealous I thought I might actually be physically sick. But after all we had said to each other, I fought my revulsion as hard as I could, simply asking her how the evening had gone.
She told me she had enjoyed it very much. The flushed look on her face and chest confirmed this. I asked what the two of them had done; she told me calmly and clearly, sparing me no intimate detail. I could feel my cock hardening and my arousal increasing with every word.
“Was he better in bed than me?” I asked.
“He made a nice change.”
“Is his cock bigger than mine?”
“Size isn’t important,” she told me. “Yours is big enough.”
“That’s not an answer Rae!”
“Then yes, his cock is bigger. Quite a lot bigger.”
“I want to fuck you, Rachel!”
“I want you to fuck me!”
“I want to fuck your cheating cunt!”
“Then fuck it. Take me upstairs and fuck my cheating cunt as hard as you can!”
“I want to make you cum!”
“Then make me cum! Make me cum hard, Cuckold!”
It was the first but by no means the last time I was to be called that name. The anger, jealousy and arousal that surged through me were like nothing I had ever felt before. Rae led me upstairs and into the bedroom at a run, where we tore off each other’s clothes and fell into bed.
That night I fucked Rachel as hard as I had ever fucked anyone in my life, driven by emotions so raw and primitive that they were frightening in their intensity. When I finally ejaculated deep in her well-used vagina, it was if I had been saving myself for a year.
Rachel was anxious to see how I was when we woke the next day, but she needn’t have worried. To my amazement, I had slept well and had risen feeling wonderful; strong, happy and secure.
The woman I loved had been fucked by another man; the worst that could possibly happen in a relationship had happened and it hadn’t been so bad after all. She had done it when we agreed, where we agreed, with the man we had agreed and had come back to me afterwards and told me, all as we had agreed.
We hugged and kissed and got on with our days as if nothing had happened.
But something had happened; I had discovered a level of trust I had ceased to believe could exist in a marriage. Yes it had been very difficult while it was happening; knowing that the woman I loved was in the arms of another man had been excruciatingly painful, but she had come back to me.
The second time was a little easier, the third easier still but all still hurt.
Since then, Rae has had a series of lovers over the past years. Sometimes, if time is short or passions really high, she will sleep with the same man several times in a single week. Other times, weeks or even months will pass without an encounter.
Rae prefers a series of one-night stands or short flings rather than longer term extramarital affairs. As she explains on the few occasions it’s ever discussed, this keeps things purely physical and poses a much lower risk to our marriage.
It suits me well.
***
I looked at my watch again; time to start heading back towards the house. I threw my empty coffee cup into the rubbish bin, tugged gently on the dog’s lead then the two of us set off at a casual pace back along the blustery sea front towards our street.
Both of us were dreaming of warmth and company but for very different reasons.
The wind grew weaker as we turned away from the sea, crossed the play park and entered the maze of streets that spread inland past the former guest houses and hotels towards the Albert Road with its bars and multitude of small shops.
A couple of small errands later I had returned to the end of our street and was waiting at the corner. Set a short distance back from the road, the house was bright, pleasant but also inconspicuous. I looked up at the bedroom window; the one facing away from the street and from prying eyes.
The curtains were still closed; he was still there. I turned away.
She had been seeing the young man in bed with her now almost daily while he was shore-based but with the expectation it would all come to an end when he returned to his ship and to the sea.
He was a full twenty years younger than my wife but was inexperienced. Rae’s attitude had at first been more motherly than mistress-like, explaining how she had taught him how best to please both her and himself. As a result she was more than capable of keeping up with him in the bedroom.
Even so, she had been exhausted more than once after his visits and I suspected that once he had gone back to sea she would have a break for a month or two.
But Rachel’s behaviour was hard to predict.
I wondered for a moment how many times I had been cuckolded both before our wedding and since. The simplest calculations told me she had probably cheated on me at least a hundred times but as far as I knew, every indiscretion had been with my knowledge and acceptance and the more there were, the duller the pain each time it happened.
Duller perhaps but still definitely there.
But there was nothing I wouldn’t do to keep the woman I adored even if that meant sharing her with other men. Just as long as it was me she came back to; me she lived with, ate with and she slept with every night.
Strange as this attitude might sound, I knew very well that I wasn’t alone in feeling like this.
Sensing we were close to shelter, Jessie tugged at her lead, anxious to get back into the warmth of the house but it was too early. I led her slowly around the block to the local pub where she drank her fill at the bowl placed in the corner for thirsty dogs while I added half a pint of bitter to the coffee in my belly and pictured the scene that would even then be taking place in the room I knew so well.
When Rachel and I got married, we sold her house, put together our savings and bought three terraced properties a short walk from the waterfront. Luckily this was before the market went crazy; all three needed attention so we paid a very reasonable price. Since then we have renovated them and now rent them out to holidaymakers on a weekly basis. If you add this income to the capital growth we are making a very nice profit from our investment.
A lot has been said about Air BnB; some good, some bad. Owners of the many small hotels nearby hate the company, as do the locals who can’t find a flat to rent at affordable prices. But most of it is bluster. Southsea has always been like that; a seaside resort in which every property is a potential business as well as a place to live.
What we didn’t realise at the time was the unexpected bonus our own move into property would bring to our unconventional lifestyle. With three attractive houses vacant for at least three months of the year and the neighbours well used to a stream of strangers going in and out every week, there couldn’t be much better cover for a venue for repeated illicit liaisons.
Rachel’s lovers need never know where we really live, there is no need to risk booking hotel rooms by the hour and my wife can feel a little more secure, meeting strange men in familiar surroundings.
The curtain was still closed when we returned to the street corner half an hour later. I looked at my watch; this was a much longer session than usual. Rachel and her younger lover had enjoyed each other’s company for nearly three hours.
She would be exhausted but, if I was lucky, the signs on her body would be that much more obvious and my imminent enjoyment that much more intense.
I was just turning away to begin a third round of the block when the side door of the house opened. My heart thumped as a well built, stocky young man not much older than my son stepped onto the front path and began walking towards me. There was a broad smile on his handsome young face as he pulled up the collar of his heavy coat, lowered his head into the wind and strode along the pavement.
“Afternoon,” he threw the perfunctory greeting as he passed.
I nodded in reply, wondering if he had any inkling who I was; that he had just passed the husband of the woman he had spent the afternoon fucking. Though very unlikely, the thought sent a thrill through my shivering body as I turned through the gate and walked up the garden path towards our front door, my heart thumping in eager anticipation of the pleasures to come.
***
At first, although I knew she was seeing other men, Rae kept the details of her assignations secret. She would disappear early in the evening then return late at night already showered and clean, get into bed alongside me and go to sleep, effectively excluding me from this side of her life.
Over time however, as we both grew used to each other’s reactions and desires, in small steps our routine gradually changed until it had developed into the happy pattern we now both enjoyed.
First, she began to let me see her naked body after she had come home; her swollen outer lips, her long, pink-tinged inner lips and her not-infrequently-gaping vagina. The arousal this produced in me was profound and, unless she was very sore indeed, I was always allowed to fuck her if I wanted to.
Usually but by no means always, I did. The feeling of my erect cock sliding smoothly into the loose, warm passage that another man’s equally erect cock had recently abandoned was simply incredible.
For the first few months she used condoms but soon grew tired of ‘eating the sweet with its wrapper on’ as she put it. When she stopped, even after showering she would often come home leaking her lover’s semen.
The first time I saw another man’s cum oozing from my fiancee’s vagina, I was so excited I thought I would cum on the spot myself. From then on, Rae made sure there was always plenty of sticky, gooey evidence left for me to find.
Once we were married, things changed again. For a while she began to meet her lovers in our house. This meant that she did not have to get dressed and travel home afterwards which in turn meant that, although I had to make myself scarce while they were actually in bed together, when I returned my wife would be exactly her lover had left her.
For me, the rewards were out of this world. Exploring and enjoying my wife’s body a matter of minutes after she had just been fucked is probably the most arousing thing that has ever happened to me. From my online experiences I know many other cuckolds feel the same.
It was around this time that I first discovered the delights of the ‘cuckold clean-up’ – performing oral sex when my wife’s vagina was still oozing juices. I was very hesitant to begin with; oral sex hadn’t featured very strongly in Sarah and my marriage, had never tasted semen and at first, felt more than a little revulsion.
I knew about the powerful effect cunnilingus could have on its recipient, but until I felt the warm, smoothness of the fluids that oozed from Rae’s vulva in my mouth, and my head and lungs filled with the aroma of her freshly-fucked cunt, I had no idea how powerful its effect on the giver could be too.
From the first time I lapped that extraordinary mix of vaginal juices, orgasmic secretions and fresh semen from her puffy, still-engorged slit, I knew I was lost. Nothing in my life before or since has come close to the revelation that moment brought.
The risk of Rae seeing her lovers in our home was of course, that we were exposing our real identities and our real address to strangers. It wasn’t long before one of her boyfriends said something to make us feel uneasy and the plan to use our rental properties for assignations was conceived.
It was perfect, giving us almost all the benefits of being fucked at home without the risk of exposure. Better still, the rental properties were registered in the name of a company Rae and I had set up which hid our identities still further.
For the last three years, this is how her dates have been. In between holiday bookings I drop her and her over-large handbag outside whichever house is to be used, then go and park my car somewhere a discreet distance away. Once settled, I sit listening to the radio or a CD until Rae sends me a short text message to say her boyfriend has arrived and everything is okay.
Then I let the dog out of the back and embark on the kind of extended walk that I had just finished, blending in with the other locals and tourists enjoying the sea air but with very different thoughts on my mind.
As indeed they were now!
Confident that the coast was clear, I let myself in through the front door. The house was warm and there was the sound of romantic music coming from upstairs.
“Ready when you are!”
Rachel’s sexy, sing-song voice drifted downstairs, its soft, slightly slurred tone suggesting that her most recent orgasm had not been long ago and that she was still basking in its afterglow. My heart raced.
“Won’t be long,” I called back, feeling my cock hardening in my underwear.
I pulled off my coat and hung it on the rack then ushered the dog into the kitchen, rubbed the worst of the water from her back and threw the towel into her basket.
“Be quiet now,” I admonished her ineffectively then gave her one of her longest-lasting chews, closed the door and crossed to the foot of the stairs, my heart thumping in my chest.
***
There are many aspects of being a cuckold that are painful but just as many are exciting too. One of the most exciting but least obvious is the long, slow journey from the hallway of the house where her lover has just left to the bedroom where my wife’s freshly-fucked body is waiting for me.
The anticipation; the expectation, the whole not-knowing-what-I-will-find is simply exquisite.
What will she look like? Will she be naked? Will she be in her lingerie? And if so, which?
Will she be on the bed or in it? Will her face and chest be flushed pink from her orgasms?
Will there be marks on her curvy body from the passion of her encounter? Teeth marks on her breasts? Bruises on her thighs?
And what will be waiting for me between those thighs? What will it smell like; taste like; what will it feel like in my mouth?
As I climb the stairs and approach the open bedroom door, the aroma of recent sex grows stronger and stronger, each of its elements worming its way into my consciousness. First, the soft smell of Rachel’s sweet lubrication, then the raw organic smell of her orgasmic secretions and finally, over both of these, the slightly sweet smell of fresh semen.
The combination is simply bewildering in its intensity.
Unless you have experienced for yourself the agony and ecstasy of being cuckolded, it is impossible to understand the complex mixture of pain, pleasure, jealousy, arousal and pride that surges through your entire body.
It is without doubt the most addictive concoction I have ever encountered.
That afternoon as I began the long, slow climb to the bedroom in which my wife lay, all these emotions and more were spinning through my mind. All my senses were on full-alert, desperate to extract every last ounce of pleasure from the moments to come.
He had been with her nearly three full hours; more than enough time for them to have played many games and for him to have taken her in many ways.
One. Two. Three. Four.
The stairs creaked as I ascended.
“I can hear you!”
Rachel’s voice was still slightly slurred, her tone highly sexual.
Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
I could feel the warmth from the upstairs on my cold body and shivered in anticipation. How much heat had come from the radiators? How much had come from their two bodies?
I paused and inhaled deeply. There! The first wafts of that magical, sexual combination were rolling down the stairs to greet me. The early undertones of human sweat and bodily secretions hardened my already-firm cock still further.
Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
The aroma grew stronger with every slow step; the warmth in the air growing more intense too. The smell of sweat was now joined by the soft, sweet smell of fresh semen – and I hadn’t even reached the landing yet.
As I took the final step, my heart was thumping.
Thirteen!
I stepped excitedly onto the landing, my senses reeling. The smell of very recent sex was growing stronger with every second; the warmth from the bedroom pouring out towards me.
The bedroom door was open. The soft, orange glow of low lighting cast a pattern on carpet outside. I took the last few steps and stood in the doorway, surveying the scene that awaited me inside.
Rachel!
My pretty wife lay on her back on the bed, her sweet face one big, if slightly dazed smile. Her blonde hair hung loose on her shoulders, as ruffled and untidy as a bird’s nest. Her eyes sparkled brightly though her make-up was smudged or missing.
She had pulled a simple white sheet up under her chin, concealing herself from the neck down. It was a game she enjoyed playing and I loved too; her false coyness usually meant that the body hidden beneath bore more than the usual evidence of fornication.
A present for me to eagerly unwrap!
My heart thumped even louder as I slowly approached the bed, discarding my clothes as I went until, as I reached her side, I was dressed only in my briefs.
“You had a good time,” I stated rather than asked.
“I had a very good time,” she replied, her smile even broader. “I think you’re going to enjoy yourself too.”
Rae reached out with her right hand and cupped the large and growing bulge in my underwear.
“Impressive for you,” she grinned as she massaged my erection. “I hope I’m not too sore for it.”
Her voice showed clearly she was joking so I replied in kind.
“It’s going inside you whether you’re sore or not!”
“Well, see if you can hold onto yourself long enough!”
With those words, she lowered the bed sheet to her waist.
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed as I stared at her upper body.
“I told you you’d like it!”
Rachel’s chest was blotchy and flushed pink from her orgasms. It was a state I had seen before many times but the colour had seldom been as intense as this. Her nipples were a deep mottled brown and simply huge against the paler flesh of her breasts.
I sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her on the lips. She tasted salty from sweat, but beneath that there was the unmistakeable flavour that fills a woman’s mouth when she has recently climaxed. I had tasted it on Rachel’s tongue many times; I had even tasted it in the mouth of my ex-wife Sarah but at the time had not recognised it for what it was: clear evidence of her infidelity.
As we kissed, I ran my fingers over the smooth skin of her arms and shoulders then down to her soft tummy. The temptation to slide my hand under the sheet and onto her used vulva was strong but I resisted, moving my fingers upwards to caress her full breasts instead.
Rachel winced as my palm passed over her nipple.
“Did I hurt you?” I asked, surprised. My touch had been extremely light.
Though she said nothing, the look on my wife’s face told me I had. I leaned over to give her wounded breast a healing kiss then stopped dead in my tracks.
“He bit you?” I asked, staring at the tooth marks that surrounded both of her nipples.
Some of them were quite deep. The teats themselves had also been nipped.
“He said it would help him recover for the next round,” she smiled wanly. “He didn’t say how long it would take.”
“And did it work?”
She sighed.
“Christ yes!” then added with a sheepish grin. “Eventually. I had to use my hand too but he had no complaints.”
“I bet he didn’t. But did you enjoy it? Have you done it before?”
“Yes and no,” she smiled, inspecting her wounded left nipple with a frown.
“Yes you enjoyed it; no you haven’t done it before?” I asked. She nodded.
I paused, imagining my little wife with that huge male body draped across her lap, his mouth latched onto her breast. The thoughts went straight to my cock, which tangled in my underwear and made its presence clearly felt.
“And then he fucked you again?”
Rachel sighed.
“And again! And again!”
Her voice was still slightly slurred and very much appreciative of the young man’s prowess. For a second, a flash of jealousy shot through me, followed by envy that he had made my wife feel so aroused and so satisfied. But I had been too long a cuckold for this to be anything more than a masochistic pleasure; part of the whole complicated but rewarding Rachel experience.
“Can I see the damage?” I asked with my own cheeky grin.
“Are you feeling strong enough?” she teased. “Its not a pretty sight.”
“I can take anything you can take,” I assured her. “Or he can give you.”
“Okay then…”
With the dramatic flourish of a stage magician revealing the end to his trick, Rachel drew the bed sheet away from her lower body, revealing the smooth, shapely legs I knew so well. Her thighs were parted, her knees bent, her ankles together. The jewel of her hairless crotch was clearly visible.
“See what I mean?” Rae said triumphantly.
I had seen my wife’s vulva many times after she had been fucked, but seldom had I seen it so obviously well-used. Pink and engorged, her outer lips were huge, puffy and red-tinged as if they had been abraded forcefully by her lover’s pubic hair. Her slit was gaping open, as was the entrance to her vagina. Her long, dark-red inner lips protruded like tiny curtains between her upper thighs and her clitoris still stood proudly out from underneath its fleshy hood.
“Jesus! You’ve been well and truly fucked this time!” I whispered on awe.
“I warned you,” she smiled. “Enjoy!”
Fully intending to do just that, I moved quickly between her thighs. Rachel opened her legs wide to make room as I lowered my face towards her exposed crotch. The smell of recent sex was very strong; a heady blend of copious vaginal lubrication and the bitterness of female orgasmic secretions, all overlaid with a powerful aroma of fresh semen.
Her afternoon had indeed been well spent; an overpowering aroma such as this could only have been generated by powerful and repeated orgasms.
No wonder she was looking flushed and tired.
From experience I knew that the wonderful freshness would turn stale quickly, producing a stronger, sourer smell and taste. If I was to enjoy it fully, I had to enjoy it now.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, awestruck.
“You like it?” Rae asked with a cheeky smile. “You enjoy a well-used cunt?”
“You know I do! But this…”
My cock was now painfully erect and tangled in my underwear. I pulled my briefs off quickly before climbing back onto the bed. Once in place, I lowered my head again then licked the soft, smooth inside of her left thigh, from her raised knee right down to the crease where her leg and vulva met.
Rachel sighed contentedly. I repeated the long, slow lick along her right thigh, again stopping just above her messy, gaping slit.
“There’s so much cum,” I exclaimed in delight. “You’re dripping with it.”
Rachel smiled contentedly.
“Are you pleased?”
“To bloody right I’m pleased.”
It took all my self-control not to dive straight into the wet, gooey prize that awaited me so temptingly, but I knew that the longer I delayed, the more aroused my wife would be when the time came and the more exquisite would be my reward.
“How many times did he cum?” I asked quietly.
Rachel held up three fingers.
“Three?” I demanded unbelieving.
“He’s young,” she explained. “And a fast re-loader. Besides he came really quickly first time round so he had lots of time to recover.”
“Did you cum too?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“How many times?”
“I lost count.”
“Were the orgasms good?”
“The very best!”
“Did he cum inside you?”
“Surely you can tell that where you are!”
Of course I could; asking the question was just part of the game, as were here teasing answers.
“Did he cum in your cunt every time?”
“He came once in my ass!”
“Jesus Rae! I thought you didn’t like it there…”
“I don’t. Usually,” the blush on her face was highly unusual. “He was fucking me doggy-style and got carried away. Before I knew it he was in there!”
“Did it hurt? Are you sore?”
“I’m sore everywhere,” she laughed.
“Was it good though?”
“Very good!”
“Let me see!”
She lifted her knees to her chest and parted her legs even wider until her anus was visible under the messy red gash of her vulva. I moved even closer and gasped aloud.
“Jesus! You’re gaping there too.”
“He’s a very big boy.”
“And you’re leaking there too.”
“Then you’d better get on with it, hadn’t you?”
I returned my attention to her inner thighs, running the tip of my tongue once again down to her engorged vulva without actually touching it. The result was very satisfying. Two more long slow licks later and Rachel was moaning softly, her hands ruffling my hair.
It was finally time to dive deep into the sloppy, smelly reward I had looked forward to for so long.
My heart thumping loudly, I ran the flat of my tongue in a single slow stroke from the base of my wife’s open slit all the way to her protruding clitoris, taking care to scoop into my mouth every last drop of goo that I encountered en-route.
There was a lot, even by Rachel’s standards and its flavour was simply sublime. The boy had produced prodigious amounts of semen; even more so if this mouthful represented only two of his three ejaculations.
I rolled the slimy package around my mouth in delight, running it over my tongue time and again, breathing deeply through my nose to enhance the pleasure as I might have done sampling a fine wine. All the notes were there in abundance; the sweetness of my wife’s lubrication, the smoothness of sperm-filled semen and underneath them both, the base bitterness of an orgasming woman’s vaginal cascade.
“Show me!” Rachel whispered.
I raised my face until I was looking into her eyes then opened my mouth, displaying the pale pool on my tongue.
“Does it taste good?”
I smiled broadly and nodded.
“Can you tell how hard I came?”
I nodded again.
“Then you’d better swallow it down and come back for more!”
I looked straight into her playful eyes, closed my lips and swallowed, sending the mouthful past my throat and down into my belly. Returning to my place between her thighs, two more long, slow laps followed, this time dipping deep into her vagina to scoop out any fluids that might be waiting there.
To my delight there were plenty, and coming from so deep within her, the bitter orgasmic flavour was strong. Rachel shivered as my tongue toyed with her sore places, whether in pleasure or pain I neither knew nor cared.
This was my time.
Lifting her legs higher and parting them further, I began to tongue her violated anus too. It was still gaping but was closing fast. I went to work quickly, thrusting the tip of my tongue past her sphincter in search of the sweet nectar that might be there.
I was in luck; there was a small globule still inside. I lapped it eagerly into my mouth as Rae’s fingers continued to tangle in my hair. Whatever it lacked in quantity it made up for in quality. With no vaginal fluids to taint the mix, my mouth filled with a heady combination of straight semen and the powerful flavour of the most secret part of my wife’s wonderful body.
A rare treat indeed!
The arousal within me simply surged. I began to tongue her with an energy and passion that took even me by surprise, driving my face hard into her vulva as my lips and tongue sought out every hidden crevice, both within her slit and below it. I thrust my tongue into her vagina then rasped it across her clitoris while my chin roughly stimulated the inside of her thighs.
Rae was moaning loudly, her fingers gripping my hair tightly, sometimes pushing my head away from her groin, sometimes pulling it forcefully onto her flexing body.
Did she have enough in her for one more orgasm, this time at my hands?
I didn’t know but I had to find out! Redoubling my efforts, I began to concentrate on the exposed tip of her clitoris, flicking the tip of my tongue over it as rapidly as I could while my fingers slipped under my chin and plunged into her vagina.
“Oh yes! Oh Yes!”
It was working; despite all her previous antics Rachel was close to climax once more. Determined to push her over the edge I concentrated even harder, the intensity of my stimulation rising and rising until finally…
“Oh God please no more!”
Rachel’s body flexed and twisted on the bed as she came, her legs clamping hard on the sides of my head, her hands tearing small clumps of hair from my head as my mouth filled with the familiar, distinctive taste of my wife’s fresh climactic secretions.
Her body already exhausted, the volume was small but the flavour was exquisite. No matter how many times she had climaxed on the young man’s obviously impressive cock, I could still take her all the way one last time.
She was still mine.
“Please Col,” she whimpered, pulling my head away from her groin. “Please finish now. I’m shattered.”
Satisfied, I quickly mounted her, my knees between hers, my arms either side of her shoulders. As I rose over her tired body, the marks on her breasts became even more clearly visible and my arousal soared. I reached down to my erect cock and steered its head towards her open slit. It took barely seconds to locate the gaping entrance to her cunt and position myself then, with a powerful thrust that came from my thighs, hips and belly all at once, I drove my shaft into her over-used body.
“Thhhrrrpppp!”
The wet, rasping sound that emerged from our conjoined groins as my erect cock entered my wife’s vagina was revolting, arousing and amusing all at once as the rapidly-incoming shaft forced a fine spray of female juices and male semen out through her loose entrance, across her inner thighs and over my lower belly.
It had happened before many times and would probably happen again. I loved its rawness and its coarse primeval nature, but most of all I loved what I imagined it meant; that her body had been so filled with her lover’s sperm that there had been no room left for me.
After that there was no stopping me. As I had done so many times before, I began to fuck Rachel like a man possessed. The previous hours had been for her desires; now was the time for mine. I gave no thought to her pleasure at all as I fucked her, thrusting in and out of her open, unresisting body as hard and as wildly as I wanted.
I felt her fingers on my chest, on my shoulders, on my face as I hammered into her. I felt her legs rising and wrapping themselves around my waist, exposing her vulva even more completely, allowing my rock-hard erection to reach as deep into her vagina as it ever could. I felt her pelvic floor tighten, her vagina grasping my shaft tighter and tighter, gripping then releasing me over and over again.
“Mmmmmm!”
The sounds coming from our colliding groins were wet and loud, the bedsprings complaining at the continued pounding they had received, first from her young lover and now from me. I felt the ball of heat forming at the base of my shaft then growing quickly. My own climax would not be long in coming.
“Cum Col,” Rachel gasped, her experienced, unfaithful brain recognising the familiar signs of a man about to reach climax inside her. “I’m so sore. Please cum soon.”
The ball of heat shot outwards from beneath the base of my cock, down the insides of both thighs and up my spine as, whatever my mind wanted, my body began to comply with my wife’s pleas.
The climax that hit me was intense; deep and powerful, breaking the rhythm of my thrusts completely, sending my spine and hips into spasm as my erect cock first swelled within Rae’s cunt then began to pulse as my ejaculation began.
Deep inside her body, rope after rope of my semen began to spurt from the tiny lips to join what remained of the young man’s multiple deposits at the entrance to my wife’s womb.
“Aaaaaggghhh!”
The release of pressure, tension and cuckold jealousy as I reclaimed the body of my legal, acknowledged wife in the most basic way possible, was as intense as it had ever been throughout our marriage. The brutal, physical manifestation of the reassertion of my place in her life was a reward like no other.
Unless a man has experienced for himself what it is really like to let the woman in his life go; to know that another man has taken her; has used her willingly in every way, has even left his mark on her both inside and out, then that man cannot understand the agonies and jealousies the cuckold both suffers and enjoys.
And unless, after having freed her completely, she returns to him equally willingly, bearing the evidence of that rampant infidelity and gives herself back to him, that man cannot understand the sheer joy and relief that comes from knowing she is his again.
That is what being married to Rachel is like.
***
“Will you see him again?” I asked as we lay, still cuddling under the duvet half an hour later.
“He goes back to sea tomorrow,” she told me quietly. “He’ll be gone six months at least.”
“Are you upset about that?”
“Not really,” my wife smiled. “He was a lot of fun and good in bed but it had run its course.”
At least that explained the unusual length and energy of their copulation; it had been a farewell fuck.
“Have you anyone else in mind?” I asked.
“I think I need a break for a while,” she said. “This last one was a bit intense. Maybe a few months.”
I smiled; Rachel had voiced this kind of intention many times before. Sometimes the break had been long; more often the next young man had presented himself much sooner than she had intended. I knew better than to rely on my wife’s end-of-affair good intentions.
In truth, I’m not even sure I wanted her to have a break if the pleasures her infidelities brought both of us could be as intense as this had been.
“I suppose we’d better get on with it,” Rae eventually said, swivelling to the edge of the mattress then standing up naked by the bed. “The new booking arrives tomorrow morning. We’ve got cleaning to do.”
I watched my wife as she crossed the room then went out onto the landing. Her short, shapely, curvy body was by no means what every woman aspired to but since we had been together, few men we had met had failed to find very attractive indeed.
A moment later I heard the bathroom door close. A short while after that the toilet was flushed and I heard the shower starting up. Soon the sticky evidence both of her infidelity and my re-claiming would be washed away. The marks on her breasts and the swollen redness of her vulva would soon fade; she would once again be indistinguishable from any normal, moderately attractive woman you might meet.
I looked around the room, as I rose from the bed. The sheets needed changing and the windows opening to clear the house of the smell of sex which was rapidly becoming stale.
From the noises coming from the kitchen downstairs, the dog was becoming impatient too.
A couple of hours’ of hard work lay ahead of us.
It was time to be a normal couple again. Until next time of course.
***
And that’s our life.
I don’t expect most men or even women to understand the way we choose to live. Sometimes I find it hard to understand myself and I make no attempt to justify it here. All I would say is that it works for us and if that is the case, it really is no-one else’s business.
So why did I choose to tell my story here and now?
The simple answer is a selfish one; I need to get it out of my system. Over the years, it has become harder and harder to keep it all secret. The emotions surrounding all that Rachel and her lovers do, and how it makes me feel are so powerful that the urge to tell at least one person eventually became irresistible.
But who could I tell? None of our friends would understand. They believe us to be a normal, friendly, happy couple – albeit one in which the wife is younger and sexier than her husband. But that’s not unusual is it?
Thank God for the anonymous internet.
Like many men, I have been an avid reader of cuckold stories online for the last few years. If nothing else, it has shown me that I am by no means alone in wanting to have a cheating wife even if I am unusual in actually having one.
Eventually I couldn’t bear the pressure of silence any longer and blurted out the main parts of our story in an unsolicited email to the author whose work most suggested she might understand my situation. Being female, I thought she might be less judgemental too.
So it turned out; Jenny replied and over the next few months teased the rest of my tale out of me.
I hope that, if it is published, I will feel some kind of relief. I think I will.
I know some readers will despise me for being a cuckold. I suspect many will envy me for the same reason. Others will simply be baffled that a man can be so calm about his wife cheating so often and so openly.
Whichever kind of reader you are, I hope you enjoyed the story.
