They lay on the bed together in each other’s arms, touching noses. As he ran his fingers through her thick auburn hair, Stephen whispered, “It’s been arranged. Next weekend.” Rebecca’s heart immediately began to beat faster; her mind raced as she imagined what he might mean. Maybe it was something innocent, like the dinner party they had planned, or something a little more naughty, like an encounter with Max. Deep down, although Rebecca didn’t want to admit it to herself, she hoped for the fantasy they had spoken about many times, and for a moment, she lost herself in it.
Her heart thumping and her cheeks flushed, Rebecca asked, “Is it… what we talked about last week?” She trailed off before finishing the sentence. Stephen nodded with that smile she loved, the one that meant he’d just done something special for her. “Oh no, really? Honestly, who?” she asked, trying to calm herself, maintain her composure, and disguise her excitement.
“Raj, Max, and Ollie,” Stephen replied with a grin. “This weekend at the Berkeley, just off Hyde Park. I have booked a suite for three nights: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Friday and Sunday will be just you and me, but Saturday, that will be… ” He paused for a moment, letting the anticipation build and drawing Rebecca in deeper. “The night,” he finished, gazing at her, taking in her anticipation and the glow it gave her.
“Oh my, are we really going to do this?” Rebecca asked as she climbed on top of Stephen and playfully beat his firm chest before straddling him and leaning down to kiss him. “You’ve really organised it?” she confirmed, taking a moment to check that it was actually happening. Stephen nodded with a little smile and gratefully accepted the kiss. Immediately, Rebecca was picturing the night: what she would wear, the hotel room, the soundtrack to their evening, and the champagne. Breaking off the kiss, Rebecca congratulated Stephen. “Such a fancy hotel, too. I have so much to do to get ready. Will you help me, please?” she asked excitedly, even though she knew that he would, he always did.
They had been together for four years now. She was a privately educated girl; once wild and decadent in her twenties, Rebecca was now the very representation of a classy lady working in the media. She was 5’3″ with a sexy shape, C-cup breasts, thick red hair, the prettiest lips you could imagine, deep eyes, creamy freckled skin, and a cute smile. He was a working-class boy with a very different story. He’d put the time in through university and his early twenties to become an expert in his field and a business owner. He was 5’8″, and his swim-bike-run routine kept him in decent shape for his age. Having met through a case of mistaken identity, they had clicked immediately. They were different in so many ways, she liked the finer things in life, while he liked the simple things, but it worked for both of them, giving each other stability in a chaotic world.
Sexually, their relationship looked complex from the outside, but to Rebecca and Stephen, it was simple and sublime. They had three speeds: connection, cuckold, and balance. When they connected, they were one; they talked, they laughed, and they didn’t just fuck, they made love, which was tender, sensual, and bonding. This was the state they spent most of their time in, and the way things were that evening before Stephen told Rebecca of his plans. But as the weekend approached, they would enter the cuckold phase.
In cuckold mode, Stephen became Rebecca’s bitch and her Bulls’ bitch; he was the lowest part of the equation and had to endure humiliation at their hands. Sometimes he had to watch, sometimes he had to wait, sometimes he had to lick her clean, and sometimes he had to service her Bulls, but at all times, his only priority was Rebecca’s pleasure. To have a man fully sacrifice his own sexuality for her made Rebecca feel powerfully desired and sexual; she loved the control. Stephen would do anything for her during these times: prepare, pay for her dalliance, spend on her wardrobe and entertainment, and submit to her fully.
For Stephen, it was a release from the burden of responsibility he bore every day; the loss of power freed him from the shackles of his daily duties. It was also a way of dealing with his insecurities. The idea of losing Rebecca permanently would devastate him, so giving her away and having her come back was exquisite. Finally, Stephen loved it when she was happy and satisfied. But it was also about his own perceived sexual inferiority; while he was a gentle, considerate lover, he knew that other men were more forceful and that Rebecca needed both.
However, as with everything in life, balance was necessary. Occasionally, Stephen would bring the assertiveness from his professional life into the bedroom. He would reclaim Rebecca and punish her for her indulgences, and she loved it. It was a reminder of Stephen’s desire for her and that the man at her side was strong enough to regain what he had willingly surrendered. This part of their ritual would typically end with Rebecca having a red bottom and a creamy face before Stephen would close the circle by pampering her as they reconnected.
Rebecca snapped out of her daydream. “So, Raj?” Rebecca had met Raj recently when England played India at Lord’s. Raj spoke with a soft, educated Indian accent that oozed the confidence of an intelligent, fit, and wealthy man. He was slightly shorter than Max and Ollie, about the same height as Stephen, but his build was strong with obvious core strength. Rebecca and Raj had enjoyed three weekends together: two at his London residence in Knightsbridge on their own, and one at Rebecca and Stephen’s home, with Stephen confined to the guest room for the weekend. He was a different lover to the others: strong, agile, and energetic. He pleasured Rebecca with unbound enthusiasm, came quickly when it was his turn, and was ready to go again almost immediately.
Stephen nodded. “Yes, Raj. And Ollie.” Ollie was a long-term friend of Rebecca’s, an East End ladies’ man and a legend with young women and married ladies alike. Prodigiously well-hung and charismatic, Ollie was famous for sowing his seed far and wide. Rebecca and he had been friends with benefits for a long time, and although they rarely saw each other these days, the passion and electricity remained whenever their bodies connected. Ollie brought Rebecca back to when she was younger and those wild days of her twenties: hotel rooms with married men, Moët and coke, and being fucked so hard her legs turned to jelly.
“And my King, Max,” Rebecca said aloud, her confidence growing with the realisation that this was really happening. Max was Rebecca’s regular lover, the King to her Queen, the Bull to her hotwife, and the dominant personality within their little love triangle. Stephen had met Max on a business trip two years before. Over drinks, they had gotten to talking about Rebecca; Max, sensing Stephen’s sexual submissiveness, had immediately expressed an interest in meeting her. Having secured Rebecca’s number, things moved quickly, and only a week later, they spent several nights together while Max was visiting the UK for a conference. Since then, Max had been fucking Rebecca regularly, occasionally with, but mostly without, Stephen around. Rebecca relished their meetings. She loved his handsome looks, his athletic body, his stamina, and of course, his long, hard, powerful cock.
Rebecca was now on top, straddling Stephen. Their roles had already begun to shift; she was in the ascendancy, with Stephen sliding into his cuckold role. Rebecca reached down and held him in her hands; he was already hard. She stroked him. “You like this, handsome?” Rebecca asked as Stephen gasped and nodded. “Enjoy it, cuck. It’s the last time you will have for a long time.”
Rebecca started to stroke harder, his cock throbbing in her hand, as she felt her power grow. She started to thrive on the control she had over Stephen. “Those men are going to pleasure me like you can’t, and I will love every moment of their touch and penetration. You’ll be our cuckold for the weekend.”