“I just want to thank you.”
I opened the email with some trepidation, but the opening line disarmed me. What followed, however, was an exercise in angst. It was from my ex-wife’s new boyfriend.
“Your ex-wife is a real wildcat in the bedroom.”
—————
We met in grad school.
Megan was the daughter of a baptist minister. My name is Steve. I was a conservative kid, raised in an evangelical christian family and attending parochial schools my whole life. Always a bit of an introvert, I didn’t have a lot of confidence with the ladies. I had one previous long term girlfriend in high school and I thought I loved her at the time, but we ultimately drifted apart. We made out a lot, but never had sex.
Megan and I had mutual friends in grad school and met through them. We dated for over a year and I thought that we were in love. In that entire time, we kissed/petted a lot and she let me feel her small firm breasts over her bra. But I never got into her panties. Her religious faith was strong and she said that she intended to save herself for marriage.
Megan never had a serious boyfriend before me and went into our wedding night a virgin. Sadly, I was a virgin, too. On our wedding night, Megan told me she still wasn’t ready for sex yet. It wasn’t until the second day of our week-long honeymoon that we finally had intercourse.
I remember it well. Megan lay quietly on her back, while I kissed her and slowly lifted her chemise. She was wearing silky panties. I peeled them slowly off her legs. Megan did not shave her pussy, but I loved it. I had been warned that pussy could smell a bit fishy, but Megan’s smelled slightly sweet and musky. I spent quite a bit of time kissing it, licking it. She wasn’t overly wet, but her secretions tasted tangy and wonderful. I spread her outer lips and traced my tongue from her vaginal opening to her tiny clit. Every so often, I would drive my tongue into her opening like a tiny penis. She seemed to enjoy this, moaning softly. I then kissed up her belly to her breasts. Megan was about 5’ 6” and 115 lbs when we married and her breasts nicely matched her frame. They just filled my hands. Her small pink nipples were like bullets and firmed up nicely in my mouth.
Sadly, my penis is only 5 inches long—perhaps 5 1/4 on a good day—and not very girthy. Before we got married, I had experimented with condoms and found that even the “slim fit” variety were a little loose, and left a couple of inches rolled up at the base. In high school, I was always self-conscious about my size in the locker room. As I got ready to penetrate her for the first time, I felt grateful that Megan never had a previous boyfriend for comparison.
From missionary position, I entered Megan. She breathed in deeply, but did not seem to have any pain. I started slow and then pumped her faster. Megan uttered some soft moans that made me think she was enjoying herself, but there was no overwhelming response and I knew she didn’t have an orgasm. I lasted perhaps 5 or 6 minutes and emptied myself into her. We snuggled together and went to sleep. I noticed there was no blood on the sheets, and was a little surprised at that.
Over the course of our honeymoon, we had sex twice more. Each experience was about the same as the first. I loved it and tried my best to make things pleasurable for Megan, but she never had an orgasm on my cock. I was able to lick her to orgasm, but she seemed a little uncomfortable with that kind of sex. She never showed any interest in my cock. I longed for her to touch it, or take it in her mouth, but she seemed uninterested, or perhaps even disgusted by it.
After our honeymoon and throughout our marriage, our sex life was slow. Megan didn’t seem to enjoy sex much. I always thought it was due to her conservative religious upbringing and hang ups about sex, but my 5 inch penis and lack of experience probably didn’t help. Early in our marriage, I bought some books about sex and tried to engage Megan in healthy experimentation, but she never wanted to talk about sex and seemed to think of it as dirty.
We managed to have two girls, who were the light of our lives. We each had careers that kept us busy and, even though neither of us seemed entirely happy, we were committed to our kids and our marriage, in spite of the limited intimacy. We got to be a lot like close roommates.
Ultimately, Megan and I grew apart. I became increasingly bitter over our infrequent sex and Megan seemed annoyed by my very presence. We still had sex sometimes, but not more than every six to eight weeks. Megan always made it seem like she was doing me a favor when we had sex. She tended to lie on her back during our lovemaking, fairly still and quiet. She would get irritated if it took me too long to cum. In the end, my right hand became my primary sex partner.
For our 25th wedding anniversary, I arranged a trip to Cancun. It was all-inclusive and we were pampered by the resort staff. I had the crazy idea that Megan should be grateful for our time together and that we might reconnect sexually. But, alas, this was not to be.
The first night we got into our room, we were both tired and went to sleep.
The second night, I snuggled up against Megan. I’m sure she could feel my hardness on her backside. My fingers traced over her arms and legs softly. I then found her belly and traced slowly up to her right breast, tracing the undersurface lightly, avoiding her nipple. She responded by clamping down on my arm with hers, making it pretty clear that she didn’t want me to go further. My heart was racing with sexual excitement, but I knew that sex was not on the agenda. Megan went to sleep and I laid in bed for at least an hour, feeling sorry for myself. Then I got up, went to the bathroom, and quietly masturbated.
The next morning, I was cool and distant. Megan repaid the favor.
That evening, I didn’t try for sex. I told myself that if Megan didn’t want me, I didn’t want her. She went to sleep quietly.
In the morning, the sun was pouring through our window, backlighting Megan. She was lying on her side, facing the window, away from me. The curve of her hip was beautiful. I started fantasizing. Thinking of the scent and taste of her pussy, I stroked her back, hoping to wake her up gently. But she grunted, with some obvious disgust, and scooted away from me. The message was clear. I got up and found a bottle of lotion in the bathroom.
The next day, we had a pretty big argument about sex. It wasn’t our first. Megan said that she had anxiety and depression issues and just didn’t feel like having sex. She promised to seek some counseling when we got home, but wouldn’t commit to sex anytime in the near term. Megan said that she loved me, but admitted that sex with me was “never very good.” Furthermore, she didn’t like doggie style sex, giving me oral sex or even allowing me to perform oral sex on her. She told me that I needed to be patient with her, which seemed odd, since we were on a 25th anniversary vacation and had been dealing with these issues throughout our marriage.
The rest of the trip was awkward.
When we got home, we went for marriage counseling for a couple of months. It didn’t help.
We ultimately divorced. I had the bigger income so Megan got alimony, the house, the kids, and child support. I was reduced to living in a small apartment in town, barely making ends meet.
Soon after I moved out of the house, I noticed an unfamiliar Ram pickup truck in the driveway. It was there a lot. I still loved Megan and found myself driving past our old house almost every day after work, wishing that things might have turned out differently. I initially thought that perhaps Megan had bought a new vehicle, but it didn’t seem like her to drive a big truck. Then one day, I saw a man get out of the pickup and walk to the house. He was sizeable and built like a linebacker. I recognized him as someone I had met several years prior at one of Megan’s high school reunions. I recalled his name was Mark. Confidently, Mark went to the front door and walked right in without knocking. As the door opened briefly, I saw Megan, in a short sundress, smiling and walking to meet him. I was already past the house by that time and didn’t see anything else.
Angst flooded me.
She was my ex, and obviously didn’t owe me fidelity anymore, but it hurt to see her with someone new. I had a hard time sleeping that night and jacked off several times.
The next morning, I drove by the house early, around 6 am. The truck was still in the driveway and all the lights were off in the house.\
I knew of a dirt road through the woods behind the house and drove there. I parked my Subaru Forester along the dirt road and made my way through the woods toward the house. It was still somewhat dark, so I wasn’t too concerned about being seen. The woods border my (Megan’s) old house without a fence, so I came through the woods and made my way quickly to the house. No outside lights were on.
Crouching, I ran quickly to the downstairs master bedroom, where I knew Megan would be sleeping. Because there were no other people living behind the house, we never had curtains on the the windows in the back, so I knew I would be able to peer in.
I stood to the side of the window, adjacent to a small tree. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what was on the other side of the window, but somehow, I just needed to know.
When I screwed up my courage, I peeked around the side of the window and looked inside. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
Megan was lying face down, on her knees, legs spread apart, with her beautiful ass in the air. Her face was in the mattress, facing away from me, hands gripping the sheet. Behind her was Mark. His face was buried between her cheeks, nose at her rosebud, eating her pussy like a man possessed. Megan was moaning, loudly, into the mattress, making noises I had never heard from her before.
I was flabbergasted. In my heart, I had half expected to see SOMETHING, but I didn’t expect this. I felt slightly nauseous initially, but then found myself getting hard.
I was standing at an awkward angle and my leg was starting to cramp, so I had to move a bit. When I shifted position, I stepped on a stick that snapped loudly. Mark heard it and looked immediately toward the noise. I was busted. He looked surprised initially, then a look of recognition crossed his face and he smiled. Or, more accurately, smirked. He obviously recognized who I was.
Heart pounding, I stepped immediately back from the window and into hiding. I pondered my escape options for a second, but was frozen in place. I decided to take one more peek around the edge of the window, to see if Mark was still there, or perhaps coming for me.
I couldn’t believe what I saw. Mark had picked Megan up, as if she weighed nothing, draping her legs over each of his shoulders, with her head hanging down toward his groin. He was aggressively lapping her pussy from behind and Megan was pumping his impressive cock with her mouth.
I got a better look at Mark at that point. He was muscular, with defined pecs, broad shoulders and a muscular butt. I couldn’t judge the length of his cock because it was half-way down my ex-wife’s throat, but the part that protruded out of her mouth looked almost as long as my entire cock and pretty girthy.
I knew this was my chance to get away. I ran back through the woods to my car and then drove home. Embarrassingly, tears poured down my face as I reflected on what I had seen and what I had lost. I made it home and called in sick for work. I just couldn’t face the notion of going in.
I stayed home for a few days. I didn’t leave the house, didn’t shower, and hardly ate anything. I was tortured with angst and embarrassment.
On the third day, I received the email that started this story. Mark’s first email was short, thankfully.
His second email, sent later in the day, was not much longer, but opened a Pandora’s box of possibilities.
“Steve,
I don’t know you, but I know who you are and what kind of man you are.
I’m sure you know that I saw you, a few days ago, peeking in our window like a pervert. I didn’t mention it to Megan. She would have been mortified. But I don’t mind you seeing what you’ve lost. Seeing Megan truly satisfied.
If you want to see more and know more, just respond to this email with a simple “yes.”
Mark”
I’m ashamed to admit it, but my immediate response was “yes.”
To be continued?
Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
Edited: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
(Edited on 10/4/2020—There are autobiographical elements to this story, but it’s mostly fictional)
“I just want to thank you.”
I opened the email with some trepidation, but the opening line disarmed me. What followed, however, was an exercise in angst. It was from my ex-wife’s new boyfriend.
“Your ex-wife is a real wildcat in the bedroom.”
——
My name is Steve. I was a conservative kid, raised in an evangelical christian family. I attended parochial schools my whole life. Always a bit of an introvert, I didn’t have a lot of confidence with the ladies. I had one long term girlfriend back in high school. Her name was Becky.
Becky was a good Christian girl. She told me she wasn’t ready for sex, so I respected her wishes. I thought I loved her at the time, and was willing to wait for her, but we drifted apart and eventually broke up. Maddeningly, after we broke up, she quickly gave up her virginity to one of the jocks in school—a guy named Mark.
I met my eventual wife in grad school. Her name was Megan. We were both in an MBA program at a Christian school. We dated for over a year and it seemed like we were in love. In that entire time, we kissed a lot and she let me feel her small firm breasts over her bra. But I never got into her panties. Her religious faith was strong and she said that she intended to save herself for marriage.
Megan never had a serious boyfriend before me and went into our wedding night a virgin. Sadly, I was a virgin, too. On our wedding night, Megan told me she still wasn’t ready for sex yet. It wasn’t until the second day of our week-long honeymoon that we finally had intercourse.
I remember it well. Megan lay quietly on her back, while I kissed her and slowly lifted her chemise. She was wearing silky panties. I peeled them slowly off her legs. Megan did not shave her pussy, but I loved it. I had been warned that pussy could smell a bit fishy, but Megan’s smelled slightly sweet and musky. I spent quite a bit of time kissing it, licking it. She wasn’t overly wet, but her secretions tasted tangy and wonderful. I spread her outer lips and traced my tongue from her vaginal opening to her tiny clit. Every so often, I would drive my tongue into her opening like a penis. She seemed to enjoy this, moaning softly. I then kissed up her belly to her breasts. Megan was about 5’6” and 115 lbs when we married and her breasts nicely matched her frame. They just filled my hands. Her small pink nipples were like bullets and firmed up nicely in my mouth.
Sadly, my penis is only 5 inches long—perhaps 5 1/4 on a good day—and not very girthy. Before we got married, I had experimented with condoms and found that even the “slim fit” variety were a little loose, and left a couple of inches rolled up at the base. In high school, I was always self-conscious about my size in the locker room. As I got ready to penetrate her for the first time, I felt grateful that Megan never had a previous boyfriend for comparison.
From missionary position, I entered Megan. She breathed in deeply, but did not seem to show discomfort. I started slow and then pumped her faster. Megan uttered some soft moans that made me think she was enjoying herself, but there was no overwhelming response and I knew she didn’t have an orgasm. I lasted perhaps 5 or 6 minutes and emptied myself into her. We snuggled together and went to sleep. I noticed there was no blood on the sheets.
Over the course of our honeymoon, we had sex twice more. Each experience was about the same as the first. I loved it and tried my best to make things pleasurable for Megan, but she never had an orgasm on my cock. I was able to lick her to orgasm, but she seemed a little uncomfortable with that kind of sex. She never showed any interest in my cock. I longed for her to touch it, or take it in her mouth, but she seemed uninterested, or perhaps even disgusted by it.
After our honeymoon and throughout our marriage, our sex life was slow. Megan didn’t seem to enjoy sex much. I always thought it was due to her conservative religious upbringing and hang ups about sex, but my 5 inch penis and lack of experience probably didn’t help. Early in our marriage, I bought some books about sex and tried to engage Megan in healthy experimentation, but she never wanted to talk about sex and seemed to think of it as “dirty.” I was raised to treat women with respect, so I never pushed the issue.
We managed to have two girls, who were the light of our lives. We each had careers that kept us busy and, even though neither of us seemed entirely happy, we were committed to our kids and our marriage, in spite of the limited intimacy. We got to be a lot like close roommates.
Ultimately, Megan and I grew further apart. I became increasingly bitter over our near-sexless marriage and Megan became weary of my bitterness. We still had sex sometimes, but not more than every six to eight weeks. Megan always made it seem like she was doing me a favor when we had sex. She would lie on her back during our lovemaking, fairly still and quiet. She would get irritated if it took me too long to cum. In the end, my right hand became my primary sex partner.
Coming up on our 25th wedding anniversary, I realized that we hadn’t had intercourse for a long time, maybe three months? And, increasingly, I noticed that Megan seemed more shy about allowing me to see her naked body. She preferred to dress and undress in the dark and would quickly turn her back to me if I walked into the room when she was changing.
I felt like we needed a reset for our marriage, so I made arrangements for a trip to Cancun. I researched resorts for a long time before I made a reservation. In the end, I picked one of the nicest (and most expensive) resorts in Cancun. I had the crazy idea that Megan should be grateful for our time together and that we might reconnect sexually. But, alas, this was not to be.
The first night we got into our room, we were both tired from the long trip and went to sleep.
The second night, I snuggled up against Megan. I’m sure she could feel my hardness on her backside. My fingers traced over her arms and legs softly. I then found her belly and traced slowly up to her right breast, tracing the undersurface lightly, avoiding her nipple. She responded by clamping down on my arm with hers, making it pretty clear that she didn’t want me to go further. My heart was racing with sexual excitement, but I knew that sex was not on the agenda. Megan went to sleep and I laid in bed for at least an hour, feeling sorry for myself. Then I got up, went to the bathroom, and quietly masturbated.
The next morning, I was cool and distant. Megan repaid the favor.
That evening, I didn’t try for sex. I told myself that if Megan didn’t want me, I didn’t want her. She went to sleep quietly.
In the morning, the sun was pouring through our window, backlighting Megan. She was lying on her side, facing the window, away from me. The curve of her hip was beautiful. I started fantasizing. Thinking of how long it had been since I sampled the scent and taste of her pussy, I stroked her back, hoping to wake her up gently. But she grunted, with some obvious disgust, and scooted away from me. The message was clear. I got up and found a bottle of lotion in the bathroom.
The next day, we had a pretty big argument about sex. It wasn’t our first. Megan said that she had anxiety and depression issues and just didn’t feel like having sex. She promised to seek some counseling when we got home, but wouldn’t commit to sex anytime in the near term. Megan said that she loved me, but admitted that sex with me was “never very good.” Furthermore, she didn’t like doggie style sex, giving me oral sex or even allowing me to perform oral sex on her. She told me that I needed to be patient with her, which seemed odd, since we were on a 25th anniversary vacation and had been dealing with these issues throughout our marriage.
The rest of the trip was even more awkward.
When we got home, we went for marriage counseling for a while. It didn’t help.
We ultimately divorced. I had the bigger income, so Megan got alimony, the house, the kids, and child support. I was reduced to living in a small apartment in town, barely making ends meet.
Soon after I moved out of the house, I noticed an unfamiliar Ram pickup truck in the driveway. It was there a lot. I still loved Megan and found myself driving past our old house almost every day after work, wishing that things might have turned out differently. I initially thought that perhaps Megan had bought a new vehicle, but it didn’t seem like her to drive a big truck. Then one day, I saw a man get out of the pickup and walk to the house. He was sizeable, perhaps 6’ 2”, and built like a linebacker. I recognized him immediately as my old high school classmate, Mark—the same one who had taken my first girlfriend. Confidently, Mark strode up to the front door and walked right in without knocking. As the door opened briefly, Mark opened his arms and I saw Megan, in a short sundress, running up to meet him. I was already past the house by that time and didn’t see anything else.
Angst flooded me.
She was my ex, and obviously didn’t owe me fidelity anymore, but it hurt to see her with someone new—especially Mark. I hated that bastard. I had a hard time sleeping that night and jacked off several times.
The next morning, I drove by the house early, around 6 am. The truck was still in the driveway and all the lights were off in the house.
I knew of a dirt road through the woods behind the house and drove there. I parked my Subaru Forester along the dirt road and made my way through the woods toward the house. It was still somewhat dark, so I wasn’t too concerned about being seen. The woods border my (Megan’s) old house without a fence, so I came through the woods and made my way quickly to the house. No outside lights were on.
Crouching, I ran quickly to the downstairs master bedroom, where I knew Megan would be sleeping. Because there were no other people living behind the house, we never had curtains on the the windows in the back, so I knew I would be able to peer in.
I stood to the side of the window, adjacent to a small tree. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what was on the other side of the window, but somehow, I just needed to know.
When I screwed up my courage, I peeked around the side of the window and looked inside. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
Megan was lying face down, on her knees, legs spread apart, with her beautiful ass in the air. Her face was in the mattress, facing away from me, hands gripping the sheet. Behind her was Mark. His face was buried between her cheeks, nose at her rosebud, eating her pussy like a man possessed. Megan was moaning, loudly, into the mattress—making noises I had never heard from her before.
I was flabbergasted. In my heart, I had half expected to see SOMETHING, but I didn’t expect this. I felt slightly nauseous initially, but then found myself getting hard.
I was standing at an awkward angle and my leg was starting to cramp, so I had to move a bit. When I shifted position, I stepped on a stick that snapped loudly. Mark heard it and looked immediately toward the noise. I was busted. He looked surprised initially, then a look of recognition crossed his face and he smiled. Or, more accurately, smirked. He obviously recognized who I was.
Heart pounding, I stepped immediately back from the window and into hiding. I pondered my escape options for a second, but was frozen in place. I decided to take one more peek around the edge of the window, to see if Mark was still there, or perhaps coming for me.
I couldn’t believe what I saw. Mark had picked Megan up, as if she weighed nothing, draping her legs over each of his shoulders, with her head hanging down toward his groin. He was aggressively lapping her pussy from behind and Megan was pumping his impressive cock with her mouth.
I got a better look at Mark at that point. He was muscular, with defined pecs, broad shoulders and a muscular butt. I couldn’t judge the length of his cock because it was half-way down my ex-wife’s throat, but the part that protruded out of her mouth looked almost as long as my entire cock and pretty girthy.
I knew this was my chance to get away. I ran back through the woods to my car and then drove home. Embarrassingly, tears poured down my face as I reflected on what I had seen and what I had lost. I made it home and called in sick for work. I just couldn’t face the notion of going in.
I stayed home for a few days. I didn’t leave the house, didn’t shower, and hardly ate anything. I was tortured with angst and embarrassment.
On the third day, I received the email that started this story. Mark’s first email was short, thankfully.
His second email, sent later in the day, was not much longer, but opened a Pandora’s box of possibilities.
“Steve,
I don’t know you. We were never friends. But I know who you are and it turns out that we have similar taste in women.
I had a great time with your high school girlfriend back in the day. I really appreciated that you kept her chaste for me. When I met her, she was quite a Jesus freak. After I seduced her into my bed, she became a freak in the sheets. I had her calling Jesus’ name as I plowed her little pussy.
It’s hard to believe, but your ex wife is (was) almost as chaste after 25 years of marriage. Now she’s a slut for my big cock.
I’m sure you know that I saw you, a few days ago, peeking in our window like a pervert. I didn’t mention it to Megan. She would have been mortified. But I don’t mind you seeing what you’ve lost. Seeing Megan truly satisfied.
If you want to see more and know more, just respond to this email with a simple “yes.”
—Mark”
I’m ashamed to admit it, but my immediate response was “yes.”
(To be continued.)
“I just want to thank you.”
I opened the email with some trepidation, but the opening line disarmed me. What followed, however, was an exercise in angst. It was from my ex-wife’s new boyfriend.
“Your ex-wife is a real wildcat in the bedroom.”
——
My name is Steve. I was a conservative kid, raised in an evangelical christian family. I attended parochial schools my whole life. Always a bit of an introvert, I didn’t have a lot of confidence with the ladies. I had one long term girlfriend back in high school. Her name was Becky.
Becky was a good Christian girl. She told me she wasn’t ready for sex, so I respected her wishes. I thought I loved her at the time, and was willing to wait for her, but we drifted apart and eventually broke up. Maddeningly, after we broke up, she quickly gave up her virginity to one of the jocks in school—a guy named Mark.
I met my eventual wife in grad school. Her name was Megan. We were both in an MBA program at a Christian school. We dated for over a year and it seemed like we were in love. In that entire time, we kissed a lot and she let me feel her small firm breasts over her bra. But I never got into her panties. Her religious faith was strong and she said that she intended to save herself for marriage.
Megan never had a serious boyfriend before me and went into our wedding night a virgin. Sadly, I was a virgin, too. On our wedding night, Megan told me she still wasn’t ready for sex yet. It wasn’t until the second day of our week-long honeymoon that we finally had intercourse.
I remember it well. Megan lay quietly on her back, while I kissed her and slowly lifted her chemise. She was wearing silky panties. I peeled them slowly off her legs. Megan did not shave her pussy, but I loved it. I had been warned that pussy could smell a bit fishy, but Megan’s smelled slightly sweet and musky. I spent quite a bit of time kissing it, licking it. She wasn’t overly wet, but her secretions tasted tangy and wonderful. I spread her outer lips and traced my tongue from her vaginal opening to her tiny clit. Every so often, I would drive my tongue into her opening like a penis. She seemed to enjoy this, moaning softly. I then kissed up her belly to her breasts. Megan was about 5’6” and 115 lbs when we married and her breasts nicely matched her frame. They just filled my hands. Her small pink nipples were like bullets and firmed up nicely in my mouth.
Sadly, my penis is only 5 inches long—perhaps 5 1/4 on a good day—and not very girthy. Before we got married, I had experimented with condoms and found that even the “slim fit” variety were a little loose, and left a couple of inches rolled up at the base. In high school, I was always self-conscious about my size in the locker room. As I got ready to penetrate her for the first time, I felt grateful that Megan never had a previous boyfriend for comparison.
From missionary position, I entered Megan. She breathed in deeply, but did not seem to show discomfort. I started slow and then pumped her faster. Megan uttered some soft moans that made me think she was enjoying herself, but there was no overwhelming response and I knew she didn’t have an orgasm. I lasted perhaps 5 or 6 minutes and emptied myself into her. We snuggled together and went to sleep. I noticed there was no blood on the sheets.
Over the course of our honeymoon, we had sex twice more. Each experience was about the same as the first. I loved it and tried my best to make things pleasurable for Megan, but she never had an orgasm on my cock. I was able to lick her to orgasm, but she seemed a little uncomfortable with that kind of sex. She never showed any interest in my cock. I longed for her to touch it, or take it in her mouth, but she seemed uninterested, or perhaps even disgusted by it.
After our honeymoon and throughout our marriage, our sex life was slow. Megan didn’t seem to enjoy sex much. I always thought it was due to her conservative religious upbringing and hang ups about sex, but my 5 inch penis and lack of experience probably didn’t help. Early in our marriage, I bought some books about sex and tried to engage Megan in healthy experimentation, but she never wanted to talk about sex and seemed to think of it as “dirty.” I was raised to treat women with respect, so I never pushed the issue.
We managed to have two girls, who were the light of our lives. We each had careers that kept us busy and, even though neither of us seemed entirely happy, we were committed to our kids and our marriage, in spite of the limited intimacy. We got to be a lot like close roommates.
Ultimately, Megan and I grew further apart. I became increasingly bitter over our near-sexless marriage and Megan became weary of my bitterness. We still had sex sometimes, but not more than every six to eight weeks. Megan always made it seem like she was doing me a favor when we had sex. She would lie on her back during our lovemaking, fairly still and quiet. She would get irritated if it took me too long to cum. In the end, my right hand became my primary sex partner.
Coming up on our 25th wedding anniversary, I realized that we hadn’t had intercourse for a long time, maybe three months? And, increasingly, I noticed that Megan seemed more shy about allowing me to see her naked body. She preferred to dress and undress in the dark and would quickly turn her back to me if I walked into the room when she was changing.
I felt like we needed a reset for our marriage, so I made arrangements for a trip to Cancun. I researched resorts for a long time before I made a reservation. In the end, I picked one of the nicest (and most expensive) resorts in Cancun. I had the crazy idea that Megan should be grateful for our time together and that we might reconnect sexually. But, alas, this was not to be.
The first night we got into our room, we were both tired from the long trip and went to sleep.
The second night, I snuggled up against Megan. I’m sure she could feel my hardness on her backside. My fingers traced over her arms and legs softly. I then found her belly and traced slowly up to her right breast, tracing the undersurface lightly, avoiding her nipple. She responded by clamping down on my arm with hers, making it pretty clear that she didn’t want me to go further. My heart was racing with sexual excitement, but I knew that sex was not on the agenda. Megan went to sleep and I laid in bed for at least an hour, feeling sorry for myself. Then I got up, went to the bathroom, and quietly masturbated.
The next morning, I was cool and distant. Megan repaid the favor.
That evening, I didn’t try for sex. I told myself that if Megan didn’t want me, I didn’t want her. She went to sleep quietly.
In the morning, the sun was pouring through our window, backlighting Megan. She was lying on her side, facing the window, away from me. The curve of her hip was beautiful. I started fantasizing. Thinking of how long it had been since I sampled the scent and taste of her pussy, I stroked her back, hoping to wake her up gently. But she grunted, with some obvious disgust, and scooted away from me. The message was clear. I got up and found a bottle of lotion in the bathroom.
The next day, we had a pretty big argument about sex. It wasn’t our first. Megan said that she had anxiety and depression issues and just didn’t feel like having sex. She promised to seek some counseling when we got home, but wouldn’t commit to sex anytime in the near term. Megan said that she loved me, but admitted that sex with me was “never very good.” Furthermore, she didn’t like doggie style sex, giving me oral sex or even allowing me to perform oral sex on her. She told me that I needed to be patient with her, which seemed odd, since we were on a 25th anniversary vacation and had been dealing with these issues throughout our marriage.
The rest of the trip was even more awkward.
When we got home, we went for marriage counseling for a while. It didn’t help.
We ultimately divorced. I had the bigger income, so Megan got alimony, the house, the kids, and child support. I was reduced to living in a small apartment in town, barely making ends meet.
Soon after I moved out of the house, I noticed an unfamiliar Ram pickup truck in the driveway. It was there a lot. I still loved Megan and found myself driving past our old house almost every day after work, wishing that things might have turned out differently. I initially thought that perhaps Megan had bought a new vehicle, but it didn’t seem like her to drive a big truck. Then one day, I saw a man get out of the pickup and walk to the house. He was sizeable, perhaps 6’ 2”, and built like a linebacker. I recognized him immediately as my old high school classmate, Mark—the same one who had taken my first girlfriend. Confidently, Mark strode up to the front door and walked right in without knocking. As the door opened briefly, Mark opened his arms and I saw Megan, in a short sundress, running up to meet him. I was already past the house by that time and didn’t see anything else.
Angst flooded me.
She was my ex, and obviously didn’t owe me fidelity anymore, but it hurt to see her with someone new—especially Mark. I hated that bastard. I had a hard time sleeping that night and jacked off several times.
The next morning, I drove by the house early, around 6 am. The truck was still in the driveway and all the lights were off in the house.
I knew of a dirt road through the woods behind the house and drove there. I parked my Subaru Forester along the dirt road and made my way through the woods toward the house. It was still somewhat dark, so I wasn’t too concerned about being seen. The woods border my (Megan’s) old house without a fence, so I came through the woods and made my way quickly to the house. No outside lights were on.
Crouching, I ran quickly to the downstairs master bedroom, where I knew Megan would be sleeping. Because there were no other people living behind the house, we never had curtains on the the windows in the back, so I knew I would be able to peer in.
I stood to the side of the window, adjacent to a small tree. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what was on the other side of the window, but somehow, I just needed to know.
When I screwed up my courage, I peeked around the side of the window and looked inside. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
Megan was lying face down, on her knees, legs spread apart, with her beautiful ass in the air. Her face was in the mattress, facing away from me, hands gripping the sheet. Behind her was Mark. His face was buried between her cheeks, nose at her rosebud, eating her pussy like a man possessed. Megan was moaning, loudly, into the mattress—making noises I had never heard from her before.
I was flabbergasted. In my heart, I had half expected to see SOMETHING, but I didn’t expect this. I felt slightly nauseous initially, but then found myself getting hard.
I was standing at an awkward angle and my leg was starting to cramp, so I had to move a bit. When I shifted position, I stepped on a stick that snapped loudly. Mark heard it and looked immediately toward the noise. I was busted. He looked surprised initially, then a look of recognition crossed his face and he smiled. Or, more accurately, smirked. He obviously recognized who I was.
Heart pounding, I stepped immediately back from the window and into hiding. I pondered my escape options for a second, but was frozen in place. I decided to take one more peek around the edge of the window, to see if Mark was still there, or perhaps coming for me.
I couldn’t believe what I saw. Mark had picked Megan up, as if she weighed nothing, draping her legs over each of his shoulders, with her head hanging down toward his groin. He was aggressively lapping her pussy from behind and Megan was pumping his impressive cock with her mouth.
I got a better look at Mark at that point. He was muscular, with defined pecs, broad shoulders and a muscular butt. I couldn’t judge the length of his cock because it was half-way down my ex-wife’s throat, but the part that protruded out of her mouth looked almost as long as my entire cock and pretty girthy.
I knew this was my chance to get away. I ran back through the woods to my car and then drove home. Embarrassingly, tears poured down my face as I reflected on what I had seen and what I had lost. I made it home and called in sick for work. I just couldn’t face the notion of going in.
I stayed home for a few days. I didn’t leave the house, didn’t shower, and hardly ate anything. I was tortured with angst and embarrassment.
On the third day, I received the email that started this story. Mark’s first email was short, thankfully.
His second email, sent later in the day, was not much longer, but opened a Pandora’s box of possibilities.
“Steve,
I don’t know you. We were never friends. But I know who you are and it turns out that we have similar taste in women.
I had a great time with your high school girlfriend back in the day. I really appreciated that you kept her chaste for me. When I met her, she was quite a Jesus freak. After I seduced her into my bed, she became a freak in the sheets. I had her calling Jesus’ name as I plowed her little pussy.
It’s hard to believe, but your ex wife is (was) almost as chaste after 25 years of marriage. Now she’s a slut for my big cock.
I’m sure you know that I saw you, a few days ago, peeking in our window like a pervert. I didn’t mention it to Megan. She would have been mortified. But I don’t mind you seeing what you’ve lost. Seeing Megan truly satisfied.
If you want to see more and know more, just respond to this email with a simple “yes.”
—Mark”
I’m ashamed to admit it, but my immediate response was “yes.”
(To be continued.)
Re: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex—Part 2
Part 2
——————————————————-
Three days later...
A small package. Left on the front porch by UPS. I was surprised, since I couldn’t remember ordering anything.
I opened the box. A note rested on top of a plastic bag.
“Greetings Steve,
Enclosed is a little present. Megan’s panties. She’s given up on wearing them. And she has an expanding collection of sexy short sundresses. She loves giving me a sneak peek at her pussy when she thinks no one is watching.
And there’s nothing better than lifting her dress in the back and surprising her with my cock while she’s washing the dishes or talking on the phone.
I know it’s been a long time since you smelled Megan’s pussy. I’ve been with a lot of women in my life, but I can tell you Megan’s pussy is the best of all of them. Her scent always gets me hard. I pulled most of these panties out of the hamper, so I think you’ll enjoy them.
—Mark”
He was right.
——————————————————-
Another package, a week later.
My heart fluttered as I opened it. It contained a DVD. I immediately popped it into the Xbox and hit “play.”
The angle of view appeared to be from a ventilation duct above the bed in the master bedroom. It was a wide-angle view, so I could see the whole bed.
Megan and Mark were snuggling—Megan’s head on his chest, right hand absentmindedly tracing his left nipple. They were draped with a sheet.
Mark spoke first. “What do you want to do today?”
“You. Over and over again.” Megan replied.
“Haven’t you had enough for one morning?”
She smiled up at him impishly. “Not even close.”
“You act like you never had sex before.”
“Sometimes it seems that way.”
“Were you like this with Steve?”
“You know I wasn’t,” she replied.
“What was Steve like in the bedroom?”
“Do we have to talk about Steve?” she said. “I still feel a little bit guilty. I know Steve and I aren’t married anymore, but I feel bad that I didn’t give him much of a chance.”
“Indulge me.”
“Well, Steve is a good man. He was a good provider, a good father, pretty clever and funny in his own way. But he couldn’t seem to light my fire in the bedroom.”
Mark asked “Why?”
“Well, I hate to say it, because it makes me sound like a whore.”
“Go on,” said Mark, with a smile.
“You taught me that I’m a bit of a size queen. I never actually measured him, but Steve told me once that he is about 5 1/4 inches. It’s a little sad that he felt the need to mention the ‘1/4’ part. I suspect he was exaggerating, even at that. He’s a lot smaller hard than you are soft.”
“I should thank him for keeping you so tight,” Mark said.
Megan smacked his chest. “You’re bad!”
“Do you want to measure me?”
“Can I?”
“You’ll have to get me hard first.”
“You’re always hard.”
“Only when you’re around.”
With that, Megan jumped up and ran out of the room, seemingly excited. She came back in a few minutes with a ruler. When she came back in, I couldn’t see details from my vantage point, but I noticed that her breasts still seemed amazingly perky for a 48 year-old and her belly was flat and toned. Nipples were hard, with small bars piercing them. Pussy was bare. I had never seen that before. Megan always kept a full bush when we were together, but now she was smooth. And she had allowed Mark to pierce her.
Angst welled up inside me. I was already hard, but somehow I felt even harder at that moment.
Megan came to the side of the bed and threw back the sheet. Mark was semi-hard, and already huge. Her head bent over his massive member and obscured my view. She was obviously sucking him. After a couple of minutes, she said “there!” and jumped up to get the ruler.
“Ten inches. Wow!”
“Wait a second,” said Mark. “Push the ruler into my pubic bone.”
“Ten and a quarter inches.”
“Yep. I’m pretty proud of that extra quarter inch,” Mark said.
“I can’t believe my pussy is that deep.”
“I’m pretty sure I resized it. You were super-tight when we first fucked.”
“I’ll say... You actually made me bleed the first time you fucked me. Steve didn’t even make me bleed when he took my virginity,” Megan said. “You ruined my pussy for other men.”
“That’s right,” said Mark. “I own it. And you. But I want to hear it from you. Who owns your pussy?”
“You’re so crude! Do you have to talk like that?”
“I’m not your wimp ex-husband,” Mark said. “Who owns your pussy?”
“I feel dirty, talking like that,” said Megan.
With that, Mark jumped up, grabbed Megan and threw her on her back. She squealed and laughed. In turn, he produced straps with fur-lined handcuffs from the corners of the bed and lashed her arms and legs down tight. Megan didn’t look worried. It was apparent that she had been tied up before.
“You ARE dirty,” said Mark. “You’re my dirty little slut. And if you want more of this 10 inch cock today, you’ll say it. Who owns your pussy?”
“Don’t make me say it. I’m supposed to be a strong feminist. It makes me feel weak.”
“You are weak. You’ll do anything for my cock.”
With that, he picked up a feather tickler and started running it from the bottom of her right foot, up the inside of her right thigh, to an inch shy of her pussy. Megan thrust her crotch toward the tickler, desperate to be touched, but Mark denied her. Up the other leg he went next, again stopping before reaching her pussy. Megan groaned. He then started at her right palm, tracing down the soft flesh of her inner arm to her right breast. He traced circles around the margins of her breasts, deftly avoiding the nipples. Next, he traced down her abdomen softly, stopping above Megan’s clit. She moaned again softly.
“Please...” she said. “Please fuck me. I’m so wet, I’m leaking.”
“I only fuck pussies I own,” said Mark. “Who owns this pussy?”
“You do,” Megan said meekly.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“You do!” Meagan said it louder.
“Say my name. Who owns your pussy?” Mark was straddling Megan’s lower abdomen, manipulating the bars at her nipples.
“Mark does. Mark owns my pussy.”
“Did Steve ever own your pussy?”
“No.”
“Did Steve ever make you cum with his little dick?”
“No. Never!”
“Does he know how long I’ve been fucking you?”
“No.”
“Maybe I should tell him,” said Mark.
“No! Please don’t,” said Megan. “I know we’re not married anymore, but he would be crushed. I feel like I’ve hurt him enough already.”
“How long were we having sex—I mean, before your divorce? Five months? Six?”
“Six months,” said Megan. “And Steve didn’t have me that whole time.”
“Did you cage him? I wouldn’t go six days without your pussy.”
“And I wouldn’t go six days without your cock. These days, my pussy is tingling after six hours without you inside me.”
“Anyway, Mark, I don’t know why we’re talking about this now. It’s not complicated. You claimed me. You told me I was your woman and that Steve was my cuck. You told me not to fuck him. You told me you wouldn’t share me. Remember?”
“You even shaved my pussy and wrote on it with a permanent marker before Steve and I went to Cancun. I tried to scrub it off, but it was impossible. Can you imagine how hard it was to keep that hidden from him? You should have seen Steve in Cancun. He was desperate for sex. He paid $8000 for a luxury vacation and I slept next to him every night like a cold fish. I dressed and undressed in the bathroom. I showered with the door locked. I hid my body well. I felt bad for Steve, but if he were a real man, like you, he would have held me down, ripped off my panties, and had his way with me. But he didn’t, so I think he shares some of the blame.”
“Sounds like I owned your pussy, even then,” said Mark.
“Yes. Even then,” said Megan softly.
“And I own it now.” At that, Mark shoved all 10 inches into Megan’s tight hole. She was already dripping with excitement, so he slid in easily. Megan arched her back and her eyes rolled back in her head.
Mark looked directly at the camera and smirked.
—————
To be continued...
——————————————————-
Three days later...
A small package. Left on the front porch by UPS. I was surprised, since I couldn’t remember ordering anything.
I opened the box. A note rested on top of a plastic bag.
“Greetings Steve,
Enclosed is a little present. Megan’s panties. She’s given up on wearing them. And she has an expanding collection of sexy short sundresses. She loves giving me a sneak peek at her pussy when she thinks no one is watching.
And there’s nothing better than lifting her dress in the back and surprising her with my cock while she’s washing the dishes or talking on the phone.
I know it’s been a long time since you smelled Megan’s pussy. I’ve been with a lot of women in my life, but I can tell you Megan’s pussy is the best of all of them. Her scent always gets me hard. I pulled most of these panties out of the hamper, so I think you’ll enjoy them.
—Mark”
He was right.
——————————————————-
Another package, a week later.
My heart fluttered as I opened it. It contained a DVD. I immediately popped it into the Xbox and hit “play.”
The angle of view appeared to be from a ventilation duct above the bed in the master bedroom. It was a wide-angle view, so I could see the whole bed.
Megan and Mark were snuggling—Megan’s head on his chest, right hand absentmindedly tracing his left nipple. They were draped with a sheet.
Mark spoke first. “What do you want to do today?”
“You. Over and over again.” Megan replied.
“Haven’t you had enough for one morning?”
She smiled up at him impishly. “Not even close.”
“You act like you never had sex before.”
“Sometimes it seems that way.”
“Were you like this with Steve?”
“You know I wasn’t,” she replied.
“What was Steve like in the bedroom?”
“Do we have to talk about Steve?” she said. “I still feel a little bit guilty. I know Steve and I aren’t married anymore, but I feel bad that I didn’t give him much of a chance.”
“Indulge me.”
“Well, Steve is a good man. He was a good provider, a good father, pretty clever and funny in his own way. But he couldn’t seem to light my fire in the bedroom.”
Mark asked “Why?”
“Well, I hate to say it, because it makes me sound like a whore.”
“Go on,” said Mark, with a smile.
“You taught me that I’m a bit of a size queen. I never actually measured him, but Steve told me once that he is about 5 1/4 inches. It’s a little sad that he felt the need to mention the ‘1/4’ part. I suspect he was exaggerating, even at that. He’s a lot smaller hard than you are soft.”
“I should thank him for keeping you so tight,” Mark said.
Megan smacked his chest. “You’re bad!”
“Do you want to measure me?”
“Can I?”
“You’ll have to get me hard first.”
“You’re always hard.”
“Only when you’re around.”
With that, Megan jumped up and ran out of the room, seemingly excited. She came back in a few minutes with a ruler. When she came back in, I couldn’t see details from my vantage point, but I noticed that her breasts still seemed amazingly perky for a 48 year-old and her belly was flat and toned. Nipples were hard, with small bars piercing them. Pussy was bare. I had never seen that before. Megan always kept a full bush when we were together, but now she was smooth. And she had allowed Mark to pierce her.
Angst welled up inside me. I was already hard, but somehow I felt even harder at that moment.
Megan came to the side of the bed and threw back the sheet. Mark was semi-hard, and already huge. Her head bent over his massive member and obscured my view. She was obviously sucking him. After a couple of minutes, she said “there!” and jumped up to get the ruler.
“Ten inches. Wow!”
“Wait a second,” said Mark. “Push the ruler into my pubic bone.”
“Ten and a quarter inches.”
“Yep. I’m pretty proud of that extra quarter inch,” Mark said.
“I can’t believe my pussy is that deep.”
“I’m pretty sure I resized it. You were super-tight when we first fucked.”
“I’ll say... You actually made me bleed the first time you fucked me. Steve didn’t even make me bleed when he took my virginity,” Megan said. “You ruined my pussy for other men.”
“That’s right,” said Mark. “I own it. And you. But I want to hear it from you. Who owns your pussy?”
“You’re so crude! Do you have to talk like that?”
“I’m not your wimp ex-husband,” Mark said. “Who owns your pussy?”
“I feel dirty, talking like that,” said Megan.
With that, Mark jumped up, grabbed Megan and threw her on her back. She squealed and laughed. In turn, he produced straps with fur-lined handcuffs from the corners of the bed and lashed her arms and legs down tight. Megan didn’t look worried. It was apparent that she had been tied up before.
“You ARE dirty,” said Mark. “You’re my dirty little slut. And if you want more of this 10 inch cock today, you’ll say it. Who owns your pussy?”
“Don’t make me say it. I’m supposed to be a strong feminist. It makes me feel weak.”
“You are weak. You’ll do anything for my cock.”
With that, he picked up a feather tickler and started running it from the bottom of her right foot, up the inside of her right thigh, to an inch shy of her pussy. Megan thrust her crotch toward the tickler, desperate to be touched, but Mark denied her. Up the other leg he went next, again stopping before reaching her pussy. Megan groaned. He then started at her right palm, tracing down the soft flesh of her inner arm to her right breast. He traced circles around the margins of her breasts, deftly avoiding the nipples. Next, he traced down her abdomen softly, stopping above Megan’s clit. She moaned again softly.
“Please...” she said. “Please fuck me. I’m so wet, I’m leaking.”
“I only fuck pussies I own,” said Mark. “Who owns this pussy?”
“You do,” Megan said meekly.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“You do!” Meagan said it louder.
“Say my name. Who owns your pussy?” Mark was straddling Megan’s lower abdomen, manipulating the bars at her nipples.
“Mark does. Mark owns my pussy.”
“Did Steve ever own your pussy?”
“No.”
“Did Steve ever make you cum with his little dick?”
“No. Never!”
“Does he know how long I’ve been fucking you?”
“No.”
“Maybe I should tell him,” said Mark.
“No! Please don’t,” said Megan. “I know we’re not married anymore, but he would be crushed. I feel like I’ve hurt him enough already.”
“How long were we having sex—I mean, before your divorce? Five months? Six?”
“Six months,” said Megan. “And Steve didn’t have me that whole time.”
“Did you cage him? I wouldn’t go six days without your pussy.”
“And I wouldn’t go six days without your cock. These days, my pussy is tingling after six hours without you inside me.”
“Anyway, Mark, I don’t know why we’re talking about this now. It’s not complicated. You claimed me. You told me I was your woman and that Steve was my cuck. You told me not to fuck him. You told me you wouldn’t share me. Remember?”
“You even shaved my pussy and wrote on it with a permanent marker before Steve and I went to Cancun. I tried to scrub it off, but it was impossible. Can you imagine how hard it was to keep that hidden from him? You should have seen Steve in Cancun. He was desperate for sex. He paid $8000 for a luxury vacation and I slept next to him every night like a cold fish. I dressed and undressed in the bathroom. I showered with the door locked. I hid my body well. I felt bad for Steve, but if he were a real man, like you, he would have held me down, ripped off my panties, and had his way with me. But he didn’t, so I think he shares some of the blame.”
“Sounds like I owned your pussy, even then,” said Mark.
“Yes. Even then,” said Megan softly.
“And I own it now.” At that, Mark shoved all 10 inches into Megan’s tight hole. She was already dripping with excitement, so he slid in easily. Megan arched her back and her eyes rolled back in her head.
Mark looked directly at the camera and smirked.
—————
To be continued...
-
lookingiansa
- Player
- Posts: 309
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Re: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
damn thats cruel of your ex wife isnt it.
Re: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
Part 3
---
I shouldn’t have been so aroused by what I had just seen. But I was.
I found myself watching the video over and over again over the next few days. My dick was raw.
I told myself I needed to get past what I had seen. So I made an account on an adult dating website. And I waited. I didn’t pursue anyone aggressively. I was still in love with Megan and my heart wasn’t in it.
But one day, I got a message that caught my attention. It was from Becky, my long-ago girlfriend from high school. The one I never slept with. Unlike many of the other photos on the dating site, Becky’s wasn’t racy. But I could tell that she had aged gracefully. She listed herself as widowed. 5’ 6”. 140 lbs. “Looking for a relationship.” Breasts were fully covered, with no cleavage showing, but I could tell that they were bigger than in high school.
So I messaged her back. We made a date for Friday night.
I pulled up to Becky’s house right on time. It was big, probably 3500 square feet, and in a nice part of town. She met me at the door wearing a medium-length skirt and a loose-fitting blouse. Pretty conservative, but my primitive man-brain immediately went to work imagining what might be underneath.
We went to dinner and reminisced about old times. Becky said she had thought of me often over the years and wondered how things might have turned out if we had stayed together.
After dinner, I dropped her off at her door. I leaned in for a kiss, but she turned her head at the last second and my lips only caught her cheek. She gave me a little hug, thanked me for a “wonderful evening” and disappeared inside.
It was just like high school all over again. I was hoping that Becky would have gained a little more sexual adventurousness over the years, but I didn’t see any signs of that yet.
I called her the next day and we chatted for a half hour. We agreed to go out again on Wednesday night.
We went to a restaurant called Angelos. It was a beautiful place, situated on a lake. We were seated at a great table with a view. The evening seemed off to a great start, but then disaster struck. In strolled Megan And Mark. I hoped they wouldn’t see us, but unfortunately Mark spotted us right away. He took Megan’s hand and lead her confidently to our table. She looked really uncomfortable with the situation.
Mark ignored me, at first.
“Hey Becks,” he said. “Long time, no see. You look stunning, as usual.”
Becky blushed a little. “Thank you, Mark.”
“I haven’t seen you in a long time. How’ve you been?”
“Pretty good, lately. Staying busy at work,” she said.
“Funny seeing you here with this guy. Seems like he and I have similar taste in women.”
He smacked me on the back. “Am I right, little buddy?”
(“Little buddy?!”). I was fuming inside.
Mark continued, “Anyway, we’ll let you lovebirds get back to dinner.”
Mark selected a table in a corner of the restaurant in my direct line of sight. In fact, it looked like I was the only one who could see them. They sat on the same side of the table, facing me. Mark put his arm around Megan and pulled her close. She was close enough that he could reach her right breast. He cupped it along the side and made eye contact with me. Megan seemed embarrassed and tried to move his hand, but he kept putting it back.
Mark leaned in to say something to Megan. I couldn’t hear what it was, but she frowned and shook her head. He repeated whatever he said before, and again Megan shook her head.
Mark stood up behind Megan, leaned in to whisper in her ear and nuzzled her neck. He then reached down to her legs and forceably spread them apart. He pulled up her short dress so that, at least from where I was sitting, her bare pussy was on full display.
Mark whispered again in Megan’s ear, and she kept her legs open, as if he had forbidden her from closing them.
She blushed red.
Megan looked up briefly, probably hoping that I had not seen what was happening. We made eye contact and she turned immediately away. Mark came back around to his seat and sat down, smugly. He dropped his right hand to Megan’s lap and starting gently fingering her. Mark supported his menu with his left hand and seemed to be reading it nonchalantly while his right hand was hard at work. Megan covered her eyes with her hands and seemed to be breathing heavily. After a few minutes, I saw her lean forward as she shuddered and her legs finally snapped shut. Mark removed his very wet middle finger, ran it under his nose as he inhaled deeply. He then held it up to Megan’s mouth and forced it past her lips. She seemed to resist at first, but then sucked her juices off his finger. She never made further eye contact with me.
Flustered, I turned to Becky and said, “Mind if we leave?”
“What’s wrong.”
“Well, I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but Mark just fingered my ex-wife to an orgasm. And he obviously meant for me to see it.”
“That woman was your ex-wife? I’m so sorry. Believe me.”
“Well,” I said. “Mark is obviously an asshole, but I would have expected more kindness from Megan. She must know what that does to me. How it emasculates me.”
“Don’t be too hard on her,” said Becky. “Mark has a way with women. A way of making them do unimaginable things.”
“Sounds like you know Mark pretty well.”
“Yeah,” Becky said, quietly. “I’m not proud of it.”
“I wasn’t planning to bring this up, but the fact is that you did a pretty good job of emasculating me yourself, back in high school. I respected you. Adored you. As you know, I always wanted more, physically. But I respected your faith and didn’t push it. Then, two weeks after we broke up, I saw you with Mark. And word on the street was that you gave him your cherry. Even though we were broken up, I’ll be honest. I was devastated.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Becky. “We were broken up, at the time, so I didn’t cheat. But I can see how you might be upset. I’m upset with myself.”
“So how did it happen?” I asked. “How could you fall for such a creepy bastard?”
“Are you sure you want to know? I sense that you and I may have a real connection and I don’t want to scare you away.” She looked down at the table. “Being with you has reminded me of how amazing you were when we were dating. You were always so kind and respectful. I was quite the prude in those days. But somehow, you were always willing to wait for me. You never pushed. You respected my wishes. You were the kind of man I wish I had ended up with in the end.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Tell me.”
Becky took a deep breath. “After we broke up in high school, I was depressed. And lonely.”
“A couple of weeks after we broke up, Kara dragged me to a party. You weren’t there, but Mark was. I was in a really bad place mentally. And vulnerable. Here was this great hunk of a young man, paying me complements, making me feel good about myself. Making me feel like I hadn’t felt in a long time. He was really smooth.”
“Kara ended up leaving with some guy, and unfortunately, she was my ride. So Mark offered to take me home. He took a detour. He found a quiet spot overlooking the valley. We sat, watching the lights in the and the stars overhead. I don’t want to get too graphic. I’m sure you know what happened next.”
“I ‘dated’ Mark for the next three weeks. I went from a prude who wouldn’t let you touch my breasts, to an unhinged nympho for Mark. The more I had sex with him, the more I wanted it. At the time, nothing else mattered. He was my drug. I was an addict. He obviously never cared for me. But he was happy to use me—in every way a young woman can be used. At the time, I would have done anything he asked of me. I’m embarrassed about that now.”
“In the end, he dumped me and started up with some other floozy.”
“I was devastated. I tried to kill myself with an overdose of pills and ended up in a psych facility for two weeks.”
“After that, I immersed myself in the church and didn’t date anyone for a long time. Years later, I met a man who was a lot more like you than Mark, and we got married. We were pretty happy, until he was diagnosed with colon cancer. He died about six months ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Why don’t we get out of here?”
---
I walked Becky to her front door. This time, she invited me in.
“Can I get you a drink?” Becky asked.
“Sure. Glass of wine?”
“Coming up.”
Becky came back in with a bottle of Chardonnay and two wine glasses. She set them on the coffee table and sat down next to me.
“We have a lot of catching up to do,” said Becky. “I know I told you before about being a “nympho” for Mark. (And I was.) But I’ve learned a lot since then and I’m not the same person. I have high hopes for our relationship, but I need you to respect me. As time goes on, I expect that we’ll develop a full sexual relationship. But it won’t be tonight. It won’t be soon. And how fast we go will be up to me. Are you ok with that?”
“I think so,” I responded.
Becky leaned in to kiss me. Her tongue passed my lips and I greeted it with my own.
Becky pushed me backwards on the couch. Our kissing became passionate. My hands were roaming. I found the side of her left breast and was impressed by the fullness of it. My thumb was edging toward her nipple when she pushed my hand down.
Becky pulled back from our kiss and smiled.
“Good night,” she said. “Call me tomorrow.”
---
---
I shouldn’t have been so aroused by what I had just seen. But I was.
I found myself watching the video over and over again over the next few days. My dick was raw.
I told myself I needed to get past what I had seen. So I made an account on an adult dating website. And I waited. I didn’t pursue anyone aggressively. I was still in love with Megan and my heart wasn’t in it.
But one day, I got a message that caught my attention. It was from Becky, my long-ago girlfriend from high school. The one I never slept with. Unlike many of the other photos on the dating site, Becky’s wasn’t racy. But I could tell that she had aged gracefully. She listed herself as widowed. 5’ 6”. 140 lbs. “Looking for a relationship.” Breasts were fully covered, with no cleavage showing, but I could tell that they were bigger than in high school.
So I messaged her back. We made a date for Friday night.
I pulled up to Becky’s house right on time. It was big, probably 3500 square feet, and in a nice part of town. She met me at the door wearing a medium-length skirt and a loose-fitting blouse. Pretty conservative, but my primitive man-brain immediately went to work imagining what might be underneath.
We went to dinner and reminisced about old times. Becky said she had thought of me often over the years and wondered how things might have turned out if we had stayed together.
After dinner, I dropped her off at her door. I leaned in for a kiss, but she turned her head at the last second and my lips only caught her cheek. She gave me a little hug, thanked me for a “wonderful evening” and disappeared inside.
It was just like high school all over again. I was hoping that Becky would have gained a little more sexual adventurousness over the years, but I didn’t see any signs of that yet.
I called her the next day and we chatted for a half hour. We agreed to go out again on Wednesday night.
We went to a restaurant called Angelos. It was a beautiful place, situated on a lake. We were seated at a great table with a view. The evening seemed off to a great start, but then disaster struck. In strolled Megan And Mark. I hoped they wouldn’t see us, but unfortunately Mark spotted us right away. He took Megan’s hand and lead her confidently to our table. She looked really uncomfortable with the situation.
Mark ignored me, at first.
“Hey Becks,” he said. “Long time, no see. You look stunning, as usual.”
Becky blushed a little. “Thank you, Mark.”
“I haven’t seen you in a long time. How’ve you been?”
“Pretty good, lately. Staying busy at work,” she said.
“Funny seeing you here with this guy. Seems like he and I have similar taste in women.”
He smacked me on the back. “Am I right, little buddy?”
(“Little buddy?!”). I was fuming inside.
Mark continued, “Anyway, we’ll let you lovebirds get back to dinner.”
Mark selected a table in a corner of the restaurant in my direct line of sight. In fact, it looked like I was the only one who could see them. They sat on the same side of the table, facing me. Mark put his arm around Megan and pulled her close. She was close enough that he could reach her right breast. He cupped it along the side and made eye contact with me. Megan seemed embarrassed and tried to move his hand, but he kept putting it back.
Mark leaned in to say something to Megan. I couldn’t hear what it was, but she frowned and shook her head. He repeated whatever he said before, and again Megan shook her head.
Mark stood up behind Megan, leaned in to whisper in her ear and nuzzled her neck. He then reached down to her legs and forceably spread them apart. He pulled up her short dress so that, at least from where I was sitting, her bare pussy was on full display.
Mark whispered again in Megan’s ear, and she kept her legs open, as if he had forbidden her from closing them.
She blushed red.
Megan looked up briefly, probably hoping that I had not seen what was happening. We made eye contact and she turned immediately away. Mark came back around to his seat and sat down, smugly. He dropped his right hand to Megan’s lap and starting gently fingering her. Mark supported his menu with his left hand and seemed to be reading it nonchalantly while his right hand was hard at work. Megan covered her eyes with her hands and seemed to be breathing heavily. After a few minutes, I saw her lean forward as she shuddered and her legs finally snapped shut. Mark removed his very wet middle finger, ran it under his nose as he inhaled deeply. He then held it up to Megan’s mouth and forced it past her lips. She seemed to resist at first, but then sucked her juices off his finger. She never made further eye contact with me.
Flustered, I turned to Becky and said, “Mind if we leave?”
“What’s wrong.”
“Well, I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but Mark just fingered my ex-wife to an orgasm. And he obviously meant for me to see it.”
“That woman was your ex-wife? I’m so sorry. Believe me.”
“Well,” I said. “Mark is obviously an asshole, but I would have expected more kindness from Megan. She must know what that does to me. How it emasculates me.”
“Don’t be too hard on her,” said Becky. “Mark has a way with women. A way of making them do unimaginable things.”
“Sounds like you know Mark pretty well.”
“Yeah,” Becky said, quietly. “I’m not proud of it.”
“I wasn’t planning to bring this up, but the fact is that you did a pretty good job of emasculating me yourself, back in high school. I respected you. Adored you. As you know, I always wanted more, physically. But I respected your faith and didn’t push it. Then, two weeks after we broke up, I saw you with Mark. And word on the street was that you gave him your cherry. Even though we were broken up, I’ll be honest. I was devastated.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Becky. “We were broken up, at the time, so I didn’t cheat. But I can see how you might be upset. I’m upset with myself.”
“So how did it happen?” I asked. “How could you fall for such a creepy bastard?”
“Are you sure you want to know? I sense that you and I may have a real connection and I don’t want to scare you away.” She looked down at the table. “Being with you has reminded me of how amazing you were when we were dating. You were always so kind and respectful. I was quite the prude in those days. But somehow, you were always willing to wait for me. You never pushed. You respected my wishes. You were the kind of man I wish I had ended up with in the end.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Tell me.”
Becky took a deep breath. “After we broke up in high school, I was depressed. And lonely.”
“A couple of weeks after we broke up, Kara dragged me to a party. You weren’t there, but Mark was. I was in a really bad place mentally. And vulnerable. Here was this great hunk of a young man, paying me complements, making me feel good about myself. Making me feel like I hadn’t felt in a long time. He was really smooth.”
“Kara ended up leaving with some guy, and unfortunately, she was my ride. So Mark offered to take me home. He took a detour. He found a quiet spot overlooking the valley. We sat, watching the lights in the and the stars overhead. I don’t want to get too graphic. I’m sure you know what happened next.”
“I ‘dated’ Mark for the next three weeks. I went from a prude who wouldn’t let you touch my breasts, to an unhinged nympho for Mark. The more I had sex with him, the more I wanted it. At the time, nothing else mattered. He was my drug. I was an addict. He obviously never cared for me. But he was happy to use me—in every way a young woman can be used. At the time, I would have done anything he asked of me. I’m embarrassed about that now.”
“In the end, he dumped me and started up with some other floozy.”
“I was devastated. I tried to kill myself with an overdose of pills and ended up in a psych facility for two weeks.”
“After that, I immersed myself in the church and didn’t date anyone for a long time. Years later, I met a man who was a lot more like you than Mark, and we got married. We were pretty happy, until he was diagnosed with colon cancer. He died about six months ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Why don’t we get out of here?”
---
I walked Becky to her front door. This time, she invited me in.
“Can I get you a drink?” Becky asked.
“Sure. Glass of wine?”
“Coming up.”
Becky came back in with a bottle of Chardonnay and two wine glasses. She set them on the coffee table and sat down next to me.
“We have a lot of catching up to do,” said Becky. “I know I told you before about being a “nympho” for Mark. (And I was.) But I’ve learned a lot since then and I’m not the same person. I have high hopes for our relationship, but I need you to respect me. As time goes on, I expect that we’ll develop a full sexual relationship. But it won’t be tonight. It won’t be soon. And how fast we go will be up to me. Are you ok with that?”
“I think so,” I responded.
Becky leaned in to kiss me. Her tongue passed my lips and I greeted it with my own.
Becky pushed me backwards on the couch. Our kissing became passionate. My hands were roaming. I found the side of her left breast and was impressed by the fullness of it. My thumb was edging toward her nipple when she pushed my hand down.
Becky pulled back from our kiss and smiled.
“Good night,” she said. “Call me tomorrow.”
---
Re: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
Part 4
Over the next couple of weeks, we went out several times. We connected on a lot of levels. We had had deep discussions about politics, philosophy, and religion. We had silly conversations about silly things and spent a lot of time laughing.
I loved Becky’s laugh. It always started with a snort and was anything but ladylike, but I loved it.
Physically, our relationship hadn’t progressed much. We kissed a lot and Becky was always affectionate, but touching of naughty parts was still off limits.
I jerked off obsessively after our dates.
---
And then another package arrived. My heart fluttered a bit. “What now?”
It was obviously from Mark. I opened it.
Another DVD. I popped it in the player.
Megan was in the kitchen. Peeling potatoes. She was wearing what appeared to be one of Mark’s button-up shirts. It extended 6 or 8 inches below her ass. She looked over her shoulder and smiled.
“Oh, no. Not the video camera again,” she said. “Don’t you have enough video already? If I ever see any of this footage show up on the internet, I WILL KILL YOU. I’m serious about that.”
“Don’t worry, babe. You can trust me.”
With that, he set the camera on an adjacent counter and moved into the frame himself. He edged up behind Megan and nuzzled her neck. His hands roamed from behind to cup her breasts. She moaned.
“How’s your pussy feeling?”
“Still stings.”
“Let me see.”
She spun around and Mark picked her up, placing her on the counter. He scooted her back and spread her legs, resting her heels on the countertop.
“Stay there.”
Mark got the camera and went back.
Megan covered herself with her hands and said, “No, Mark. This is too embarrassing.”
“Show me.”
“Please, no.”
“Whose pussy is this?”
Megan didn’t answer.
“Whose pussy is this?”
Slowly, she moved her hands away and Mark brought the camera in to fill the frame.
It was still shaved. Her vaginal lips were gaping and red. Where the pubic hair used to be were two words, obviously freshly tattooed: “Mark’s Pussy.”
---
Over the next couple of weeks, we went out several times. We connected on a lot of levels. We had had deep discussions about politics, philosophy, and religion. We had silly conversations about silly things and spent a lot of time laughing.
I loved Becky’s laugh. It always started with a snort and was anything but ladylike, but I loved it.
Physically, our relationship hadn’t progressed much. We kissed a lot and Becky was always affectionate, but touching of naughty parts was still off limits.
I jerked off obsessively after our dates.
---
And then another package arrived. My heart fluttered a bit. “What now?”
It was obviously from Mark. I opened it.
Another DVD. I popped it in the player.
Megan was in the kitchen. Peeling potatoes. She was wearing what appeared to be one of Mark’s button-up shirts. It extended 6 or 8 inches below her ass. She looked over her shoulder and smiled.
“Oh, no. Not the video camera again,” she said. “Don’t you have enough video already? If I ever see any of this footage show up on the internet, I WILL KILL YOU. I’m serious about that.”
“Don’t worry, babe. You can trust me.”
With that, he set the camera on an adjacent counter and moved into the frame himself. He edged up behind Megan and nuzzled her neck. His hands roamed from behind to cup her breasts. She moaned.
“How’s your pussy feeling?”
“Still stings.”
“Let me see.”
She spun around and Mark picked her up, placing her on the counter. He scooted her back and spread her legs, resting her heels on the countertop.
“Stay there.”
Mark got the camera and went back.
Megan covered herself with her hands and said, “No, Mark. This is too embarrassing.”
“Show me.”
“Please, no.”
“Whose pussy is this?”
Megan didn’t answer.
“Whose pussy is this?”
Slowly, she moved her hands away and Mark brought the camera in to fill the frame.
It was still shaved. Her vaginal lips were gaping and red. Where the pubic hair used to be were two words, obviously freshly tattooed: “Mark’s Pussy.”
---
Re: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
Part 5
---
A month into our relationship, I was no closer to having sex with Becky. But I was growing really fond of her. The “L word” came to mind, but I was reluctant to say it. We connected on a deep level and really enjoyed spending time together.
One day, Becky told me that Megan had reached out to her. I was surprised. They had never been friends. However, apparently, Megan was having some problems with Mark and felt like she needed someone to talk to. She thought that Becky might understand. I tried to get more information out of Becky, but she wouldn’t elaborate. She did tell me that she was surprised, but she really liked Megan. She thought the two of them were a lot alike.
I changed the topic by suggesting a trip. I have always loved the beach at Brookings, Oregon and proposed spending the weekend there.
“Would there be one room or two?” Becky asked.
“One.”
“Hmm. One bed or two?”
“One.”
“Hmm,” Becky said. “Sounds like someone might be interested in taking things to the next level.”
“Would that be so bad?” I said.
“I’m still not ready for sex. Things are going so well for us, I’m afraid sex would ruin everything.”
“You’re killing me, here,” I whined. Do you realize how sexy you are?”
“Well,” said Becky. “I don’t always feel sexy. And I’m nervous about letting you see me naked.”
“What?” I said. “Obviously, I haven’t seen under your clothes yet, but I can tell that you have a smokin’ hot body!”
“Stop,” Becky said, looking down. “You’re embarrassing me.”
Becky continued. “If I agree to this, it will have to be on my terms. I will need to feel completely safe and secure. I will need to be in control all weekend.”
“Ok, fair enough,” I said.
“Hear me out.” Becky paused for a second and looked down. When she looked back up, she seemed resolute. “If we make this trip together, we can share a bed, but I will keep you locked.”
“What?!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You mean like in a cock cage?”
“Yes, locked. In a cock cage.” Becky said. “Mark took advantage of me, years ago, and I won’t make that same mistake with you.”
“I don’t mean to be crude, Becks...”
“Don’t call me that,” she interjected. “Mark always called me that and it brings back bad memories.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Again, I don’t mean to be crude, but I can’t spend any significant time with you without getting pretty horny. I pretty much masturbate myself to sleep every night, thinking about you.”
“Aww. That’s sweet. And gross.” She smiled. “Trust me. I’ll take care of that little problem this weekend, at least once a day. But I won’t let you return the favor—at least not yet.”
---
We stayed at the Beachfront Inn. It was not an opulent motel, but it was right on the beach. The room had a small porch facing the ocean.
We set our bags down. I held Becky from behind as we gazed out the window. She could probably feel my erection poking her.
“Ok, big boy,” said Becky, as she spun away from me and went to her bag. “Let’s get you squared away.”
“Strip.”
“What?” I said, feeling suddenly bashful.
“Off with your pants. Remember what we talked about?”
I felt self-conscious as I unzipped and removed my jeans. I tried to keep my hands in front of my obvious (and admittedly meager) erection.
“And your underwear... Don’t be shy. I thought you wanted us to get to know each other better this weekend.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But it seems awkward when it’s just me.”
“I told you, I won’t let you see me naked yet. But I’ll give you a sneak preview of my undies.”
With that, she unbuttoned her blouse entirely, but kept it on. She dropped her skirt to the floor.
“On the bed. On your back.” Megan ordered. She dumped the contents of a small bag on the bed and straddled my thighs.
The bag contained chastity cages and rings, in three different sizes. There was also a fleshlight.
The largest cage was black. It was obviously too big. The mid-sized one was brown. Sadly, I realized that one would be too big, also. The smallest one was pink.
“I’m sorry,” said Becky. “The sex shop only had the small cage in pink. I wasn’t sure what size you might need, but I suspect that’s the one. Now let’s see if we can take care of this thing,”
At that, she leaned over and kissed me on the lips. As she leaned over, Becky’s shirt fell open, giving me a glimpse of her beautiful breasts underneath. The bra was somewhat see-through. Her small brown nipples poked against the thin material.
Shen then moved down my chest, spending some time on my nipples, in turn. She kissed down my stomach. And allowed her long hair to brush softly over my penis and scrotum. It felt amazing. Then she bent over and lightly kissed the tip of my penis. I was so charged up that I nearly exploded right there. But, sadly, Becky said, “That’s all, for now. Let’s see if we can get you caged.”
She left the room, in her underwear, shirt still unbuttoned. When she returned a few minutes later, she had an ice bucket. She proceeded to fill a small towel with ice and placed it gingerly on my groin.”
I recoiled and sharply inhaled.
“Shhhh,” said Becky. “You’re going to have to trust me. Be still. And keep your hands to your sides.”
It took about 5 minutes for my penis to shrink to it’s minimum size. It was so cold, I could hardly feel anything as Becky found the right-sized ring for my balls and then snapped the tiny pink cock cage in place. Even though it was small, embarrassingly, the cage was designed to stick out from my body at a right angle, making it look like I had a baby erection. It looked ridiculous.
Becky took the key and put it on a gold chain around her neck.
“Do I have to stay in this thing all weekend?” I whined.
“No, baby, Becky said. “I told you. I’ll take care of you this weekend. I won’t let your little balls turn blue.”
I made mental note that she used the word “little.” Somehow, that word fed my humiliation and I felt myself straining against my pink little cage.
“Now let’s hit the beach.”
---
A month into our relationship, I was no closer to having sex with Becky. But I was growing really fond of her. The “L word” came to mind, but I was reluctant to say it. We connected on a deep level and really enjoyed spending time together.
One day, Becky told me that Megan had reached out to her. I was surprised. They had never been friends. However, apparently, Megan was having some problems with Mark and felt like she needed someone to talk to. She thought that Becky might understand. I tried to get more information out of Becky, but she wouldn’t elaborate. She did tell me that she was surprised, but she really liked Megan. She thought the two of them were a lot alike.
I changed the topic by suggesting a trip. I have always loved the beach at Brookings, Oregon and proposed spending the weekend there.
“Would there be one room or two?” Becky asked.
“One.”
“Hmm. One bed or two?”
“One.”
“Hmm,” Becky said. “Sounds like someone might be interested in taking things to the next level.”
“Would that be so bad?” I said.
“I’m still not ready for sex. Things are going so well for us, I’m afraid sex would ruin everything.”
“You’re killing me, here,” I whined. Do you realize how sexy you are?”
“Well,” said Becky. “I don’t always feel sexy. And I’m nervous about letting you see me naked.”
“What?” I said. “Obviously, I haven’t seen under your clothes yet, but I can tell that you have a smokin’ hot body!”
“Stop,” Becky said, looking down. “You’re embarrassing me.”
Becky continued. “If I agree to this, it will have to be on my terms. I will need to feel completely safe and secure. I will need to be in control all weekend.”
“Ok, fair enough,” I said.
“Hear me out.” Becky paused for a second and looked down. When she looked back up, she seemed resolute. “If we make this trip together, we can share a bed, but I will keep you locked.”
“What?!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You mean like in a cock cage?”
“Yes, locked. In a cock cage.” Becky said. “Mark took advantage of me, years ago, and I won’t make that same mistake with you.”
“I don’t mean to be crude, Becks...”
“Don’t call me that,” she interjected. “Mark always called me that and it brings back bad memories.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Again, I don’t mean to be crude, but I can’t spend any significant time with you without getting pretty horny. I pretty much masturbate myself to sleep every night, thinking about you.”
“Aww. That’s sweet. And gross.” She smiled. “Trust me. I’ll take care of that little problem this weekend, at least once a day. But I won’t let you return the favor—at least not yet.”
---
We stayed at the Beachfront Inn. It was not an opulent motel, but it was right on the beach. The room had a small porch facing the ocean.
We set our bags down. I held Becky from behind as we gazed out the window. She could probably feel my erection poking her.
“Ok, big boy,” said Becky, as she spun away from me and went to her bag. “Let’s get you squared away.”
“Strip.”
“What?” I said, feeling suddenly bashful.
“Off with your pants. Remember what we talked about?”
I felt self-conscious as I unzipped and removed my jeans. I tried to keep my hands in front of my obvious (and admittedly meager) erection.
“And your underwear... Don’t be shy. I thought you wanted us to get to know each other better this weekend.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But it seems awkward when it’s just me.”
“I told you, I won’t let you see me naked yet. But I’ll give you a sneak preview of my undies.”
With that, she unbuttoned her blouse entirely, but kept it on. She dropped her skirt to the floor.
“On the bed. On your back.” Megan ordered. She dumped the contents of a small bag on the bed and straddled my thighs.
The bag contained chastity cages and rings, in three different sizes. There was also a fleshlight.
The largest cage was black. It was obviously too big. The mid-sized one was brown. Sadly, I realized that one would be too big, also. The smallest one was pink.
“I’m sorry,” said Becky. “The sex shop only had the small cage in pink. I wasn’t sure what size you might need, but I suspect that’s the one. Now let’s see if we can take care of this thing,”
At that, she leaned over and kissed me on the lips. As she leaned over, Becky’s shirt fell open, giving me a glimpse of her beautiful breasts underneath. The bra was somewhat see-through. Her small brown nipples poked against the thin material.
Shen then moved down my chest, spending some time on my nipples, in turn. She kissed down my stomach. And allowed her long hair to brush softly over my penis and scrotum. It felt amazing. Then she bent over and lightly kissed the tip of my penis. I was so charged up that I nearly exploded right there. But, sadly, Becky said, “That’s all, for now. Let’s see if we can get you caged.”
She left the room, in her underwear, shirt still unbuttoned. When she returned a few minutes later, she had an ice bucket. She proceeded to fill a small towel with ice and placed it gingerly on my groin.”
I recoiled and sharply inhaled.
“Shhhh,” said Becky. “You’re going to have to trust me. Be still. And keep your hands to your sides.”
It took about 5 minutes for my penis to shrink to it’s minimum size. It was so cold, I could hardly feel anything as Becky found the right-sized ring for my balls and then snapped the tiny pink cock cage in place. Even though it was small, embarrassingly, the cage was designed to stick out from my body at a right angle, making it look like I had a baby erection. It looked ridiculous.
Becky took the key and put it on a gold chain around her neck.
“Do I have to stay in this thing all weekend?” I whined.
“No, baby, Becky said. “I told you. I’ll take care of you this weekend. I won’t let your little balls turn blue.”
I made mental note that she used the word “little.” Somehow, that word fed my humiliation and I felt myself straining against my pink little cage.
“Now let’s hit the beach.”
Re: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
Part 6
As we strolled along the beach, the weather was beautiful as the sun was setting. But I felt a little self conscious in my cage. It strained against my board shorts, creating a tiny two inch tent. Effectively, it made me look like I was strutting around with the tiniest boner on record. Becky didn’t seem to notice.
We made it back to the room pretty late.
“Do you want out of your cage?” Becky asked.
“Yes!”
“Ok, then. Strip. On the bed. On your back.” She sounded like a sexy drill sergeant.
She went back to her bag and came up with some straps.
What now,I thought.
Becky went straight to work, hand and ankle cuffing me to straps that she attached underneath the bed. She stretched me out supine and spread-eagle.
“There!” Becky said. “Now I think I can trust you to see a little more of me.”
With that, she removed her shorts, revealing lacy blue panties. They weren’t entirely see-through, but I could tell that Becky had an unshaven bush underneath.
Next, she removed her shirt and unsnapped her bra in the front.
I’m no expert on women’s cup sizes, but I would guess Beck was sporting a solid c-cup. And I was impressed at how well they defied gravity. In my head, I wondered if she had implants, but I didn’t see any scars.
She delved back into her bag and brought out the fleshlight. Somehow, as excited as I was, I was still a little disappointed. Megan crawled into bed and straddled my chest, facing my feet.
My cock was at full attention. Becky grabbed it and started stroking it with some water-based lubricant. I could feel an orgasm building quickly. I tried to think of baseball, Margaret Thatcher in a bikini—anything to keep from cumming so soon.
Becky stopped for a minute and lubricated the fleshlight.
“Do you want it now, baby? Do you want to cum?”
“Yes! Please.” I was getting desperate.
“All in good time,” she said. I want you to suck my nipples first. “You might not believe it, but Mark knew how to make me cum just by sucking my tits.”
With that, she leaned over me and I eagerly sucked a nipple into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around her areola, brushing her protruding nipple with each circuit. I then switched attention to the other breast and started sucking.
“Ooo,” she moaned. “I love it. You’re making me so wet. Do you want to see? Do you want to smell me? Mark always told me he loved my scent. Whenever we went out, he always made me give him my panties. I felt like such a slut, but I always did it.”
This sudden talk of Mark made me a little uncomfortable.
With that, she flipped around again, straddling my chest, facing my feet. She backed her bottom toward my face. I noticed a dark spot emerging on her light blue panties and I could smell her arousal.
“Oh my god, you smell amazing! Let me lick you. Please!”
“Not yet. You haven’t earned that privilege yet.”
With that, she gave me one stroke with the fleshlight and I came. Hard.
“Well, well, well... Looks like you liked my stories about Mark. You dirty boy. Wanna hear more? Want me to tell you what Mark is probably doing right now to your little Megan?”
---
As we strolled along the beach, the weather was beautiful as the sun was setting. But I felt a little self conscious in my cage. It strained against my board shorts, creating a tiny two inch tent. Effectively, it made me look like I was strutting around with the tiniest boner on record. Becky didn’t seem to notice.
We made it back to the room pretty late.
“Do you want out of your cage?” Becky asked.
“Yes!”
“Ok, then. Strip. On the bed. On your back.” She sounded like a sexy drill sergeant.
She went back to her bag and came up with some straps.
What now,I thought.
Becky went straight to work, hand and ankle cuffing me to straps that she attached underneath the bed. She stretched me out supine and spread-eagle.
“There!” Becky said. “Now I think I can trust you to see a little more of me.”
With that, she removed her shorts, revealing lacy blue panties. They weren’t entirely see-through, but I could tell that Becky had an unshaven bush underneath.
Next, she removed her shirt and unsnapped her bra in the front.
I’m no expert on women’s cup sizes, but I would guess Beck was sporting a solid c-cup. And I was impressed at how well they defied gravity. In my head, I wondered if she had implants, but I didn’t see any scars.
She delved back into her bag and brought out the fleshlight. Somehow, as excited as I was, I was still a little disappointed. Megan crawled into bed and straddled my chest, facing my feet.
My cock was at full attention. Becky grabbed it and started stroking it with some water-based lubricant. I could feel an orgasm building quickly. I tried to think of baseball, Margaret Thatcher in a bikini—anything to keep from cumming so soon.
Becky stopped for a minute and lubricated the fleshlight.
“Do you want it now, baby? Do you want to cum?”
“Yes! Please.” I was getting desperate.
“All in good time,” she said. I want you to suck my nipples first. “You might not believe it, but Mark knew how to make me cum just by sucking my tits.”
With that, she leaned over me and I eagerly sucked a nipple into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around her areola, brushing her protruding nipple with each circuit. I then switched attention to the other breast and started sucking.
“Ooo,” she moaned. “I love it. You’re making me so wet. Do you want to see? Do you want to smell me? Mark always told me he loved my scent. Whenever we went out, he always made me give him my panties. I felt like such a slut, but I always did it.”
This sudden talk of Mark made me a little uncomfortable.
With that, she flipped around again, straddling my chest, facing my feet. She backed her bottom toward my face. I noticed a dark spot emerging on her light blue panties and I could smell her arousal.
“Oh my god, you smell amazing! Let me lick you. Please!”
“Not yet. You haven’t earned that privilege yet.”
With that, she gave me one stroke with the fleshlight and I came. Hard.
“Well, well, well... Looks like you liked my stories about Mark. You dirty boy. Wanna hear more? Want me to tell you what Mark is probably doing right now to your little Megan?”
---
Re: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
Part 7
We had a good time frolicking on the beach the next day. I was a little self conscious because every time my shorts got wet, you could make out the outline of my pink cock cage. Somehow I got used to the pitying stares of passers-by. Becky didn’t seem to notice at all.
She wore a bikini—smaller than her underwear from the night before. She was unbelievably hot and kept me straining against my cage all day.
That evening found me once again strapped spread-eagle to the bed. At Becky’s mercy.
“So,” she said. I got the sense last night that your were more than a little turned on when I spoke about my former exploits with Mark. Am I right?”
I was quiet, but my dick gave me away— trending from half to full mast in about three seconds.
Becky laughed.
“Have you heard the word “cuckold?” she asked.
Of course I had. In fact, some of my favorite porn,of late, had been cuckold porn. I purposefully sought out porn featuring women who looked like Megan, being pounded by a big white cock. But I didn’t want to seem like a pervert, so I shook my head, no.
“Hmm,” she snorted. “Why do I not believe that?”
“So, Steve, I think we have to be honest with each other. If we don’t have honesty, we have nothing. So, I promise I will be honest with you and I expect the same in return.”
“My late husband, Bill, was a cuckold.”
“After several years of marriage, things got a little stale between us, and our sex life was never great. My late husband was, shall we say, “underendowed” and really struggled to satisfy me. I think his dick was just a little bigger than yours and he didn’t really know how to use it.”
At that, I blushed and felt humiliated.
“One day, I was at Safeway, doing some weekly shopping, when I ran into Mark. When I saw him, I tried to go the other way and avoid him, but he tracked me down. One thing lead to another, and, in about ten minutes, I found myself in the backseat of his truck with his cock halfway down my throat.”
“He didn’t even have the decency to let me cum, but he knew I was hooked. We spent the next few weeks having sex every way possible, and almost everyday.”
“My husband was no idiot. He eventually figured it out.”
“I thought he would leave me, but he was unbelievably understanding. He knew that he couldn’t really satisfy me, but he loved me enough to allow me to get my satisfaction elsewhere.”
“I tried to be discreet, but Mark got off on humiliating Bill. And Bill got off on being humiliated. Mark asked me to cage Bill and deny him. I became sexually exclusive with Mark and made Bill move to the guest room. Mark didn’t like Bill to watch us in person, but he loved to make me scream, and I know Bill could hear us.”
“This craziness continued until Bill got cancer. At that point, I was wracked with guilt and kicked Mark out. I hadn’t seen him again until we met in the restaurant the other night.”
“So there you have it—my sordid tale of sluttiness.”
“Why are you telling me all this,” I asked.
“Why do you think?”
“When I met up with you, again, after all these years, I thought at first how nice it would be to get back into a conventional relationship with a soulmate. And I do think you are my soulmate. You remind me of my late-husband, and I loved him dearly. I think I can learn to love you dearly, too.”
“Do you expect to cuckold me, like you cuckolded Bill?”
“I don’t know about that. You’re a little different. We’re in a different place in our relationship. I don’t know what things look like going forward. But, in the interest of honesty, I don’t think I can remain faithful. I would need for you to be ok with that.”
“And for the record, this would be a one-way street. I get to sleep around. You don’t. Got it?”
I was flabbergasted. “But what if I’m not ok with that?” What if I want you for myself?”
“Oh, honey,” Becky said. “I *would be yours*, but not exclusively. We would be life partners. Soulmates.”
“Before this weekend, I had hopes of being with you more exclusively, but now that I have seen your penis, I’m sorry to say that I don’t think that will work. I think I deserve sexual satisfaction and I don’t think you can provide it.”
“So what do you think?”
“I think this is crazy,” I said. “I think I must be crazy, too. I should walk right out of here and never look at you again. But somehow, I can’t manage to do that.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re strapped to a bed.” Becky laughed and I smiled.
“So what’s next for us? Please don’t tell me you have your eye on Mark, again.”
Becky just smiled.
We had a good time frolicking on the beach the next day. I was a little self conscious because every time my shorts got wet, you could make out the outline of my pink cock cage. Somehow I got used to the pitying stares of passers-by. Becky didn’t seem to notice at all.
She wore a bikini—smaller than her underwear from the night before. She was unbelievably hot and kept me straining against my cage all day.
That evening found me once again strapped spread-eagle to the bed. At Becky’s mercy.
“So,” she said. I got the sense last night that your were more than a little turned on when I spoke about my former exploits with Mark. Am I right?”
I was quiet, but my dick gave me away— trending from half to full mast in about three seconds.
Becky laughed.
“Have you heard the word “cuckold?” she asked.
Of course I had. In fact, some of my favorite porn,of late, had been cuckold porn. I purposefully sought out porn featuring women who looked like Megan, being pounded by a big white cock. But I didn’t want to seem like a pervert, so I shook my head, no.
“Hmm,” she snorted. “Why do I not believe that?”
“So, Steve, I think we have to be honest with each other. If we don’t have honesty, we have nothing. So, I promise I will be honest with you and I expect the same in return.”
“My late husband, Bill, was a cuckold.”
“After several years of marriage, things got a little stale between us, and our sex life was never great. My late husband was, shall we say, “underendowed” and really struggled to satisfy me. I think his dick was just a little bigger than yours and he didn’t really know how to use it.”
At that, I blushed and felt humiliated.
“One day, I was at Safeway, doing some weekly shopping, when I ran into Mark. When I saw him, I tried to go the other way and avoid him, but he tracked me down. One thing lead to another, and, in about ten minutes, I found myself in the backseat of his truck with his cock halfway down my throat.”
“He didn’t even have the decency to let me cum, but he knew I was hooked. We spent the next few weeks having sex every way possible, and almost everyday.”
“My husband was no idiot. He eventually figured it out.”
“I thought he would leave me, but he was unbelievably understanding. He knew that he couldn’t really satisfy me, but he loved me enough to allow me to get my satisfaction elsewhere.”
“I tried to be discreet, but Mark got off on humiliating Bill. And Bill got off on being humiliated. Mark asked me to cage Bill and deny him. I became sexually exclusive with Mark and made Bill move to the guest room. Mark didn’t like Bill to watch us in person, but he loved to make me scream, and I know Bill could hear us.”
“This craziness continued until Bill got cancer. At that point, I was wracked with guilt and kicked Mark out. I hadn’t seen him again until we met in the restaurant the other night.”
“So there you have it—my sordid tale of sluttiness.”
“Why are you telling me all this,” I asked.
“Why do you think?”
“When I met up with you, again, after all these years, I thought at first how nice it would be to get back into a conventional relationship with a soulmate. And I do think you are my soulmate. You remind me of my late-husband, and I loved him dearly. I think I can learn to love you dearly, too.”
“Do you expect to cuckold me, like you cuckolded Bill?”
“I don’t know about that. You’re a little different. We’re in a different place in our relationship. I don’t know what things look like going forward. But, in the interest of honesty, I don’t think I can remain faithful. I would need for you to be ok with that.”
“And for the record, this would be a one-way street. I get to sleep around. You don’t. Got it?”
I was flabbergasted. “But what if I’m not ok with that?” What if I want you for myself?”
“Oh, honey,” Becky said. “I *would be yours*, but not exclusively. We would be life partners. Soulmates.”
“Before this weekend, I had hopes of being with you more exclusively, but now that I have seen your penis, I’m sorry to say that I don’t think that will work. I think I deserve sexual satisfaction and I don’t think you can provide it.”
“So what do you think?”
“I think this is crazy,” I said. “I think I must be crazy, too. I should walk right out of here and never look at you again. But somehow, I can’t manage to do that.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re strapped to a bed.” Becky laughed and I smiled.
“So what’s next for us? Please don’t tell me you have your eye on Mark, again.”
Becky just smiled.
Re: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
Beware. It gets darker. For what it’s worth, this is a fictional story. No actual cuckolds were injured in the writing of this tale.
Part 8
I heard the door slam for the room next door, and a murmur of voices.
I was still strapped down and caged. Becky was cuddled up against my chest. She had fallen asleep. I tried to stay quiet, to keep from waking her.
Noises started up again, through the walls. Then the rhythmic pounding of a headboard on the adjacent wall. I thought about how hot it was—strangers having sex next door while Becky and I lay cuddling. The sound kept going and going. “My god!” I thought. That guy has some stamina.
Just then, Becky stirred. She sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched.
“They’re here,” she said.
---
“Who’s here?” I said.
“I think you know, silly. I’m going to say hello.”
With that, she stood up and dropped her panties. She picked them up, balled them up, and stuffed them in my mouth.
“Wait here.”
Becky was wearing one of my button-down shirts at that point. And nothing else. No bra. No panties. Sadly, the shirt extended far enough to hide her pussy from me.
She strolled out of the room, leaving the door wide open. I was still strapped naked to the bed.
I heard Becky knock next door. The pounding on the wall stopped.
“Becks!” bellowed Mark. I would recognize his voice anywhere.
The door closed when Becky stepped inside. Quiet murmuring ensued. I couldn’t hear anything that was said.
After a half hour or so, I looked up at the door to see Megan.
I must have been a sight—stretched spread-eagle with my tiny pink cock cage in place.
My heart kept in my chest. Megan was still beautiful and sexy. She was wearing one of the complementary motel robes with (apparently) nothing under it.
She came in and sat at the edge of the bed.
She bent over and lovingly stroked my cheek.
“Steve,” she said. “What’s happened to us?”
“Becky just told us everything. It’s a little hard to believe. I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
“Mark is really,” she paused for a second, organizing her thoughts, “dominant.” He’s a real alpha male. The sort I always hated. But somehow he rules me through my pussy. I’m ashamed to admit it. But when he snaps his fingers, I drop my knickers. It’s sick. I’m sick.”
“I never meant to hurt you, but frankly, I don’t know how this ends well.”
The pounding on the wall started up again.
My angst shot to level 11 as Megan leaned over to kiss me softly on the lips.
I still had Becky’s panties in my mouth. Megan took them out, inhaled deeply, and draped them over my cage.
---
“He’s getting reacquainted with Becky,” Megan said
“That’s an understatement,” I said, bitterly. “Are you ok with that?”
“No,” she said. “But I told you. He’s really dominant. He makes me do things I thought I would never do.”
“Can you release me?” I asked.
“No,” said Megan. “Mark wouldn’t like that.”
“You’re not going to like what’s next,” she said.
Dread came over me. “What?”
“His cream pie.”
“He told me to feed you his cream pie, while he’s fucking Becky.”
“But I never even tasted my own semen! How could I do that?”
“You don’t have a choice,” Megan said. “And neither do I. But don’t worry. It actually tastes pretty good, and it’s diluted in my juices anyway. You always seemed to like my pussy, back in the day.”
Megan crawled onto the bed and straddled my chest with her knees.
I could see that she was shaved. “Mark’s Pussy” was indelibly inked above her clit. That was a pretty good reminder of who was in charge and more evidence of my emasculation.
“I’m sorry about the tattoo,” Megan said. “I told you. He makes me do things. I refused at first, but then he refused to fuck me. My resolve didn’t last 48 hours.”
“Becky told me that you two haven’t had sex, yet. That she hasn’t shown you her pussy.”
“That’s right,” I said.
“She was probably embarrassed. Mark tattooed her pussy, too. Years ago. He does it to all of his women.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Mark made me go down on her,” she replied.
“What!” I couldn’t believe it. “But you’re not gay...”
“No, but I think women find it a little easier to swing both ways. I hate to admit it, but I loved her pussy, and she seemed to love mine. It’s quite beautiful. And tasty. You have been missing out.”
“Great,” I said, “so my ex-wife has had my girlfriend’s pussy before me.”
Megan smiled. “It’s too bad she didn’t give it up to you, yet. Now that Mark’s had her again, he won’t let her fuck you. He’s really possessive that way. If you’re lucky, he might let you have cream pies, but that will probably be the extent of your sex life. I’m sorry.”
Megan looked truly sad and apologetic.
Then she sat on my face. Literally. I could hardly breathe.
The smell of Megan’s arousal and Mark’s semen was overpowering. I was grossed out initially, but my hormones got the best of me and I ultimately got into it. I was lapping at Megan’s pussy like my life depended on it. She reached an orgasm pretty quickly and her legs trembled as she moaned. I felt good about myself for pleasuring her.
After she came, Megan stretched out beside me, lovingly stroking my balls and my inner thighs. She did not have the key to my cage. Ironically, it occurred to me that she never stroked my balls when we were married. It almost seemed like we were closer now than then.
---
We went out for breakfast the next morning. I was finally released from the straps, but not released from my cage.
We sat around the table—me on one side, Mark, Megan and Becky crowded together on the other side.
Mark started the conversation.
“So I guess we need some ground rules.”
“Like what?” I said.
“Well,” he said. “The first thing to know is that I’m the alpha male, so I make the rules.”
“Fuck you,” I said, feeling my oats.
“Hmm,” he said. “Let’s put it this way... If you can beat me in a wrestling match, you can be in charge.”
“But you were an All-State wrestler back in high school,” I said.
“Yep.” He went on. “But any time you’re feeling up to it, we can wrestle. If you win, you get both of these lovely ladies. But if I win, you’ll be sorry. Your life will go from bad to worse.”
“How could it get any worse for me,” I asked, bitterly.
“Well,” he said. “If I were to beat you, it would definitely get worse. I’m not gay, but I’m not opposed to making a cuckold suck my cock. Or take my cock up the ass.”
I hung my head.
“I have also been known to discipline my cucks. Perhaps you’d like me to hold you down and paddle your little ass until you cry. If you think you’ve been emasculated so far, just wait until the ladies watch you take a paddling and a cock up the ass. Just ask Becky. She watched me paddle her poor Bill until the week before he died. I think he went into the grave with blue balls.”
Becky looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole.
My face burned. The women both looked at me sadly, like they were really sorry for me. But they didn’t say a word.
“So here’s the deal...” Mark went on. “The many who owns the pussies gets to fuck the pussies. And last time I checked, my name was on both of these ladies.”
“I know you’ve seen Megan’s tattoo. I forbade Becky from fucking you quite a while ago and I’m pretty sure she didn’t disobey me. I’ll let you see her tattoo when you eat my next cream pie.”
“Furthermore,” said Mark. “You will remain locked up, Steve. Any orgasm you get going forward will be at MY discretion. The best you can hope for is the fleshlight. And that will only be if you earn it. I’ll keep control of your key.”
“I’ll need to see you washing my truck, polishing my work boots... Basically, anything I tell you to do, you will do it. No questions asked.”
“Am I clear?”
I stayed silent, staring at the table.
“Am I clear?!” He got louder.
“Yes.”
“So who owns these pussies?”
The women looked embarrassed. Everyone in the restaurant could hear this conversation.
“Who owns these pussies?!”
“You do.”
“Say my name!” He said.
“Mark does,” I said quietly. “Mark owns these pussies.”
“You know,” said Mark, as his eyes narrowed. “You might be the biggest pussy of all. Looks like I own you, too.”
I was so ashamed.
---
Part 8
I heard the door slam for the room next door, and a murmur of voices.
I was still strapped down and caged. Becky was cuddled up against my chest. She had fallen asleep. I tried to stay quiet, to keep from waking her.
Noises started up again, through the walls. Then the rhythmic pounding of a headboard on the adjacent wall. I thought about how hot it was—strangers having sex next door while Becky and I lay cuddling. The sound kept going and going. “My god!” I thought. That guy has some stamina.
Just then, Becky stirred. She sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched.
“They’re here,” she said.
---
“Who’s here?” I said.
“I think you know, silly. I’m going to say hello.”
With that, she stood up and dropped her panties. She picked them up, balled them up, and stuffed them in my mouth.
“Wait here.”
Becky was wearing one of my button-down shirts at that point. And nothing else. No bra. No panties. Sadly, the shirt extended far enough to hide her pussy from me.
She strolled out of the room, leaving the door wide open. I was still strapped naked to the bed.
I heard Becky knock next door. The pounding on the wall stopped.
“Becks!” bellowed Mark. I would recognize his voice anywhere.
The door closed when Becky stepped inside. Quiet murmuring ensued. I couldn’t hear anything that was said.
After a half hour or so, I looked up at the door to see Megan.
I must have been a sight—stretched spread-eagle with my tiny pink cock cage in place.
My heart kept in my chest. Megan was still beautiful and sexy. She was wearing one of the complementary motel robes with (apparently) nothing under it.
She came in and sat at the edge of the bed.
She bent over and lovingly stroked my cheek.
“Steve,” she said. “What’s happened to us?”
“Becky just told us everything. It’s a little hard to believe. I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
“Mark is really,” she paused for a second, organizing her thoughts, “dominant.” He’s a real alpha male. The sort I always hated. But somehow he rules me through my pussy. I’m ashamed to admit it. But when he snaps his fingers, I drop my knickers. It’s sick. I’m sick.”
“I never meant to hurt you, but frankly, I don’t know how this ends well.”
The pounding on the wall started up again.
My angst shot to level 11 as Megan leaned over to kiss me softly on the lips.
I still had Becky’s panties in my mouth. Megan took them out, inhaled deeply, and draped them over my cage.
---
“He’s getting reacquainted with Becky,” Megan said
“That’s an understatement,” I said, bitterly. “Are you ok with that?”
“No,” she said. “But I told you. He’s really dominant. He makes me do things I thought I would never do.”
“Can you release me?” I asked.
“No,” said Megan. “Mark wouldn’t like that.”
“You’re not going to like what’s next,” she said.
Dread came over me. “What?”
“His cream pie.”
“He told me to feed you his cream pie, while he’s fucking Becky.”
“But I never even tasted my own semen! How could I do that?”
“You don’t have a choice,” Megan said. “And neither do I. But don’t worry. It actually tastes pretty good, and it’s diluted in my juices anyway. You always seemed to like my pussy, back in the day.”
Megan crawled onto the bed and straddled my chest with her knees.
I could see that she was shaved. “Mark’s Pussy” was indelibly inked above her clit. That was a pretty good reminder of who was in charge and more evidence of my emasculation.
“I’m sorry about the tattoo,” Megan said. “I told you. He makes me do things. I refused at first, but then he refused to fuck me. My resolve didn’t last 48 hours.”
“Becky told me that you two haven’t had sex, yet. That she hasn’t shown you her pussy.”
“That’s right,” I said.
“She was probably embarrassed. Mark tattooed her pussy, too. Years ago. He does it to all of his women.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Mark made me go down on her,” she replied.
“What!” I couldn’t believe it. “But you’re not gay...”
“No, but I think women find it a little easier to swing both ways. I hate to admit it, but I loved her pussy, and she seemed to love mine. It’s quite beautiful. And tasty. You have been missing out.”
“Great,” I said, “so my ex-wife has had my girlfriend’s pussy before me.”
Megan smiled. “It’s too bad she didn’t give it up to you, yet. Now that Mark’s had her again, he won’t let her fuck you. He’s really possessive that way. If you’re lucky, he might let you have cream pies, but that will probably be the extent of your sex life. I’m sorry.”
Megan looked truly sad and apologetic.
Then she sat on my face. Literally. I could hardly breathe.
The smell of Megan’s arousal and Mark’s semen was overpowering. I was grossed out initially, but my hormones got the best of me and I ultimately got into it. I was lapping at Megan’s pussy like my life depended on it. She reached an orgasm pretty quickly and her legs trembled as she moaned. I felt good about myself for pleasuring her.
After she came, Megan stretched out beside me, lovingly stroking my balls and my inner thighs. She did not have the key to my cage. Ironically, it occurred to me that she never stroked my balls when we were married. It almost seemed like we were closer now than then.
---
We went out for breakfast the next morning. I was finally released from the straps, but not released from my cage.
We sat around the table—me on one side, Mark, Megan and Becky crowded together on the other side.
Mark started the conversation.
“So I guess we need some ground rules.”
“Like what?” I said.
“Well,” he said. “The first thing to know is that I’m the alpha male, so I make the rules.”
“Fuck you,” I said, feeling my oats.
“Hmm,” he said. “Let’s put it this way... If you can beat me in a wrestling match, you can be in charge.”
“But you were an All-State wrestler back in high school,” I said.
“Yep.” He went on. “But any time you’re feeling up to it, we can wrestle. If you win, you get both of these lovely ladies. But if I win, you’ll be sorry. Your life will go from bad to worse.”
“How could it get any worse for me,” I asked, bitterly.
“Well,” he said. “If I were to beat you, it would definitely get worse. I’m not gay, but I’m not opposed to making a cuckold suck my cock. Or take my cock up the ass.”
I hung my head.
“I have also been known to discipline my cucks. Perhaps you’d like me to hold you down and paddle your little ass until you cry. If you think you’ve been emasculated so far, just wait until the ladies watch you take a paddling and a cock up the ass. Just ask Becky. She watched me paddle her poor Bill until the week before he died. I think he went into the grave with blue balls.”
Becky looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole.
My face burned. The women both looked at me sadly, like they were really sorry for me. But they didn’t say a word.
“So here’s the deal...” Mark went on. “The many who owns the pussies gets to fuck the pussies. And last time I checked, my name was on both of these ladies.”
“I know you’ve seen Megan’s tattoo. I forbade Becky from fucking you quite a while ago and I’m pretty sure she didn’t disobey me. I’ll let you see her tattoo when you eat my next cream pie.”
“Furthermore,” said Mark. “You will remain locked up, Steve. Any orgasm you get going forward will be at MY discretion. The best you can hope for is the fleshlight. And that will only be if you earn it. I’ll keep control of your key.”
“I’ll need to see you washing my truck, polishing my work boots... Basically, anything I tell you to do, you will do it. No questions asked.”
“Am I clear?”
I stayed silent, staring at the table.
“Am I clear?!” He got louder.
“Yes.”
“So who owns these pussies?”
The women looked embarrassed. Everyone in the restaurant could hear this conversation.
“Who owns these pussies?!”
“You do.”
“Say my name!” He said.
“Mark does,” I said quietly. “Mark owns these pussies.”
“You know,” said Mark, as his eyes narrowed. “You might be the biggest pussy of all. Looks like I own you, too.”
I was so ashamed.
---
Re: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
Part 9
“So, who’s up for the nude beach?” Mark asked.
He was referring to an area of beach south of Brookings where nudity was not explicitly permitted, but seemed to be condoned.
The girls squealed. Both were excited.
“Should we take Steve?” Mark asked. “Or leave him strapped to the bed while we’re gone?”
“I’ll stay,” I said. I couldn’t imagine a trip to a nude beach with my pink cock cage...
“So, it’s decided,” Mark said. “Steve comes along.”
“But we have some work to do first.”
“Steve is entirely too hairy,” said Mark. “Ladies, I want him shaved, from the neck down. You can remove his cage, to be complete, but I want him back in it before we go.”
The girls took me into the shower and spent the next hour shaving me—armpits, chest, arms, legs, pubic area, scrotum, and ass crack. The shaving was erotic, in it’s own way, but also emasculating. They treated me like one of their girlfriends.
They took me out of my cage while shaving me. My penis stood at attention the entire time. I felt self-conscious. The women were both, by now, accustomed to seeing Mark’s enormous schlong. So I felt like a little boy, by comparison.
Megan reminded me of how excited I should be at the beach. After all, I was going to see Becky’s pussy for the first time.
“Here’s a preview of coming attractions,” Megan said. And with that, she dipped her finger into Becky’s panties and into her snatch. She passed the finger under my nose.
“Smell that.” She said. “I think she smells even better than me.”
“Hmm,” I said. “That’s a close call. I think I should smell your pussy again, too.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you, dirty boy.”
---
The nude beach was uncharacteristically crowded. Mostly with aging hippies. But there was a scattering of younger, more attractive people, too. We wore our robes down to the beach. The ladies stripped out of them immediately and Mark joined them. They looked amazing, frolicking together.
Both women were gorgeous, each in her own way. It was a treat to see them naked together.
Of course, I was somewhat familiar with Megan’s body—thin, lithe, with small perky breasts. I noticed she had a great tan, with no tan lines. Becky was hot in her own way—slightly curvier, but definitely not fat. Her breasts were at least a cup size bigger than Megan’s. They hung down just a bit, due to their size, but looked quite firm. Her pussy was hairy, but trimmed neatly.
And then there was Mark. He had a body like a professional athlete—tall, heavily muscled. His cock was flaccid but impressive, hanging down about 6 inches and about the diameter of a Red Bull can.
My unmuscled body and meager appendage (now caged) looked sad by comparison. I really didn’t want the women to see me next to Mark.
I kept my robe on. There was no way I was stripping down in front of all of these people.
Mark turned to face me.
“Take off your robe.”
“No way.”
“Take it off. Or you’ll be sorry.” Marks eyes got narrow and menacing.
I felt chilled. The women stood by quietly, obviously worried about what might happen next.
I paused for a second. Mark didn’t.
The next thing I knew, he was on top of me, grinding my face into the sand. It happened so quickly, I was stunned.
He produced a zip tie from a bag and cinched my hands together, behind my back. Then my ankles.
He put his knee in my back and then brought my ankles and hands together behind me. I was in trouble and I knew it.
“So here’s how it’s going to go, Stevie-boy,” said Mark. “I tried to be nice, but you mistook my kindness for weakness. Now you’ll learn.”
“I was going to be content with you prancing around naked with your little pink cage. But now, you’ve made me mad, so it’s going to get worse for you.”
He went to a black bag and produced a butt plug. And not just any butt plug. One with a fluffy fox tail attached. I had never seen such a thing.
“So now, you’re going to wear this, too.”
“And you’re not going to take it out, no matter what.”
“Got it?”
“Megan, Becky...help me!” I said.
“Ha! You’re pathetic!” Mark laughed.
“Mark!” said Megan. “This isn’t funny. Let him up!”
“Shut up, whore. He’s going to learn who the alpha male is here. He’s going to learn to obey me. Without question.” He sounded ferocious. Like a man who shouldn’t be messed with.
“If you want to be nice, you can spit on the butt plug before I shove it in.”
Megan and Becky both looked down—unwilling to challenge Mark.
My ass was dry, so the plug felt like a red hot poker going in. Once it was done, he cut the zip ties and let me up. The fox tail hung down between my legs and tickled my inner thighs as the wind blew. I strained against my tiny cage.
Everyone on the beach was staring at my shame. The beach started clearing around us. No one wanted to see this.
Mark came up behind me and whispered: “Better be a good boy this afternoon. Or tonight, I’ll take out the plug and replace it with my cock.”
Mark then pulled out his phone and started snapping pictures of me—recording my shame.
---
When we got back to the room, I was strapped to the bed again.
Mark asked Megan to remove my cage and the butt plug. I thought I might get some relief, but the butt plug was immediately replaced with an OMIBOD vibrator. It was purple, with a tail that hung out of my asshole. Mark showed me that he could control it through an app on his phone.
He gave me a little zap and I could feel it in my prostate. I hated to admit it, but it felt exquisite. I got immediately hard.
Mark laughed. “Looks like Stevie-boy likes things up his ass. I’ll make a mental note of that.”
“Let’s go next door, ladies.”
And with that, they left. The headboard started banging again.
“So, who’s up for the nude beach?” Mark asked.
He was referring to an area of beach south of Brookings where nudity was not explicitly permitted, but seemed to be condoned.
The girls squealed. Both were excited.
“Should we take Steve?” Mark asked. “Or leave him strapped to the bed while we’re gone?”
“I’ll stay,” I said. I couldn’t imagine a trip to a nude beach with my pink cock cage...
“So, it’s decided,” Mark said. “Steve comes along.”
“But we have some work to do first.”
“Steve is entirely too hairy,” said Mark. “Ladies, I want him shaved, from the neck down. You can remove his cage, to be complete, but I want him back in it before we go.”
The girls took me into the shower and spent the next hour shaving me—armpits, chest, arms, legs, pubic area, scrotum, and ass crack. The shaving was erotic, in it’s own way, but also emasculating. They treated me like one of their girlfriends.
They took me out of my cage while shaving me. My penis stood at attention the entire time. I felt self-conscious. The women were both, by now, accustomed to seeing Mark’s enormous schlong. So I felt like a little boy, by comparison.
Megan reminded me of how excited I should be at the beach. After all, I was going to see Becky’s pussy for the first time.
“Here’s a preview of coming attractions,” Megan said. And with that, she dipped her finger into Becky’s panties and into her snatch. She passed the finger under my nose.
“Smell that.” She said. “I think she smells even better than me.”
“Hmm,” I said. “That’s a close call. I think I should smell your pussy again, too.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you, dirty boy.”
---
The nude beach was uncharacteristically crowded. Mostly with aging hippies. But there was a scattering of younger, more attractive people, too. We wore our robes down to the beach. The ladies stripped out of them immediately and Mark joined them. They looked amazing, frolicking together.
Both women were gorgeous, each in her own way. It was a treat to see them naked together.
Of course, I was somewhat familiar with Megan’s body—thin, lithe, with small perky breasts. I noticed she had a great tan, with no tan lines. Becky was hot in her own way—slightly curvier, but definitely not fat. Her breasts were at least a cup size bigger than Megan’s. They hung down just a bit, due to their size, but looked quite firm. Her pussy was hairy, but trimmed neatly.
And then there was Mark. He had a body like a professional athlete—tall, heavily muscled. His cock was flaccid but impressive, hanging down about 6 inches and about the diameter of a Red Bull can.
My unmuscled body and meager appendage (now caged) looked sad by comparison. I really didn’t want the women to see me next to Mark.
I kept my robe on. There was no way I was stripping down in front of all of these people.
Mark turned to face me.
“Take off your robe.”
“No way.”
“Take it off. Or you’ll be sorry.” Marks eyes got narrow and menacing.
I felt chilled. The women stood by quietly, obviously worried about what might happen next.
I paused for a second. Mark didn’t.
The next thing I knew, he was on top of me, grinding my face into the sand. It happened so quickly, I was stunned.
He produced a zip tie from a bag and cinched my hands together, behind my back. Then my ankles.
He put his knee in my back and then brought my ankles and hands together behind me. I was in trouble and I knew it.
“So here’s how it’s going to go, Stevie-boy,” said Mark. “I tried to be nice, but you mistook my kindness for weakness. Now you’ll learn.”
“I was going to be content with you prancing around naked with your little pink cage. But now, you’ve made me mad, so it’s going to get worse for you.”
He went to a black bag and produced a butt plug. And not just any butt plug. One with a fluffy fox tail attached. I had never seen such a thing.
“So now, you’re going to wear this, too.”
“And you’re not going to take it out, no matter what.”
“Got it?”
“Megan, Becky...help me!” I said.
“Ha! You’re pathetic!” Mark laughed.
“Mark!” said Megan. “This isn’t funny. Let him up!”
“Shut up, whore. He’s going to learn who the alpha male is here. He’s going to learn to obey me. Without question.” He sounded ferocious. Like a man who shouldn’t be messed with.
“If you want to be nice, you can spit on the butt plug before I shove it in.”
Megan and Becky both looked down—unwilling to challenge Mark.
My ass was dry, so the plug felt like a red hot poker going in. Once it was done, he cut the zip ties and let me up. The fox tail hung down between my legs and tickled my inner thighs as the wind blew. I strained against my tiny cage.
Everyone on the beach was staring at my shame. The beach started clearing around us. No one wanted to see this.
Mark came up behind me and whispered: “Better be a good boy this afternoon. Or tonight, I’ll take out the plug and replace it with my cock.”
Mark then pulled out his phone and started snapping pictures of me—recording my shame.
---
When we got back to the room, I was strapped to the bed again.
Mark asked Megan to remove my cage and the butt plug. I thought I might get some relief, but the butt plug was immediately replaced with an OMIBOD vibrator. It was purple, with a tail that hung out of my asshole. Mark showed me that he could control it through an app on his phone.
He gave me a little zap and I could feel it in my prostate. I hated to admit it, but it felt exquisite. I got immediately hard.
Mark laughed. “Looks like Stevie-boy likes things up his ass. I’ll make a mental note of that.”
“Let’s go next door, ladies.”
And with that, they left. The headboard started banging again.
Re: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
Part 10—the last chapter
Around midnight, Becky came in. She was flushed and breathing hard.
She snuggled up against me and said, “I’m so sorry for what happened today. You’re a good person. You didn’t deserve what Mark did to you today. I don’t think I can forgive myself.”
“Mark sent me over to feed you his cream pie.”
“If you want, I’ll just lie to him and tell him I did it.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “I’m still drawn to you as much as ever. But after what happened today, I don’t see how you can look at me as a man anymore.”
“I’m so sorry.” Becky released my straps and snuggled up next to me. “You’re still a man to me.”
“Mark doesn’t want me for a girlfriend. He has Megan for that. I’m just another hole for his cock. He gets off on dominating us. Exerting his will. He’s a psycho. I honestly don’t understand the control he has over Megan and me. It’s pretty twisted.”
“When we get home, I want you to move in with me. We’ll try to make a life together, in spite of Mark.
“But Mark won’t let us have sex,” I lamented.
“He probably won’t want me forever,” Becky said. “And sex isn’t everything.”
“That’s easy for you to say, I said.” “You’re having sex with Mark.”
---
We left Brookings and went back home. I was hoping to gain some distance from this terrible situation, but Mark was apparently not done with any of us. He established some new ground rules:
* I would move in with Becky.
* I would continue to wear my cock cage, 24/7.
* I was not allowed physical contact with Becky.
* I could not see her naked.
* Becky would give up her panties. (Mark explained that he wanted her horny and accessible at all times.)
* I would be required to wear panties over my cage. Mark said I could wear either Megan’s or Becky’s.
* Megan would report to Mark and Megan’s house an hour before work every day. He explained that he enjoys a good blowjob while he’s eating breakfast and reading the morning paper.
* Mark would install video cameras at Becky’s house, to monitor our compliance.
* I would be required to wash Mark’s truck in front of the house every Saturday, while he “tended to Becky.”
* If I did a good job with the truck, he would allow Becky to unlock me and let me cum in the fleshlight.
After Mark laid out the rules, we were all quiet. We knew there would be no debate, or compromise.
I went back to work and tried to get my head straight. It was difficult to do, under the circumstances. Thankfully, I was able to find some baggy pants that did a pretty good job of concealing my cock cage.
Becky went to see Mark every morning, and came back glowing and full of energy.
Of course, she gave up her panties and started wearing short skirts. But she was careful about concealing her pussy from me. I never got a peek.
One day, I inadvertently walked in on her as she was getting out of the shower. She screamed and clutched a towel to her chest. I apologized and left the room, embarrassed.
Later, Becky told me she was sorry for screaming. That she didn’t mind me seeing her naked, but she was scared of what Mark might do, if he found out.
Then, another one of Mark’s packages arrived. In it was another DVD and a note.
“Greetings, Stevie.
Enclosed is another video. I think you’ll enjoy it. Check the time stamp. It’s from the morning after we came back from Brookings.
Mark.”
I popped in the DVD. Becky saw the screen and ran out of the room. She obviously didn’t want to see what came next.
On the screen, I watched as Mark drank his morning coffee and read the paper. He looked bored. Meanwhile, Becky was on the floor, under the table, moaning and sucking his trouser snake for all she was worth.
Mark eventually came and Becky swallowed his load. She bounced up, looking perky—almost like she had just taken her daily multivitamin.
“Wait for me in the bedroom,” Mark said. “In 5 minutes, I’m going to plow your pussy till you squirt.”
Becky grinned and ran off down the hall.
Mark then turned to the camera and spoke directly to me.
“Stevie. Listen up. Becky tells me she loves you. I think that’s pretty funny. Has she ever sucked your cock? Or let you in her pussy? Or given you a rimjob?” He chuckled to himself. “Of course not. You probably never even heard of a rimjob. I can tell you, Becky’s pretty good at them. Maybe one day I’ll show you.”
“She might be embarrassed to show you, but she’ll do anything I ask.”
“She may ‘love you,’” he held up his fingers in air quotes, “but she obeys me.”
“Becks is mine, as long as I want her.”
“I’ll be over on Saturday with my truck. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll make it shine.”
---
I woke up on Saturday with a sense of dread.
Mark was coming over.
He strolled through the front door without knocking.
“Becks!” He bellowed. “Where are you?”
She came running from the kitchen and literally jumped into his arms. He spun her around in a circle as she squealed.
“Make it shine, pussy.” Mark threw his keys at me.
He hoisted Becky over his right shoulder like a sack of potatoes and marched upstairs with her. I got a quick peek at her dark hairy pussy from behind. I hoped Mark didn’t notice. They entered the master bedroom, overlooking the driveway, and shut the door.
I went out to the driveway and started washing Mark’s truck. It was filthy. It looked like he had been off-roading through the mud.
I heard some muffled noises from the bedroom above the driveway. I couldn’t help but look up. I was greeted by the sight of Becky, stark naked, pressed up against the sliding glass door to the balcony. Mark was pounding her from behind, with powerful strokes from his giant cock. He manhandled Becky like a rag doll. This went on for about 10 minutes, while I tried to tend to the truck.
The sliding door opened, and out came Becky. Again, stark naked. She apparently didn’t care if the neighbors saw her that way.
“Babe!” She said. “Mark says you should bring a mop and bucket up to the bedroom, when you’re done with the truck.”
“He made me squirt all over the floor. I’m sorry, baby.”
I bristled with anger, but kept my cool.
---
Mark strolled around the truck with a keen eye. I stood nervously to the side.
“Looks pretty good from a distance. Did you wax it?” Mark asked.
“Of course,” I responded.
“Did you clean out the ash tray?”
“No,” I said, nervously. “Was I supposed to?”
“Of course, dip shit. What about Armor-All? Did you use it on the dash and tires?”
“I didn’t have any,” I said.
“Well, that’s disappointing. And guess what, Stevie-boy? If I’m disappointed, you’re going to be disappointed for sure.”
He went on. “I’m a believer in the ‘carrot and stick’ approach to discipline.”
“If you please me, you get the carrot. In this case, I was going to ask Becks to unlock you and give you a turn with the fleshlight.”
“But you didn’t please me today, so I guess you you’re gonna get the stick. Get back in the house.”
A sense of dread washed over me.
When we went back inside, Mark rummaged around in the kitchen and found a wooden spoon.
“If you fight me, this will only get worse for you. Take your clothes off.”
I stripped out of my clothes, feeling self conscious about my little cage. Mark asked Becky to zip tie my hands behind my back, and then had her unlock my cage. My cock sprung to attention, feeling relief on release from its prison. Disturbingly, I noticed that it seemed even smaller than I remembered, even erect.
“Wow,” Mark chuckled. “I was bigger than that at age 10. What do you think, Becky?”
She looked at the ground.
“Ever seen a smaller one?”
She was quiet, but shook her head, “no.”
“Think that thing could make you cum?”
“Yes,” she said. But she didn’t sound sure.
“Ha!” Mark bellowed. “We‘ll see.”
“Well, Stevie-boy. I’m going to make your dreams come true. You’re going to fuck Becky. Right here. Right now.”
“If you can make her cum, I’ll throw away your cage and walk out of both of your lives forever.”
“And if he can’t?” Becky asked, nervously.
“Then I’ll paddle his ass and make him stand in the window. I’ll make him listen while a real man fucks you.”
“Here are the rules, Stevie... You can only use your baby-dick on Becky. No fingers. No tongue. Becky seems to think she loves you. But I want her to see first-hand what she would be getting from you.”
“I’ll warn you. I think you’re going to find Becky’s pussy a lot looser than what you’re used to. Megan’s pussy is the tightest I ever had. Becky’s is probably the loosest. I can tell you, she’s built for big cocks.”
Becky glared at him.
“I can tell you, Becky really likes chair sex,” he said. “Why don’t you start with that.”
He brought up a straight back kitchen chair and pushed me down on it. Then he brought Becky over to sit on my lap, facing me. She was wearing a long shirt, which she removed before she sat on me. Her breasts were proud, with rock hard nipples. I caught a glimpse of her pussy. It was unshaven and matted with Mark’s semen from earlier.
Unfortunately, from this position, my penis only extended a couple of inches past the top of my legs. This was about the worst position possible for someone of my meager dimensions, and Mark knew it.
Becky straddled me. She reached down to guide me into her.
It felt like I was entering a bag of warm jello. It felt nice, but friction was nearly nonexistent. Becky tried to move up and down on me, but as soon as she moved up a bit, I popped out.
Mark laughed. “How’s that feel, Becky?”
Her face was expressionless. “We need a different position,” she said. “ I want him on the floor.”
Mark repositioned me on my back, on the living room floor. My hands were still zip-tied behind me. Becky climbed aboard. This time, she took all of me, down to the pubic bone. Her pussy still felt like warm jello, but it the sensation was still amazing on my long-denied cock.
She bent over and whispered in my ear. “Try not to cum, baby. I’m going to need a few minutes here.”
Becky seemed to realize that she couldn’t get off from penetration, so she started grinding her clit into my pubic bone, using small motions with her pelvis.
She looked amazingly sexy, with her proud breasts hanging over my face. I couldn’t help it. I came, almost immediately. The time in my cage had left me with a hair-trigger response.
Becky stopped grinding, disappointment flooding her face. “No!”
Mark pulled her off of me and pushed her into the sofa. Then he grabbed me and yanked me up. He roughly pushed me forward onto the back of a love seat that was positioned in the middle of the floor at a right angle to the sofa.
I hung my head, but Mark pulled it up by my hair and pointed my face toward Becky, so she could witness my degradation.
I tried not to scream or make too much noise as the wooden spoon fell repeatedly on my backside. I don’t know how long it lasted, but it felt like an eternity. By the end, tears were pouring down my face and I was begging Mark to stop.
“Will you use Armor All next time?”
“Yes!” I sobbed.
“Will you clean out my ash tray next time?”
“Yes! Please!” (Tears still pouring.)
“Stop, Mark! Please! Don’t hurt him!” Becky was blubbering.
“Shut up, bitch. Or you’ll be next.” Mark sounded cold and menacing.
She continued crying, but looked at the ground.
Mark paused for a moment.
“So, Stevie, who’s the man of the house, here?”
“You are.”
“Who owns Becky’s pussy?”
I didn’t hesitate. “You do.”
“Are you ever going to put your worthless dick in her again?”
I was quiet.
Mark resumed the flogging. I screamed and slumped to the ground. He sat on my back and continued smacking my backside relentlessly as I lost all control and cried like a girl, tears pouring onto the floor.
Becky jumped up and grabbed his arm, still crying.
“Please, stop! I’m begging you! You’re the man. We’ll do anything you say!”
“I thought so.” Mark stopped his assault on my ass.
He got off of me and yanked me to my feet. He placed me in front of the picture window, facing the street, so that any passer-by could witness my shame.
“Stand here. Look out the window. I’m going to remind Becky what it’s like to be fucked by a real man. You’re going to look out the window and listen. I better not see you turn around, or I’ll beat your balls next time.”
“Hope you had a good time in Becky’s pussy, today,” Mark said. “Your first time was also your last.”
I could hear him start in with Becky next. She obviously tried to muffle her cries of pleasure over the next half hour, but by the end, she was screaming like a banshee.
When, finally, she went quiet, Mark turned to me and said. “We’re going upstairs now. You better clean up this mess on the floor. Becky always squirts like a fire hydrant.”
I waited until I heard the bedroom door close upstairs, before I dared to turn around.
I couldn’t believe the wetness on the floor. My faced burned red with shame. I bent over to sniff it and tasted it with the tip of my tongue before I soaked it up quietly with a rag.
---
As I mopped at the floor, I felt sad, defeated. I wondered how I could continue like this.
My cell phone rang. It was a face time call from Mark. Heart pounding, I answered it.
“Hey, pussy.” Mark said. “Watch this.”
He turned the phone on Becky. Mark’s legs were spread, knees pinned back. Becky lovingly sucked each of his balls into her mouth, in turn. Then she turned south to his asshole. At first the tip of her tongue grazed lightly around the margins in a circular motion. Then she fixed her lips to his hole and seemed to be driving her tongue inside. Mark moaned with pleasure.
“You can add this to the list of things that Becky will never do for you.”
As I watched, my former fear seemed to fade and I got angry.
“This is thirsty work, pounding your girlfriend’s big old pussy.”
Becky looked up at Mark, glaringly, and he chuckled. But then she resumed attention to his ass. With her right hand, she was jerking his cock as she licked and sucked at his asshole.
“Bring me a beer,” he said. “Leave it outside the door.”
I was boiling inside with rage. The realization swept over me that I couldn’t continue like this. I would rather die first.
No. I would rather kill first.
---
I had been living at Becky’s house for a little while. I had previously noticed some pills, left over from her late-husband’s cancer treatment. Among the bottles in the medicine cabinet were some names I recognized.
Morphine sulfate ER 60mg and lorazepam 2 mg.
I never had any interest in pills for myself, but was a voracious reader. I recognized these meds as some of the ones implicated in the “opioid crisis”. I knew that most people who overdosed did so on a combination of opioid and benzodiazepine, which is what we had here. The wheels were turning in my revenge-addled cuck brain.
I wasn’t sure how many pills it would take to kill a person, and I didn’t have time to research it.
Hastily, I ground up five pills of each and added them to a Corona bottle. I stirred with a butter knife, trying to get the pills to dissolve. In the end, I couldn’t get all the pill fragments to disappear . So I dumped that bottle and started over. My next effort involved three of each tablet. I touched my tongue to the powder before dropping it into the bottle. Thankfully, it seemed pretty tasteless. This time, all the powder seemed to dissolve nicely. I added a lime wedge to the bottle and trudged upstairs to leave it outside the door of the bedroom.
I crept back downstairs and listened. I heard the door open and then close.
I waited.
About a half hour later, I heard the door open and close again. Becky appeared.
She ran up to me, wearing a long shirt. Tears welled up in her eyes as she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me softly on the lips.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Mark’s asleep. And I can’t stand to even look at him anymore.”
She paused, and then continued. “Let’s get out of here. We can leave everything and just go. Just you and me. We can run away and stay ahead of him. He’ll never find us.”
“It’s ok,” I said. “It’s going to be ok. We’re not running anywhere.”
With that, I marched quickly up the stairs.
I opened the door to the bedroom and peeked inside. Mark was on his back. Eyes closed. Breathing was shallow.
I picked up a large pillow and pushed it firmly over his face. I held it there for probably 2 or 3 minutes. Mark’s body never stirred, but his breathing became more labored, until it stopped.
I felt relief. But it was also an anticlimactic end for such an evil villain as Mark.
I went back downstairs and confessed my crime to Becky. She cried and hugged me. And we cried together.
Later, we loaded Mark’s body into his truck and drove it to an old quarry, with a deep water hole at the bottom. As his truck sank beneath the waterline, I felt my worry going with it.
Becky and I broke the news to Megan later. She seemed relieved. The three of us had been through a lot together. Now that he was gone, Becky and Megan professed disgust with themselves for falling for Mark and his big cock.
For a while, I worried that someone might come looking for Mark. But it turned out that he wasn’t the sort of person that anyone missed very much.
Becky and I continued to live together. Mark had supercharged Becky’s sex drive, and now I was the recipient of that. I could never make her cum on my cock, but develop enough skills with my fingers, tongue and toys to make her cum at least twice a day.
I learned to give Becky full-body orgasms with my fingers and was constantly amazed at the volume of fluid she produced as her body convulsed. We had to install a waterproof mattress cover.
Every so often, Megan would come over and the three of us would pleasure each other. Becky didn’t want me to have intercourse with Megan, but she let me go down on her, and Megan always went down on me. I learned a lot about oral sex technique as I watched Megan and Becky together.
One day, I came home from work to find Becky in one of my long button-down shirts. She was reclining on the couch, with her legs spread, propped up on the coffee table.
I caught a glimpse of her dark pussy.
“I have a surprise for you,” she said.
My cock sprung to attention and I dropped to my knees between her legs.
Immediately, I noticed that her old tattoo had been altered.
“Mark’s pussy” was no more.
“Steve’s pussy forever,” it read.
“You own me, now, Steve,” Becky said. “I’m yours forever.”
Around midnight, Becky came in. She was flushed and breathing hard.
She snuggled up against me and said, “I’m so sorry for what happened today. You’re a good person. You didn’t deserve what Mark did to you today. I don’t think I can forgive myself.”
“Mark sent me over to feed you his cream pie.”
“If you want, I’ll just lie to him and tell him I did it.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “I’m still drawn to you as much as ever. But after what happened today, I don’t see how you can look at me as a man anymore.”
“I’m so sorry.” Becky released my straps and snuggled up next to me. “You’re still a man to me.”
“Mark doesn’t want me for a girlfriend. He has Megan for that. I’m just another hole for his cock. He gets off on dominating us. Exerting his will. He’s a psycho. I honestly don’t understand the control he has over Megan and me. It’s pretty twisted.”
“When we get home, I want you to move in with me. We’ll try to make a life together, in spite of Mark.
“But Mark won’t let us have sex,” I lamented.
“He probably won’t want me forever,” Becky said. “And sex isn’t everything.”
“That’s easy for you to say, I said.” “You’re having sex with Mark.”
---
We left Brookings and went back home. I was hoping to gain some distance from this terrible situation, but Mark was apparently not done with any of us. He established some new ground rules:
* I would move in with Becky.
* I would continue to wear my cock cage, 24/7.
* I was not allowed physical contact with Becky.
* I could not see her naked.
* Becky would give up her panties. (Mark explained that he wanted her horny and accessible at all times.)
* I would be required to wear panties over my cage. Mark said I could wear either Megan’s or Becky’s.
* Megan would report to Mark and Megan’s house an hour before work every day. He explained that he enjoys a good blowjob while he’s eating breakfast and reading the morning paper.
* Mark would install video cameras at Becky’s house, to monitor our compliance.
* I would be required to wash Mark’s truck in front of the house every Saturday, while he “tended to Becky.”
* If I did a good job with the truck, he would allow Becky to unlock me and let me cum in the fleshlight.
After Mark laid out the rules, we were all quiet. We knew there would be no debate, or compromise.
I went back to work and tried to get my head straight. It was difficult to do, under the circumstances. Thankfully, I was able to find some baggy pants that did a pretty good job of concealing my cock cage.
Becky went to see Mark every morning, and came back glowing and full of energy.
Of course, she gave up her panties and started wearing short skirts. But she was careful about concealing her pussy from me. I never got a peek.
One day, I inadvertently walked in on her as she was getting out of the shower. She screamed and clutched a towel to her chest. I apologized and left the room, embarrassed.
Later, Becky told me she was sorry for screaming. That she didn’t mind me seeing her naked, but she was scared of what Mark might do, if he found out.
Then, another one of Mark’s packages arrived. In it was another DVD and a note.
“Greetings, Stevie.
Enclosed is another video. I think you’ll enjoy it. Check the time stamp. It’s from the morning after we came back from Brookings.
Mark.”
I popped in the DVD. Becky saw the screen and ran out of the room. She obviously didn’t want to see what came next.
On the screen, I watched as Mark drank his morning coffee and read the paper. He looked bored. Meanwhile, Becky was on the floor, under the table, moaning and sucking his trouser snake for all she was worth.
Mark eventually came and Becky swallowed his load. She bounced up, looking perky—almost like she had just taken her daily multivitamin.
“Wait for me in the bedroom,” Mark said. “In 5 minutes, I’m going to plow your pussy till you squirt.”
Becky grinned and ran off down the hall.
Mark then turned to the camera and spoke directly to me.
“Stevie. Listen up. Becky tells me she loves you. I think that’s pretty funny. Has she ever sucked your cock? Or let you in her pussy? Or given you a rimjob?” He chuckled to himself. “Of course not. You probably never even heard of a rimjob. I can tell you, Becky’s pretty good at them. Maybe one day I’ll show you.”
“She might be embarrassed to show you, but she’ll do anything I ask.”
“She may ‘love you,’” he held up his fingers in air quotes, “but she obeys me.”
“Becks is mine, as long as I want her.”
“I’ll be over on Saturday with my truck. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll make it shine.”
---
I woke up on Saturday with a sense of dread.
Mark was coming over.
He strolled through the front door without knocking.
“Becks!” He bellowed. “Where are you?”
She came running from the kitchen and literally jumped into his arms. He spun her around in a circle as she squealed.
“Make it shine, pussy.” Mark threw his keys at me.
He hoisted Becky over his right shoulder like a sack of potatoes and marched upstairs with her. I got a quick peek at her dark hairy pussy from behind. I hoped Mark didn’t notice. They entered the master bedroom, overlooking the driveway, and shut the door.
I went out to the driveway and started washing Mark’s truck. It was filthy. It looked like he had been off-roading through the mud.
I heard some muffled noises from the bedroom above the driveway. I couldn’t help but look up. I was greeted by the sight of Becky, stark naked, pressed up against the sliding glass door to the balcony. Mark was pounding her from behind, with powerful strokes from his giant cock. He manhandled Becky like a rag doll. This went on for about 10 minutes, while I tried to tend to the truck.
The sliding door opened, and out came Becky. Again, stark naked. She apparently didn’t care if the neighbors saw her that way.
“Babe!” She said. “Mark says you should bring a mop and bucket up to the bedroom, when you’re done with the truck.”
“He made me squirt all over the floor. I’m sorry, baby.”
I bristled with anger, but kept my cool.
---
Mark strolled around the truck with a keen eye. I stood nervously to the side.
“Looks pretty good from a distance. Did you wax it?” Mark asked.
“Of course,” I responded.
“Did you clean out the ash tray?”
“No,” I said, nervously. “Was I supposed to?”
“Of course, dip shit. What about Armor-All? Did you use it on the dash and tires?”
“I didn’t have any,” I said.
“Well, that’s disappointing. And guess what, Stevie-boy? If I’m disappointed, you’re going to be disappointed for sure.”
He went on. “I’m a believer in the ‘carrot and stick’ approach to discipline.”
“If you please me, you get the carrot. In this case, I was going to ask Becks to unlock you and give you a turn with the fleshlight.”
“But you didn’t please me today, so I guess you you’re gonna get the stick. Get back in the house.”
A sense of dread washed over me.
When we went back inside, Mark rummaged around in the kitchen and found a wooden spoon.
“If you fight me, this will only get worse for you. Take your clothes off.”
I stripped out of my clothes, feeling self conscious about my little cage. Mark asked Becky to zip tie my hands behind my back, and then had her unlock my cage. My cock sprung to attention, feeling relief on release from its prison. Disturbingly, I noticed that it seemed even smaller than I remembered, even erect.
“Wow,” Mark chuckled. “I was bigger than that at age 10. What do you think, Becky?”
She looked at the ground.
“Ever seen a smaller one?”
She was quiet, but shook her head, “no.”
“Think that thing could make you cum?”
“Yes,” she said. But she didn’t sound sure.
“Ha!” Mark bellowed. “We‘ll see.”
“Well, Stevie-boy. I’m going to make your dreams come true. You’re going to fuck Becky. Right here. Right now.”
“If you can make her cum, I’ll throw away your cage and walk out of both of your lives forever.”
“And if he can’t?” Becky asked, nervously.
“Then I’ll paddle his ass and make him stand in the window. I’ll make him listen while a real man fucks you.”
“Here are the rules, Stevie... You can only use your baby-dick on Becky. No fingers. No tongue. Becky seems to think she loves you. But I want her to see first-hand what she would be getting from you.”
“I’ll warn you. I think you’re going to find Becky’s pussy a lot looser than what you’re used to. Megan’s pussy is the tightest I ever had. Becky’s is probably the loosest. I can tell you, she’s built for big cocks.”
Becky glared at him.
“I can tell you, Becky really likes chair sex,” he said. “Why don’t you start with that.”
He brought up a straight back kitchen chair and pushed me down on it. Then he brought Becky over to sit on my lap, facing me. She was wearing a long shirt, which she removed before she sat on me. Her breasts were proud, with rock hard nipples. I caught a glimpse of her pussy. It was unshaven and matted with Mark’s semen from earlier.
Unfortunately, from this position, my penis only extended a couple of inches past the top of my legs. This was about the worst position possible for someone of my meager dimensions, and Mark knew it.
Becky straddled me. She reached down to guide me into her.
It felt like I was entering a bag of warm jello. It felt nice, but friction was nearly nonexistent. Becky tried to move up and down on me, but as soon as she moved up a bit, I popped out.
Mark laughed. “How’s that feel, Becky?”
Her face was expressionless. “We need a different position,” she said. “ I want him on the floor.”
Mark repositioned me on my back, on the living room floor. My hands were still zip-tied behind me. Becky climbed aboard. This time, she took all of me, down to the pubic bone. Her pussy still felt like warm jello, but it the sensation was still amazing on my long-denied cock.
She bent over and whispered in my ear. “Try not to cum, baby. I’m going to need a few minutes here.”
Becky seemed to realize that she couldn’t get off from penetration, so she started grinding her clit into my pubic bone, using small motions with her pelvis.
She looked amazingly sexy, with her proud breasts hanging over my face. I couldn’t help it. I came, almost immediately. The time in my cage had left me with a hair-trigger response.
Becky stopped grinding, disappointment flooding her face. “No!”
Mark pulled her off of me and pushed her into the sofa. Then he grabbed me and yanked me up. He roughly pushed me forward onto the back of a love seat that was positioned in the middle of the floor at a right angle to the sofa.
I hung my head, but Mark pulled it up by my hair and pointed my face toward Becky, so she could witness my degradation.
I tried not to scream or make too much noise as the wooden spoon fell repeatedly on my backside. I don’t know how long it lasted, but it felt like an eternity. By the end, tears were pouring down my face and I was begging Mark to stop.
“Will you use Armor All next time?”
“Yes!” I sobbed.
“Will you clean out my ash tray next time?”
“Yes! Please!” (Tears still pouring.)
“Stop, Mark! Please! Don’t hurt him!” Becky was blubbering.
“Shut up, bitch. Or you’ll be next.” Mark sounded cold and menacing.
She continued crying, but looked at the ground.
Mark paused for a moment.
“So, Stevie, who’s the man of the house, here?”
“You are.”
“Who owns Becky’s pussy?”
I didn’t hesitate. “You do.”
“Are you ever going to put your worthless dick in her again?”
I was quiet.
Mark resumed the flogging. I screamed and slumped to the ground. He sat on my back and continued smacking my backside relentlessly as I lost all control and cried like a girl, tears pouring onto the floor.
Becky jumped up and grabbed his arm, still crying.
“Please, stop! I’m begging you! You’re the man. We’ll do anything you say!”
“I thought so.” Mark stopped his assault on my ass.
He got off of me and yanked me to my feet. He placed me in front of the picture window, facing the street, so that any passer-by could witness my shame.
“Stand here. Look out the window. I’m going to remind Becky what it’s like to be fucked by a real man. You’re going to look out the window and listen. I better not see you turn around, or I’ll beat your balls next time.”
“Hope you had a good time in Becky’s pussy, today,” Mark said. “Your first time was also your last.”
I could hear him start in with Becky next. She obviously tried to muffle her cries of pleasure over the next half hour, but by the end, she was screaming like a banshee.
When, finally, she went quiet, Mark turned to me and said. “We’re going upstairs now. You better clean up this mess on the floor. Becky always squirts like a fire hydrant.”
I waited until I heard the bedroom door close upstairs, before I dared to turn around.
I couldn’t believe the wetness on the floor. My faced burned red with shame. I bent over to sniff it and tasted it with the tip of my tongue before I soaked it up quietly with a rag.
---
As I mopped at the floor, I felt sad, defeated. I wondered how I could continue like this.
My cell phone rang. It was a face time call from Mark. Heart pounding, I answered it.
“Hey, pussy.” Mark said. “Watch this.”
He turned the phone on Becky. Mark’s legs were spread, knees pinned back. Becky lovingly sucked each of his balls into her mouth, in turn. Then she turned south to his asshole. At first the tip of her tongue grazed lightly around the margins in a circular motion. Then she fixed her lips to his hole and seemed to be driving her tongue inside. Mark moaned with pleasure.
“You can add this to the list of things that Becky will never do for you.”
As I watched, my former fear seemed to fade and I got angry.
“This is thirsty work, pounding your girlfriend’s big old pussy.”
Becky looked up at Mark, glaringly, and he chuckled. But then she resumed attention to his ass. With her right hand, she was jerking his cock as she licked and sucked at his asshole.
“Bring me a beer,” he said. “Leave it outside the door.”
I was boiling inside with rage. The realization swept over me that I couldn’t continue like this. I would rather die first.
No. I would rather kill first.
---
I had been living at Becky’s house for a little while. I had previously noticed some pills, left over from her late-husband’s cancer treatment. Among the bottles in the medicine cabinet were some names I recognized.
Morphine sulfate ER 60mg and lorazepam 2 mg.
I never had any interest in pills for myself, but was a voracious reader. I recognized these meds as some of the ones implicated in the “opioid crisis”. I knew that most people who overdosed did so on a combination of opioid and benzodiazepine, which is what we had here. The wheels were turning in my revenge-addled cuck brain.
I wasn’t sure how many pills it would take to kill a person, and I didn’t have time to research it.
Hastily, I ground up five pills of each and added them to a Corona bottle. I stirred with a butter knife, trying to get the pills to dissolve. In the end, I couldn’t get all the pill fragments to disappear . So I dumped that bottle and started over. My next effort involved three of each tablet. I touched my tongue to the powder before dropping it into the bottle. Thankfully, it seemed pretty tasteless. This time, all the powder seemed to dissolve nicely. I added a lime wedge to the bottle and trudged upstairs to leave it outside the door of the bedroom.
I crept back downstairs and listened. I heard the door open and then close.
I waited.
About a half hour later, I heard the door open and close again. Becky appeared.
She ran up to me, wearing a long shirt. Tears welled up in her eyes as she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me softly on the lips.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Mark’s asleep. And I can’t stand to even look at him anymore.”
She paused, and then continued. “Let’s get out of here. We can leave everything and just go. Just you and me. We can run away and stay ahead of him. He’ll never find us.”
“It’s ok,” I said. “It’s going to be ok. We’re not running anywhere.”
With that, I marched quickly up the stairs.
I opened the door to the bedroom and peeked inside. Mark was on his back. Eyes closed. Breathing was shallow.
I picked up a large pillow and pushed it firmly over his face. I held it there for probably 2 or 3 minutes. Mark’s body never stirred, but his breathing became more labored, until it stopped.
I felt relief. But it was also an anticlimactic end for such an evil villain as Mark.
I went back downstairs and confessed my crime to Becky. She cried and hugged me. And we cried together.
Later, we loaded Mark’s body into his truck and drove it to an old quarry, with a deep water hole at the bottom. As his truck sank beneath the waterline, I felt my worry going with it.
Becky and I broke the news to Megan later. She seemed relieved. The three of us had been through a lot together. Now that he was gone, Becky and Megan professed disgust with themselves for falling for Mark and his big cock.
For a while, I worried that someone might come looking for Mark. But it turned out that he wasn’t the sort of person that anyone missed very much.
Becky and I continued to live together. Mark had supercharged Becky’s sex drive, and now I was the recipient of that. I could never make her cum on my cock, but develop enough skills with my fingers, tongue and toys to make her cum at least twice a day.
I learned to give Becky full-body orgasms with my fingers and was constantly amazed at the volume of fluid she produced as her body convulsed. We had to install a waterproof mattress cover.
Every so often, Megan would come over and the three of us would pleasure each other. Becky didn’t want me to have intercourse with Megan, but she let me go down on her, and Megan always went down on me. I learned a lot about oral sex technique as I watched Megan and Becky together.
One day, I came home from work to find Becky in one of my long button-down shirts. She was reclining on the couch, with her legs spread, propped up on the coffee table.
I caught a glimpse of her dark pussy.
“I have a surprise for you,” she said.
My cock sprung to attention and I dropped to my knees between her legs.
Immediately, I noticed that her old tattoo had been altered.
“Mark’s pussy” was no more.
“Steve’s pussy forever,” it read.
“You own me, now, Steve,” Becky said. “I’m yours forever.”
Re: Story: Cuckolded (sort-of) by my Ex
Loved it and the ending! 
Its nice to see the bad guy get whats coming sometimes.
Its nice to see the bad guy get whats coming sometimes.