The Italian Waiter. First Thought.

[Lovers4third]

I discovered the subtle and delicious pangs of being cucked purely by accident. I am no slouch, and in all my life endeavors I'm the alpha guy: the boss, the team captain, leader of charities, patriarch, etc.
That's why, one night, celebrating my first wife's 34th birthday, as she was enjoying her wine and the handsome Italian waiter started layering compliments on her in his thick accent, I thought, why I am enjoying this? Why is it turning me on to see my wife volleying back the flirtations with smiles and hair-flipping? I am the alpha guy, I should be beating him down with a smart remark, and sending him back to the kitchen to get me a glass of water, so he understands I am the big cat with the platinum card and he is the help....
I am the alpha guy, but I am also a curious guy. I smiled and went on exploring the new feeling: The feeling of enjoying the attention my wife was getting for being so hot that day, and the feeling of being turned on by the animal danger of another male sniffing around my lair.
She got drunk, as the wine kept coming. "This one is on the house" and the Italian would bring a thick merlot. "This one is on the card" I'd say later, as I ordered a Pinot Noir, and we went on like that for several rounds. I was having martinis, and on my third, my wife asked me to buy him one: "Antonio is such a good server, isn't he?" she said.
Thick-accent Antonio kept hovering around our table speaking Italian and butchering the English language, until we paid and left.
That night, drunk, we made love, and on a whim I began to say things in Italian while in bed. She began to get very hot, and to moan and move very differently than she ever had. I whispered in her ear, in thick Italian, that for her birthday, her husband had hired me to make love to her. "My name is Antonio, and tonight you are mine". I fucked her in Italian the whole night and I made her call her lover's name. She whispered Antonios all night long and asked me to "oh fuck me Antonio, fuck me..." . She came three times that night (something she had never done before), and I was going wild with this strange game for me.
That was the night my cuckold fantasies began.

[BallSpanking]

Nice start...
Did she end up screwing the Italian waiter?

[Joemidnight53]

Hot .. She is almost ready. Go slowly, but she is definitely on its way to become a Hot Wife ... Are you ready to see her being taken by a stranger ...?

[Lovers4third]

I said "that's how my cuckold fantasies began", but that does not mean I knew the word cuckold existed, much less the concept of being a cuckold and much, much less that it was an actual life-style.
Back then I just thought these were very interesting feelings I was having and quite original (I could not possibly imagine anyone else feeling excited at the thought of another man fucking his wife).
Even if I was naïve about sexual sub-cultures, I was quite adept at reading people. I read people for a living, sometimes in high-stakes negotiations, and I could tell a lot about a person from a single gesture, a flip of the shoulder, and specially from the quality of a look, the fleeting stare, the fraction of a second shorter eye-contact, the subtle pink tone of a cheek after a shorter than normal look, followed by a rapid dart of the eyes to the left...stuff like that.
A month later, after her birthday wines and the fantasy Antonio-fuck, she met up with me at another city, where I was on business. As soon as she walked in the door, by one of those looks, I knew she had cheated on me.
"Are you fucking someone else?" I asked before I even said hello. She said "no", she said "you are fucking crazy", "you are so weird".
I let it go. I even thought, maybe I'm just an asshole. Just because I had a fantasy a month earlier, and just because I think I have mind-reading powers, doesn't mean she is cheating on me, come on, man...get out of your own head.
But gnawing feelings are like that: determined, unyielding. I asked again. We were in bed. This time I looked her deep in the eyes and said I already knew about it. (I'm also good at that: bluffing with confidence). I told her, (this was true) that the thought of her with another man turned me on in a strange way, and that I wanted to hear it from her. She stretched her hand and touched my cock, and could see that I was hard under my pajamas. "It turns you on to know that I fucked another man?" she asked surprised, without letting go of my dick. She stroked it in a gentle way, and asked me: "How do you know?", and squeezed a little. I whispered back: "I just do. I just want to hear the details form you".
She got closer to me, still holding and caressing my dick, and whispered the story in my ear.
The night of her birthday she had "forgotten" her shawl at the restaurant, and for several days she couldn't find it. After looking everywhere, she decided to call the restaurant on the off chance they had found it. She asked for Antonio, and he came to the phone. He said he had it, but not to worry, he'd bring it to her. She gave him our store's address, and told him she'd be there until 6:30 p.m. At 6:30, the employees left, she locked the door, turn down the lights of the store-front, and as she was going to the back office to close the till, someone knocked. Antonio was standing there. She opened the door, and let him in. She locked again, and thanked him for coming. It turns out he didn't bring the shawl back but he brought her a bottle of wine that he thought she might like. She opened the bottle, and they began to drink it and to chat. He talked about his life in Italy, and how he was now thinking of going back, now that he had saved enough to open his dream restaurant, while she closed the till, balanced the daily ledger and drank wine.
Then when she was done, she went in the office to lock the cash for the day in the safe, and when she turned around he was standing there. Tall, menacing, in the back office of a dark, closed and locked retail store. She asked, what are you doing? he looked at her, grabbed her by the waist and pinned her against the desk. Get off, she said. He smirked and pulled her forward and gave her a kiss on her mouth, and he pressed her hard against his body. She tried to retreat, to push back, but he grabbed her head with the other hand and kissed her again. He was strong, and he held her tight. Then he kissed her neck and began to speak to her in her ear. She said that he said, I want you right now. You want me right now. And he kissed her on the neck and near the ears. If you want me to leave, just say stop. Say stop right now and I leave. She couldn't. She kissed him back, and began to take his shirt off, as he was kissing her and touching her. She unbuttoned his pants, and felt a large, hard dick throbbing. When she was going wild, and letting herself go, he pushed her back. He looked at her and asked; Do you want me to fuck you? "Yes" she said, and he said, "Say it. Say 'fuck me Antonio'". She said "fuck me Antonio, fuck me", and he just turned her around, and with great force, pinned her torso down on the desk, took her panties off with one hand and began to fuck her from behind. She was already all wet and it went in easy. But he was rough. His left hand pinned her down on the table and he fucked furiously. He came quickly, inside of her, and she was sobbing and panting. Partly unsettled at the roughness, partly because it ended too soon, partly because guilt was starting to creep in and the fear of a total stranger coming inside.
Antonio got dressed, and asked her to open the door for him so he could leave. Still sobbing she opened the door to let him out and he said, "If you ever want a real man to fuck you again, just call me at the restaurant." And he left.
She told me the story like that, with no hesitation, always rubbing my dick. I was hard, ready to burst, and she said: "I promise it will never happen again. I was dumb, and weak" and she got down and began to suck me until I came.

[Lovers4third]

For days, I replayed the story in my head. Imagining every detail. Trying to understand why my wife's confession turned me on so. Then I realized that I had cameras in the store. Back then everything was recorded on tapes, and someone always changed the tape from the day before, and archived it, but nobody ever watched them. I went through over 40 days of tapes until I found the night she did it. The image, though black and white was surprisingly clear, and because they had done it in the office, over the desk, by the cash register, the camera's angle could not have been better. I replayed that tape over and over so many times, and every time it turned me on even more. The voyeuristic quality of the whole thing doubled what was already corrupting my mind, and began to drive strange ideas in my head. You have to remember that then, I had never heard of a cuckold and I thought I was the only man in the world with this strange fantasy. I wanted more, I wanted to see it. Not on tape, but in the flesh. And nothing drives action like an obsession, a sexual obsession. One night that I was working late and had told my wife I'd be away on business overnight, I decided to drive to the restaurant. I had to see Antonio's face. I sat at the bar and ordered a scotch, and drank slowly until it was almost closing time. I paid and asked the maître D to see Antonio. The guy came out of the back and immediately recognized me. I said: I know all about it. And the man went pale and began to stutter, clearly afraid of me, the scorned husband. I wasn't kind. I told him to shut up. I told him "if you are going to fuck someone's wife, you have to own it. The guy who fucked my wife was not a wimp." His fear turned to embarrassment, and I knew that no matter how rough he had been to her, I was still the alpha in this. So I ordered him to sit down. I bought him a scotch, patronizingly put my hand on his shoulder and told him how this was going to be. He was hesitant and about to shit his pants, but I told him he had no choice. We drove to my house, and by then it was already way past midnight. The house was dark and my wife asleep. We walked in very quietly. I sat in the dark, on a chair in the corner, and he took his clothes off. The room was dimly lit by a nightlight somewhere, and perhaps the moon through a window. Without noise he got in my bed next to my wife, and began caressing her softly, like I had told him earlier. She began to respond, first with soft exhales, her light tossing ruffling the sheets. Then slight turns in the bed. She snuggled to him, her butt to his front, and he kept caressing my sleeping wife. And in that edge of fog between dreams and awake he caressed her legs, her hips, and kissed her shoulder, breathing in her hair for a while. I began to hear his breathing become heavier, and his hands more daring. He began caressing her ass, her inner thighs, and she (still in slumber) turned slightly towards him, opening her legs. He touched lightly, and she exhaled, and her hands, began to move as well, touching first his hand, then his leg, as he touched her flat abdomen, and in between her breasts. With very skilled lover's hands, he retreated at the right time and she began to moan very soft, slow, short, guttural m's. He began kissing her neck, shoulders and chest and her hand became a lively spider, walking around his thighs, up to his balls. She tossed one more time, a quarter turn, so that now her body faced his, and her m's were longer and deeper and a little louder. She grabbed his dick, and then the spider squirreled away back to the leg. She still had her eyes closed and probably was in that most delicious state of dreamy fog. But asleep or not, she was now wet. He began kissing her face, and touching her with his hand, the breasts, then down the torso, to the legs, then up the her pubis, and began to feel her wetness. He rubbed very lightly and she arched her back, eyes still closed, but probably closer to waking than to slumber. He touched, caressed, she moaned, exhaled, and then he plunged his finger softly and expertly. This drew the most amazing inhale from her. Like when a little pleasure surprises you. And with that he began kissing her, leaning over her. She wrapped both arms around him and began to kiss him. They kissed for a long time, while he kept his hand down below, in between light caress and plunging pleasure. Her moans were now feral, and the breathing of both was hard. Her hands roved his body with lust. His weight was now half over her, and as his dick rubbed against her body he put his leg between hers, his hand still on her river valley, and she spread to take him in. He leaned on elbows, and his lower body now fully between her legs, he pulled the skilled finger out, and touched her with his dick. His expert left hand moved up her body, and as he was about to enter her, he stopped kissing her, moved to kiss her neck and began whispering in her ear. He said in butchered English, "do you want me to fuck you?". She didn't hear. He rubbed her again with the tip of his dick and asked again, a little louder "do you want me to fuck you?". She moaned "mmmyesss""', and he put his dick inside my wife, in front of me as I watched hypnotized by the scene. "If you want me to fuck you say my name". And to my amazement, she said MY name. She wasn't fully awake yet and she thought she was fucking me! "If you want me to fuck you, say my name" he repeated, "say fuck me Antonio". It was too late, clearly, he was already fucking her, so why insist on "if". All she said was "oh God, oh God, just fuck me" and he began to move with a little fury. He began to fuck her rougher, and then he got a little more loud, and a lot more Italian. He began to unleash Italian fuck words and to kiss her neck and ear, and then he kissed her mouth still spewing Italian horny words. My wife opened her eyes, and in the dim light, unsure if she was dreaming or blind with passion she looked straight in his eyes, pushed his chest up to get a good look and screamed still panting and still arching and sweating "What the Fuck?" "what are you doing here?". To his credit, he didn't retreat. He grabbed her head and kissed her in the mouth, while he pressed her body with the strength of his hips and chest. He kissed her violently, forcing his kiss on her, and even as her head was saying no, her arms, wrapped around his neck and back were saying yes. He said in the most incomprehensible English "I came to fuck you good", and he kissed her and fucked her, he asked again, do you want me to fuck you? and to her no answer he said "tonight you are mine", you want me to fuck you? and to her no answer he said, "say my name", and he thrusted on furiously and she said very softly..."Antonio", "say my name!" ; "Antonio, oh Antonio". "do you want me to fuck you?"; "mmmyess, yesss", "say my name", "Fuck me Antonio, Fuck me", and they went on fucking like that, speaking m's and Italian porn words for 20 minutes, as I sat quietly in the dark, bursting in my loins, hallucinated by the feat that it is two passionate human beings fucking and blown away by the voyeuristic explosion of the mind that is to watch your own wife being fucked like an animal and watching the impossible forces of her own desires.
She came so hard, screaming in all kinds of Latin and Anglo-Saxon tongues, and he exploded inside her. I've never heard an animal, much less a woman make so much noise. Her body's convulsions arching her back, curling her feet, twisting her head to one side as her shoulders twisted the other way. Abdominal contractions that were the tsunami waves of the earthquakes in her thighs, her pussy pulsating and swallowing the long, fat and rubbery hose that was now his emptied rod. It took a long time for the frenzy to subside, for the heart rates to go back to 140, for breathing to even out, and they slowly melted into each other, as molten liquids, embracing, sweating, smiling, breathing, shuddering....
I waited there in my silent darkness for an eternity, for the peace, for the silence, for the calm. And when they were both dozing off in each other's arms, I got up from my chair, handed Antonio his pants, turned the light on and told him, "now, go, get out of my house". My wife jumped from the bed and looked at me naked, with eyes of horror, of fear, of not understanding: Big, beautiful green eyes, beautiful naked, fucked, sweaty body, looking at me holding a blanket up as if to cover her nudity. Antonio grabbed his clothes, and began to dress, in silence. My wife sat down on the bed and began to cry. I nudged Antonio out of the room, I closed the door, sat on the bed with her and held her. She cried, and cried. I laid her down on the bed, put the covers over her, gave her a soft kiss on her face, primed her hair, and as she closed her eyes, I told her how much I loved her. That seeing her have that much pleasure was the most exciting night of my life. I told her to go to sleep, and that we could talk in the morning. She fell asleep quietly and that was how I became an honest to goodness cuckold.

[DrAndrew]

What a story! Great writing.

[OOAA]

Amazing story!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Lovers4third]

True story. 25 years ago.

[Cobra1000]

Terrific! Remember when you posted this in ‘14. Still an enjoyable read. There has to be more. Please give us another.