To the Edge and Back
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2021 12:54 pm
Hey all, it’s been a while since I’ve posted on here and a lot has happened in my personal life. I’m sorry I suddenly disappeared last year, but things were spinning out of control and we had to make some changes. The Readers Digest version is that we ended things permanently with Wade (our bull so to speak). It was emotionally harder than I would have imagined, but it was necessary. Wade is no longer part of our lives. I wish I could say the same for the cuckold vice, but, well, fuck, I’d be lying if I did say it. Once a cuck always a cuck I guess. That said, I reached an agreement with my wife that I could post on this site as long as it was in the fictional library side. Maybe I’ll be able to update on our personal lives, but as for now, we’re just living a plain-Jane, vanilla lifestyle. Seriously, it’s all I can do just to keep up with two rapidly growing boys. I only have time to write right now because my wife took the boys to the beach for the afternoon.
A lot of cuckold stories only go so far, but through the last few years of experiencing some ‘interesting’ events myself, I’ve found that the bottom of the well is much deeper than I ever had imagined. This story is a slow burn, so fair warning to those that want to get right to the juicy parts. It’s also going to explore the seedier side of this kink, so again fair warning. I like a happy ending, so I’ll give up that much, but often times we have to go through one hell of a rollercoaster ride to find our happy ending… unless you pay extra for such things…
Chapter 01
I stepped through the threshold of our new home and was met by an unfamiliar smell wafting from the kitchen. It wasn’t terrible, but it didn’t exactly put the tastebuds to watering mode either. Stepping into the kitchen, I found my wife standing in front of the stove, her back towards me. She was wearing her ear buds and bobbing her head to a beat I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t help but pause at the kitchen door and admire the view. My wife, Nichole, Is short at only an inch over five-feet tall. She has dark, chestnut colored hair that hangs just past her shoulders, it’s thick, lustrous, and I can’t help but feel a deep urge to run my fingers through it. Nichole’s ass is pert and firm, a result of significant time spent running in the early morning hours.
Setting my computer bag on the floor, I stepped up behind her and wrapped her into my arms. The smell of her shampoo filled my nose. I felt her tense under my arms until she realized it was me.
“Ky,” she said with a start, “You scared the shite out of me!” her English accent sharper than usual from the surprise.
“Sorry,” I said, looking over her shoulder to see what was cooking on the stove. “Beans? We’re having beans for dinner?”
Nichole nodded, “Beans and toast,” she said, twisting away from my grip to go to the refrigerator. “It’s been ages and I guess I’ve been feeling nostalgic.”
“Missing home?” I asked, leaning against the counter next to the stove.
Nichole shook her head as she removed a stock of broccoli from the refrigerator, “This is my home now, Ky,” she said matter-of-factly. “But missing mum and dad a bit, yeah.”
“I know, I’m sorry. As soon as this whole COVID thing blows over, we’ll go,” I said, eyeing the beans in the pot. I knew beans and toast was something the in-laws ate with some frequency, but I never could understand why anyone would eat it if there was literally anything else available.
I watched my wife prepare the vegetables, carefully chopping the green stocks and placing them into a glass bowl. Damn she’s beautiful, I thought to myself. I need to make sure I tell her that more often. We’ve been married for two years now, and things were good. My wife, originally from the UK, had come to the States to study at the University of San Diego, and somehow I’d been lucky enough to convince her to marry me. Although, if I’m honest, I’ve always felt that one day she would wake up and realize she could have done so much better.
I looked around the kitchen and out into the family room of our new home. To say it was spartan would be generous. The house was basically empty except for a bed, a kitchen table, and a few chairs. We’d been living on the cheap and saving every cent for the down payment on our home, and we only had the stuff we’d brought from our apartment, which was to say, not much.
Nichole placed two plates onto our second-hand table, and I took my seat. The old wooden chair purchased from Goodwill groaned as it took my weight. I looked glumly at the meager meal.
“Oh, don’t look like that, it’s good,” said Nichole, taking her own seat.
I sighed and picked up my fork, my vision wandering from my plate to my wife’s chest. She didn’t have massive breasts, but they fit well-enough in my hands, and they were perfectly shaped. But it wasn’t the size of her breasts that had drawn my attention as much as it was her nipples. They were poking up from inside her shirt, and I couldn’t help but smirk. She had amazingly large nipples, and when they were erect, there was no bra in the world that could keep them concealed.
Noticing my gaze, Nichole looked down at her chest, “Oh bother,” she said, noticing what had drawn my attention. She pressed her fingers against one of her nipples in an attempt to flatten it down, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.
“Yes, please keep doing that,” I said wryly.
Nichole rolled her eyes and dropped her hand from her breast, “You’re an incorrigible prat, you know that, right?”
I shrugged and laughed but pulled my attention back to the meal and began to eat. Beans and toast really wasn’t that bad, but I wasn’t going to say so for fear of encouraging more beans and toast dinners.
A red envelope on the table caught my attention and I reached over to pick it up, “What’s this?” I asked opening the letter.
“An invite to the neighbor’s this weekend,” Nichole answered, looking slightly in the direction of the neighbors to our south. “It’s a pool party in their garden.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Marcus and Rachel Scott cordially invite Mr. and Mrs. Ky and Nichole Ryan to an outdoor barbeque and swim party this Saturday…” I laughed as I looked at the cartoonish picture of people swimming and frolicking about. “Our neighbors have an interesting sense of humor.” I said as I looked up from the invitation, “Are we going?”
“Of course we are,” Nichole said, seemingly surprised that it was even a question. “Rachel popped in this morning to give me that,” she pointed at the letter, “and I already committed us—no more living like hermits. I need to get out of this house.”
“Their backyard is like little Disneyland,” I admitted, resigned to the loss of my Saturday. I’d have to cancel my tee time, but the neighbor’s pool would be nice to relax in, and Rachel was easy on the eyes even if she was twenty years older than us.
Nichole’s brow rose but then immediately fell, “I need a new swim costume, but we didn’t budget for it this month.”
I rolled my eyes at her panic at spending unbudgeted money, but I’ve always been grateful for her frugality. “We’re fine, as long as I’m the one that gets to pick it out. And it’s called a swimsuit, not a swim costume.”
“It’s not a suit, a suit is something you wear to the office.”
“Well it’s not a costume, that’s something you wear for Halloween.”
Nichole ignored my last comment and picked her phone up from the table, “And I’ll pick it out, thank you. You’ll pick out something expensive and immodest, and I don’t need the neighbors thinking I’m some sort of slagging tart.”
“Nope,” I said, snatching the phone from his wife’s small hand. “If we’re buying you an unbudgeted luxury item, then I at least get to pick it out.”
Nichole tried in vain to get her phone back, but to no avail, “Fine,” she sighed in defeat. “But it bloody better be modest”
“Oh, I love it when you threaten me,” I teased and began to scroll through the Amazon app. “I probably should buy you something that looks like a potato sack to keep Marcus from staring, but damn I want to see you in something sexy.”
“Ky,” Nichole whined with a pout.
“You agreed to the party without asking me if I wanted to go, and we’re buying you a new suit, so I get to pick out what you’ll wear.”
“Fine,” Nichole said, unconsciously covering her protruding nipples with her forearm. “I suddenly have a bad feeling about this.”
-_-
“I am not bloody wearing this!”
I winced as I heard my wife shout from behind the bathroom door. I had purposefully made her wait until a few minutes before the party started before I gave her the new swimsuit, wanting to make sure she didn’t have time to find another option.
“It’ll be fine,” I said for the fifth time. “I promise it’s not as risqué as you think it is.”
Nichole had been in the bathroom for nearly half an hour, and we were going to be more than fashionably late if we didn’t get going. I was about to speak when the bathroom door suddenly swung open.
My eyes immediately landed on his wife, “Fuck me,” I said in a gasp. The bikini barely covered her at all, but it instantly had an effect on me. “Holy fucking shit—you look amazing.”
Nichole’s fiery look softened, seemingly nullified by the lustful look she saw in my eyes. “You really like it?” she said hesitantly.
“God yes,” I said in a hoarse whisper. “Please wear it. I’ll do the dishes for a month.”
Nichole shook her head and laughed, her thick hair running over her shoulders as she did, “I like how it makes you look at me,” she admitted, moving towards our shared dresser drawers. Pulling out one of my tee shirts, she pulled it over her form, the hem of the shirt falling well past her waist. “I’ll wear it once, but I’m covering up with this until we get in the pool,” she said, pulling at the tee shirt that now covered her slight frame.
I nodded and reached down to adjust myself through my shorts. I couldn’t wait to see my wife in the pool, and the thought of Marcus seeing my nearly naked wife filled me with a wave of lust. I inhaled deeply and let my breath out slowly as my wife walked towards the front door. I’ve felt lustful for my wife before, but this was something new, something unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It was like an intense fire had suddenly come to life deep in my core.
Shaking myself, I picked up our shared backpack and followed my wife to the neighbors.
Rachel opened the door and energetically invited us inside. I always pegged the woman to be in her mid-forties, she was average height and had a lot of stereotypical southern California traits such as blond hair, deeply tanned skin, and large breasts. And while she may have carried a couple of extra pounds on her hips, she was still quite beautiful. Rachal looked as if she wanted to embrace Nichole but then suddenly stopped, “I’m sorry,” the older woman said, “I’m a hugger by nature, but I’m trying to remember that we’re still in the middle of a pandemic and some people are uncomfortable with that.”
“Nichole’s not uncomfortable because of the pandemic, it’s because she’s British,” I said jokingly, but my attempt at humor went over like a lead balloon. I barely got an eyeroll from my wife. Nichole ended the awkwardness and gave Rachel a quick embrace.
Just then Marcus appeared from the back of the house, “Please, come in. Thank you so much for coming. We’re excited to get to know you better,” Marcus said warmly, shaking my hand and gesturing towards the large glass sliding door to their backyard.
Like his wife, Marcus’ skin was well-tanned. His hair was black, heavily streaked with gray and looked several months overdue for a trim. His beard was similarly colored with a solid mix of black and gray, but his face still held a youthful look. I had only spoken to the man a couple times, each time a brief but cordial social formality. He was about the same height as me at just shy of six feet, but he looked to be a lot more fit than I was. That’s what you get when you can spend the day exercising and sitting around your pool and don’t have to spend the day sitting in front of a desk, I thought, sucking in my gut a little and standing up straighter.
I’d spied over the fence on a number of occasions to get a better look at their back yard, but stepping through the sliding door, I was more impressed than I’d thought I would be. Fuck it was nice. It had a massive custom-built pool, complete with a waterfall and slide around the edge, impressive lighting, and an enormous hot tub. A new Rec Tec grill sat off to the side, smoke and heat venting into the air from the vent stack.
“Whoa,” I exclaimed as I looked around. “Very nice Marcus.”
“Thanks,” Marcus smiled as he handed me a beer. “Believe it or not, we actually started with a backyard that looked something like yours about twenty years ago. It’s been a lot of work, but we enjoy it.”
I felt my wife gently poke my side, “So is this what our garden will look like someday?”
I guffawed, “Not likely, I can barely keep the lawnmower going to cut the grass”
Rachel reached out and touched my forearm, “You can borrow Marcus’ anytime. That’s what the previous owners did.”
“You knew them well?” I asked. I didn’t really care to know, but it was an easy topic of conversation.
“Oh yes,” Rachel exclaimed, “Don and Lisa are our oldest friends. We both bought in this tract when it was first established, and their kids were over here so often that we had that gate installed between our yards for easier access. We miss them terribly.”
I looked at the wooden fence that separated our yards. The hinges were on this side and so it was easy to spot. From our yard I’d never even noticed it was there. One of the features that had grabbed our attention when we bought our home was that our back yard felt very secluded. In fact, as I looked around, I realized that our two yards together formed a miniature compound. We could see into our neighbor’s yard, and they could see into ours, but no one else was able to look in.
We sat at a round, stone table on the patio. The day was warming quickly but the shade structure overhead effectively blocked out the heat of the sun. The sound of the pool’s waterfall was soothing background noise.
“And now you have us living next door, how disappointing,” I said after a moment, trying to make sure I laced enough sarcasm in the words to not come off as an ass. Marcus chuckled which I appreciated, even if it was a pity laugh.
“Nah, change is good, isn’t it, Rach,” Marcus prodded his wife.
“Certainly—of course. I didn’t mean to imply—,”
“You didn’t,” Nichole interjected, quick to avoid someone’s feelings from being hurt. “My husband has a tendency to make daft comments at times… most of the time.”
Rachel and Marcus both laughed heartily at that.
“Well, we’re both happy you’re here,” Rachel beamed. Her attention moved towards me, “Nichole told me this was your first home purchase, so congratulations. I’m sure you’ll love the neighborhood.”
I nodded, “It is, and we already love it here,” I said. “I grew up in Long Beach in a very similar neighborhood, so it already feels like home to me, but it’s a big change for Nichole.”
“The house is enormous,” my wife quickly added, “but it’s nice not having a common wall like you do in terraced houses.”
“Okay, help a guy out here,” Marcus spoke up. “First, I’m curious, what part of England are you from, and what’s a terraced house?”
Nichole took a sip of her beer, which surprised me, she wasn’t a fan of American beer, so I took it as a good sign that she was feeling comfortable. However, I was feeling impatient because I desperately wanted her to lose the tee shirt.
“I was born in Bristol, which is on the western side of England, but I was schooled in Cheltenham, so I spent most of my time there,” Nichole answered, “and a terraced house is like a condominium—all the houses stuck together side-by-side like. My parents live in a house like that.”
“We don’t mean to pepper you with questions, dear,” Rachel said, “but we’re excited to get to know you. Do you mind if I ask how you came here to the US, and how you two met?”
Nichole smiled, seemingly unbothered by the questions, which I found unusual. Part of her British nature was not divulging much personal information with people you didn’t know well. But Marcus and Rachel were so inviting and unassuming that they instantly made me feel welcome. I imagined Nichole was feeling the same way.
“I don’t mind,” Nichole said pleasantly, “The company my father works for needed him for a time in Los Angeles, and since I’d just finished sixth form—that is basically high school—I came with them. I started university here and met Ky in an astronomy class—he was the one always sleeping in the back.”
“Hey!” I protested, “It wasn’t my fault. The class was early Saturday morning, and they kept the class dark so they could show the constellations on the ceiling. I had no chance of staying awake.”
“That’s true,” Nichole admitted, sharing a look with me, “but you have to agree you wouldn’t have passed the class if I hadn’t shared my notes.”
I sighed and thew up my hands, “Fine, I’ll do the dishes again tonight.”
Marcus chuckled and retrieved a couple of more beers from the cooler. “So, your folks live here in California, too?”
Nichole shook her head, “No, they moved back to Bristol about three years ago. My nan was taken ill and needed more care, and my older brothers are all married and having kids, so mum and dad returned. They were missing their grandchildren.”
“They must miss you terribly, too,” said Rachel, and it struck me how sincere the woman was. She wasn’t asking just to ask—just to carry on with a conversation. She truly cared. The realization made me like her a little more.
Nichole shrugged, “I have a complicated relationship with my mum… we do miss each other, but we’re all doing well.”
Rachel smiled, “I can relate to a difficult mother-daughter relationship. Believe me. But it gets better.”
“You mentioned kids earlier,” I asked, curious to know them a little more.
Marcus nodded, “Boy and a girl,” he started, turning the beer bottle in his hands as he held it there between his legs. “Our son, Dwayne, just graduated college. He’s 22, so probably only a year or two younger than you two I’m guessing. And our daughter, Julie, she’s 20, living in Seattle, and well, basically just trying to figure out what she wants in life.”
“You guys must have had your kids early then,” I said without thinking, earning me a warning glare from my wife. But If Marcus or Rachel were bothered by the question, they didn’t show it.
“I grew up a surf bum,” Marcus said, looking lovingly at his wife. “but then I met this hottie one day on the beach and it didn’t take long before she ended up pregnant. It made me grow up quick, but I got lucky and got into brokering commercial real estate. Did that for about ten years and made enough money to basically not have to work that hard anymore.”
“Nice,” I said, an envious pang in my gut at the thought of not having to work anymore, “maybe I need to change career paths.”
Marcus turned to me, “If you’re serious, I could point you in the right direction. But let me warn you that it’s a hard business to get started in. We went for almost three years before I made any money at all. And it’s not like I made a billion dollars. If I’d kept working, we could’ve bought that nice house on the beach—eventually. But we decided we wanted to pursue other things in life, so we moved out here where we could afford more, made some investments, and have had a good life so far.”
Rachel lifted her beer, and with her husband, they clinked the bottle necks together, both seemingly in agreement that life was good. They struck me as a couple that were happy with the choices they’d made.
“Do you still surf?” My wife asked.
“As often as she lets me get away with,” Marcus said, shooting a look to his wife.
Rachael gave an exasperated sigh, “He gets away with it often, I’ll tell you that,” she said, but she didn’t seem truly bothered.
“I’ve always wanted to learn,” Nichole said. She leaned forward and rested her arms on the table.
“Great,” Marcus said, his brow rising, “I’ve got extra boards in the garage, let’s go right now—,”
“—We’re not going surfing right now,” Rachel spoke over her husband. “For one, I’m not fighting the traffic to get down there, and two—”
“—I’m just kidding,” Marcus interrupted his wife. “The swell is way down and the shape’s terrible anyway. But seriously,” Marcus looked at my wife. “I’ll have you surfing like a pro in no time if you want. I love to teach.”
I could tell my wife was extremely interested. We loved going to the beach, but we mostly just played in the waves and sat in the sand. Nichole had always looked out at the surfers and commented how much fun she thought it would be. The thought of Marcus showing her gave me an odd feeling I didn’t understand.
Nichole looked at me briefly before saying, “We’ll talk it over, but I think I’d like that.” She then looked to Rachel and asked. “Do you work?”
“I still run a small beauty salon to keep myself busy,” Rachel said, picking up the conversation. “It more-or-less runs itself, but I still enjoy working there a couple of days a week – or at least I did until the pandemic shut everything down.” Rachel turned towards my wife, “If you need any waxing done, or a manicure, or even laser hair removal for that matter you let me know—I could just bring the equipment home, it’s just sitting there idle now.”
“I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way for—,”
“—Nonsense,” Rachel waved away my wife’s protest, “I find it therapeutic. If you ever want to not have to shave those legs anymore—or other parts,” Rachel said, giving my wife a knowing look, “you just come on over and enjoy the day by the side of the pool while I work—just use the side gate over there and slip on in. I’m always home.”
“I, well, er—uh, maybe” Nichole sputtered, diverting her gaze to the ground.
“I hear you’re an engineer?” Marcus broke in, saving my wife from having to make a commitment.
I shrugged, “I graduated in mechanical engineering, but I still need a couple more years of experience before I qualify to take the PE exam.”
“That’s great,” Marcus said, probably more out of courtesy. I can’t blame him; few find anything interesting about the world of mechanical engineering. “How about you, Nichole?”
“I graduated in international business, but I’m still working odd jobs that pop up,” Nichole explained, “I haven’t found anything solid yet.”
Marcus nodded thoughtfully for a moment, “I know someone that owns a medical equipment company, and he’s always looking for someone capable in the business development side—it involves sales of course, but it might be interesting. I could at least put you in contact with him.”
Nichole looked up in surprise, “That’d be brilliant, thank you.”
I had a selfish thought of how much easier our lives would be if Nichole secured a better paying, steadier job. I quickly pushed the thought aside and thought back to something Marcus had said earlier. Something about the way he’d said ‘other things’ when he was talking about life after real estate had stuck with me. I was about to ask him about it, but before I could speak, Marcus cleared his throat.
“I don’t know about you three, but I’m thinking it’s time to hit the pool,” he said, scooting to the edge of his chair. “We’ve got some time to kill. I’ve got ribs on the smoker, but they’re still a couple hours from being ready.”
Marcus stood and pulled off his shirt, his board shorts riding low on his hips. I had to admit, he was fit, and it made me think that I needed to get more active. I stood and did the same, feeling a little self-conscious at how white and out of shape I was.
“Oh dear, did you forget a swimsuit?” I heard Rachel ask my wife. I looked toward Nichole and could see that she was furiously blushing—which is easy to see on her pale skin.
“No,” Nichole responded quickly, and I swear I could almost see her trying to disappear from sight, pulling into herself. “I’m afraid my swim costume might be a bit inappropriate.”
Marcus barked a laugh, “Skimpy?”
“My twat of a husband picked it out, but it’s the only thing I have at the moment,” Nichole said, her blush deepening even further.
“Well, we don’t want anyone feeling insecure around here—I’ve got an idea,” Marcus said and then quickly disappeared into the house. I thought he might be going to go get one of his wife’s swimsuits. I found the thought extremely disappointing. I’d been waiting all week to see my wife in this suit. But I needn’t have worried.
When Marcus came out, he was wearing a speedo, and it barely kept him contained. He had a massive bulge in front, like he’d stuffed his beer bottle down there. Like a lot of guys, I’ve sneaked a look at the competition out there, stealing a quick glance to see how I compare with others. Usually I’m about average with the crowd, but if the bulge I was seeing was real, I was seriously outclassed in the cock and balls department.
“Marcus,” chided his wife, “I thought I threw that thing away ages ago.”
“You did,” Marcus conceded, smiling, and acting as if his swimsuit was the most comfortable thing in the world. “But I bought another one for just such an occasion as this.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rachel said as she turned to us, “Marcus can be such a child sometimes.”
Nichole shook with laughter, “Our husbands have that in common,” she said, finally standing from her chair.
My heart pounded as I watched my wife pull the tee shirt up and off her body. This was what I had been waiting for. Her perfect breasts bounced and settled into place at they were freed from the cotton shirt, the small patch of black fabric barely large enough to cover the darker skin of her nipples. She looked incredible and I immediately felt my insides begin to stir.
“Very good young lady,” Marcus said in a ridiculous English accent, the tension effectively broken. Without skipping a beat, Marcus sprinted to the pool and launched himself in. It wasn’t long before the rest of us followed.
The water was a perfect temperature and felt amazing. It felt so good to float and not think about work for a few minutes. My eyes wandered towards my wife who was doing a good job of keeping everything below her shoulders submerged below the water. After a time, Marcus pulled himself out and sat on the edge of the pool, his legs dangling into the water. The position put his crotch more-or-less at eye level, and I couldn’t help but steel a glance once in a while. The small speedo did nothing to hide what he was packing. Surprisingly, my wife moved next to me and sat up on one of the steps, exposing her upper half to us. I was sporting a serious hardon, but at least I was wearing some baggy shorts.
We continued to talk the afternoon away, dipping in and out of the pool, enjoying an incredible tasty lunch, and genuinely enjoying each other’s company. Even my wife looked like she was feeling at ease and had stopped trying to cover herself with her arms. Then something happened that I’d later understand was a tipping point in my life.
While we were all sitting on the edge of the pool, I noticed my wife steeling glances at Marcus’ cock when she thought no one was looking. Not only that, but her nipples were plainly visible through the small amount of material that covered her breasts. They were hard and standing up for all to see. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice. Seeing this made something inside me flare to life. The new feeling I’d experienced earlier exploded tenfold. An image of Marcus fucking my wife suddenly appeared in my mind and I felt my heart begin to beat more intensely.
After a moment, I shook the thought away. It was the oddest thing. I both wanted the thought to go away and I didn’t. Entertaining the thought was tantalizing and made something seriously primal stir inside me, but it also flipped another switch that flooded my system with angst and anxiety. The flood of emotions swirled together and seemed to give life to something new inside me, something I instinctively knew at some level was dangerous, and yet so powerful that I was helpless to force it away.
We had only planned to say until the middle of the afternoon, but everyone had enjoyed the day so much that we didn’t go home until well after the sun had set. Nichole and I were both tired and a little sunburnt, despite numerous sunscreen applications throughout the day. But when we laid down in bed, we fucked like we were on our honeymoon. It had been a long time since we’d gone after each other with that kind of intensity.
“I guess you had a good time then,” I said, taking deep breath and exhaling loudly.
“As you did,” Nichole said, still breathing hard herself.
“So, what’d you think?” I asked, a little coyly.
“About?” Nichole said, not giving any ground. She was going to make me say it. Fine.
“I saw you looking,” I pushed a little more.
“At?” Nichole said.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head in the dark room. This was going to go on all night unless I just came out with it.
“Our well-endowed neighbor,” I said.
“Don’t talk rubbish,” Nichole said, and I couldn’t tell if she was joking or serious.
“Oh, come on,” I chided. “Even I looked.”
“Maybe you’re gay and you’re only now realizing it,” my wife said, saying it so straight that I was still unsure if she was playing or not. I was fairly sure she was, but I still had this nagging doubt.
“I don’t think so, somebody would have told me that by now,” I said, trying to match the same dry delivery as my wife. She at least laughed at the comment.
“I don’t think that’s something someone else tells you, Ky.”
“Even so, I know you noticed. I saw you looking, just admit it.”
After a long moment of silence, Nichole snorted a laugh, “Fine, I looked—once.”
“Uh huh,” I said, “only once. Whatever… you were probably imagining him with you in bed tonight.”
“Ky Blaine Ryan,” Nichole almost shouted as she sat up, “You bleeding wanker. I can’t believe you just said that.”
I held up my hands, palms up, “Sorry, I was just teasing,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious if you were wondering what sex might feel like with a cock that big.”
“Ky, we had a nice day, why are you trying to start a row?”
“I’m seriously not trying to pick a fight,” I said, “didn’t you and your girlfriends ever talk about that kind of stuff in school?”
“What, about bloke’s knobs?” when I nodded she said, “No, we were too busy playing with each other’s pussies.”
I couldn’t help it. The way she said it made me break out in laughter. “There’s my happy thought,” I said as I laid back onto the bed.
“Ugh, you probably are thinking about that, aren’t you?” Nichole said, a slight tone of exasperation in her voice.
“Oh yeah,” I admitted, “You already told me about your little fling with Emilia when you were a teenager, so I know you’re not lying.”
“I’m never telling you anything again,” Nichole said seriously, but there was no venom in her words.
“I could buy a dildo on Amazon that’s about Marcus’ size, and we could try that one night,” I suggested.
“…I can’t believe you just said that,” my wife said, and I could tell she was trying to suppress a laugh.
“Why?” I asked, “Maybe we’re too sexually inhibited. We have kind of gotten into a routine. A dildo, or one of the bunny vibrators might be a good thing.”
“It’s called a rabbit,” my wife corrected me, “but keep in mind that whatever you try on me, I’m going to try on you.”
“Fuck that,” I said immediately. “No way a dildo’s going inside of me – that’s an exit only.”
“You’re sounding awfully defensive,” Nichole said, “maybe you were the one imagining Marcus’ cock up your hole.”
I laughed. Fucking woman was good at turning an argument around. “I can guarantee that I wasn’t thinking about that… can I tell you something?”
Nichole turned to her side to look at me, “Of course,” she said, her tone serious. She seemed to pick up on my change in mood.
“I had the craziest image flash into my brain today,” I confessed. I didn’t really want to make the confession, but at the same time I felt some odd compulsion to do so, “When we were at the pool, I had this vision Marcus fucking you with that monster cock, and it made me feel something so strange.”
A long silence hung in the air, and I immediately wished I could take back the comment. When my wife finally spoke, her voice was timid and quiet. “You want me to have sex with our neighbor?”
“Oh god no,” I said quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. It was just the strangest feeling. I probably should keep it to myself, sorry,” I apologized again.
“It’s fine,” Nichole reassured. “I’d rather you tell me what you’re thinking, even if it is barking.”
I chuckled, “Yeah, alright.”
A silence fell between us for a moment, and then Nichole asked, “You think we’ve gotten to be sexually boring?”
I suddenly nervousness hit me as I heard the question. “Not exactly,” I said after a minute. “I love nothing more than making love to you, I just think I could somehow do more to please you – I want you to have mind-bending orgasms that make you scream with pleasure.”
“I think you watched too much porn as a child,” Nichole said, a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
“Actually, I watched very little,” I admitted. “It just wasn’t my thing.”
“Well, that’s probably good then, yeah… listen,” Nichole prompted, “If you’re looking for something exciting right now, I’ve got an idea.”
“I’m all ears,” I responded quickly.
“I need to teach you how to properly go down on me,” Nichole said candidly.
“What?” I sputtered, “I thought I had that down. You’ve never complained about it.”
I could see her shoulder’s shrug in the dim streetlight coming through the window, “You’re not bad, but you’re a bloke and so you’re too rough most of the time.”
“I’m yours to teach mistress,” I said teasingly.
“Ugh, that makes me feel like I’m back in boarding school,” Nichole said, moving closer to my side.
“Sorry,” I said. An idea came to me but once my brain had a moment to consider it, I suddenly found myself too embarrassed to ask. It didn’t take my observant wife but a moment to notice.
“What is it, you don’t want to?”
“No,” I blurted. “I want to—it’s just that. I, well, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Can I shave it before we start?” I asked nervously. She’d always kept the small strip well-trimmed, but I’d always wanted to experience her pussy bare.
Nichole giggled at the suggestion, “Are you mental?” she teased. “I’ll look like a prepubescent schoolgirl.”
“Fuck no you won’t,” I said, picking her up off the bed and taking some initiative to hide my embarrassment. She laughed as I carried her towards the tub and flipped on the lights to the bathroom.
I set her down on the edge of the tub and drew the water to the right temperature. It was slightly awkward as we both fit ourselves into the tub. Earlier our love had been passionate and without thought or practice. This felt a little clinical, but still erotic in a different sort of way.
“How do we want to do this?” I asked, fumbling with the razor in my hand.
Nichole stood from the tub and placed a towel on the tiled edge. She then sat down and opened her legs to me, giving me a perfect view of her lips. With the lights on the bathroom, and sitting only a foot away from her, I’d never had such a perfect view of her sex.
I ran my finger over the tuft of pubic hair, “god you’re beautiful,” I whispered. I felt her run her fingers through my hair and my anxiousness faded.
She gestured towards the soap and I handed it to her. She then ran it over her lower lips thoroughly, leaving the area covered with a layer of white suds. I lifted the razor and gently touched it to her skin.
“Gentle,” she said in whimper.
I made a light but even stroke across the flesh and felt the blade of the razor do it’s intended work. It only took a few passes and my wife was soon smooth and bare. I used the water from the tub to rinse the soap away and the sight of her vagina made my cock feel as hard as steel. Her lips were tight together and the skin was glistening from the overhead lights.
I moved forward and was about to take her pussy into my mouth when I felt her fingers tighten in my hair, stopping me from reaching her.
“Stick out your tongue,” she said, and I immediately complied, “and flatten it like you’re going to lick an ice cream cone… good… now, lightly lick me from bottom to top.”
I did as instructed and was pleased by the sound of her sharp inhalation as my tongue lightly met her pussy. I pressed my tongue against her and immediately felt the rebuke of her tapping fingers against my head. “Not yet, be gentle.”
Again, I did as I was told, keeping my touch light, and flatly licking the surface of her pussy. I was rewarded with a heavy sigh as Nichole leaned back and supported herself on her elbow. After several minutes, I felt her fingers wind into my hair again and pull me ever so slightly towards her core.
“Suck on my lip,” she instructed, pulling me a touch to the side. I opened my mouth and took her lip into my mouth and sucked, trying to be as gentle as I could. After a minute I felt her move me to the other side, and so I followed her lead and switched lips. This went on for several minutes before I felt her pull me into her opening. “Go a little deep and tease my clit when you get to the top,” my wife said, her voice growing more harried. “I’m not going to like this, but you have to keep teasing me. Don’t let me orgasm right away… pause sometimes and let me come down a bit. The higher you let me climb, the better the orgasm will be.”
Fuck I’d wished she’d told me this stuff when we’d first gotten married. I could have been mastering these techniques all this time. But I couldn’t fault her entirely. It takes a while to find that comfort level where you can talk more openly.
I continued to lick and to tease, and as the minutes passed, I could feel her becoming wetter and wetter. Her breathing becoming faster and more frantic. Several times I felt her get close and then backed off, each time provoking a cry of frustration. I could do this all day I thought with pride. I did it several more times until she finally cried out, “That’s enough Ky, stop teasing and let me cum.”
I happily obeyed and assaulted her clit with my tongue. She pulled my head in forcefully with both hands. I felt her thighs tighten around my head as she squeezed her legs together. Her orgasm started small but crescendoed rapidly. Her eyes were clamped shut, and I felt her body convulse and twitch. I heard a strangled cry until she bit her lower lip and moaned against her closed lips.
“Yeah, yeah, stop,” Nichole cried, pushing my head away frantically. “…too sensitive—stop.”
I felt a surge of pride, “Better?” I asked.
She gave me a tired smile but only nodded. I picked her up and carried her to bed. What a day.
-_-
A week passed before Marcus caught me in front of the house as I was coming home from work. He wore his usual lose-fitting board shorts, no shirt, and Reefs flip-flops.
“They’re still making you go into the office despite the pandemic,” Marcus asked as he approached.
I closed the door to my Toyota Landcruiser and manually locked it. The Landcruiser’s a work in progress. I keep meaning to do more restoration, but as my every-day-vehicle, I end up spending all my money just to keep it maintained and running.
I shook Marcus’ outstretched hand, “Yeah, the boss is really old-school and doesn’t think we’re as productive working from home.”
“At least it gets you out of the house,” Marcus commented. “I think our wives are both going a little stir-crazy.”
“Not you though?” I asked.
Marcus shook his head, “Nah, as long as I can surf in the morning, I’m great. I haven’t had to go to an office in years—oh, before I forget,” he suddenly said, handing me a card, “I spoke with my contact about the potential job for Nichole.”
I took the card and looked at the name, Morgan Shultz, President CEO, Global Medical, Inc. “Thanks Marcus,” I said, putting the card into my shirt chest pocket—yes, next to the calculator I carry there.
“Happy to,” Marcus replied, “Understand, it’s not a guaranteed job, just an opening for a potential interview. I’ve known Morgan for years. He used to surf with me, but his business has exploded, and he stays pretty dedicated to it?
I nodded my appreciation, “No, this is perfect. Nichole’s just looking for a shot. This is great, thanks.”
“More than welcome,” Marcus said warmly. He was about to turn away but paused, “Oh, one more thing,” he said, looking towards our house, “tell your wife to please come over and use the pool during the day. Rachel would love the company, and we feel awful knowing Nichole’s just hanging out by herself in there all day.”
I smiled and nodded, “I’ll do that,” I agreed.
“Yeah, just tell her to use the side gate. Don’t even worry about knocking—just come over. And that goes for you, too.”
“Thanks again,” I said and got a sharp nod from Marcus in return.
I don’t know why, but the image of Marcus fucking my wife jumped into my head again as I watched him walk back to his house. The thought of my wife slipping through the secrete gate in the back yard and going to their house for sex sent a thrill tingling through my groin. Unlike the last time the image came into my mind, I didn’t chase the thought away as quickly. I let it stay a while.
Taking the few steps to the front door, I paused and let my daydream play through, seeing my wife’s legs straddling Marcus’ waist as he pushed his impressive girth into my wife’s tight canal. I felt my heart race at the thought, and I let myself enjoy the sensation for a moment. It took a lot more willpower, but I eventually pushed the thought away and let the image go, or at least tried to. The image stubbornly stayed with me, like it’d been permanently seared into my brain.
Clearing my mind, my thoughts returned to my wife. She really had been cooped up in the house since we’d moved in, and I knew she was lonely. It would be good for her to connect with Rachel during the day, even if it was just for a little gossip and swimming.
A lot of cuckold stories only go so far, but through the last few years of experiencing some ‘interesting’ events myself, I’ve found that the bottom of the well is much deeper than I ever had imagined. This story is a slow burn, so fair warning to those that want to get right to the juicy parts. It’s also going to explore the seedier side of this kink, so again fair warning. I like a happy ending, so I’ll give up that much, but often times we have to go through one hell of a rollercoaster ride to find our happy ending… unless you pay extra for such things…
Chapter 01
I stepped through the threshold of our new home and was met by an unfamiliar smell wafting from the kitchen. It wasn’t terrible, but it didn’t exactly put the tastebuds to watering mode either. Stepping into the kitchen, I found my wife standing in front of the stove, her back towards me. She was wearing her ear buds and bobbing her head to a beat I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t help but pause at the kitchen door and admire the view. My wife, Nichole, Is short at only an inch over five-feet tall. She has dark, chestnut colored hair that hangs just past her shoulders, it’s thick, lustrous, and I can’t help but feel a deep urge to run my fingers through it. Nichole’s ass is pert and firm, a result of significant time spent running in the early morning hours.
Setting my computer bag on the floor, I stepped up behind her and wrapped her into my arms. The smell of her shampoo filled my nose. I felt her tense under my arms until she realized it was me.
“Ky,” she said with a start, “You scared the shite out of me!” her English accent sharper than usual from the surprise.
“Sorry,” I said, looking over her shoulder to see what was cooking on the stove. “Beans? We’re having beans for dinner?”
Nichole nodded, “Beans and toast,” she said, twisting away from my grip to go to the refrigerator. “It’s been ages and I guess I’ve been feeling nostalgic.”
“Missing home?” I asked, leaning against the counter next to the stove.
Nichole shook her head as she removed a stock of broccoli from the refrigerator, “This is my home now, Ky,” she said matter-of-factly. “But missing mum and dad a bit, yeah.”
“I know, I’m sorry. As soon as this whole COVID thing blows over, we’ll go,” I said, eyeing the beans in the pot. I knew beans and toast was something the in-laws ate with some frequency, but I never could understand why anyone would eat it if there was literally anything else available.
I watched my wife prepare the vegetables, carefully chopping the green stocks and placing them into a glass bowl. Damn she’s beautiful, I thought to myself. I need to make sure I tell her that more often. We’ve been married for two years now, and things were good. My wife, originally from the UK, had come to the States to study at the University of San Diego, and somehow I’d been lucky enough to convince her to marry me. Although, if I’m honest, I’ve always felt that one day she would wake up and realize she could have done so much better.
I looked around the kitchen and out into the family room of our new home. To say it was spartan would be generous. The house was basically empty except for a bed, a kitchen table, and a few chairs. We’d been living on the cheap and saving every cent for the down payment on our home, and we only had the stuff we’d brought from our apartment, which was to say, not much.
Nichole placed two plates onto our second-hand table, and I took my seat. The old wooden chair purchased from Goodwill groaned as it took my weight. I looked glumly at the meager meal.
“Oh, don’t look like that, it’s good,” said Nichole, taking her own seat.
I sighed and picked up my fork, my vision wandering from my plate to my wife’s chest. She didn’t have massive breasts, but they fit well-enough in my hands, and they were perfectly shaped. But it wasn’t the size of her breasts that had drawn my attention as much as it was her nipples. They were poking up from inside her shirt, and I couldn’t help but smirk. She had amazingly large nipples, and when they were erect, there was no bra in the world that could keep them concealed.
Noticing my gaze, Nichole looked down at her chest, “Oh bother,” she said, noticing what had drawn my attention. She pressed her fingers against one of her nipples in an attempt to flatten it down, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.
“Yes, please keep doing that,” I said wryly.
Nichole rolled her eyes and dropped her hand from her breast, “You’re an incorrigible prat, you know that, right?”
I shrugged and laughed but pulled my attention back to the meal and began to eat. Beans and toast really wasn’t that bad, but I wasn’t going to say so for fear of encouraging more beans and toast dinners.
A red envelope on the table caught my attention and I reached over to pick it up, “What’s this?” I asked opening the letter.
“An invite to the neighbor’s this weekend,” Nichole answered, looking slightly in the direction of the neighbors to our south. “It’s a pool party in their garden.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Marcus and Rachel Scott cordially invite Mr. and Mrs. Ky and Nichole Ryan to an outdoor barbeque and swim party this Saturday…” I laughed as I looked at the cartoonish picture of people swimming and frolicking about. “Our neighbors have an interesting sense of humor.” I said as I looked up from the invitation, “Are we going?”
“Of course we are,” Nichole said, seemingly surprised that it was even a question. “Rachel popped in this morning to give me that,” she pointed at the letter, “and I already committed us—no more living like hermits. I need to get out of this house.”
“Their backyard is like little Disneyland,” I admitted, resigned to the loss of my Saturday. I’d have to cancel my tee time, but the neighbor’s pool would be nice to relax in, and Rachel was easy on the eyes even if she was twenty years older than us.
Nichole’s brow rose but then immediately fell, “I need a new swim costume, but we didn’t budget for it this month.”
I rolled my eyes at her panic at spending unbudgeted money, but I’ve always been grateful for her frugality. “We’re fine, as long as I’m the one that gets to pick it out. And it’s called a swimsuit, not a swim costume.”
“It’s not a suit, a suit is something you wear to the office.”
“Well it’s not a costume, that’s something you wear for Halloween.”
Nichole ignored my last comment and picked her phone up from the table, “And I’ll pick it out, thank you. You’ll pick out something expensive and immodest, and I don’t need the neighbors thinking I’m some sort of slagging tart.”
“Nope,” I said, snatching the phone from his wife’s small hand. “If we’re buying you an unbudgeted luxury item, then I at least get to pick it out.”
Nichole tried in vain to get her phone back, but to no avail, “Fine,” she sighed in defeat. “But it bloody better be modest”
“Oh, I love it when you threaten me,” I teased and began to scroll through the Amazon app. “I probably should buy you something that looks like a potato sack to keep Marcus from staring, but damn I want to see you in something sexy.”
“Ky,” Nichole whined with a pout.
“You agreed to the party without asking me if I wanted to go, and we’re buying you a new suit, so I get to pick out what you’ll wear.”
“Fine,” Nichole said, unconsciously covering her protruding nipples with her forearm. “I suddenly have a bad feeling about this.”
-_-
“I am not bloody wearing this!”
I winced as I heard my wife shout from behind the bathroom door. I had purposefully made her wait until a few minutes before the party started before I gave her the new swimsuit, wanting to make sure she didn’t have time to find another option.
“It’ll be fine,” I said for the fifth time. “I promise it’s not as risqué as you think it is.”
Nichole had been in the bathroom for nearly half an hour, and we were going to be more than fashionably late if we didn’t get going. I was about to speak when the bathroom door suddenly swung open.
My eyes immediately landed on his wife, “Fuck me,” I said in a gasp. The bikini barely covered her at all, but it instantly had an effect on me. “Holy fucking shit—you look amazing.”
Nichole’s fiery look softened, seemingly nullified by the lustful look she saw in my eyes. “You really like it?” she said hesitantly.
“God yes,” I said in a hoarse whisper. “Please wear it. I’ll do the dishes for a month.”
Nichole shook her head and laughed, her thick hair running over her shoulders as she did, “I like how it makes you look at me,” she admitted, moving towards our shared dresser drawers. Pulling out one of my tee shirts, she pulled it over her form, the hem of the shirt falling well past her waist. “I’ll wear it once, but I’m covering up with this until we get in the pool,” she said, pulling at the tee shirt that now covered her slight frame.
I nodded and reached down to adjust myself through my shorts. I couldn’t wait to see my wife in the pool, and the thought of Marcus seeing my nearly naked wife filled me with a wave of lust. I inhaled deeply and let my breath out slowly as my wife walked towards the front door. I’ve felt lustful for my wife before, but this was something new, something unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It was like an intense fire had suddenly come to life deep in my core.
Shaking myself, I picked up our shared backpack and followed my wife to the neighbors.
Rachel opened the door and energetically invited us inside. I always pegged the woman to be in her mid-forties, she was average height and had a lot of stereotypical southern California traits such as blond hair, deeply tanned skin, and large breasts. And while she may have carried a couple of extra pounds on her hips, she was still quite beautiful. Rachal looked as if she wanted to embrace Nichole but then suddenly stopped, “I’m sorry,” the older woman said, “I’m a hugger by nature, but I’m trying to remember that we’re still in the middle of a pandemic and some people are uncomfortable with that.”
“Nichole’s not uncomfortable because of the pandemic, it’s because she’s British,” I said jokingly, but my attempt at humor went over like a lead balloon. I barely got an eyeroll from my wife. Nichole ended the awkwardness and gave Rachel a quick embrace.
Just then Marcus appeared from the back of the house, “Please, come in. Thank you so much for coming. We’re excited to get to know you better,” Marcus said warmly, shaking my hand and gesturing towards the large glass sliding door to their backyard.
Like his wife, Marcus’ skin was well-tanned. His hair was black, heavily streaked with gray and looked several months overdue for a trim. His beard was similarly colored with a solid mix of black and gray, but his face still held a youthful look. I had only spoken to the man a couple times, each time a brief but cordial social formality. He was about the same height as me at just shy of six feet, but he looked to be a lot more fit than I was. That’s what you get when you can spend the day exercising and sitting around your pool and don’t have to spend the day sitting in front of a desk, I thought, sucking in my gut a little and standing up straighter.
I’d spied over the fence on a number of occasions to get a better look at their back yard, but stepping through the sliding door, I was more impressed than I’d thought I would be. Fuck it was nice. It had a massive custom-built pool, complete with a waterfall and slide around the edge, impressive lighting, and an enormous hot tub. A new Rec Tec grill sat off to the side, smoke and heat venting into the air from the vent stack.
“Whoa,” I exclaimed as I looked around. “Very nice Marcus.”
“Thanks,” Marcus smiled as he handed me a beer. “Believe it or not, we actually started with a backyard that looked something like yours about twenty years ago. It’s been a lot of work, but we enjoy it.”
I felt my wife gently poke my side, “So is this what our garden will look like someday?”
I guffawed, “Not likely, I can barely keep the lawnmower going to cut the grass”
Rachel reached out and touched my forearm, “You can borrow Marcus’ anytime. That’s what the previous owners did.”
“You knew them well?” I asked. I didn’t really care to know, but it was an easy topic of conversation.
“Oh yes,” Rachel exclaimed, “Don and Lisa are our oldest friends. We both bought in this tract when it was first established, and their kids were over here so often that we had that gate installed between our yards for easier access. We miss them terribly.”
I looked at the wooden fence that separated our yards. The hinges were on this side and so it was easy to spot. From our yard I’d never even noticed it was there. One of the features that had grabbed our attention when we bought our home was that our back yard felt very secluded. In fact, as I looked around, I realized that our two yards together formed a miniature compound. We could see into our neighbor’s yard, and they could see into ours, but no one else was able to look in.
We sat at a round, stone table on the patio. The day was warming quickly but the shade structure overhead effectively blocked out the heat of the sun. The sound of the pool’s waterfall was soothing background noise.
“And now you have us living next door, how disappointing,” I said after a moment, trying to make sure I laced enough sarcasm in the words to not come off as an ass. Marcus chuckled which I appreciated, even if it was a pity laugh.
“Nah, change is good, isn’t it, Rach,” Marcus prodded his wife.
“Certainly—of course. I didn’t mean to imply—,”
“You didn’t,” Nichole interjected, quick to avoid someone’s feelings from being hurt. “My husband has a tendency to make daft comments at times… most of the time.”
Rachel and Marcus both laughed heartily at that.
“Well, we’re both happy you’re here,” Rachel beamed. Her attention moved towards me, “Nichole told me this was your first home purchase, so congratulations. I’m sure you’ll love the neighborhood.”
I nodded, “It is, and we already love it here,” I said. “I grew up in Long Beach in a very similar neighborhood, so it already feels like home to me, but it’s a big change for Nichole.”
“The house is enormous,” my wife quickly added, “but it’s nice not having a common wall like you do in terraced houses.”
“Okay, help a guy out here,” Marcus spoke up. “First, I’m curious, what part of England are you from, and what’s a terraced house?”
Nichole took a sip of her beer, which surprised me, she wasn’t a fan of American beer, so I took it as a good sign that she was feeling comfortable. However, I was feeling impatient because I desperately wanted her to lose the tee shirt.
“I was born in Bristol, which is on the western side of England, but I was schooled in Cheltenham, so I spent most of my time there,” Nichole answered, “and a terraced house is like a condominium—all the houses stuck together side-by-side like. My parents live in a house like that.”
“We don’t mean to pepper you with questions, dear,” Rachel said, “but we’re excited to get to know you. Do you mind if I ask how you came here to the US, and how you two met?”
Nichole smiled, seemingly unbothered by the questions, which I found unusual. Part of her British nature was not divulging much personal information with people you didn’t know well. But Marcus and Rachel were so inviting and unassuming that they instantly made me feel welcome. I imagined Nichole was feeling the same way.
“I don’t mind,” Nichole said pleasantly, “The company my father works for needed him for a time in Los Angeles, and since I’d just finished sixth form—that is basically high school—I came with them. I started university here and met Ky in an astronomy class—he was the one always sleeping in the back.”
“Hey!” I protested, “It wasn’t my fault. The class was early Saturday morning, and they kept the class dark so they could show the constellations on the ceiling. I had no chance of staying awake.”
“That’s true,” Nichole admitted, sharing a look with me, “but you have to agree you wouldn’t have passed the class if I hadn’t shared my notes.”
I sighed and thew up my hands, “Fine, I’ll do the dishes again tonight.”
Marcus chuckled and retrieved a couple of more beers from the cooler. “So, your folks live here in California, too?”
Nichole shook her head, “No, they moved back to Bristol about three years ago. My nan was taken ill and needed more care, and my older brothers are all married and having kids, so mum and dad returned. They were missing their grandchildren.”
“They must miss you terribly, too,” said Rachel, and it struck me how sincere the woman was. She wasn’t asking just to ask—just to carry on with a conversation. She truly cared. The realization made me like her a little more.
Nichole shrugged, “I have a complicated relationship with my mum… we do miss each other, but we’re all doing well.”
Rachel smiled, “I can relate to a difficult mother-daughter relationship. Believe me. But it gets better.”
“You mentioned kids earlier,” I asked, curious to know them a little more.
Marcus nodded, “Boy and a girl,” he started, turning the beer bottle in his hands as he held it there between his legs. “Our son, Dwayne, just graduated college. He’s 22, so probably only a year or two younger than you two I’m guessing. And our daughter, Julie, she’s 20, living in Seattle, and well, basically just trying to figure out what she wants in life.”
“You guys must have had your kids early then,” I said without thinking, earning me a warning glare from my wife. But If Marcus or Rachel were bothered by the question, they didn’t show it.
“I grew up a surf bum,” Marcus said, looking lovingly at his wife. “but then I met this hottie one day on the beach and it didn’t take long before she ended up pregnant. It made me grow up quick, but I got lucky and got into brokering commercial real estate. Did that for about ten years and made enough money to basically not have to work that hard anymore.”
“Nice,” I said, an envious pang in my gut at the thought of not having to work anymore, “maybe I need to change career paths.”
Marcus turned to me, “If you’re serious, I could point you in the right direction. But let me warn you that it’s a hard business to get started in. We went for almost three years before I made any money at all. And it’s not like I made a billion dollars. If I’d kept working, we could’ve bought that nice house on the beach—eventually. But we decided we wanted to pursue other things in life, so we moved out here where we could afford more, made some investments, and have had a good life so far.”
Rachel lifted her beer, and with her husband, they clinked the bottle necks together, both seemingly in agreement that life was good. They struck me as a couple that were happy with the choices they’d made.
“Do you still surf?” My wife asked.
“As often as she lets me get away with,” Marcus said, shooting a look to his wife.
Rachael gave an exasperated sigh, “He gets away with it often, I’ll tell you that,” she said, but she didn’t seem truly bothered.
“I’ve always wanted to learn,” Nichole said. She leaned forward and rested her arms on the table.
“Great,” Marcus said, his brow rising, “I’ve got extra boards in the garage, let’s go right now—,”
“—We’re not going surfing right now,” Rachel spoke over her husband. “For one, I’m not fighting the traffic to get down there, and two—”
“—I’m just kidding,” Marcus interrupted his wife. “The swell is way down and the shape’s terrible anyway. But seriously,” Marcus looked at my wife. “I’ll have you surfing like a pro in no time if you want. I love to teach.”
I could tell my wife was extremely interested. We loved going to the beach, but we mostly just played in the waves and sat in the sand. Nichole had always looked out at the surfers and commented how much fun she thought it would be. The thought of Marcus showing her gave me an odd feeling I didn’t understand.
Nichole looked at me briefly before saying, “We’ll talk it over, but I think I’d like that.” She then looked to Rachel and asked. “Do you work?”
“I still run a small beauty salon to keep myself busy,” Rachel said, picking up the conversation. “It more-or-less runs itself, but I still enjoy working there a couple of days a week – or at least I did until the pandemic shut everything down.” Rachel turned towards my wife, “If you need any waxing done, or a manicure, or even laser hair removal for that matter you let me know—I could just bring the equipment home, it’s just sitting there idle now.”
“I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way for—,”
“—Nonsense,” Rachel waved away my wife’s protest, “I find it therapeutic. If you ever want to not have to shave those legs anymore—or other parts,” Rachel said, giving my wife a knowing look, “you just come on over and enjoy the day by the side of the pool while I work—just use the side gate over there and slip on in. I’m always home.”
“I, well, er—uh, maybe” Nichole sputtered, diverting her gaze to the ground.
“I hear you’re an engineer?” Marcus broke in, saving my wife from having to make a commitment.
I shrugged, “I graduated in mechanical engineering, but I still need a couple more years of experience before I qualify to take the PE exam.”
“That’s great,” Marcus said, probably more out of courtesy. I can’t blame him; few find anything interesting about the world of mechanical engineering. “How about you, Nichole?”
“I graduated in international business, but I’m still working odd jobs that pop up,” Nichole explained, “I haven’t found anything solid yet.”
Marcus nodded thoughtfully for a moment, “I know someone that owns a medical equipment company, and he’s always looking for someone capable in the business development side—it involves sales of course, but it might be interesting. I could at least put you in contact with him.”
Nichole looked up in surprise, “That’d be brilliant, thank you.”
I had a selfish thought of how much easier our lives would be if Nichole secured a better paying, steadier job. I quickly pushed the thought aside and thought back to something Marcus had said earlier. Something about the way he’d said ‘other things’ when he was talking about life after real estate had stuck with me. I was about to ask him about it, but before I could speak, Marcus cleared his throat.
“I don’t know about you three, but I’m thinking it’s time to hit the pool,” he said, scooting to the edge of his chair. “We’ve got some time to kill. I’ve got ribs on the smoker, but they’re still a couple hours from being ready.”
Marcus stood and pulled off his shirt, his board shorts riding low on his hips. I had to admit, he was fit, and it made me think that I needed to get more active. I stood and did the same, feeling a little self-conscious at how white and out of shape I was.
“Oh dear, did you forget a swimsuit?” I heard Rachel ask my wife. I looked toward Nichole and could see that she was furiously blushing—which is easy to see on her pale skin.
“No,” Nichole responded quickly, and I swear I could almost see her trying to disappear from sight, pulling into herself. “I’m afraid my swim costume might be a bit inappropriate.”
Marcus barked a laugh, “Skimpy?”
“My twat of a husband picked it out, but it’s the only thing I have at the moment,” Nichole said, her blush deepening even further.
“Well, we don’t want anyone feeling insecure around here—I’ve got an idea,” Marcus said and then quickly disappeared into the house. I thought he might be going to go get one of his wife’s swimsuits. I found the thought extremely disappointing. I’d been waiting all week to see my wife in this suit. But I needn’t have worried.
When Marcus came out, he was wearing a speedo, and it barely kept him contained. He had a massive bulge in front, like he’d stuffed his beer bottle down there. Like a lot of guys, I’ve sneaked a look at the competition out there, stealing a quick glance to see how I compare with others. Usually I’m about average with the crowd, but if the bulge I was seeing was real, I was seriously outclassed in the cock and balls department.
“Marcus,” chided his wife, “I thought I threw that thing away ages ago.”
“You did,” Marcus conceded, smiling, and acting as if his swimsuit was the most comfortable thing in the world. “But I bought another one for just such an occasion as this.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rachel said as she turned to us, “Marcus can be such a child sometimes.”
Nichole shook with laughter, “Our husbands have that in common,” she said, finally standing from her chair.
My heart pounded as I watched my wife pull the tee shirt up and off her body. This was what I had been waiting for. Her perfect breasts bounced and settled into place at they were freed from the cotton shirt, the small patch of black fabric barely large enough to cover the darker skin of her nipples. She looked incredible and I immediately felt my insides begin to stir.
“Very good young lady,” Marcus said in a ridiculous English accent, the tension effectively broken. Without skipping a beat, Marcus sprinted to the pool and launched himself in. It wasn’t long before the rest of us followed.
The water was a perfect temperature and felt amazing. It felt so good to float and not think about work for a few minutes. My eyes wandered towards my wife who was doing a good job of keeping everything below her shoulders submerged below the water. After a time, Marcus pulled himself out and sat on the edge of the pool, his legs dangling into the water. The position put his crotch more-or-less at eye level, and I couldn’t help but steel a glance once in a while. The small speedo did nothing to hide what he was packing. Surprisingly, my wife moved next to me and sat up on one of the steps, exposing her upper half to us. I was sporting a serious hardon, but at least I was wearing some baggy shorts.
We continued to talk the afternoon away, dipping in and out of the pool, enjoying an incredible tasty lunch, and genuinely enjoying each other’s company. Even my wife looked like she was feeling at ease and had stopped trying to cover herself with her arms. Then something happened that I’d later understand was a tipping point in my life.
While we were all sitting on the edge of the pool, I noticed my wife steeling glances at Marcus’ cock when she thought no one was looking. Not only that, but her nipples were plainly visible through the small amount of material that covered her breasts. They were hard and standing up for all to see. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice. Seeing this made something inside me flare to life. The new feeling I’d experienced earlier exploded tenfold. An image of Marcus fucking my wife suddenly appeared in my mind and I felt my heart begin to beat more intensely.
After a moment, I shook the thought away. It was the oddest thing. I both wanted the thought to go away and I didn’t. Entertaining the thought was tantalizing and made something seriously primal stir inside me, but it also flipped another switch that flooded my system with angst and anxiety. The flood of emotions swirled together and seemed to give life to something new inside me, something I instinctively knew at some level was dangerous, and yet so powerful that I was helpless to force it away.
We had only planned to say until the middle of the afternoon, but everyone had enjoyed the day so much that we didn’t go home until well after the sun had set. Nichole and I were both tired and a little sunburnt, despite numerous sunscreen applications throughout the day. But when we laid down in bed, we fucked like we were on our honeymoon. It had been a long time since we’d gone after each other with that kind of intensity.
“I guess you had a good time then,” I said, taking deep breath and exhaling loudly.
“As you did,” Nichole said, still breathing hard herself.
“So, what’d you think?” I asked, a little coyly.
“About?” Nichole said, not giving any ground. She was going to make me say it. Fine.
“I saw you looking,” I pushed a little more.
“At?” Nichole said.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head in the dark room. This was going to go on all night unless I just came out with it.
“Our well-endowed neighbor,” I said.
“Don’t talk rubbish,” Nichole said, and I couldn’t tell if she was joking or serious.
“Oh, come on,” I chided. “Even I looked.”
“Maybe you’re gay and you’re only now realizing it,” my wife said, saying it so straight that I was still unsure if she was playing or not. I was fairly sure she was, but I still had this nagging doubt.
“I don’t think so, somebody would have told me that by now,” I said, trying to match the same dry delivery as my wife. She at least laughed at the comment.
“I don’t think that’s something someone else tells you, Ky.”
“Even so, I know you noticed. I saw you looking, just admit it.”
After a long moment of silence, Nichole snorted a laugh, “Fine, I looked—once.”
“Uh huh,” I said, “only once. Whatever… you were probably imagining him with you in bed tonight.”
“Ky Blaine Ryan,” Nichole almost shouted as she sat up, “You bleeding wanker. I can’t believe you just said that.”
I held up my hands, palms up, “Sorry, I was just teasing,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious if you were wondering what sex might feel like with a cock that big.”
“Ky, we had a nice day, why are you trying to start a row?”
“I’m seriously not trying to pick a fight,” I said, “didn’t you and your girlfriends ever talk about that kind of stuff in school?”
“What, about bloke’s knobs?” when I nodded she said, “No, we were too busy playing with each other’s pussies.”
I couldn’t help it. The way she said it made me break out in laughter. “There’s my happy thought,” I said as I laid back onto the bed.
“Ugh, you probably are thinking about that, aren’t you?” Nichole said, a slight tone of exasperation in her voice.
“Oh yeah,” I admitted, “You already told me about your little fling with Emilia when you were a teenager, so I know you’re not lying.”
“I’m never telling you anything again,” Nichole said seriously, but there was no venom in her words.
“I could buy a dildo on Amazon that’s about Marcus’ size, and we could try that one night,” I suggested.
“…I can’t believe you just said that,” my wife said, and I could tell she was trying to suppress a laugh.
“Why?” I asked, “Maybe we’re too sexually inhibited. We have kind of gotten into a routine. A dildo, or one of the bunny vibrators might be a good thing.”
“It’s called a rabbit,” my wife corrected me, “but keep in mind that whatever you try on me, I’m going to try on you.”
“Fuck that,” I said immediately. “No way a dildo’s going inside of me – that’s an exit only.”
“You’re sounding awfully defensive,” Nichole said, “maybe you were the one imagining Marcus’ cock up your hole.”
I laughed. Fucking woman was good at turning an argument around. “I can guarantee that I wasn’t thinking about that… can I tell you something?”
Nichole turned to her side to look at me, “Of course,” she said, her tone serious. She seemed to pick up on my change in mood.
“I had the craziest image flash into my brain today,” I confessed. I didn’t really want to make the confession, but at the same time I felt some odd compulsion to do so, “When we were at the pool, I had this vision Marcus fucking you with that monster cock, and it made me feel something so strange.”
A long silence hung in the air, and I immediately wished I could take back the comment. When my wife finally spoke, her voice was timid and quiet. “You want me to have sex with our neighbor?”
“Oh god no,” I said quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. It was just the strangest feeling. I probably should keep it to myself, sorry,” I apologized again.
“It’s fine,” Nichole reassured. “I’d rather you tell me what you’re thinking, even if it is barking.”
I chuckled, “Yeah, alright.”
A silence fell between us for a moment, and then Nichole asked, “You think we’ve gotten to be sexually boring?”
I suddenly nervousness hit me as I heard the question. “Not exactly,” I said after a minute. “I love nothing more than making love to you, I just think I could somehow do more to please you – I want you to have mind-bending orgasms that make you scream with pleasure.”
“I think you watched too much porn as a child,” Nichole said, a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
“Actually, I watched very little,” I admitted. “It just wasn’t my thing.”
“Well, that’s probably good then, yeah… listen,” Nichole prompted, “If you’re looking for something exciting right now, I’ve got an idea.”
“I’m all ears,” I responded quickly.
“I need to teach you how to properly go down on me,” Nichole said candidly.
“What?” I sputtered, “I thought I had that down. You’ve never complained about it.”
I could see her shoulder’s shrug in the dim streetlight coming through the window, “You’re not bad, but you’re a bloke and so you’re too rough most of the time.”
“I’m yours to teach mistress,” I said teasingly.
“Ugh, that makes me feel like I’m back in boarding school,” Nichole said, moving closer to my side.
“Sorry,” I said. An idea came to me but once my brain had a moment to consider it, I suddenly found myself too embarrassed to ask. It didn’t take my observant wife but a moment to notice.
“What is it, you don’t want to?”
“No,” I blurted. “I want to—it’s just that. I, well, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Can I shave it before we start?” I asked nervously. She’d always kept the small strip well-trimmed, but I’d always wanted to experience her pussy bare.
Nichole giggled at the suggestion, “Are you mental?” she teased. “I’ll look like a prepubescent schoolgirl.”
“Fuck no you won’t,” I said, picking her up off the bed and taking some initiative to hide my embarrassment. She laughed as I carried her towards the tub and flipped on the lights to the bathroom.
I set her down on the edge of the tub and drew the water to the right temperature. It was slightly awkward as we both fit ourselves into the tub. Earlier our love had been passionate and without thought or practice. This felt a little clinical, but still erotic in a different sort of way.
“How do we want to do this?” I asked, fumbling with the razor in my hand.
Nichole stood from the tub and placed a towel on the tiled edge. She then sat down and opened her legs to me, giving me a perfect view of her lips. With the lights on the bathroom, and sitting only a foot away from her, I’d never had such a perfect view of her sex.
I ran my finger over the tuft of pubic hair, “god you’re beautiful,” I whispered. I felt her run her fingers through my hair and my anxiousness faded.
She gestured towards the soap and I handed it to her. She then ran it over her lower lips thoroughly, leaving the area covered with a layer of white suds. I lifted the razor and gently touched it to her skin.
“Gentle,” she said in whimper.
I made a light but even stroke across the flesh and felt the blade of the razor do it’s intended work. It only took a few passes and my wife was soon smooth and bare. I used the water from the tub to rinse the soap away and the sight of her vagina made my cock feel as hard as steel. Her lips were tight together and the skin was glistening from the overhead lights.
I moved forward and was about to take her pussy into my mouth when I felt her fingers tighten in my hair, stopping me from reaching her.
“Stick out your tongue,” she said, and I immediately complied, “and flatten it like you’re going to lick an ice cream cone… good… now, lightly lick me from bottom to top.”
I did as instructed and was pleased by the sound of her sharp inhalation as my tongue lightly met her pussy. I pressed my tongue against her and immediately felt the rebuke of her tapping fingers against my head. “Not yet, be gentle.”
Again, I did as I was told, keeping my touch light, and flatly licking the surface of her pussy. I was rewarded with a heavy sigh as Nichole leaned back and supported herself on her elbow. After several minutes, I felt her fingers wind into my hair again and pull me ever so slightly towards her core.
“Suck on my lip,” she instructed, pulling me a touch to the side. I opened my mouth and took her lip into my mouth and sucked, trying to be as gentle as I could. After a minute I felt her move me to the other side, and so I followed her lead and switched lips. This went on for several minutes before I felt her pull me into her opening. “Go a little deep and tease my clit when you get to the top,” my wife said, her voice growing more harried. “I’m not going to like this, but you have to keep teasing me. Don’t let me orgasm right away… pause sometimes and let me come down a bit. The higher you let me climb, the better the orgasm will be.”
Fuck I’d wished she’d told me this stuff when we’d first gotten married. I could have been mastering these techniques all this time. But I couldn’t fault her entirely. It takes a while to find that comfort level where you can talk more openly.
I continued to lick and to tease, and as the minutes passed, I could feel her becoming wetter and wetter. Her breathing becoming faster and more frantic. Several times I felt her get close and then backed off, each time provoking a cry of frustration. I could do this all day I thought with pride. I did it several more times until she finally cried out, “That’s enough Ky, stop teasing and let me cum.”
I happily obeyed and assaulted her clit with my tongue. She pulled my head in forcefully with both hands. I felt her thighs tighten around my head as she squeezed her legs together. Her orgasm started small but crescendoed rapidly. Her eyes were clamped shut, and I felt her body convulse and twitch. I heard a strangled cry until she bit her lower lip and moaned against her closed lips.
“Yeah, yeah, stop,” Nichole cried, pushing my head away frantically. “…too sensitive—stop.”
I felt a surge of pride, “Better?” I asked.
She gave me a tired smile but only nodded. I picked her up and carried her to bed. What a day.
-_-
A week passed before Marcus caught me in front of the house as I was coming home from work. He wore his usual lose-fitting board shorts, no shirt, and Reefs flip-flops.
“They’re still making you go into the office despite the pandemic,” Marcus asked as he approached.
I closed the door to my Toyota Landcruiser and manually locked it. The Landcruiser’s a work in progress. I keep meaning to do more restoration, but as my every-day-vehicle, I end up spending all my money just to keep it maintained and running.
I shook Marcus’ outstretched hand, “Yeah, the boss is really old-school and doesn’t think we’re as productive working from home.”
“At least it gets you out of the house,” Marcus commented. “I think our wives are both going a little stir-crazy.”
“Not you though?” I asked.
Marcus shook his head, “Nah, as long as I can surf in the morning, I’m great. I haven’t had to go to an office in years—oh, before I forget,” he suddenly said, handing me a card, “I spoke with my contact about the potential job for Nichole.”
I took the card and looked at the name, Morgan Shultz, President CEO, Global Medical, Inc. “Thanks Marcus,” I said, putting the card into my shirt chest pocket—yes, next to the calculator I carry there.
“Happy to,” Marcus replied, “Understand, it’s not a guaranteed job, just an opening for a potential interview. I’ve known Morgan for years. He used to surf with me, but his business has exploded, and he stays pretty dedicated to it?
I nodded my appreciation, “No, this is perfect. Nichole’s just looking for a shot. This is great, thanks.”
“More than welcome,” Marcus said warmly. He was about to turn away but paused, “Oh, one more thing,” he said, looking towards our house, “tell your wife to please come over and use the pool during the day. Rachel would love the company, and we feel awful knowing Nichole’s just hanging out by herself in there all day.”
I smiled and nodded, “I’ll do that,” I agreed.
“Yeah, just tell her to use the side gate. Don’t even worry about knocking—just come over. And that goes for you, too.”
“Thanks again,” I said and got a sharp nod from Marcus in return.
I don’t know why, but the image of Marcus fucking my wife jumped into my head again as I watched him walk back to his house. The thought of my wife slipping through the secrete gate in the back yard and going to their house for sex sent a thrill tingling through my groin. Unlike the last time the image came into my mind, I didn’t chase the thought away as quickly. I let it stay a while.
Taking the few steps to the front door, I paused and let my daydream play through, seeing my wife’s legs straddling Marcus’ waist as he pushed his impressive girth into my wife’s tight canal. I felt my heart race at the thought, and I let myself enjoy the sensation for a moment. It took a lot more willpower, but I eventually pushed the thought away and let the image go, or at least tried to. The image stubbornly stayed with me, like it’d been permanently seared into my brain.
Clearing my mind, my thoughts returned to my wife. She really had been cooped up in the house since we’d moved in, and I knew she was lonely. It would be good for her to connect with Rachel during the day, even if it was just for a little gossip and swimming.