Cuckold's Warning, Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I know from what I've read on this Website, as well as many other scattered throughout the Internet, that thousands of men have fantasies of being cuckolded by their wives. Maybe you'll change your minds about ever trying to make that fantasy come true after you've read what happened to me.

Like you, I dreamed of being a cuckold. When my wife and I were having sex, I constantly fantasized about it being another man lying atop her, his hardon ramming in and out of her pussy. Of course, I was always "forced" to watch the lovemaking, and then further "forced" to perform cleanup duty afterwards. My favorite part was where she pushed my head down to her lover's slimy cock, and then when I had finished with him, sat on my mouth and fed me mouthful after mouthful of their delicious mixed juices.

It was always a surefire way for me to get my rocks off. Visions of another man's cock in my mouth, followed by a great big serving of cream pie, was virtually the only type of sexual fantasy I had, and as could be predicted, it finally developed into an obsession. Little did I know that my wife had begun to share that fixation with me, although she never said anything about it to me, just as I never said anything to her.

What finally happened to break that barrier of silence between us was pretty trivial, as most beginnings are. It happened almost one year ago today, in fact, and I'll never forget it. Quite the opposite, I think of it almost every waking moment, wondering how different things would be today if I hadn't made that one mistake.

My mistake was simple enough, and I'm sure many other men have made it also, especially if they use their computers to surf the Internet in search of more and more fodder for their fantasies. That's exactly what I was doing when I found a Website that proclaimed itself "The Last Word in Cuckolding," promising thousands of stories, photos, and videos would be available to me if I only became a member.

The preview tour the site offered was much better done than usual, and believe me, I'd seen them all. I suppose it was that more than anything else that finally persuaded me to enter my credit card number, and in less than a minute I had been granted admission.

The place certainly lived up to its billing, and in my estimation it was the best I'd ever seen. Story after story, all well written, told of men being cuckolded. Some of them had introduced their wives to the idea, while others had found out their wives had taken lovers, and then became intrigued with the idea of hiding in the closet to watch. Some had been led to accept the idea of being a cuckold, with the leading done by their wife.

It was the last story line that was my favorite, since it closely paralleled my fantasy in which Sandie (my wife, Sandra) told me she was no longer satisfied with my little penis, and either I could consent to her having other men in our bed, or she would leave me. Of course, I always "reluctantly" went along with her, and then, again "reluctantly," was made to do my part after the lovers had reached their orgasms.

The photos and videos were great, too. I especially loved the ones that showed the woman lying on the bed, with cum beginning to run out of her freshly-fucked pussy. She was holding her husband's head with both hands, forcing it down on the other man's still-erect cock, which was covered with its own coating of slimy goo.

Although I had the good sense to not print any of the photos, I just couldn't resist doing so with some of the really hot stories. I was sure they'd be easy to hide in the papers on my desk, especially since Sandie never used it for her own work. I figured that by printing the stories, they'd be available when I needed them, especially at those times when my wife was using our shared computer.

I'm sure you can already predict what happened, and you're right. Sandie was looking for our stapler, of all the silly things, when she decided it just had to be in one of my desk drawers, since she'd looked every other place she could think of. Of course, when she opened my special drawer, my secret was out. The top story just happened to be titled, "Sandie Takes a Lover," and, just as that name had caught my attention, so it did hers. She read the first few paragraphs, and then the whole story, and the rest is history.

I'm sure 99% of the wives out there would have reacted in one of these two ways: Some would have been ashamed to learn that their husbands had such horrible fantasies, and done their best to ignore the situation. Others would have reacted with anger, and confronted their husbands. Sandie is not like that, though. Her reaction was to look through the drawer for similar stories, and then read them from start to finish.

She told me that's just what she did, and with each new story, she began to become more excited. She understood then that we both had been sharing essentially the same fantasy, but were too timid to talk about it. She resolved to put an end to that situation, and in her straightforward manner, that's what she did.

When I came home from work that evening, she called a greeting to me from the living room, and asked me to join her. That was unusual, to say the least, since it was her usual practice to be in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

As I entered the room, I saw her sitting on the couch, and a pile of papers on the coffee table in front of her. She patted the cushion next to her, indicating she wanted me to sit there, and so I did. I idly glanced at the papers, and that's when my heart almost stopped. The top page bore the title, in large letters, "Sandie Takes a Lover."

I'm sure my face must have been beet red then, as I blushed in shame. I felt rather like a small boy who has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, or maybe more aptly, in his undershorts. I was sure she'd be angry with me for harboring such dirty thoughts, especially since they involved her having sex with other men, and then taking the dominant role by forcing me to perform cleanup duties.

She began simply enough by saying, "I found these stories in your desk today when I was looking for the stapler. Some of them are really good. I assume you liked them also, or you wouldn't have printed them. Is that top one your favorite?"

She paused then and looked directly at me, waiting for an answer. My brain was racing as I tried to devise an answer that would show my interest was entirely innocent. Believe it or not, I even considered telling her I was doing a research project as part of my job. However, since my work is in sales for a construction company, I doubted that'd be at all believable.

Finally I just decided to accept my medicine, and meekly replied, "Yes."

She smiled then, partly at my embarrassment, but more in satisfaction that I'd decided to answer honestly. Knowing it was up to her to continue the conversation, she said, "Seeing my name in the title caught my attention, of course. Then when I read what the woman was doing, and making her husband do, it got even more interesting. What's your favorite part of the story?"

I simply couldn't come to terms with her question, or indeed this whole conversation. I'd been hiding my fantasy, and the stories, for so long that it was difficult for me to face the issue head on. After a pause, I understood that she wasn't in the least angry with me, and even seemed to be pleased with what I'd done.

I still couldn't commit myself, though, and tried to equivocate by answering, "I don't know. I guess the whole thing was interesting."

She wouldn't let me off that easily, and went on in her usual conversational tone of voice, saying, "My favorite is when she forces her husband to clean her lover's cock. I think it'd be really exciting to see men doing that. Of course, if it were us in that story, I'd like the part where you had your cream pie afterwards. That would probably feel really good, don't you think?"

Again, I was at a loss for words. Finally I replied, "Yes. I think she'd like it."

She wouldn't let me off the hook that easily, and continued, "I didn't ask about some other woman and man. I was wondering what would be our favorite part, if we did that. It's exciting when I think about watching you suck another man's cock, and then feeling you eat his cum out of my pussy. Is that the part that gets you hot, too?"

Sandie had always been the more plain-spoken of the two of us, but even that had seemed to reach new heights. It was common for her to use the words "cock" and "pussy," but to use them in this new context was very different. She snuggled up close to me then, put one arm around my shoulders, and began very lightly rubbing my crotch. She asked softly, "I wonder if another man's cum would taste as good as yours. Do you suppose it'd be something you'd like?"

She put the question like that because I had indeed given her oral sex after we'd had intercourse, and so was very familiar with the taste of my own semen. She had said early in our marriage that her orgasms were just as important as mine, and made me promise that if I climaxed first, I'd keep going until she had joined me.

There had been many times when my penis simply wouldn't cooperate after it'd shot its load, and that was when she would insist that I "get down there," as she put it. The first few times had been pretty difficult for me, but then it seemed as if I actually developed a taste for the stuff, and that particular part of sex had become okay with me. Looking back now, I realize that the act of licking my own cum out of her pussy could very well be the source of my fantasy about doing the same with another man's. Sandie told me not too long ago that she always fantasized I was licking up her lover's cum at those times, too. I guess we were on the same wavelength long before I had any indication of that fact.

When I finally attempted to answer her question, I was still unable to be as honest and open as she was, and I equivocated by saying, "I don't know. It's something that seems to be in most of those stories, so other men must think it's okay."

She snuggled closer then, and asked in a soft voice, "Do you want to try it, or is it all just a fantasy?"

That question cut right to the heart of the matter, and again I couldn't bring myself to answer honestly. Again, I fumbled with my answer, saying, "I don't know. It's been something I've liked to think about for a long time. Do you want to try it?"

If I thought I could divert her by throwing her question back to her, then I was proved wrong, for she answered without hesitation, "I've been thinking about it for a long time, too. I think we should try it, if you'd really be able to handle it. Could you really and truly sit there and watch another man making love to me?"

By that time, she had been fondling my crotch for several minutes, and I'm sure my brain was sinking lower and lower as it approached my balls. Her hand felt so good, and I didn't want her to stop. I said softly, "I think I could. It'd have to be something you really wanted to do, though. I wouldn't want to think you were doing it just because of me."

She laughed softly before replying, "If I didn't want it to happen, it wouldn't. You can be sure of that." She then shifted gears by saying, "In nearly all those stories, the woman is in charge, and she makes her husband do those things. Is that the way you want it for us?"

Again, that cut to the chase, because in my fantasy it had always been Sandie who was in charge, and she "made" me do those things. Actually admitting to such a thing, right to her face, was proving very difficult for me. Finally I said, "I'd want it to be your decision. I could never force you to do something like that."

She chuckled then, and gave my now-erect cock a playful pinch, saying, "You're damned right you couldn't. If there's any forcing required, I'll be the one doing it. You can bet on that."

She gave me another playful squeeze and pinch, then stood while saying, "I'd better get back out to the kitchen to see how dinner is coming along. It'll be ready in half an hour, so don't be late." Without another word, she left the room and headed for the kitchen, leaving me sitting there in a befuddled state, my brain racing as it thought of the things she'd said.

As soon as she left, I hurried to look through the stories she'd found. Since she hadn't mentioned something that was the most important part of my absolute favorites, I was hopeful that she hadn't found them. Those were the ones that had an added element to the cuckolding, and they all involved the same theme.

That theme usually went something like this: Following the man's cuckolding, the woman's lover becomes jealous of her husband, and begins to insist that something be done to eliminate him as a rival. Though each story had a different path, the final solution always involved the husband losing something. Of course, what he lost was either his cock or his balls, or sometimes both.

The thought of my wife reading such stories, knowing they were arousing to me, caused me extreme embarrassment. To my great relief, those particular stories were not in the pile, which probably meant that she hadn't looked in the next drawer down, where they were hidden. Relieved that my secret was safe for the moment, I sat there and reflected on what we'd talked about.

It was unbelievable to me that we'd even had that conversation, let alone arrived at the conclusion we had. Anyhow, the conclusion I thought we'd reached, which was that she wanted to take a lover, fuck him while I watched, and then make me service both of them afterwards. It was literally more than I could handle all at once, and as I walked to the bathroom to prepare for dinner, I was in a fog.

________________

That she was prepared to take the bull by the horns, so to speak, was evident in our lovemaking that night. In the first place, it was odd for us to do such a thing on a Friday night. Our usual "schedule" was Saturday night, plus one other night during the week, depending on circumstances. That other night had come to be, by default I guess, Wednesday.

That night, after we had showered and climbed in bed, Sandie wasted no time in again bringing up the subject that had never left my mind since our conversation a few hours ago. She shocked me by saying, with no preliminaries, "I want you to sleep in the nude from now on. It'll make it easier to get you turned on when I come home with a job for you to do. You can start now by taking off your undershorts."

I had always slept in undershorts only, never having developed a taste for wearing pajamas. It was easier to follow her orders then, because she had been fondling my penis since getting under the covers. I felt a thrill in my chest as I slipped down my shorts, then tossed them over the side of the bed. To be told to do something sexual in nature had been my secret desire for a long time by then, and for that desire to suddenly be met was proving to be pretty arousing to me. Before I'd even settled once again, my semi-erect cock was at full staff.

Sandie placed one hand on it and began stroking lightly, getting me more turned on with each second. After awhile, she said, "I've been thinking about who my first lover will be. It's not something to take lightly. I'm sure there would be plenty of men who'd like to get in my pants, but it all comes down to safety. If I'm going to let a man fuck me bare, then I need to know it's safe to do so. Don't you agree?"

I have to admit that the subject of safe sex very rarely came up in the stories I read, and even less frequently in my fantasies. Even in my aroused state, I could understand that if the other man wore a condom, the main ingredient of my fantasy wouldn't be present when I licked my wife's pussy. That she had an answer ready was proved when she continued, "I've been thinking about how to get around that problem for quite awhile now, and I keep coming back to Jack. What do you think about him?"

Jack is our next door neighbor. He's older than either of us, by probably 15 years, which would put him about 50 years of age. He'd been a teacher all his life in one of our local high schools, and had taken early retirement to care for his wife when she developed Alzheimer's disease about five years ago. When it became necessary for her to live in a nursing home a couple years back, Jack continued to live alone in their home, and to visit his wife every day, even though she no longer recognized him. She had passed away a little over two months ago, and he had been even more alone after that. It seemed such an unusual choice that I was taken aback for a few moments, and I hesitated before asking quietly, "Why would you choose Jack? I thought you'd want a younger man."

She laughed quietly before answering, "Actually, I think Jack is an excellent choice. He hasn't had sex in two years, and then only with his wife. That's a pretty good assurance it'd be safe to fuck him without a rubber. He's close by, so it would be pretty convenient for him to come to our bed, or for me to go to his. Plus, he has a big dick."

I suppose in other circumstances, that would have caused me to laugh, but at that time it didn't. All I could think of to say was, "How do you know that?"

She replied, "When he was mowing our lawn one time last spring, I wanted to sunbathe on the patio out back. Jack was mowing the lawn then, and since you were gone and couldn't do it, I asked him to put the suntan lotion on my back. I lay down on my stomach, and unfastened the strap on my bikini top so he wouldn't get the oil on it. I happened to glance at him out of the corner of my eye, while he was rubbing the stuff on my back, and the shorts he was wearing had a great big bulge in them. Lots bigger than you've ever had."

I think I need to explain why Jack would be mowing our yard, and even moreso why he would be rubbing suntan lotion on my wife. My job pays pretty well, and Sandie had quit her job five years ago because we really didn't need her income. To keep herself from becoming bored at home, she'd learned to be a very good cook. When Jack's wife could no longer care for the home, Sandie had begun to take prepared food over there a couple of times a week, just as a neighborly gesture. Jack had returned the favor by mowing our lawn in the summer, and clearing the snow off the sidewalks in the winter. Both sides were pleased by the arrangement, and it had continued even after his wife had entered the nursing home, and then died. We all seemed to feel very friendly toward one another, and I suppose that's why Sandie didn't think it odd to let him rub the oil on her bare back.

From the tone of her voice, I could tell that she had already made her choice, and said, "It sounds like the matter's already settled." She didn't pause at all before answering, "Yes, it is. Since I'm going to be the one getting fucked, I get to choose who does it. Don't you think that's fair? I'll let you know when I'm ready for you to do your part."

That brought up a part of the matter that had been nagging at my mind ever since we'd had our conversation before dinner. I asked quietly, "When are you going to do it?"

She began to stroke my cock more firmly then, before answering, "When I'm ready. You'll know when I give you your first taste of cream pie." I was already close to cumming by then, and her reference to that subject caused my fantasy to spring full-blown in my brain. She knew the effect her actions, and her crude words, were having on me, and then issued her second order of the night, saying, "I'm going to show you how we'll be doing it from now on. Get on your back."

With no conscious thought, I rolled from my side to my back. In the dim light from the hallway, I saw her sit up in bed. She was already naked, that being the way she usually slept in the warmer months. I saw her straddle my midsection, and then felt her guiding my cock inside her pussy.

Given the way she had been arousing me with her hand and the subject matter, I knew my orgasm would happen very quickly. She obviously wanted it that way, for she said, "Remember how this feels. Once I start fucking Jack, you'll be out of luck. If his cock really is as big as it looked, I wouldn't be able to feel you anyway, so it'd be a waste of time. Go ahead and cum now so I can give you your first lesson in the proper way to eat cum out of my pussy."

She then began to raise and lower her body in quick strokes, and in less than a minute my back arched and my cock began to shoot its seed inside her. She continued to ride me until the spasms stopped, then lifted off and quickly moved to straddle my head.

That method of giving oral sex to her had been the most arousing part of my fantasy, although in our normal sexual relations, I would have scooted down the bed and buried my face between her legs. She always continued to lie on her back while I licked and sucked, and I couldn't think of any way to ask her to sit on my face, as I so much wanted her to do.

This time, she settled in place as if we'd been doing it this way for many years. As I began licking her sticky pussy, she started giving me instructions in the proper way to perform oral sex. In a low voice, she said, "This will be a much better way for you to eat me. When I'm on my back, lots of cum runs down my crack and you don't get it. This way, you should be able to get every drop."

"I want you to run your tongue up and down the slit first and get all the cum that's there. That's the part that'll run out first, so you need to get it right away. Get busy."

She then didn't say anything more until I'd completed that part, and I licked and swallowed as quickly as I could. There was not much of my cum in that part of her pussy, and in fact I was getting less this way than in our usual position.

At one point in my efforts, she said, "Stop right there. Do you feel that hard bump? Yes, that's it. That's my clit. Remember where it is, and how it feels. Now I'm going to move up just a little bit so my pussy hole is over your mouth. That's where most of the cum will be, so you should be able to get a tummyful."

She repositioned slightly, and I could feel her hard little bump rubbing against my nose. She again instructed me, saying, "Okay. Now I'm right over your mouth. Start sucking on my hole."

I did as she ordered, and was almost shocked at the amount of cum that entered my mouth. When I'd eaten her pussy before, I'd never had to deal with a volume of cum this large, and I could see what she meant when she said that lots of cum used to run down her crack, and I didn't get it. My first efforts literally filled my mouth to overflowing, and I closed it and began to swallow. As soon as the first load was on its way to my stomach, I went back for more. It had never occurred to me that a man in his mid-thirties could produce so much semen, for it certainly never looked like that much when I masturbated. Now, though, I could see the basis for the "quarts" of cum usually referred to in my stories. Even though I knew the quantity was nowhere near that amount, it certainly seemed that way to me.

By the time I'd had the last of the available jism, my cock was once again rock hard. (As I read over what I've just written, I know there's no way I can ever explain how very erotic it was to be ordered to lie there on my back while my wife mounted my face. To be given even more orders about the proper way to service her pussy just made me hotter. I guess you'll just have to use your imagination, because I can't explain it).

When Sandie sensed that I'd finished my housekeeping duties, she said, "Now, I'm going to show you another way you'll eat me sometimes." She then lifted up a slight amount, and rotated her body until she was facing my crotch. After settling in position again, she said, "This puts my clit right over your chin, which sometimes feels good. I want you to always remember to shave right before you come to bed. I don't want to be rubbing my clit on your stubble."

While she was giving me that lesson, she had begun to move her hard little bud back and forth over my chin, and I could tell by the change in her voice that it was arousing her. What was arousing me was the fact that my nose was literally buried in her backside, and in my lust-driven state, the aroma there was intoxicating.

Her breathing by then had become rapid, and when she again spoke, it was almost in a gasp. She panted, "When I tell you to push your tongue in, do it as hard as you can. Get ready." That order surprised me, since my tongue was already buried as deep in her pussy hole as I could get it. Whatever she wanted was what I'd do, though, and I tried to focus on waiting for her command, rather than on my throbbing cock.

Several things happened at once right then. The first was her explosive gasp, followed by her order, "Now! Do it!". At the same time as she did that, she moved farther down my body. I could feel one of her hands working in her pussy that was now projecting beyond my chin. The other hand had taken a firm grip on my sac, and seemed to be doing its level best to crush the contents.

The part that proved to be the most erotic of all, however, was completely unexpected. When she had moved her crotch, her anus was re-positioned over my mouth. When she ordered me to force my tongue into her as hard as I could, it sank into that opening, rather than her pussy.

I'm sure you think that's more revolting than exciting, and when I was in a normal state of mind, back then, I'd have agreed. However, at that time, I was just beginning to cum, and everything we were doing was very sexually charged. It was not a bit offensive that she had ordered me to stick my tongue up her butt. It simply added another dimension to an already erotic situation.

I won't bore you with further descriptions of our lovemaking sessions during the next two weeks, other than to say they were very much like the one I've written about above. What was odd about them was that they seemed to happen almost every night, and I'm sure we never missed two nights in a row during that time. By the end of that two weeks, Sandie actually complimented me on all I'd learned about eating cream pie, as she liked to call it. She told me I was ready for the real thing, but that she'd expect me to keep practicing until she brought it to me.

So that's what I did.