08/19/2016 03:02 in cheating
"It's Not For You
Author's note: It never ceases to amaze me that people read stories online that are entitled "Cuckold," and then get upset (and offensive!) that the stories are about the excitement of having an unfaithful wife. If such a story disturbs you, you can stop reading now. Otherwise, you might be... disturbed.
Also, if you are looking for graphic descriptions of hot sex, you won't find them here. Read on to learn why.
My wife, Sally, and her longtime lover, Ted, re-established their affair last year. What with life, schedules and such, they only get to see each other about once every two months, so when the Big Day approaches, everyone gets excited.
On their last date, I was required to be at work in the late morning and again at night, so they got to be truly alone together for the first time. They had a great time, and were even kind enough to call me from their hotel bed. I had gone home after my first appointment and was masturbating, wondering what they were doing, when Sally called to tell me they had made love and were going to do it again. Then Ted got on the phone and told me how wonderful my wife looked, lying in bed naked with him. To sum it up, a good time was had by all, and Ted and Sally realized they MUCH preferred being alone together, without me watching (as I did when they began) or listening at the door (as I did last year). They both said they hated the thought that they were "performing" for me, and the time alone was much more intimate and much more passionate. Afterward, they each talked to me about what they had done, and told me everything I had missed, which was tremendously exciting for me. Ted has an amazing way of never laughing at me while he tells me all about cuckolding me; it's like he's sharing a wonderful experience with a friend. That makes it a great conversation, and I have the awesome experience of remembering from time to time, "That's MY WIFE he's talking about!"
But there ere were two things which made Sally uncomfortable about that date: the long drive she had to make by herself to meet Ted – nearly an hour and a half each way - and that he knows a number of people in the area where they met, so during lunch they had to look as businesslike as possible. This was not easy for either of them, as they kept thinking about the bed that awaited them. So when plans for today's date were made, Sally asked if I would be willing to drive with her, have lunch with them, and then leave them alone when they went to bed together. I realized from the outset that it would not be the easiest thing to do, but of course I agreed. I asked only that Sally help me get ready for the experience, too, and she agreed.
Five days before their date Sally began to prepare, and to prepare me. She said I was no longer allowed to see her undressed or have any kind of sex with her; she was saving herself for Ted. Every time I tried to peek she'd jump to cover herself, saying, "It's not for you." The only exceptions she made were the two times I helped her to cum, which we did in complete darkness so I could not see her, and as soon as she was satisfied, she pulled the covers back up told me to go jerk off if I wanted. At night she would undress in the bathroom, and she replaced her silk negligee with long, flannel pajamas. As her date approached, she skipped our long-time rituals of me helping her to shave her legs and prepare her breasts and her pussy; she never said a word about it – she just did it all on her own. She did let me do her toenails, but made sure her legs (and pussy) were covered while I did them. Only once, when I was about halfway done, did she say anything about what I was doing it for: without any buildup she said, "I'm really looking forward to seeing him." Knowing that I was preparing her toes to wrap around him during sex, I nearly polished a racing stripe up her foot!
Two days before their date we went to Victoria's Secret, where she asked my advice on choosing a new bra and panties. Not that she needed them, but we both enjoyed the thought that we were choosing new underwear for Ted to see, and to remove. When we got them home I asked to see them and she said "Sure," but all she did was take them out of the bag and hold them up.
"Could I please see how they look on you?" I asked.
"No, you can't. They're not for you," was her self-satisfied response.
As she instructed, I reserved a hotel suite with a bedroom for them and a living room for me. And she had me go to her office and pick up her "white noise" machine. She said the thought that I might be "lurking" (her word) outside the bedroom door was "creepy" (also her word), and she wanted to make sure I could not hear anything while they were making love.
Interesting – that was the first time she ever referred to what they did as "making love," and I asked her if that was the proper way to describe it. She thought for a minute, and said yes.
I chatted with Ted online several times during the week. He was pleased to hear the part about "making love." He was also blunt and not at all shy about telling me how much he was looking forward to his date with my wife. He told me in great detail WHAT he was looking forward to, and I kept wondering what the proper, polite response is when a man tells you that your wife's nipples are delicious, and he can't wait to suck on them. When I figure out the ave way to answer, I'll let everyone know; all I could do was cringe a little and masturbate while he described his plans.
He LOVED hearing that my wife was saving her body for him, and that she told me it was not for me.
Ted said he would meet us at 1 p.m., and we planned accordingly. Then, that morning, he emailed me and said he could arrive by 12:30. That's when I realized how serious HE was about his date with Sally.
Of course, Sally dressed in private. When she was ready, she asked me how she looked. I did not know how to answer that, either. She looked beautiful, she looked sexy, but she was not asking me that. She was asking me how she looked FOR TED. "Absolutely great," I stuttered, and we set off.
We listened to the radio, made a few phone calls, and talked about nothing important on the way. Every few minutes I looked over at her and thought about she was going to do, and the fact that I was driving her. I haven't told her how exciting that was – she'll learn about it when she reads this story.
Just before we arrived, she said, "Thank you very much for driving me," as calmly as if I had given her a ride to the park. I told her she was welcome, and that I hoped she had a very good time with him, and I tried to give her a kiss. She instinctively turned her mouth away from me, as any woman does when she is avoiding a man's unwanted advance.
"It's not for you," she said, and got out of the car to greet him.
Lunch was nice, but strange for me. No sex talk, just conversation between three friends. But Sally made sure Ted sat to her left, so he could see that she had opened one button too many on her shirt. I couldn't see anything, but I could tell exactly when her shirt fell open: Ted's eyes were immediately drawn downward, and I saw him ogling my wife's chest. That itself was not so odd, but the realization that he was enjoying a peek of what my wife would give him after lunch made it difficult for me to swallow my food.
When we (actually, they) finished eating we went to the hotel room together. Once inside, they sat on the couch in the living room. They sat close together, cuddling while they continued to talk about work, life and everything else. From time to time they kissed, and I could see them gently touching each other's leg. I realized that no one would think twice about this picture of a loving couple, sitting and talking together, except that Sally is married to ME, and I was sitting in a chair across from that loving couple.
They talked for about ten minutes, then Ted said, "Well, I've had enough of this. I want to take you inside."
We had talked about what would happen next, but still, it took me by surprise. Sally, still sitting on the couch, turned to face me for the first time. She said, "Ted and I are going to bed now, and we want to be alone together. I really don't want you listening at the door, so please stay here on this couch while we make love, okay?"
I nodded dumbly as Ted took Sally's hand, and led her to the bedroom. Just one pause along their way, as Sally bent over and turned on the "white noise" machine sitting in the hallway outside the bedroom door. Then I heard the door close, and I was left alone.
Less than a minute later, Ted called me from the other room and said they needed my help. All kinds of thoughts raced through my mind: had they decided to let me watch? Or did they at least want me to "help" by undressing Sally before they had sex? I ran into the bedroom, and saw the two of them standing with their arms around each other. Both were fully dressed, except almost all the buttons on Sally's shirt were open (Ted LOVES my wife's breasts, and they have both told me that he dives for them the minute they are alone).
There is no way for a cuckold husband to be cool in such a situation, but I tried to be at least coherent. I asked what I could do to help them. With a slightly evil smile, Ted said, "We'd like you to pull down the covers, and make the bed nice for us."
That was it? No sex, no undressing? My heart sank, but what could I do? I removed the bedspread, then pulled down the sheet and blanket, folding them neatly near the foot of the bed while the lovers looked on. Sally told me to keep the covers where she could reach them, because "I get cold without my clothes on." Without any time to consider the immense sexual significance of opening the bed for my wife and her lover, or of her statement that she would soon be naked, Ted said, "Thank you, now please leave," and I did. To my own surprise, I made sure their bedroom door was tightly closed behind me, and I returned to my place on the couch.
I'd love to give you all the details of what they did during the next two and a half hours, but I have no idea. I'll be honest: several times I left my assigned place on the couch and tiptoed over to the bedroom door. I strained to hear something – anything – from the other side, but all I could hear was the damn noise machine. Later, I asked Sally if they had been particularly quiet making love. She gave me a very surprised look and said, "No, not at ALL." When I told her I didn't hear a thing, she was genuinely pleased.
Denial is a powerful emotion, and I felt all of it. Not just the physical denial of my wife saving her body for Ted, but a strange, psychological denial, too. For a full hour, I actually convinced myself that there was a chance they weren't doing anything sexual at all behind that door. After all, I hadn't seen them undress, I hadn't heard a sound: maybe they just decided to sit and talk? And maybe – just maybe – when they really started to do something, they would call to me again and let me watch?
Oh, sure, I pulled down my pants and masturbated. What else could I do to pass the time? But I found that as excited as I was, I could not get close to cumming. I didn't actually want to cum – I never do while Sally's on a date, because it helps to be very, very horny when dealing with the overwhelming emotions of being cuckolded. But I couldn't even get close, because there was that nagging suspicion – or maybe it was a hope – that they would decide to include me. They KNEW I was right outside, and I knew they hadn't forgotten I was there. Maybe...
One hour after my wife and her lover entered their bedroom, my comfortable little denial-world caved in. I heard the doorknob turn, and I thought, "This is it!" and my cock sprang to attention.
Sally came out of the bedroom, completely naked. She crossed the short distance in front of the sink, went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. I couldn't believe my eyes – literally. I had caught a momentary glimpse of her breasts, her ass, and all the skin of her body. She was naked, and she had just come out of the bedroom - the room where I had seen Ted standing with her. Yes, I know it's stupid to have thought that they were only sitting and talking, but it was not until that moment that the sledgehammer of reality came down on my head, and I knew – KNEW – that my wife had been fucking her lover in their bedroom.
I wanted to meet her at the door when she came out of the bathroom, but I decided to show her I was doing what she asked, so I stayed on the couch. I couldn't wait for her to come over and tell me what they had been doing, and what they were going to do next!
When she came out of the bathroom, she washed her hands at the sink. I could see her perfectly from behind: her head, her naked back, her ass leading down to her slightly-parted legs, all the way down to her bare feet. I sat patiently, quietly staring at her and masturbating while she washed and dried her hands. When she put down the towel, she turned and went back into the bedroom without so much as a glance in my direction. I heard the door click shut behind her, I realized she was not going to share anything with me. Nothing. Not a word.
I came. Hard.
I tried to stop it, because I was overwhelmed with pain and humiliation and I knew as soon as I was done cumming, it would be a lot more difficult to cope with my feelings, but there was no stopping it. After an hour of waiting, after having nearly convinced myself that my wife and that man were just sitting on the bed and chatting, after thinking they would invite me in, after expecting my wife at least to come tell me what they were doing, I was alone with nothing but my own penis, impotently squirting cum all over my hand. As Sally was sliding back into Ted's arms, I sat on the living room couch wishing I could take back the orgasm I was havinf and wishing I could take back my offer to drive her to her date. But it was too late for both.
Later, I asked Sally if she had thought about talking with me when she went to the bathroom. She looked puzzled and said, "No. Why would I? I didn't come out to give you a show, and I couldn't wait to get back to Ted." Even though she would not tell me that until later, I knew it then; there was nothing phony about her actions or her body language. She had to go to the bathroom, and that was the only thing interrupting her time with her lover.
After I cleaned up, I sat there on the couch wondering what to do now. Now that I knew they had made love, I knew they would do it again. But the excitement was gone, and my cock hung limp between my legs. I tried to get hard again, imagining all kinds of exciting images of them fucking, but it didn't work. The combination of reality and cumming left me empty, physically and mentally. I actually read the newspaper for a while, but found that to be more humiliating than sitting there doing nothing. Real chauffeurs read the paper while waiting to drive their passengers home; I couldn't bring myself to admit that I was nothing but a driver for my wife that day.
I tried listening at the door again, with the same result as before. I tried using X-ray vision as I stared at the wall separating me from the lovers, but to say I'm no Superman would be stating the obvious. A few times I got semi-hard but just could not sustain my erection, and I cursed the damn orgasm that left me feeling that way even as I realized it had been such an erotic experience to have my wife act the way she did.
I didn't even realize another hour had gone by until I heard the door open again. This time it was Ted, and he was as naked as my wife. He, too, went directly to the bathroom, and again, I was struck by the reality of it all: not only had he made love to my wife, he didn't even bother to cover himself when he walked by me. He had taken her, he had been intimate with her, he had made love to her, and he was completely comfortable walking by me in his birthday suit!
When he emerged from the bathroom, the earlier scene repeated itself. He stood at the sink and washed his hands while I stared at the back of the man who had fucked my wife. When he was done he turned to go back to the bedroom, and I saw his penis sticking out between his legs. He was not hard at all, and I knew it was because my wife had satisfied him. I saw him for only a few seconds, yet what I saw spoke volumes: he made love to my wife. He fucked my wife. He came in my wife. Now he was satisfied, and he was soft; that's what happens when lovers go to bed together.
He closed the bedroom door behind him, and I no longer had trouble getting excited. I masturbated as hard as I could, thinking about the one minute of sexual stimulation they had given me in the past two hours, and realizing that they only gave it to me because I was able to see the hallway and the sink from where I sat. I remembered what Sally had told me all week: "It's not for you." And I understood that she really meant it. And so did Ted.
Half an hour later – two hours and thirty minutes after they closed the bedroom door – Ted came out, dressed. The last time I was with them (when I sat and listened at the door while they made love) he talked with me for about five minutes on his way out, giving me some of the highlights of their lovemaking. It hadn't been easy for me, sitting there masturbating while this fully-dressed man told me about fucking my wife, but hey – it was exciting as hell. I was hoping he would do the same this time, and I had already swallowed my pride about jerking off in front of him. But things were different this time and I should have realized it. He looked at me, laughed quietly, and said, "Gotta go. Drive home safely," and he left.
I slowly went to the bedroom door and knocked. My wife said I could come in. She looked so beautiful, lying there in bed covered only with a sheet. I kissed her gently on the cheek, then tried to kiss her on the lips, but she turned away – again. I laid down beside her and she said, "I had a WONDERFUL time. We made love twice, and he made me cum once." I asked her to tell me about it, but she said, "Maybe later." When she moved, her left breast came out from under the sheet, and I stared at it. When she saw what I was looking at she said, "I will tell you that he spent a LOT of time resting his head on my tits and playing with them," and with that, she pulled the sheet up to cover herself.
On the drive home, we talked about the whole experience. I told her it hurt, and it was harder to handle than I had expected, but I was excited by it. She said that she was excited by it, too – and liked it a lot. She liked the way he made her feel, and liked the way I helped her to be with him. She said she wants it to continue – not just her affair, but also my role as chauffeur and lunch companion, and also the way we acknowledge Ted's place in her life.
We agreed that at least until her next date in a month or two, she will continue saving herself for him the way she did before their date. I can help her cum when she wants, and I can even make love to her IF she wants, but I cannot see her naked anymore; that is just for him. If we make love, it will be in the dark; if I help her cum, it will be with a blindfold. Today, we went out to the mall and bought her two pairs of pajamas for her; they are very comfortable, not at all sexy, and they cover her completely. We came home and she went into the bathroom to change into them. When I tried to peek at her while she changed she shut the door and said, "It's not for you anymore; it's only for him." As we sat and cuddled all evening she told me that saving herself for him is a great idea: it makes her conscious of her relationship with me and of her relationship with Ted all the time. As for me, every time I see her all covered up, the overwhelming sensations of staring at a hotel wall and listening to white noise flood back over me. I'm hard most of the day, and all of the night.
She is SUCH an exciting woman. I know it, and so does Ted.