Sex Cheating true stories blog

A Cuckold's Diary Ch. 09

by Gary

08/21/2016 17:28 in threesome


A CUCKOLD'S DIARY #9

A DOSE OF REALITY


August 2006

Standard disclaimer: This, like all the chapters in "A Cuckold's Diary," is about my wife's date with her lover. It is factual, to the best of my ability to remember details after an incredibly erotic experience. If you think will be disturbed by the thought that my wife has a lover and I drive her to her dates, please feel free not to read further.

I welcome comments and critiques, but please do not write and say you're offended by what I wrote, since I'm telling you in advance what to expect.

Sincerely,

(Cuckold) Paul Pines

INTRODUCTION

Thanks to the Fairfield Inn's amazingly cheap definition of a "suite," my wife Sally's last date with her lover, Ted, turned into a mind-blowing experience for me. And thanks to Ted's affection for her, Sally and I discovered a new and exciting dimension to her affair.

LUNCH

On their previous date, Sally was a little uncomfortable with Ted's "public display of affection" during lunch in a restaurant before they went to bed. Always the Good Girl, she was worried that she would run into someone she knew who would see her being felt up by another man. The fact that we were 80 miles from home, in a town where we don't know ANYONE, didn't matter; Good Girls don't do things like that! So before this date she asked him to save it for the bedroom, and he agreed.

Lunch, therefore, was as casual, friendly and G-rated as it would have been with her mother. The only exceptions were that her low-cut blouse kept drawing Ted's eyes, and halfway through lunch she leaned close and whispered in his ear that she wasn't wearing any panties under her skirt. I didn't actually hear her say that, I knew she wasn't and the smile that grew on his face made it clear that he had just found out.

Near the end of the meal, Sally excused herself to go to the rest room. Sitting there with Ted, it struck me that we were NOT just friends having lunch, but that after lunch he was going to go to bed with my wife. A wave of shame and excitement crashed over me.

"I just remembered that this is not an ordinary lunch," I said as calmly as possible. "It feels a little strange."

"I'm sure it does," Ted answered with a smile. "It's not an ordinary lunch at all, is it?"

We sat there quietly, finishing our meal. The lover and the cuckold, each thinking about what would happen next. One preparing to go to bed with another man's wife, one preparing to be left alone while his wife went to bed with another man. I wanted to crawl under the table every time he looked at me.

THE "SUITE"

Our usual hotel was full, so we had reserved a suite at the local Fairfield Inn. Arriving at the room, we saw that "suite" did not mean two rooms with a door in between, but two parts of a room: a bedroom, a waist-high partition and a sitting area. Sally looked genuinely upset at the thought that I would be in the same room, until I pointed out that the sitting room was at an angle to the bedroom, and if I sat in the corner I could barely see the foot of the bed. That comforted her enough, and as Ted approached her she pointed to the chair in the corner and said to me, "Sit."

I sat in "my" chair as Sally took Ted's hand and led him into the bedroom. To my surprise (and delight), she sat in the bedroom chair which was directly in my line of sight, and pulled Ted toward her. He stood in front of her and she immediately opened his pants, pushing them down to his ankles.

All I could see was Ted's back and legs as he faced her, until her hand snaked between his legs and caressed his underwear-covered ass. As she did this, he lifted up his shirt, and it was clear that her other hand was stroking his cock through the fabric. I sat there in silence, fully dressed, afraid to make a sound; if they moved to the bed I wouldn't see anything. My wife slipped her fingers into both sides of the waistband of his Jockeys, and pulled his underwear down to his ankles. I was transfixed: my wife was undressing him right in front of my eyes.

I stared at Ted's naked ass, feeling it mocking me as I sat by myself in the corner of the other room. Trying to deal with the knowledge that my wife wanted him and wanted him naked, I stared until I saw his whole body shudder and heard a sound which had never made it through the closed doors of their bedroom on their previous dates. It was an intake of breath, a reverse-gasp; the sound of sexual pleasure, the sound of Ted reacting as my wife took his penis into her mouth.

Still unwilling even to pull down my pants for fear they would see me and move to the bed, I sat there rubbing my hardon through my pants while Sally gave him an amazing blow-job. Ted took off his shirt to get it out of her way, and I saw the muscles in his back, ass and legs shaking and jerking as he moaned and groaned from her attention. I could not see her at all, it was clear what she was doing. It was also clear how he felt about it.

After getting VERY close to cumming, Ted leaned over, kissed her and pulled her shirt over her head and off her. Then he helped her to her feet and they held each other close, kissing deeply. He guided my wife toward their bed, and the last thing I saw was Sally's naked back as she turned to place something on the chair. She disappeared toward the bed again, and I was left staring at her bra which she had laid over the chair's arm.

I stared at that bra for the next three hours. Lace straps and two empty cups. I could draw the scene again in a second, because the image burned itself in my mind: empty bra cups because Ted had my wife's breasts now. Empty bra cups because my wife took off her underwear so he could touch her as she had touched him. Empty bra cups because my wife was naked, in bed with her lover, just out of my sight. I sat in "my" chair and stared at her bra. So close, and yet so far: I could see her abandoned underwear, but nothing more.

At the sound of the covers being pulled back on the bed, I took off my own clothes and started to jerk off. The sounds continued for a while -- the ordinary noises of lovers making themselves comfortable. Muted talking -- friendly, caring, loving. I couldn't hear the words, but I knew what they were saying. More covers moving, then another intake of breath from Ted, followed by louder moans. Ted has told me many times that Sally loves going down on him, and that she has a voracious appetite for his cock. I had always believed him, but now I knew first-hand. Or is it second-hand, when you can only hear but not see?

As I adjusted myself in "my" chair, I realized that if I moved just a few inches to the left, I could see the very bottom of the bed. I'm not proud: I moved instantly. What I saw was Ted's feet, toes pointed upward; he was lying on his back while my wife sucked his cock. Each of his groans was accompanied by movement of his feet: shaking, jerking, toes curling and stretching. I watched his excitement build, and I felt not just like a voyeur, but like a cheap voyeur, getting off on nothing but naked feet.

He said something to Sally, and turned over. Her feet appeared next to his, her toes also pointed toward the ceiling. Her legs moved apart, and his -- pointing downward -- stretched out between them.

Again I heard that intake of breath, but this time it came from my wife. Her feet spread wider, then disappeared from view as he opened her legs and lifted them up. (I remembered Sally telling me after every date that he loves to hold her legs up while he fucks her.) Another reverse-gasp from her, then from him. Then, thanks to the Fairfield Inn, I heard an entire concert of sex sounds: moaning and groaning, gasping and whispering, and the unmistakably nasty sound of a cock going in and out of a very, very wet pussy. For just a moment I wondered where they had gotten lubricant, but then I remembered that my wife is always soaking wet for him; they have never used lubricant of any kind, other than their own, in all their years together. Still, I had never heard his cock sliding in and out of her as if an entire tube of K-Y had been poured into her. The sloppy sounds of sex and the sight of the soles of his feet overwhelmed me; I jerked off as much as I could, trying not to cum and trying not to cry.

Sally whispers words between gasps. I can't make them out, but I know from the tone that she is encouraging him to cum in her. Everything increases in speed and tone, and I hear their bodies slapping together as he drives into her. His groans turn to whimpers, then no sound except the slap-slap-slap of their bodies. Then he cums. I sit in "my" chair and listen as Ted cries out loudly with pleasure, again and again. I wish there was a way to describe my feelings as I listen to my wife's lover cum in her, but there is not. Sex -- even just listening to sex -- is exciting. But remembering that my wife is cuckolding me, that her lover is happily reaping the benefits of my wife's unfaithfulness, tempers the excitement with a deep, hollow, empty feeling. Then he cries out again, and the pain is hidden behind the incredible sexuality of the whole thing. I masturbate furiously, not allowing myself to cum. Cumming would make it impossible for me to cope with my emotions, and besides, right now cumming is for her lover only. As my wife is for her lover only.

The noises stop, except for Ted grunting through the aftershocks of his orgasm and the gentle sounds of kissing. The covers rustle, and I hear Sally's pocket rocket begin to vibrate. Yet another intake of breath from my wife, and her feet reappear at the bottom of the bed, alongside his. Then her feet spread slightly, and he slips one foot over hers as the sounds of kissing and the hum of the vibrator continue. Sitting in the corner of the other room, a thought occurs to me: I put that red polish on her toenails.

I know it was unintended, as she had no idea I would be so close, or able to see her at all when she went to bed with Ted. Yet it was just a day earlier that she looked at her toenails and decided she wanted new polish on them for her date, and asked me to do it for her. I obliged happily, as there is not much she wants from me before her dates and because it meant I got to see her naked legs the whole time I was working on her toes. But now, lying in bed with him, she could not have made it clearer to me that I was an outsider to her lovemaking than she did by exposing her feet to my gaze, her shiny red nails laughing at me until Ted's feet gently covered them.

Her feet told me everything. I could see when she opened her legs for him, I could see when she got excited, and I could see when she caressed his legs with hers. I'm not a "foot person" at all, but beggars can't be choosers; I got to see four naked feet in bed, when all I had seen for years was a closed, locked door. Four naked feet and an empty bra getting me off: pitiful, yes, but I was too excited to care.

At the end of one of their dates, Ted sat down and talked to me before he said goodbye. You can read about that experience elsewhere if you would like, but I will never forget how he described Sally cumming: "In less than two minutes, she was doing her dance." I cannot get that conversation out of my mind, even though it happened months ago -- the shocking realization that this man knew exactly what my wife looked like when she cums, and could describe it to me so simply, since we both shared the same experience. I've sat for hours thinking, "He knows my wife's dance."

Which is why it drove me wild when Sally came. I hadn't thought about "her dance" in weeks, until her feet stretched out, tightened up and then, with a loud moan from her, began... dancing. Her feet shook, shot up and down, drew up out of my sight and back again like a horizontal clog dancer. I saw nothing else of her orgasm except that, and I knew that Ted was holding her, feeling her and riding with her through it all. But I got to see my wife's feet dance with him just as he had described, and the overwhelming sensation of having lost her, at least for the moment, put me right at the edge of cumming -- and the edge of tears.

When her last spasms had ended and her "dance" was over, they began to talk. I still could not hear the words they spoke, but their tone was warm, open and... loving. They must have talked for a half hour, during which time I felt as I always do when they are just enjoying each other's company: left out, frustrated and horny. I could still see their feet intertwined, but nothing was happening to get my attention; I was alone in the other room, and I knew neither of them cared in the least about what I was thinking, feeling or doing.

After what seemed to be 17 hours, the conversation stopped and I began to hear slow, deep breathing. This time, their feet told a different story: Ted's were pointed up, Sally's were next to his but pointed away from him. The deep breathing continued, and I realized they were asleep. I watched to see if either of them moved their feet, to give me a clue about whether one or the other was awake, but no one moved for another 17 hours (trust me, times passes slowly when you're sitting in the cuckold's chair). Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer: I quietly got up and tiptoed toward the bedroom.

The problem with a description at this point is that I have to start somewhere and say one thing at a time, but that's not what I experienced. What I saw when I reached the edge of the bedroom was all of this at once: Ted was lying on his back, completely naked, his soft penis lying directly between his legs; my wife was lying on her side, facing away from him but pressed up against him, with the sheet covering her up to her chest, but her left breast had popped out of the top of the sheet and was there in full view; and last (but actually just as much first as the others), Sally's left arm was draped over Ted's body, with her fingers just a quarter-inch from his cock. Looking at this tableau before me was exciting as hell, but gut-wrenching: not that I had any doubt, but I was now faced with the clear fact that my wife was in bed with another man. Not just in bed, but in BED: naked, fucked and sleeping with him.

Then I saw something that will stay with me for a long, long time. Looking at Sally's hand resting on him and thinking about how the penis she was nearly touching had just cum in her, I noticed that her fingers were spread slightly and Ted's pubic hair was curling up between them, his curly, dark hair completely covering her wedding ring. All of her fingers were visible, even with his pubic hair sticking up between them, except for the section of her ring finger which held her ring. That was completely hidden by his hair. Gold, and diamonds and marriage and fidelity and everything else a wedding ring means, covered by her lover's pubic hair as they slept together. I looked at them for as long as I could, then returned quietly to "my" chair.

REALITY OVERWHELMS

I can't even guess how long they slept; it's one of those things that is perfect for lovers to do after sex, but it's torture for the guy jerking off in the other room. However long it was, I finally heard stirring, covers rustling, and quiet words. Then Sally walked out of the bedroom, stark naked, and passed by me on the way to the bathroom. She looked SOOO good, and SOOO naked: nipples hard, nothing covering her skin from head to toe(s), her triangle of pubic hair, and her naked ass when she passed by. Funny, but I felt like I had seen something private, intimate -- something I was not supposed to see. In fact, I had: I had seen Ted's lover fresh from his bed. My wife, but his lover. I savored the naughty treat in my mind, even after she closed the bathroom door.

When she came out of the bathroom, she stopped to wash her hands and face at the sink. I walked over to her, and asked if she was having a good time. "Oh, YES!" she said with a smile. "How about you? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. A little lonely."

"I bet you are," she answered, and walked back to (their) bed.

By now I knew the drill. Moving covers, kissing sounds, and Ted's intake of breath. She had his cock in her mouth again. More grunts, more groans, more of the sight of his feet reacting to her attention to his sex. I settled in for another feet-as-surrogate-for-sex show.

I saw them change positions, and I knew when to anticipate Sally's gasp as he entered her. She must have been soaking wet, because I heard the sloppy sounds of his cock in her pussy as clearly as if they were wired for sound. But I did not anticipate what I heard next.

"Paul, come here," my wife said through her heavy breathing.

I wondered if something was wrong, because I couldn't think of any other reason for her to call me. I jumped to my feet and went to the doorway, still clutching my erection in my hand. As soon as I got to the doorway I guessed that nothing was wrong, because in front of me was a scene I had not witnessed in years.

Sally -- my WIFE -- was lying on her back, naked. Her tits were exposed, her nipples pointing to the sky. Her legs were spread -- really spread -- and up in the air, held there by Ted's arms. I stared directly at the soles of her feet, waving up and down as Ted fucked her.

Ted was fucking her. He was on his knees, his torso straight up. He was steadying himself by holding on to my wife's legs. And he was fucking her. From the doorway I couldn't see his cock, but I saw his hips moving back and forth as he drove his sex organ into my wife's body. I couldn't breathe, and I didn't dare move.

"Since you were lonely, we thought you'd like to watch for a few minutes," my wife's voice said from behind her lover's body.

"Thank you," I croaked.

They paid no further attention to me. It was really as if I was not there, but I didn't care. After a minute of watching from the doorway, I quietly slipped into the room and stood at the foot of the bed, behind Ted. I bent down a little and actually saw his cock sliding in and out of Sally's swollen, dripping pussy.

Remember when I said I had polished Sally's toenails for this date? After finishing her nails and letting them dry, I also put skin cream all over her legs to get them soft for him. When I did this, Sally lifted her legs up to allow me access to the bottom of her thighs -- wearing panties, of course, and with her breasts covered with a blanket. As I massaged the cream into her legs, she caught me admiring the view and said, "You don't get to see me in this position very often anymore, do you?" I admitted that I did not, and thanked her for allowing me to see her like that.

That is what I thought of as I watched her in that same position, but with no blanket, no panties and with Ted between her legs, fucking her. No, I don't get to see her in that position very much anymore, and here in front of me was the reason why: she saves it for him.

In the years since I had last seen my wife make love to another man, I had forgotten EVERYTHING. I had forgotten how much naked skin there is. I had forgotten how exposed both lovers are to each other. I had forgotten how intimate it is, sharing bodies, sharing kisses, sharing... everything. Sex is wet and hairy and erect and sweaty and loud and horny and so fucking DIRTY that people pay good money to look at porn, but this porn was not for money, it was for pleasure. My wife. giving and getting pleasure. With him.

Then I noticed something: her leg muscles were moving, but not just from him fucking her. They were moving to fuck HIM, and his groans matched the contractions of her muscles. Looking between his legs, where his cock was completely inside my wife, I saw that her pussy, too, was contracting around him. I thought back to when we make love and Sally just lies there, motionless while I get off inside her. THIS was what she had been waiting for. She was fucking him passionately, when all I had known from her in recent months was amused passivity. I thought I knew what I had been missing, but I was wrong; the reality I saw in front of my face put my most intense fantasies to shame.
I stayed at the bottom of the bed, hidden from her view by his body, for fear she would say it was time for me to leave. But I don't think they would have noticed if I had been banging cymbals together, given the intensity of their lovemaking. I watched, masturbating like a madman, as Ted's speed increased and as he pushed her legs higher and his cock deeper. I heard my wife urging him on, telling him she wanted to feel him cum in her, and her words cut to my soul as they inflamed my cock. He was getting close. She was driving him over the edge. She was fucking him.

Then he came, and again words fail to describe what I witnessed. He cried out with pleasure over and over, and the sound of him -- another man -- cumming like that made me insane with jealousy. His body convulsed -- not randomly, but with a singular purpose, as I watched every muscle in his ass, his back and his legs contract to squirt his cum into his lover's womb. Again and again his body worked to reward my wife's fucking with his sperm; it was like a biology class, a porn movie and a thousand people laughing at me, all at the same time. There is nothing more intimate than cumming, and nothing more animal than a male inseminating a female. Ted cumming and inseminating my wife.

He collapsed on her when he was done, and I saw his softening penis slip out of her. I don't know why I expected a moment's respite, but I did not get it -- they were no longer interested in resting. He immediately began kissing her: starting with her mouth, he kissed down her neck, her breasts, her shoulders, her arms, her belly. She reached for her vibrator and placed it on her clit as he kissed and licked and sucked her everywhere. As his mouth approached her ear he began whispering, and I knew he was making love to my wife with his words as well as his body. Sally smiled, looked at me, and with a flip of her hand waved me away.

I knew better than to argue and I was grateful they let me stay so long, so I (slowly) made my way toward the door. Halfway across the bedroom, I heard that same intake of breath from her that had become the day's refrain, and I stopped to look. Ted had her right nipple in his mouth, and from the up-and-down movement of her breast I could see that he was sucking on her like a baby nursing. Like our babies nursed from that same breast when they were young. I stood, transfixed, at this sexy violation of our private lives, as my wife fed her nipple to her lover and shuddered from his attention.

Sally gasped, opened her eyes for a second and saw me standing there, masturbating. With a look of annoyance which left no room for doubt, she pointed to the other room and mouthed the word, "Now!" I turned and walked back to "my" chair.

Still reeling from the past 10 minutes, I sat and watched their feet once again. His feet sliding up and down her legs, her feet stretching and tightening in sync with her moaning, and finally "her dance" as she came -- loudly -- in his arms. I sat as quietly as I could through her aftershocks, hearing her grunts and seeing her feet jump each time, my eyes torn between staring at the little I could see of them and focusing on the empty bra laid out over the chair. I was right at the edge of cumming, but I contented myself with getting to the edge over and over again.

Soon, they both began to move. Sally walked over to her clothes on the chair without so much as a glance my way, and began to dress. Ted was obviously doing the same out of my sight, as I heard the sounds of zipping and belt buckle. They spoke casually, comfortably; like two lovers who knew each other (in every sense) well enough to relax together.

When they were dressed, Ted took my wife in his arms and kissed her deeply. The fierceness of their earlier kisses was gone, replaced by satisfaction and affection. They had made each other feel good, and now they were saying "thank you." I knew what was expected of me: I sat silently in the corner, masturbating in the semi-darkness.

Ted picked up his briefcase and walked by me on the way to the door. "Take care," he said, as if we had just shared a beer, not my wife.

"Thank you for making my wife feel so good," I whispered, too horny and too submissive to even slow down my masturbating.

"Oh, it was my pleasure. My PLEASURE. Bye." And he was out the door.

Sally slowly made her way over to me. "Did you have a good time?" she asked, sitting down on the couch facing me.

"Thank you SO much for letting me see you!" I blurted out. "It was incredible. I had forgotten. I had forgotten EVERYTHING."

"I know. That's why I thought we should take advantage of this weird 'suite' and give you a little show. It won't happen again so soon, so I'm glad you liked it."

"Oh, I really did. Did YOU have a good time?" I asked, as I continued to jerk off in front of her.

"I had a great time. I really like that he respected my wishes to be less 'hands-on' in public, and that made me SO ready for him when we got to bed..."

She paused for a moment, weighing her words, and after she spoke I understood why. Even with everything I had seen, everything I had heard, I was not prepared for the honesty and intensity of what she said next. Sally looked right into my eyes -- with love, but without a hint of doubt or show or guile -- and said,

"Sex with him is what sex is supposed to feel like. No sharp edges, no uncomfortable moments. It's just GOOD."

I don't even know where I got the strength to ask, but I had to ask:

"And with me?"

She did not hesitate with her response. "Sex doesn't ever feel like that with you. I love you, but it doesn't feel GOOD with you."

I sat there naked and masturbating in front of my fully-dressed, fully-satisfied and proper-looking wife, and tried to come to grips with everything that had happened, with what she just said and with the knowledge that Ted's sperm were swimming inside her as we spoke. My mind went to overload and came four days' worth of cum. I screamed out and squirted cum everywhere, while she sat silently and watched. Not with anger; perhaps with a little pity, yet still with love, my wife let me make myself feel just a little bit of what her lover made her feel, and what she made him feel. But we both knew it was not the same. Something had changed, and we felt it.

Since then, Sally has talked about how much she loves her relationship with Ted and how much she is looking forward to their next date. She wrote to him and told him what she said to me, and he answered he was glad she felt that way, because he did, too.

I don't know what it will be like the next time we sit at lunch together, but I do know I will be much, much less comfortable. There will be fewer moments when it seems like "just a normal lunch among friends," since I will not be able to forget what all three of us know: that for my wife, sex with him is what sex is supposed to feel like, and it doesn't ever feel like that with me.

It's not just words. It is reality.

Cuckold Paul


welches e book cuckold's diary