08/16/2016 09:13 in humiliation
Chapter 11: GETTING PAST SEX
If you're looking for a story with a lot of sex, this is not it. My wife, Sally, has been cuckolding me for nine and a half years now, and our own sex life has diminished as her relationship with her lover as grown. This is a description of the most recent, most exciting changes.
A special note for Literotica readers: I post the chapters of my Diary under "Loving Wives" because that's where it fits, at least until they create a "Cuckold" category. If the thought that my wife (of nearly 25 years at the time the events happened, now over 27 years) loves sex with her lover, and not with me, then PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS. If you read it anyway, please don't write to say that you were upset, shocked or psychologically damaged by what you read. If you don't like what I'm writing about, that's completely fine with me!
Thanks, Literotica, for giving me a place to share our adventures.
THE last chapter I wrote for my Diary was in November, 2006. Sally and Ted have met once a month since then, and the experiences have been wonderful for them and powerful for me. But nothing really new happened, so I did not feel the need to write another chapter. Until now.
At the end of 2006, Sally and I realized that our agreement that we would have sex whenever SHE wanted to had resulted in our having sex exactly three times from August to November. One can debate whether they were "mercy fucks" or merely Sally's feeling that a husband and wife are supposed to have sex, but in either case they felt very good to me but left Sally wishing Ted was around. So after their November date (November 20th, to be exact) Sally and I agreed that we would try a period with no sex at all between us, other than me helping her to cum with her vibrator when she was in the mood. We picked six months as a checkpoint: at that time we said we would discuss how it felt to both of us, and either stop or continue.
Even though we had rarely had sex before that fateful day, something changed with our decision. The obvious change was that my only sex partner was my hand, and that Sally would just smile when I said I was "going downstairs for a while." But something changed between us, as well. Surprisingly, the change was not alienation or a growing apart; in fact, we found we felt closer to each other than we had in a long time. It was difficult to articulate the reasons why – that would not happen until September, 2007 – but we both felt that the change was good. Strange, but good. One of the reasons I did not write another chapter of this Diary was that while I knew things were different, I could not explain what made them different. But we both knew they were.
Move ahead to September, 2007 – exactly one month ago today. With changes in everyone's schedules, we did this date differently. Rather than driving 90 minutes in the morning, seeing Ted and driving home, Sally and I chose to set out the evening before their date and actually SLEEP in the hotel (who knew you were allowed to do that?). Since Ted would be coming over around 11 a.m., we also decided that I would go out and pick up lunch for all of us to eat in the suite, rather than heading out to a restaurant. So first thing in the morning, while Sally showered and prepared for her lover, I ran over to Wegman's and picked up some of their healthy, ready-to-eat salads. The unexpected result being that now I can't walk through the supermarket without getting a hard-on.
Ted got stuck in traffic and arrived late, so he and Sally skipped their customary courtesy of sitting and chatting with me in the suite's living room, and instead went straight to bed. They closed and locked the door behind them, I dutifully took my place on a chair right outside the door, and they had sex while my hand and I listened. (See a previous chapter, entitled, "Click," for the genesis of my being locked out while they make love.)
I said there is not a lot of sex in this story, because all I know of their lovemaking is the moaning and groaning I heard through the door – hardly enough to create an exciting description here. But one thing did stand out: in the middle of all the moaning and groaning I heard Ted cry out, "OH.... MY.... GOD!!", followed by the bouncing-on-the-bed sounds which Sally's body makes when she cums. I knew Ted always gets excited when he feels her cum in his arms, but somehow this was different. I filed away the question in my mind, and continued to jerk off as the bedroom grew silent.
A while later, Sally and Ted emerged for lunch. Ted had thrown on his shirt, buttoning a couple of buttons, and as he walked his soft cock peeked out from underneath his shirttails. Sally had grabbed a fleece jacket and zipped it only halfway, her breathtaking décolletage emphasizing the fact that she was not wearing a bra underneath – or anything underneath that. They sat down at the table and I served lunch, sitting with them and trying to eat as if I were not in the presence of my half-naked wife and her half-naked lover.
As we ate, a curious thought crossed my mind: MY WIFE had put on clothing because I was going to see her! She did not have a second thought about being naked with THAT MAN, but her sense of propriety demanded that she cover up before having lunch with ME.
I was only partly done digesting that thought when Ted gave me something even more intense to chew on. He said that when they were fucking (he said that so casually – did he not know he was telling me about his fucking my wife???), Sally reached over and grabbed her vibrator, put it on her clit, and in less than two minutes was cumming on his cock.
I was in the middle of chewing, and suddenly the salad felt like sand in my mouth. Sally NEVER cums from fucking, or while fucking; I think it happened two or three times in her entire life. She loves to be fucked, but her orgasms require the proverbial "direct clitoral stimulation," usually for a good 10 to 15 minutes, so whoever is making love to her usually helps her along with kissing, sucking, etc. I've tried for years, and her two serious lovers have, too, but they hardly ever succeeded, and I never did. Yet here was Ted, sitting half-dressed with my half-dressed wife, telling me she came quickly and with him inside her.
"It was the most amazing thing," he continued. "Right before she came, all the muscles in her pussy contracted on me. Then she let go and had a HUGE orgasm. I tried to hold back, but once she started to cum I couldn't last any longer and I came in her."
I knew about that "amazing thing." I have felt it when I fingered Sally until she came. I know how she tightens up – so much that she squeezes the blood out of my finger. But this man sitting contentedly by her side had just felt it with his penis. And now I understood what had happened when "OH.... MY.... GOD!!" echoed through their bedroom. I felt a little sick, and very excited. Not that I had any doubt what had gone on behind the closed door, but here was my wife's lover describing the most intimate, INTERNAL functioning of her body. Her pussy. Which she gave to him. And not to me.
When lunch was over, Ted took Sally's hand and led her back to "their" bedroom. As soon as she entered the room – even before he could reach around to close the door – she slid her jacket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I got a momentary glimpse of her naked back and ass before the door clicked shut, but that image burned into my mind: the jacket really WAS for me; as soon as she was alone with her lover she wanted to be naked again.
Once again I listened as they fucked, and this time they took turns cumming. Somehow, that was less difficult to handle than their simultaneous, ground-breaking (and –shaking) orgasms. When they were finished and had talked, cuddled and scheduled their next date, they got dressed and came out to the living room. Time was short, so I quickly pulled on my own clothing and we left together, without much time for post-coital conversation. Sally was quiet on the drive home, and had to go to work after that, so it was late evening before we were home together and able to talk.
THE FIRST CONVERSATION
She poured each of us a big drink and we got comfortable on the couch. She looked at me with an intensely serious look and said, "Do you REALLY want to know why I am okay with having sex with Ted and not with you?"
My heart jumped into my throat, and I weakly said, "Yes."
"Are you SURE? I'm not joking, and if you want the truth I am ready to tell you, but it is going to hurt."
Now, Sally is not big on hurting me. Yes, she has a lover, and yes, she's happy to lock me out of the bedroom when they are together, but overtly hurting me is not something my Good Girl is comfortable doing. So whatever she was about to say, I knew it would be pretty mild.
I knew wrong.
My wife of 24 years, mother of our children, my life partner, took a big swig of her drink, paused for a thoughtful sigh, and said, "You have been a tremendous disappointment to me sexually ever since we met. I love you, but sex with you is uninspired, unexciting, predictable and boring. I knew it from the beginning, but once I met Ted, and then Ty, I found out what I was missing. You don't TRY, Paul; you do the same damn thing every time, and leave it to me to get off on it. Ted is always trying something new, always in a new position, always experimenting. And I love him experimenting on me. He EXCITES me, Paul. And you don't. You never did. So I'm really okay with waiting for my dates with Ted to have sex. And I'm really okay with not having sex with you. I can't say it will be forever, but it is for now."
I couldn't breathe. I never, ever expected to hear such painful words from my wife, and I never, ever suspected that what she said had been true since we met. I knew I wasn't a stud, but "a tremendous disappointment"? I studied her face for signs of discomfort with what she had just said, but there were none. We sat together for what seemed like hours, then I asked her if she still loved me.
"Absolutely. You are my partner in life, and we're in this together. You're just not going to be in ME when we're together."
"May I kiss you?" I asked with genuine concern.
"Always. I love kissing you," she answered with the same absolute honesty that had just brought my self-esteem crashing down around me.
We kissed and cuddled there on the couch for nearly an hour. Then I said, "I'm going downstairs for a while," not certain if the day's revelation and the evening's closeness would bring a change in her response.
"Have a good time. Think about me," she answered. Just as she had done for the past 10 months.
I went downstairs and looked through old pictures of Ted and Sally fucking. I found one where I could clearly see his penis inside her body, and thought about how it felt to both of them when they came together in that position. Then Sally's words, "You have been a tremendous disappointment to me sexually ever since we met," echoed through my brain, and I came so hard I nearly passed out. When I entered our bedroom I found my wife sleeping soundly, a contented smile on her face. And I wondered: was the smile for the great day of sex, or relief that she had finally told me the truth?
The next month passed uneventfully – literally. A few times a week Sally would ask me to help her cum with her vibrator, and I would think about Ted seeing everything I was seeing while I played with her. Surprisingly, a few times she told me to leave the bedroom so she could masturbate alone; I know she does that on her own, but she had never before refused my help when I was around. I asked her why, and she said, "Sometimes you just get in the way." I thought she was just joking, so I tried to blow it off, but she got serious and said, "I mean it. You're clumsy, and sometimes I just want to think about Ted and not be distracted by you. So go away; I'll call you when I'm done." As I sulked toward the door, she reached out her arm to me. I took her hand, and she drew me toward her. She kissed me deeply, held me close to her and said, "I love you very, very much. You're not good at sex, but you are my partner in everything else. Now go have a good time while I make myself cum without you."
With those few, loving words, I went downstairs and jerked off. I was a very happy cuckold.
Yesterday was the day we would drive to the hotel to prepare for today's date. Sally left home earlier than usual; when I got up I called her, and she said she decided to get her nails done – fingers and toes – for Ted. I was amazed at how strong a reaction that created in me, and I was hard in an instant. (The fact that I hadn't cum in two days helped, too; I always keep from cumming for three days before they meet, as the horniness helps me deal with the most difficult parts of being a cuckold.) I am still taken aback when my wife does things on her own to prepare for another man; I keep thinking my Good Girl doesn't act that way, and actually, I am right. But Ted's Bad Girl certainly does!
We – Sally, her new nail polish and I – left home around 9:30 that night. We drove for 90 minutes, talking about normal things. It had been a long day, and we needed time to unwind. We checked into the hotel, went for a drink at the bar and relaxed together. Just like any other couple getting away for an overnight together, waiting for the wife's lover to arrive the next morning.
Ted arrived at 10 am, right on time. This time there was no hurry, so we did get to sit and talk together. He and Sally sat on the couch, and he put his arm around her the moment they sat down. I was in the chair facing them – my "normal" place. They talked about work, politics and the weather in their own, comfortable way: no pressure, no falseness, no straining to find what to say. After a few minutes Sally began to trace her fingers along Ted's leg, finally finding her way to his crotch. I watched their faces as they continued to chat and Sally's fingers worked their magic on him.
After 9 ½ years of being cuckolded, I still cannot find the right words to describe what it feels like to be in the room when Sally and Ted meet each time. Their conversation in the living room is so damn ordinary – exactly what friends would talk about when they hadn't seen each other in a month – that I want to scream, "Am I the only one who realizes that you two are about to FUCK?" Of course, I don't say that. And of course, they DO realize it. They just are not in a hurry and besides, they are not alone; they save their passion for the bedroom.
I look at Sally's fingers tracing lines along Ted's leg and across his cock. My eyes are drawn to the new nail polish, as I remember that she had her nails done for him. I remember that her toenails are done, too, and that he will see them very soon. And I remember that any minute now they will get up and go to bed, leaving me with nothing to look at but the closed bedroom door, so I try to memorize everything: their bodies close together, the look in their eyes, the position of arms and legs and breasts and cock. I will need those memories soon enough.
Once Sally reached his penis, I knew their time in the living room was short. Ted actually managed to keep up the conversation as she stroked him, until finally she said, "I think we've been polite long enough. I want to be alone with you now."
He did not argue. They stood together, and I saw his cock tenting his pants. I think I gasped out loud as I looked at the erection which was about to be inside my wife, but they did not stay around long enough to notice or to comment. Ted wrapped his arm around my wife's waist, away they went, and I heard the bedroom door click shut.
For the next two hours Sally and Ted made love, talked, rested and made love again. I heard it all as I sat on my chair outside their bedroom door: clothing coming off, bed moving under them, moans and groans and sighs and gasps as they shared the intimacy which my wife saves for him. As I have said before, the feeling of sitting alone on a chair and jerking off while listening to Ted cum – loudly – in my wife is something which only a cuckold can understand and which no one can describe. I am ashamed at what I look like, even though no one is looking. And I am even more ashamed that I am excited by my shame. The result is a vortex which comes over me like a tornado as I hear my loving wife draw his orgasm out of him, and it is all I can do to keep from cumming and ruining the moment for all of us. Instead, I bite my lip and masturbate furiously until he is finished cumming, and then I start all over again as I hear Sally's vibrator begin to buzz.
Is it more difficult – or more exciting, I don't know which question to ask – to hear Ted cum in Sally, or to hear Sally cum with Ted? I have been wondering about this since they began, and my only answer is that I am such a drooling idiot of horniness and humiliation while this is going on that it would be impossible to tell. I do know that as this year of denial has progressed, the thought that my wife is sharing herself with him in ways she does not want to share with me has brought a level of embarrassment which I never imagined. If she did not want sex, I could sit back and bemoan my fate as the husband of a frigid woman. But her cries of pleasure make it excruciatingly clear that, as she told me, she LOVES sex. She just does not love sex with me.
I know it.
She knows it.
Ted knows it.
And, unbeknown to me as I sat outside their door today, that is what they talked about between the times they made love.
A little while after they finished making love the second time, the bedroom door opened and Sally emerged, wearing my pajama top. She looked at my hard cock as I jerked off on the chair by their door, smiled and said, "I haven't seen that in a while. Why don't you stop and get lunch ready for us?", and made her way to the bathroom.
I cleaned myself up and got up, wearing just my polo shirt. I took the salads and drinks from the refrigerator and laid everything out on the small table in the dining area. Ted came out wearing his shirt, with his very-satisfied penis once again showing from time to time as he walked. Since none of us was wearing anything but a shirt, I put towels on each chair and we sat down to have lunch.
Once again, the conversation was remarkable only for its unremarkableness; just what you would hear any time three friends got together for a meal. The memory of the sounds they made and the frustration at not having seen any of it made it hard for me to eat, but I kept up a good façade, hoping the talk would turn to something – anything – sexual. But it never did.
When lunch was over Ted excused himself to go to the bathroom, and Sally prepared to go back to bed. I stopped her and asked if I could see something – something sexual. She asked what I had in mind, and I said I would really like to see him touching her and her touching him, even if only for a minute. She said that would be fine.
When Ted came out of the bathroom and headed across the hall, Sally motioned for me to follow them. As they neared the bed, she slipped my (!) pajama top off and unbuttoned his shirt. "Paul wants to watch us for just a minute," she explained. Ted didn't hesitate: he put his face between my wife's breasts and began sucking on her nipples. She reached down and stroked his cock, and my mind reeled with the stark reality of what I saw. A million thoughts raced past each other: "my wife is naked; he sees my wife's body; her breasts are in his hands; her nipples are in his mouth; she is stroking that man's penis; he wants her; she wants him..." and when she dismissed me with a wave of her hand, telling me to get out of their bedroom, I added one more thought: "and she doesn't want me."
The lovers spent another hour together talking and cuddling, then Ted came out, dressed. While he washed his face I diplomatically retreated to the living room chair. For a moment I thought about putting my pants on, or at least pausing my masturbation, but that quickly passed; trying to maintain my dignity at this point was a lost cause. I thought Ted would say goodbye and head for the door, but he made himself comfortable on the couch opposite me.
THE SECOND CONVERSATION
"We had a WONDERFUL time," Ted began. "Sally is so passionate, so giving. At least, she is to me. We each came twice." He looked toward the ceiling, obviously remembering the details. "She was so wet and so excited. We were fucking the first time and she grabbed her vibe, and she got VERY close again and again, but fucking was breaking her concentration, so I pulled out and laid down beside her."
I had been stroking myself as he spoke, but when she said "pulled out" I nearly lost it. He pulled out of MY WIFE... he pulled his penis out of her pussy, so he could lie beside her and help her cum! I jerked off like a madman, using all my willpower to keep from cumming as he told me about fucking my wife.
"She came very quickly after that. The first time was much quicker than the second. But right after she came I got back on top of her and came in her."
"Are you talking about the first time she came, or the second?" I gasped.
"Both, actually," he answered with a smile.
"You were on top each time you came?"
He thought for a minute, replaying the sex in his mind. "Yes, I was. That position works best for us. The second time she got on top of me for a little while, but I rolled her over and put her legs up on my shoulders. That's the way I get deepest inside her, and I came like that."
I was overwhelmed. "Us"?? He talks about my wife and him as "us"?? He's sitting there, as polite as ever but more smug than I remember, talking about what "works best for us"? Telling me how he maneuvers my wife's body so he can get his cock deepest inside her? Yes, he has talked about these things before, but something was different now, and I was about to find out what.
"So, it's been 11 months since you had sex. Sally and I were talking about that. I think our once-a-month schedule is perfect, because it keeps it from getting too familiar. Every time is special for us. But I was wondering if it was enough for her, so I asked her if she was denying herself pleasure. She said she'd like more sex, but she can get herself off whenever she wants. And she said she's not missing anything by not having sex with you."
He let that sink in, and it really did take a minute. Now I understood what was different: Sally had, for the first time, told him that she didn't want sex with me. Yes, he knew that we had gone nearly a year without it, but apparently he had thought she was just playing along with the cuckolding game. Now he knew that she was not playing a game at all. Whatever words she used this time, he left their bedroom knowing that my wife really didn't want sex with me. Only with him. And he was enjoying that knowledge tremendously.
"I was thinking that I know what Sally looks like as well as you do," he continued, "and I know what she feels like better than you do. You haven't been inside her in almost a year – I bet you've forgotten what she feels like in there, haven't you?"
I looked at him sitting there, dressed and satisfied and, for the first time, gloating over his relationship with my wife. I saw myself, too – hunched over in a chair, naked and masturbating and shaking while my wife's lover flaunted his intimacy with my wife. My humiliation was excruciating and I could barely speak, but at the same time I remembered that, on an earlier date, Ted had stopped talking with me and had left because, as he put it, "you were just a grunting, incoherent mess." And I knew, as surely as I knew anything, that I wanted this painful scene to continue. So I concentrated on the words and answered his question.
"You're right, I have forgotten what she feels like. It's been so long – so very, very long – that I don't even know. All I know is how you sound when you cum, and it sounds SO good."
"Oh my, it really is. It is so wonderful to be inside her, to cum in her. I'm sorry you miss out on it, but I guess the reward is mine."
Trying to keep the conversation going, I said, "It was really exciting seeing the two of you touching each other. I had forgotten what that looked like, too."
I thought this was a good opening for him to tell me about how much he loves my wife's tits, or how good it feels when she strokes his cock. Instead, what he said landed on me like a ton of bricks.
"I wanted to talk to you about that. I was very surprised that you asked to see us together. I thought you were past that."
"What do you mean, past that?" I asked in complete surprise.
"Watching is about a threesome: Sally and me and you. I thought you understood that we are not a threesome anymore. We are a couple: Sally and me. I was surprised that you asked to be included, because I thought you understood that you're not included anymore."
I looked at him, searching for a hint of a smile. There was none. Nor was there the smallest sign of discomfort at what he said. What I saw was concern... or, more accurately, pity. My wife's lover wanted to help me understand that I had disappointed him by thinking that I was entitled to see sex. Not to HAVE sex; that had been taken away nearly a year ago. But to SEE it: to share in one, small way in sex between a woman and a man – between my wife and her lover. I saw him searching for the right words to help me know my place; to know that when my wife is having sex, my place is outside the bedroom door, with the door securely closed between us.
At that moment, the realization came over me. Sitting naked in front of Ted, masturbating and harder than I ever was in my life, listening to his description of making love with my wife and his gentle lecture on how I had crossed a boundary which I was not entitled to cross, I suddenly knew that I had found what I was born to be. I was a cuckold. In every sense of the word, in the cold, harsh reality of the sunlight streaming through a hotel window and illuminating the scene of a lover lecturing a cuckold about proper behavior, I was where I was supposed to be. At the same time that I wanted to melt into the upholstery in shame over what he was saying and how I was responding, I also knew that there was only one thing to say.
"You're right, Ted. I'm sorry. I really wanted to see sex, and it was very exciting to see you two touching each other, but it isn't my place. I know I'll want to see it again, but I promise I'll do my best to keep quiet and to stay out of your private time."
Ted smiled a genuine smile. "Thank you," he said. "I'm very glad to hear that, and I appreciate it. It will make it better for all of us next time." With that he got up and headed toward the door. At the door he turned to me and added, "Sally and I made a date for November 20th. It works perfectly for us to celebrate your one-year anniversary."
I shuddered intensely. "I'm really glad. I hope it is a great day for both of you. And thank you for taking such good care of my wife," I called after him.
He turned toward me, smiled again and said, "It was my pleasure. She deserves everything I share with her." And he left.
Sally slept for another half hour, then I kissed her awake. She got out of bed, and I saw her naked as she reached for her clothes. She looked absolutely beautiful, and I wanted to reach for her, to touch her, to have sex with her right there and then. But she was quietly dressing, still reveling in the memories of her lover's touch. She was there, but not THERE. More accurately, she was there – but not there for me.
When she was dressed we hugged tightly and said we loved each other. In the car on the way home, she asked me if I had had a good time.
"I'm a cuckold," I said, trying not to drop my entire revelation on her all at once.
"I know," she answered with a smile.
"No, I mean I really AM a cuckold. I was meant to be one. I don't belong in your bed when you are making love; I belong outside the door." I looked toward her, hoping I had not upset her.
"I know," she answered. "I like that. And I can't wait for November 20th."