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That’s What Happened

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My wife stroked the shaft of his cock, then leaned over and took the head in her mouth.

I watched. His name was Jonathan. He was a guy she had dinner with at Riviolies, a fancy restaurant in an upscale area of our city. Another time they met for drinks at the bar on the fiftieth floor of a tower downtown. He impressed her.

I’d never taken her to either of those places. My salary was more Applebees.

He drank whiskey. He bought her shots of Angel’s Envy after she’d drank her glass of Chardonnay. I smelled alcohol on her breath when she got home.

They laid together on top of the mattress covers. We were on the fourth floor of a hotel near the outer loop. She had her hair up in a bun. The only thing she wore were a pair of burgundy panties. Jonathan’s hand was down the front of them. I could see his knuckle rise and fall.

I’d met Jonathan downstairs at the bar for the first time. His hair was red and down to his shoulders, his face sunburned, his eyes blue. He wore a long sleeve white golf shirt. He had a long lithesome body- like a swimmer.

His penis was long too and thin. I didn’t see his penis at the bar but he struck me as the kind of guy who might have pulled off pulling it out for my wife and I to look at while we stood at the bar. Without being creepy.

He bought us all a shot of whiskey. He lined the shot glasses up side by side- three little soldiers. He took one, gestured to us to take one, raised his in the air and said, “To open doors.”

I didn’t know what he meant. I raised my glass then put it down on the bar still full of the amber fluid.

“You don’t like whiskey?” He asked.

“He doesn’t drink,” my wife said. “He’s sober.”

“Kind of,” I said, not feeling a need to explain my use of weed.

Elise clinked her shot glass with Jonathan. They drank. He sloshed half of my still full shot into Elise shot glass and his now empty shot glass.

They raised and clinked their glasses again and downed my whiskey.

Jonathan asked me why I wanted to watch him have sex with my wife.

I started to answer but he interrupted.

“What if I decided not to let you watch?”

I bet my face went pale. That would be terrible but I was not in a position where I could say that. I froze, then started to answer. I was going to say anything but the truth but Jonathan lightly punched me in the shoulder.

“No, no, ease up, partner, I’m just messing with you.”

I never answered his question. My wife stared out the window. She stood between us. Not with him. Not with me.

She was standing with two men who had designs on her vagina.

I’m sure that had been the case in her past because my wife is model-like pretty. Lots of men have thought about her lovely, tucked away, very symmetrical, neatly trimmed or sometimes waxed smooth vagina.

I often think about it.

Here’s a description of my wife: she is, as I said beautiful. I’m surprised she selected me. She’s tender, soft skinned, steady on her feet, sensitive, and though not easily disturbed, she’ll cry if moved to. She’s taller than you’d expect given her ancestry, and mostly slender, though she has a slight belly which she occasionally complains about. “I wish more fat would go to my butt rather than my stomach,” she’s said. She’s slender as I said, but with full hips that have born children and modest round breasts with small sensitive nipples. Her hair is brown and straight, her skin is slightly pale. And though we’re in our mid forties her smile has the childlike buoyancy of her nine year old self- it’s like morning sunlight after a rainy night. She is reserved and conservative in words, gesture and dress. And she’s very sexual though I’m not sure she likes thinking about herself like that. Not long after we’d met and I’d started kissing her neck to begin a second round of love making she’d said to me, as she parted her legs and moved my hand between them, ” I don’t think I’ve ever said no to sex.”

Despite that, she was leery of this cuckolding idea when I introduced it early in our relationship. She said more than once…”it could be fun.” But more than once after we’d done it with a couple of uninspiring men she said the only reason she did it was because it turned me on so much.

There were unsaid words I didn’t hear when she said that. I didn’t want to hear them. I wanted to be cuckolded, not a guy who wanted to be cuckolded but never had been. So I countered by saying, “I never want you to do it unless you really want to.” This got me off the hook. This gave her an out that she’d never take.

I started this story with a description of her putting Jonathan’s penis in her mouth.

I started Anadolu Yakası Escort there because the night before this event she had written Jonathan and told him that she:


“He knows,” she told me sitting in a booth at our favorite Taiwan restaurant that night, “I wrote him and told him that I don’t do oral. Or anal.”

She added that second part just so I could hear it for the 19th time. No anal.

An aside: She told me not long after we met that she had a small anus. Anal sex was out.

“How do you know you have a small anus,” I asked. “Who told you that?” I tried to sound as if I was up on this kind of thing and would be able to provide relevant information.

“My doctor,” she said.

The conversation went further but I won’t share the slightly involved history of my wife’s small anus other than to say there is a history. The main point I wanted to make was that she’d been very clear that oral sex or blowjobs were off limits to Jonathan.

But there she was in her burgundy panties taking the head of Jonathan’s long thin penis in her mouth.

Here’s what happened: They were on the king sized bed when she stopped kissing him, rolled onto her side, scooted down, gripped his shaft with her left hand, stroked it up and down a few times and then, with the briefest of hesitancy, took the head of his penis in her mouth. I was six feet away cuffed to the desk chair.

There were reasons why oral sex was off limits. One was because it would lead to my wife having to swallow semen. This idea was as gross (her word) to her now as it was when her high school boyfriend tried to get her to swallow his.

The second reason oral sex was off limits was because not only does my wife have a small anus but she also has a small mouth. A dentist told her that. When I learned this, knowing what I knew about her small anus I got to wondering if all her openings were undersized.


Her vagina, which comes up a lot in this story seems to be in the normal range as evidenced by the fact that she had had a lot of sexual partners before we met. More than the average women but not a lot more.

It was Jonathan’s idea that I be cuffed to a chair in the hotel room. He brought it up at the bar. When he did my wife blushed making me think it was something she’d brought up with him. They drank a lot together. I think she liked the idea of having a drinking buddy who was a man.

Anyway Jonathan led me up to the hotel room by himself, cuffed me to the desk chair, and then left to get my wife.

Before he left he stopped in the doorway and walked back to me with his eyebrows raised.

“I really enjoy your wife’s company, a lot. Are you really okay with me having sex with her?”

I said, “yes,” very clearly and with a sound of confidence, as if I was definitely sure.

The moment they came through the hotel room door they were kissing. I watched from 20 feet but to them I might have been on the moon. They locked onto one another, ground their pelvises, bellies, and chests together. Elise pulled back and reached for the bulge in his pants. She is always the first to reach for the genitals. She very rarely initiates sex but she advances the action once it’s begun.

She once told me that she has trouble saying no.

“I have a slippery slope,” she said, “Once I slip, I go.” She didn’t laugh when she first told me this. It wasn’t amusing to her like you might think. It might have been a personal trait that caused her unnecessary heartache. She told me one story about how she’d stayed with a man for three years because she liked the sex and not much else about him. For a person with a vagina and a lot of desire, it’s not easy to be real.

From the entryway Jonathan and my wife made their way to the bed and fell on it embracing. They fell as one. They pulled off pieces of clothing in between kisses and caresses except, as I mentioned Elise kept her burgundy panties on.

After a time my wife slid down and did what she said she wouldn’t do: she took the head of Jonathan’s dick in her mouth.

You may want to hear why I think my wife broke her own rule. Here’s the list:

A) Her slippery slope

B) She knew it would be humiliating for me and she knows sexual humiliation is one of my things.

C) The real reason:

Before she written to Jonathan saying she WOULD NOT DO ORAL SEX he had written to her.

He had written this sentence which she’d showed me: “I think it’d be good for your husband to see you swallow a load of my cum.”

As much as she was grossed out about the idea of swallowing semen she was amused by this. She liked Jonathan’s Bostancı Escort bravado. She opened his email and handed me her phone.

“Read the last sentence,” she said and then laughed.

“I think it’d be good for your husband to see you swallow a load of my cum.”

She looked up at me with Jonathan’s penis in her mouth then pulled it out and said,

“Nick, tell Jonathan the last time I sucked your cock.”

I was silent.

“Tell him,” she coaxed. She was smiling that effervescent, life giving smile despite the saliva that made her chin glisten.

I hesitated.

“Tell him,” she insisted.

“She’s never sucked my cock.”

“Never,” she repeated… turning to Jonathan.

“So if he cums in my mouth it will be something I’ve not done with you, right?”

“Right,” I said.

“Why do you think I’d do that?”

I squirmed. My wife can be rough but this was beyond her normal, brief I’m-indulging-your-need to be sexually humiliated comment. She was rolling.

I said. “I don’t know why you’d do that. You don’t like it.”

“Right. I don’t like it and I won’t do with you. Why?”

I said, “I said I don’t know.”

“You should know,” she said. “I’m your wife.”

She spoke like she was in a porn video, her lips slick and puffy, holding a cock, with a slight snarl to her tone. But she doesn’t watch porn videos. So where that voice comes from I don’t know. But it comes and there’s something natural and true that sticks me with erotic joy.

She resumed sucking. She took his balls in her hand, squeezed and massaged them. Jonathan lifted his hips, pushed himself into her mouth. She backed off, sucking just the head.

I leaned forward. Her small mouth contained him. For a time, she pulled back, used just her tongue, licking, like a lollipop, then tickling his slit with the tip. Back down she went with her lips over the head. She sealed the head. Then let it pop out of her mouth while she stroked his shaft, up and down, up and down. (She became musical. Her tongue the melody. Her lips the harmony. Her body the rhythm.)

I saw the pulse start at the base of his penis. He groaned and thrust. Her small mouth stayed put. She had the whole head of his organ in her mouth. I didn’t see her swallow. I didn’t see her throat expand and contract.

She rose and beckoned me with a crooked finger. She sat up on her knees, her mouth closed, her lower chin out, carrying him.

Again she beckoned me with her finger.

“I can’t,” I said by raising my eyebrows helplessly and showing that my hands were cuffed to the chair.

She laughed with a slight gurgle catching some on her fingertip. She kept her jawline straight, slipped to the edge of the bed, stood, took three steps and put her lips to mine, opened her mouth and kissed me.

She didn’t kiss me.

What she did was spit him into my mouth. She spit a good sized glob of his semen into my mouth. Then she kissed me. A little peck. A nothing of a kiss.

“Swallow,” she said, turning back to Jonathan and falling girl like on his chest, “that was a lot.”

When she turned back and looked up at me she grinned. She grinned that star-bursting bright smile of hers as she fell back laying against Jonathan’s quieted body.

They laid side by side on their backs slightly propped up on pillows. Jonathan had his had cupped over her vagina on the outside of her burgundy panties. She plucked at hairs on his chest.

“Do you like the taste of another man?”

She asked me.

I said, “No.”

“Good,” she said. “Better you swallow than I do.”

There was a long pause. Less long than I’m sure I imagined. For me, the few times I’ve been tied down, time lengthens.

I thought she’d be ready to leave. I was ready to leave. I was impatient. I say this even though I didn’t get off. I wanted to go. I wanted to take my wife’s hand and walk with her to the elevator with the smug satisfaction people have when they’ve just had a moment of having their cake and eating it too.

I wanted her back. This is problem with the whole cuckolding thing. Unconsciously I think my wife is mine. I mean that. Something deep inside me mistakenly believes I have a claim to my wife as if she were my child or my slave. I had the perfect right to say to her, “okay that’s enough, stand up, get dressed and let’s go, you’re going to walk with me hand in hand to the elevator and we’re getting in my car and driving home together. From this point on Jonathan is a nonentity because I own you and decide who and when you you will fuck which is mostly me unless I want you to fuck someone else.”

My cuckold fantasy is trying to inform me that my Erenköy Escort unconscious possessiveness is errant. I don’t own my wife. Seeing her take the head of Jonathan’s long thin penis in her mouth should make that clear. But it doesn’t. Yes the fantasy stiffens my cock. But it doesn’t undue my claim.

What happened after Elise finished her blow job and spit Jonathan’s semen in my mouth was that I remained cuffed to the chair. I watched them kiss. This stiffened me. I forgot about my claim.

I had a brief hope that I’d get a glimpse of my wife’s vagina. I thought Jonathan was going to remove her burgundy panties.

And when he didn’t I went back in my mind to the first weeks of our relationship when she’d just got waxed and was showing me. I lay between her legs mesmerized by her perfect female organ. I’d seen a fair number of vaginas in real life before I’d met her, and thousands in porn videos. Hers was perfect. I guess I just decided that. There’s no standard as far as I know so I think the idea came to me in that moment when I had time to quietly gaze upon her vulva knowing I was going to have to keep my distance. I don’t think it’s right to say you’d marry a woman because she has a perfect vagina but I might have done that.

They continued kissing. The night wasn’t over. Not for them. Jonathan was in a refractory period and Elise was letting her body restore his need to cum again. She can do that to me with a smile. They had unfinished business and I was an obstacle to finishing.

I once had a girlfriend I was with at a bar who ran into a coworker. She had had a thing for him before she started with me. I knew about him. They’d been lovers. The serendipitous meeting in the bar triggered a solar flare of concupiscence. I became a non entity.

I drove myself home that night but before I left I leaned against the bar and watched them play pool. Their flirtatious caresses upset my stomach. He could have unsnapped her jeans, yanked them off thrown her legs over his shoulders while he took her on the pool table in front of everyone. A man and a woman can portal into their own reality. They can rev up the y energy so high between them that the rest of the world becomes a blur. I’ve seen it. I saw it that night. I was seeing it tonight. My wife and Jonathan had a portal open. I was blocking the way.

Jonathan uncuffed me. His long now soft penis waggled about near my face.

“You didn’t get too hard did you?” He said glancing at my mostly flaccid state.

“I want you to get dressed and go downstairs.”

My wife closed the bathroom door to use the toilet as I dressed. After a long time I could hear her tinkle. I waited to hear the toilet flush and for the door to come open and for her to come out and kiss me goodbye. That didn’t happen.

Jonathan, standing in front of me naked, cocked his head in question. “Aren’t you going to leave?”

I walked in circles around the rooms on the first floor checking my phone every two or three minutes.

More than once I encountered Mona, delivering trays with dishes of food covered with plastic tops and returning empty trays that had been left on the hallway floor outside of rooms.

When we almost ran into each turning a corner she stopped, smiled and said, “Hi.”

It was the opening I needed.

I spoke quickly pouring out my words.

“My wife’s with her boyfriend in a room on the 4th floor. He told me to come downstairs and wait. So I’m walking. Waiting. Have you ever waited for someone who’s doing it? I’m waiting for her. I wish I was there. Do you do room service? I walk when I’m nervous.”

“No ingles,” she said.

I smiled at her, grateful for the moment. Though she was a pretty dark haired woman with piercing brown eyes, and hips every bit as baby giving as my wife’s, there was room for only one vagina in my heart.

At one point my wife texted that she was on her way down.

The tension abated immediately. The world fit back together. She was coming home. I could make my claim.

In that moment I realized my body had been aware that that was not a given. Some women never return. If a portal presents itself they take it because they need variety. Some women can not spend their lives with just one man.

My point is this; The sad truth about a cuckold like myself is that I only realize how whole my wife makes me when she’s gone and might not return.

Elise once left a yellow sticky note on my underwear in my underwear drawer that said, “I could use a new pair of panties.” At lunchtime I rushed off to Dillard’s and spent thirty minutes sorting through hundreds of choices. I picked out that burgundy pair.

Whatever happens to us. I’ll have this moment. She cuckolded me. I asked for it. It was terrible. She did and I’ll want her to do it again.

I hurried to her. We hugged or I hugged her.

“Did you do it?” I asked.

“That’s what happened,” she said.


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