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Cuckold Regret

"A cuckold dream doesn't go as planned"

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Author's Notes

"Careful of what you wish for."

I was married to an absolutely wonderful woman. She was sweet, caring, intelligent, funny, and incredibly gorgeous. She has an angelic face, is tall and has a slim build. It was easy to understand why I was so attracted to her. It was also easy to understand why most every other guy we've ever met felt the same. She was definitely a looker but also had an air of approachability that seemed to invite attention. So much so, that strange men would often chat her up wherever we went out. 

I'd imagine most men would find it off-putting to be made a third wheel on their own cart, but I found it as a source of pride. I knew a man's innocent chat was far from innocent. That the true intent was to get into my wife's pants. But I also knew that my wife was devoted to a fault and would never even consider acting on whatever attraction she may have had. I could trust her completely and enjoyed watching all those men crash and burn at the end of the nights we went out. No doubt, jacking to thoughts of being with her.

Everything was great as the years went by, but as is typical, the sex life started to wane. It was certainly not for a loss of attraction. I think it was more a loss of variety. We married early in our lives and didn't have many partners, so our limited experience was with each other. She seemed to be content with the missionary position, cum and roll over to sleep. No blow jobs, no anal sex. Nothing more than the slow love-making of a couple in love. I wanted more. I wanted a slut. We were in a sexual slump and thought another dick would help get her to let her sexual hair down.

Over the years of seeing all those men hungry for my wife, the thought of sharing her began to take hold. I started having visions of her being fucked in all sorts of positions. Imagining her tits bouncing as she rode a cock as I looked on. Her mouth engulfed on some stranger's cock. And the semen. Seeing semen dripping from whatever orifice my fantasy centered on at the moment. Gawd, I wanted to see that more and more.

Late one evening after a night of dancing, we got into bed as usual and had sex. I was nearing orgasm when I broached the subject of bringing another guy into our bedroom. She exploded into a hissy fit. She threw me off her and called me everything from a pervert to a latent homosexual. I got a thorough tongue lashing. She even threatened divorce if I ever brought it up again. Geez. That didn't go very well at all

It was days before she spoke to me again, and even then it was abrupt. I finally had mustered up the courage to confront her. I played the victim and said I couldn't apologize about being open with my feelings toward her. That I was only thinking of her and making her happy. That she was beautiful and deserved it. She allowed me to finish while standing there with arms crossed and lips pursed. She didn't buy any of it. The silence continued.

This went on for another week and it only served to fan my fantasies. Thoughts of seeing her with another man grew into an obsession, enough to make me watch porn about cuckolding, gang bangs and circle jerks - any form of debauchery in which I could envision my wife playing the starring role. Watching that porn soon turned into jacking off to it. A lot. Every chance I got, I would drop my pants, call up a porn site and check out the porn videos... and jack. It was only a matter of time before my wife came home early and walked in on me.

Again with the hissy fit, only much more intense now. I've never seen her so upset. 'How could you' this and 'What's wrong with me' that. It was as close to a pacing rant as I've ever seen her in. I think I preferred the silent treatment. She finally stopped long enough to put her fists on her hips and tell me we were going out. 

"You want this?" she said. "Fine. You're going to get it, you prick!"

She stormed upstairs leaving me with my mouth gaping. What just happened? Did I hear her right? Should I be happy or worried? I was still absorbing her words when I heard her call downstairs to me.

"Put your dick back in your pants and make your own dinner, asshole. And be ready to leave at ten. I don't even want to see you before then!" The door slammed.

The words had such vehemence in them that I was certain she would see to it that I did not enjoy that night. I was no doubt going to be led into a sea of regret and guilt and would rue the day I brought it up. It was only 6:00 and I knew I had a long wait ahead of me. I went to the kitchen to make myself a ham sandwich and cracked open a beer. Yes, it would be a very long wait indeed.

10:00 finally rolled around and I dutifully went to the base of the stairs and in a tacit 'fuck you' she made me wait another twenty minutes. When she finally emerged, my jaw gaped open.

She paused at the top of the stairs with her hands on her hips looking down on me as if to give me time to absorb her outfit. She wore black high heels and thigh-high stockings. I had forgotten she even owned a pair. Her skirt was a black three-quarter thigh length with a zipper up the front. I've never seen her with the zipper anything less than fully closed, but now it was unzipped a third of the way. And her blouse. It was a white button-down that fit her like a glove and showed off her physique perfectly. The buttons were undone to just past mid-breast, enough to advertise that she wasn't wearing a bra.

When we'd gone out in the past, she'd never dressed so provocatively. She looked gorgeous. If I were to guess, my wife did indeed have intentions for the night that she'd never had before. She slowly descended the stairs and stepped up to me.

"Look, I still think you're an asshole," she said. "But I do apologize for the things I've said and the way I've been acting. I'm just upset about why you would want this." She stepped close and took my hand. "We're married, for Pete's sake! We're supposed to be together. Us! You and me. I can't believe you want a total stranger to share our bed." Nuzzling me now, she looked up and added, "Isn't there something else we can do?"

I was scared to respond for fear of saying something wrong and sparking another hissy fit. All I could do was avert her questioning gaze into my eyes. I stood, mute.

"I love you and want to save what we have. What we've built. But if this is what you want, I'll try. I won't promise you ANYTHING, mind you... but I'll try. And I don't like it either."

All I could do was reply with, "I love you, too."

Again. The wrong words. She tensed up and pushed past me toward the door telling me, "Let's go!" over her shoulder.

We drove to a bar we frequented in the past. It was clean and had a good DJ that read the crowd well and would often fill the small dance floor. It always had a decent crowd, but never so packed that we couldn't find a seat. Plus, it was close. The drive would be uncomfortably quiet and I wanted to shorten it as much as possible.

We parked and headed for the entrance. She stopped at the door, pulled up her zipper to halfway, undid another button of her blouse, and turned to me to say, "Asshole!" before flipping her hair and going inside.

It was more crowded than usual, but we were fortunate in finding a couple just leaving their booth. We quickly staked our claim and settled in. The booths were larger and U-shaped at the back of the room. They were intended for larger groups, so I felt a little guilty with it being just the two of us. But it didn't look as though there were any other options that night.

"Get me a drink," she barked.

It was the first thing she'd said since leaving the house, so I wasn't about to wait for the table to be bussed at that point. I obediently slid out of the booth and headed toward the bar. 

I ordered a couple of cocktails and reflected on whether I should suggest just calling it a night and head home. Maybe we'd be able to work something else out. I looked back at her just as a waitress cleaned off our table. She was smiling and chatting with the waitress when both broke out in a laugh. I hadn't seen her do that in a while, so I thought I might just play out the night after all.

I returned to the booth and set the drinks down and slid back into the seat. She seemed a bit more approachable now. Her smile wasn't as wide as it was with the waitress, but certainly more than I've seen in weeks. She literally guzzled her drink down and slammed the glass down on the table.

"Get me another drink. I'm going to the bathroom," she said as she slid herself out and headed toward the restroom. 

I've never seen her guzzle a drink before. She's a sipper. A drink would normally last her an hour. I flagged the waitress and ordered another. My wife's on a mission for sure. At the very least, it'll be an interesting evening. 

I could see her emerging from the bathroom and taking a detour to walk past the bar, rather than the direct route back to our booth. Not surprisingly, every guy along the bar was ogling her. All those same guys that I knew would crash and burn before, but that night might well be different. The thought excited me.

I watched as several men tried to muster the courage and say something before she passed them. It's funny how when one guy gets up the nerve to break the ice - and is successful - the others quickly gather around. It's like when a lion makes the kill, then the hyenas come out of the bushes to steal the prey. I enjoyed watching male behavior. My wife has always been approachable, but now she looked to be flirting. A subtle difference, but I recognized it. She accepted an offer of a drink from one of the men while another offered her his seat. It didn't look like she'd be returning soon. The men surrounded her in animated story-telling as I sipped my drink and settled in to watch. Yes. It was a good call deciding to stay that night.

She finished her drink, said something to the boys and headed back to our booth and slid in beside me. She looked much more relaxed now. Almost normal. I offered her the drink she'd asked for and asked if she was enjoying herself. She replied that she was doing fine, underscoring the word 'fine'. She chugged that one like the first and ordered me to get another. I complied and headed to the bar again.

The crowd had grown, so ordering another drink took a bit long. I looked back over my shoulder to see one of the men in the group was sitting next to her in our booth. She was playing with her hair and giggling a bit too much with the guy. Yes, she was definitely flirting - and I was loving it. I ordered a double this time.

I returned with her drink and sat down just as the guy was getting up. I was a little disappointed, but then my wife followed. She turned to me and took a big swig of her drink. Her eyes never left mine. I couldn't tell what message that peer contained, or even if there was one, but she put her glass down and headed toward the dance floor with her new friend. The guy looked fit and good looking enough, but nothing special. Certainly no Adonis. But, hey. I wasn't making any calls tonight. 

My wife had a sense of rhythm and body control that made you want to dance just watching her. The guy looked to be pretty good too. The two of them appeared like they were having a great time on that first song. It was a hip hop song with a heavy beat and easy to dance to. They got closer for the second song. Much closer. It was salsa, I think. The kind that had a lot of grinding and sexual innuendo. I had never seen my wife doing that with me, let alone another man. I was strangely aroused by it.

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The third song was a slow one. The transition between songs was as flawless as their transition into each other's arms. They slipped together like it was a practiced routine. They rocked to and fro in a close embrace and watched in growing excitement as my wife put one hand on his chest and nuzzled her head into his shoulder. He whispered something into her ear and she smiled in response. He shot me a quick glance before turning her ass to face me and put his hands on my wife's buttocks. She made no move to discourage him, and it aroused me.

The music ended for that set and they both headed back to our booth. She slid in first, followed by her new friend. She introduced him, we weakly shook hands and, as usual, he directed the remainder of his attention to my wife. She guzzled the last half of her drink and ordered me to get another. I slid out and headed to the bar yet again.

The wait was even longer now. I was looking back at our booth and watched as they chatted with their heads too close together for casual conversation. It was like their words were meant to be heard between them and only them. She sat back playing with her hair as her new friend kept his face close to her ear. It was appearing that my wife was really playing it up for me. But would she go through with it? Should I suggest going back to our place? I thought I'd better let things play out to see what my wife was thinking.

I returned to the table with her drink. Her friend's eyes were on my wife and my wife's eyes were on me. She had a strange look in her eye I couldn't quite make out. I scooted next to her and she took my hand and gave it a squeeze. A signal, but what? She took my hand and led it under the table, placing it on her lap. She squeezed again, never taking her eyes off mine. What did she want me to do?

She squeezed again, but this time with a gasp. She pulled my hand a bit further and that's when I felt it. Her new friend had his hand up my wife's skirt and was touching her pussy. Her zipper was hiked up further and her legs subtly spread enough to give him access. I could feel her skirt being tugged by his hand fingering deep inside her. I began to notice the musky aroma of her sex. 

Her eyes never left mine. It was as if she was studying me, looking for a reaction of some sort. She let go of my hand and reached for my crotch and rubbed the fly of my pants. My mind was reeling with images of finally seeing my wife with another man and I was incredibly hard and undulating against the material. It seemed as though she found my reaction.

Without a word, she whispered something to her friend and they both scooted out of the booth. I had assumed we were leaving at that point and heading back to our place - back to our bed. A long-time fantasy was finally about to come true. I needed to settle the bill and hurriedly reached for my wallet.

My wife turned toward me and guzzled another half a cocktail before placing her index finger on my lips and said, "Wait here. I'll be back." With that, they both headed toward the back door with the guy's hand kneading my wife's ass.

What just happened? Where is she going? My head was filled with questions and I was quickly losing my hard-on. Dejected, I ordered another drink and settled into the booth and stared at that door. Lots of people came in and out. Some to get a smoke, others to leave altogether. But my wife was not among them. The wait was excruciating.

Maybe forty minutes and another cocktail later, I saw her coming in the door. Surprisingly, alone. Her friend was not with her. She had a sultry look about her as she slowly made her way toward me. I could see that her skirt zipper was still high, just below her crotch. Her blouse was disheveled and undone to her navel and her hair was mussed. She looked thoroughly used as she approached me. She leaned in to take my head by the nape of my neck and kissed me hard, sticking her tongue deep into my mouth. I could taste the other man's cum. I could smell the unmistakable aroma. I even felt the semi-sticky consistency of half-dried semen on her lips. And I didn't witness any of it.

She stood erect, guzzled the last of her drink and said, "Let's go."

I paid the tab and headed home. The trip back was as silent as the one going out. I badly wanted to ask about the juicy details of her experience, whether she enjoyed it, would she do it again. Where did she suck him? But I kept quiet.

We got home and headed to bed. No sooner had I taken my pants off when she attacked me. She pulled off my briefs and threw me onto my back. She took my dick into her hand and inserted it into her excited pussy and rode me like a rodeo star. The sex that night was incredible. I don't think we ever had that degree of raw passion. She was on fire. It was like she was a different woman.

After an incredible orgasm for us both, she rolled off me and settled in the afterglow. I began to ask her about the details of what had happened that night. I didn't see any of it, so I wanted to hear about it at least. She cut me off.

"Good night, asshole. I love you, but you're an asshole."

I didn't know what to make of it but decided to keep my curiosity at bay and go to sleep.

Over the next week or so, things had gotten back to normal. We were as tight as ever but so was the sex. It was as infrequent and obligatory as ever. I did notice, however, that her outfits were becoming more and more provocative. More makeup. She even started wearing perfume. My wife was definitely changing her appearance and I could only guess as to why. 

My suspicions were confirmed when she came home later than expected one day. She looked much like she did that night: disheveled, mussed and more revealed than when she left. And like before, she kissed me. There was no mistaking that she recently had a dick in her mouth and was letting me know it. I began to ask her about it when she put her finger to my mouth signaling me to hush. And I did. The rest of the evening was as normal as it had ever been.

I wasn't sure I liked the way things were going. As much as I wanted to share my wife, it was always with the intent of my being there to watch it. I even had fantasies of joining her in a threesome. All that raw sex being done without me was getting to be increasingly uncomfortable. She's having all the fun and I'm not. I had to realign the situation. Get things back on track. It was my fantasy and I wasn't getting any of the benefits! I'd bring it up tomorrow at dinner.

I came home at the regular time and was curious to find a strange car pulling out of our driveway. I pulled in and entered the house to find my wife greeting me in a bathrobe. I was about to ask who it was that just left when she cut me off once again by putting her finger to my lips. I shut up and watched her walk to the sofa. She turned to face me and opened her robe. She was nude and had no reservations about the unmistakable glisten of semen streaming out of her pussy and trailing down the inside of her thigh. She sat down and spread her legs.

Taking that index finger of hers, she signaled me to come to her and said, "Come here, asshole. I've got a job for you." 

Fuck! I missed it again! But I got so aroused that all I could do was rip my clothes off and sink my dick in her pussy for some sloppy seconds.

I didn't get the chance. She directed me to get on my knees between her legs. I was suspicious of where this was going, but she ignored my apprehension and grabbed my head to pull my face against the lowest point on her thigh that the stream of semen had gotten.

"Eat it," she said. Clean me up."

This was certainly not where my fantasies ever went. I never imagined having to lap up another man's cum. If anything, I wanted to watch her do it. But my wife's grip on my head let me know that I wasn't really being given a choice in the matter. I acquiesced as she guided my face and mouth as I lapped up her inner thigh to her pussy. It wasn't long before she had an incredible orgasm, before pushing me aside and headed upstairs.

She smiled at me and said, "Thank you, asshole," and headed for the shower.

I was kneeling, nude and shrinking. And feeling more than a bit humiliated. How did things go so wrong? My wife is evidently having plenty of sex and I'm left to jack off for relief. Would I ever be a part of the play? Would I ever even get to watch? I didn't know. This was getting ridiculous, but everything else in our life was perfect. Better than ever, actually. Except for the sex. The sex was seldom and dispassionate. 

It was then that I realized that the sex between 'us' hadn't really changed. It was as mundane, infrequent and obligatory as ever. The only thing that had changed was her. Yes, she was now every bit the slut I had hoped her to be. But the imagery remained in my head. I wasn't witnessing any of it. If it wasn't for the semen I'd been tasting - and eating - I wasn't even sure anything had changed at all! No, nothing had changed except that now she was the one with all the spice.

Clean-up duties continued after that and were more frequent. I was expected to lap up some guy's cum from her mouth, her pussy, and her breasts. I even had to endure eating cum from my wife's asshole! She'd never had anal sex with me, for Pete's sake. I've eaten everyone's cum but my own. 

I came home late one Friday evening. I had called beforehand, so she knew when I'd be home. I entered the house to find my wife dressed like a French whore. She wore a corset with fishnet thigh-highs and garters. Her panties were a thong and those high heels of hers...What struck me most was the collar she wore on her neck. Wow, she looked so fucking hot I got an instant hard-on.

She told me that she arranged for a party. A special party. And that guests were due any minute. A party? Finally! I'd get to see my slut in action. And better yet, I'll likely be part of it. My dick got hard enough to be uncomfortable in the restraints of my pants. 

She approached me, took my hand and led me to the den. There, I found the computer on, playing gang-bang porn. I was about to ask what was going on when she put her finger to my lips. I knew what that meant. She kneeled down and undid my pants, pulling them down along with my briefs. My dick sprang up and ready for attention. She kissed the tip of my cock and directed me to sit down. When I did, she stood, swiveled the chair around to face the computer and took my hand to place it on my still undulating dick.

She leaned into my ear and whispered, "By no means are you allowed to leave this room before I come and get you. You're not allowed to even peek out that door. Is that understood?"

What? Fuck! You expect me to... while you're going to... "Yes," I finally murmured. "I understand."

"I love you. Have a good time, asshole," she said as she closed the door behind her.

The doorbell rang soon afterward. It was the first of five. I obediently stayed in the office, fighting my urge to look in on the debauchery going on not twenty feet away. I muted the porn on the computer and elected to listen to the sounds of real porn going on just outside the door. Funny how things came full circle. All this started with my visualizing my wife as the star slut in a porn movie, and now that she's actually become the star slut - I'm still left to visualize.

I settled in for a long jack-off session, wondering how many loads I'd be directed to eat that night.

 

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Written by bifan2see
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