Cuck & Fuck

I’ve heard it referred to as sloppy seconds, but that’s not quite it. Some call it cuckolding, but that’s not it either.

My wife prefers to call it cuck and fuck.

If you break it down, it’s kind of a combination of both…but not really. Like, I don’t actually watch my wife have sex with another guy – it feels too much like cheating for her, and I’m not sure I could stomach it. Instead, she tells me about it later…with evidence. Then we have sex.

Today is a perfect example. I’m waiting in a sports bar about two miles away from our rented condo. It’s early afternoon and Brooke is probably being undressed right now. About two hours ago she made the acquaintance of a guy about 20 years younger than me, toned. Maybe a local, looked a little like Bradley Cooper.

We decided to spice up our vacation to Sanibel Island by adding the cuck and fuck routine. None of this stuff is planned – one of us just decides spur of the moment to add it to the daily routine if we have the urge and the setting seems right.

Actually, the majority of the time we’ve decided to do it, it doesn’t happen. Everything has to be right: one of us has to suggest it and the right guy has to walk through the door. Finding the right guy isn’t as easy as it sounds, either. The guy has to be into it. Yeah – at some point during the interview process my wife has to break it to the guy that she’s married and she’s only interested in a quick screw. Sometimes she shares more details than she needs to – I’m constantly reminding her to be careful with how much she shares. Guys can get a little too curious, or even protective. Once in a while a guy will ask why her husband shares her. I’ve told her before that she doesn’t need to share that much – just tell the guy you want to hook up while your husband is away.

This all started about 3 or 4 years ago. And there it is, right on cue the lyrics play on low volume, as an afterthought to the muted clamor of conversations, glasses being served, and talking heads on the televisions above the bar, the Eagles tune reminds me of how her eyes told me everything I needed to know.

My wife is about 10 years younger than I am. I don’t necessarily have ice-cold hands, but my wife has a little more energy than I do…sometimes. I suspected her of being unfaithful to me. When I confronted her about it she let it all out. She told me everything. Sex with me was boring. She wanted some excitement. She wanted me to be creative again – the way I was when we first met. She wanted me to pull over to the side of the road and make out with her once in a while. Fuck her behind the dunes during an evening stroll while on vacation. Wake her up at 3 am and send her off to work exhausted with a smile.

It just so happened that the night I had confronted her about it she had rendezvoused with the guy she was seeing a little earlier. I was mad. She was mad at me, too. Once we got all of our anger out I remember thinking that I didn’t want to lose her. Outside of all the practical and selfish reasons like, who else was going to put up with me? or doesn’t marriage mean something? – the bottom line was I married her because we loved each other. And I think she thought the same, too.

We made love that night – actually, we fucked that night. We fucked because we loved each other. It was passionate. It was animal.

She warned me. There were traces of him all over her. He was still inside her. I just couldn’t hold back. I wanted to claim her again. I wanted to be invited and…I don’t know…desired by her again. I wanted her to look me in the eyes with need while she rode me, chasing down her orgasm.

I remember fingering her. Her panties were still damp with his release. I felt it on my hand. My first thought was that it was like sticking my bare hands into the garbage. It only took a moment for lust to take over, though. She helped me slide her panties off, clenching them into a wet ball. She paused for a moment, looking at me, then held them to my face. I breathed in. I smelled the familiar scent of her sex mixed with an earthy smell that was the signature he’d left behind.

I looked at her while she held her panties to my face. There was warning in her eyes. Her gaze warned me that there was no going back and that this was the consequence of my neglect. We were equals now and she could soak her panties whenever she felt the urge.

That was the first time. I can’t remember how many times it’s happened since. Not as many as you might think – probably less than 10 in a three year period. You just happened to catch us in the act. Like I said – everything has to fall into place. Both of us have to be in the mood and the guy has to be interested. I think that’s the toughest part of making it happen – not every guy is interested in playing along. Some guys have reservations about having sex with a married woman. Other men back out wondering if I’m going to walk in on them and ask to join in, or inject them with something and run off with their wallet or something worse. It’s a small demographic that meets the criteria.

What’s in it for me? Well…I can tell you why I like it. My reasons for liking it might not be the same as everyone else that has a wife that they like to share. And I’ve never actually met anyone else that has the same kink. I’ve watched videos on porn sites and read about other people in forums, but never actually met them or bothered to ask them why they like it. I think my wife and I are a little more shy about our activities than other people might be.

First, this might sound odd, but thinking of my wife as a predatory animal is a turn on. Like I said, I don’t actually watch and we’ve never recorded, so I’ve never seen my wife in action – just the end result. But she’ll describe to me in detail the highlights of the encounter. I find myself uncontrollably turned on thinking of her as someone who’s desired by other men – desired and enjoyed by other men, but returning to me. It’s almost like a power I have that’s equal to her power to attract other men and have her way with them.

I also get off on knowing she’s being pleasured. Like, the best part of sex, I think, is getting your partner off. When she goes off with another man I feel like I’m part of making that happen, similar to how satisfying it feels when I’m the reason for her orgasm directly.

Jealousy has a strange role in the experience. My stomach is in knots right now. I don’t like how I feel right now. My mind is in a thousand different places right now. Repulsive thoughts: is he going to make her cum harder than I ever have? Will she need him again? Will I still be able to satisfy her? Is he going to hurt her?

But then, I’ll get a text in a little while telling me to hurry back to the room. All of that jealousy, all of that doubt has a funny way of adding to the intensity of what follows. Both of us cum harder, and feel closer in each other’s embrace at the finale.

I’ve noticed some other things about the experience too. My wife has always already orgasmed at least once with the other guy. Some of the pressure to satisfy her is less.

The lubrication is amazing.

One last thing. There’s something chemical in the whole experience. My wife smells different, if that makes sense. It’s like she’s wearing a new perfume and it excites me in new ways every time. I taste it. I smell it – it’s like a sixth sense.

My wife texts me and I raise myself from the empty barstools surrounding me. I pay my tab having shared my secret with no one. I enter the room and close the door behind me. She smiles, naked and watching me undress.