29 comments/ 103264 views/ 9 favorites Jay: A Cuckold Fantasy By: Blue_shoes1980 Note: this is purely fictional. I think a lot of women have had the fantasy of being swept up by a younger, more forceful man, who would then relegate her wimpy husband to the role of servant and maid. This is my version, with a little twist at the end: Harold was laboring, his thrusts becoming less forceful, and certainly for me, less pleasurable. I wished he would just finish! As usual, I wasn't going to climax; I already knew that. His weight was becoming unbearable, and my thighs were crampec from being held so far apart by his flabby knees. I forced my mind away from my body and drifted off into a much more pleasurable memory, that of a guy named Jay. Jay was 22, six years younger than me. I'd met him at the gas station while filling up the Boxster. He was good-looking and confident, and he didn't try to hide the fact that he was staring at my ass as I bent over the rear of the car. I was used to that. Being pretty and driving a hot sports car, I attract a lot of stares. Jay was more brazen than most, and the man was just plain gorgeous! The fact that I was always horny lately made it easy to smile at him. We'd ended up talking over coffee at the little kiosk inside the station for more than an hour that morning, and when he got up to leave, he'd left his card on the table and his kiss on my neck. Jay's Plumbing. The number he'd written on the card was his cell. I smiled, already fantasizing about making love to me. I had called him the very next day, and he gave me directions to his place. It was a double-wide trailer. I was nervous about parking the Porsche in this neighborhood. Both of us knew why I was there, though, and after a few minutes of nervous laughter and some pointed questions about my marriage, he stopped talking, propped his chin in his hands, and just stared into my eyes. He didn't even need to say anything. Tentatively, bashfully, my hand went to the top button of my blouse, watching his face. This was so unlike me! I hoped I hadn't read him wrong, because I wanted him so badly it almost hurt. Two buttons, now. His cocky grin encouraged me, so I continued, and by the time I draped my blouse over the back of the chair, he was coming around the kitchen table and reaching for me. That first kiss was so ... welcome; so liberating. I tried to remember if Harold had ever kissed me like that, and I didn't think so. If he had, it had been ten years and forty pounds ago. My husband had gotten sedentary and soft, while I'd kept my college figure and my high-school sex drive. Jay was the age I wished I could stay. Thirty was getting closer all the time, and I didn't want to give up on life like my husband had. "Damn, Dianna," he breathed, "I want you." That was what I needed to hear. My hands clutched at his tee shirt, yanking it upward frantically. He helped, chuckling softly. When I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, I could already feel him bursting forth, his erection eager for me. I pulled his jeans down with me as I went to my knees, my eyes taking in the enormous tent in his boxers. He let me discover a thickness and length I'd only dreamed about as he stood there, his hands on his hips. When I pulled his shorts down, his dick literally sprang upward at me. I looked up at his face as my hands gripped it, and I think I licked my lips! At any rate, he laughed, and eased his hips forward. He wanted to feel my mouth on him as much as I did, and I let my gaze drop as I took the broad flat head between my lips. He was long, and easily as thick as my wrist. When I took him in my mouth, I could feel the throbbing beat of his heart. My pussy clenched as I imagined him inside me there, and I could feel the wetness of my panties as they clung to me. He breathed deeply as I slid my lips down his length, my hands surrounding the base at his belly. I let my tongue explore him, tracing the veins and the way his skin dimpled and flared beneath me. He tasted good, his precum slightly salty. I looked up, and he was still watching me, smiling blissfully as I tried to take him all in. I couldn't; Harold gave me little chance to perfect my deep-throating skills. When I gagged, Jay pulled back, letting me regain my composure. His hands went to my head, his fingers entwining lightly in my hair, but he only held me there. It was I who moved forward again. Again, the touch of his cockhead at my uvula caused an involuntary clench of my throat. I concentrated on working him with my tongue this time, laving him with the flat of it as I held him in my mouth, and he groaned. I sucked him gently, revelling in the taste of his skin. "Oh God," he said. His fingers tightened in my hair, and he thrust forward slightly, urging me on. I sucked him in, willing my throat to relax, and he pushed just past my uvula. There were still two more inches to take in, but he stopped. I was glad. My mouth was full of him, pulsing and throbbing, and I needed time to get used to the feel of him against my tonsils. My eyes were streaming tears, and I wondered what I looked like to him. When he pulled back, I kept my throat relaxed, and there was no urge to gag this time. My lips surrendered him, inch by inch, until they surrounded his head once more. I tasted more precum, and I swallowed, taking it into my belly. Sucking him and rolling the tip of my tongue around his head, I felt the first subtle twinges of a climax begin, far below my mouth. It warmed my belly as it spread outward, and I knew that when he entered me, I would come immediately. For now, I was content to spend a lifetime worshipping him with my mouth. The blowjob lasted a few more minutes, long enough for me to take him even further into my throat before I began to gag, and then he reached his hands under my armpits to pull me up to him. My eyes were watering. I was streaming saliva from my lips. He kissed them anyway, tasting himself all over my mouth. "You're amazing," he said between kisses, and I probably blushed. His tongue danced with mine, and I felt his cock, still throbbing, against my thigh. I wanted him to take me. Now. His fingers undid the snap of my slacks and they dropped to the floor around my feet. Reaching behind me, I unfastened my bra, and felt the coolness of the air-conditioning on my breasts. Then, the warmth of his hands, softly squeezing them, as he caressed me there. A brush of his thumbs across my nipples, and I felt my climax lurch forward. My breath became ragged. Leaning back, I let him mouth my nipples, his tongue flicking gently across them, and my knees began to go weak as my orgasm began to spread. It was creeping upward and over me, driving me deliciously insane. I gasped, grabbed his biceps for support, and gave myself over to the sensations that were criss-crossing my body from my pleasure centers. I moaned once, my legs stiffened, and when I felt him bite down gently on one nipple, that was it. "Oh, gooooodddddd..." Once I'd stopped shaking, he picked me up ... literally picked me up. Turning me around, he laid me on my back on the table and hooked his fingertips in the waistband of my soaked lace panties. I raised my hips to help, and he looked down at my freshly shaven pussy, smiling. "I'm going to fuck you inside out," he promised, and I spread my legs as widely as I could, praying that I could accomodate him. When the head of his cock spread my labia wide, I gasped. He was the biggest man I'd ever had inside me, and I had a brief moment of fear that he'd tear me. I shouldn't have worried; it took a moment to adjust to him, but the brief pain was intensely pleasurable. As he stroked deeply into and out of me, I gave myself over to another, almost instaneous orgasm. It multiplied, and my body shook wildly as he ground deeper and deeper inside me, lighting one fire after another within my body. After fucking me long enough to make my backbone ache, he pulled me off the table, turned me around, and bent me forward over it. He went even deeper in that position, and I came again, holding onto the table for support. Later, much later, he hoisted me up again. This time he fucked me standing up, with my ankles locked behind his waist and that glorious cock deep in my belly. I was experiencing what felt like one long, continuous orgasm, and I know I screamed at some point. I knew I'd never experience another fuck like this, and I couldn't get enough of the pleasure. When at last he coated my cervix with load after load of thick semen, I didn't even worry about getting pregnant. I wanted to have his child; to remind myself that I'd been fucked by a real man. My entire sexual life with my husband would forever pale before this day. ************** That was two and a half weeks ago. I hadn't seen Jay since that day, but now, with the memory of his cock thrusting deep inside me, I managed to climax. I gripped Harold's upper arms, letting my voice go as my pussy spasmed around his semi-flaccid excuse for a penis. When it was over, I couldn't have told you whether he ever came or not. He simply collapsed on top of me, until I squirmed from under him and went to sleep. The next morning, I stuffed a couple of washcloths and a huge wad of toilet paper into the toilet and flushed repeatedly, until it overflowed. As I suspected he would, Harold did his usual ineffective job with the plunger. When he gave up, he told me to call a plumber. I called Jay's Plumbing. "Listen, I know you probably don't want to hear from me again," I said into the phone, my hand held over my mouth, "but I really do have a plumbing problem." I told him what I'd done, and he laughed. "Jeeze, Dianne, you're a nutcase, you know? When you left that day, I was afraid you'd say I raped you. You looked like you'd been dragged down a riverbed," he said. I detected a definite air of pride in his voice. The bastard! "I wasn't sure if I wanted to see you again," I told him honestly, "but I have to. That day ... Jay, I've never felt like that before in my life. I realized what it was, to make love to a real man." I accentuated the word 'real'. He promised to be right over. "I know the address," he said. "I drove by your house a few times after that day. You've got a real nice place, sweetheart. Your old man must be loaded." He hung up. After trying the power drain snake, Jay told Harold he'd have to dig up the entrance to our sewer connection, because he'd chased the blockage that far. He winked at me when he gave him the price. It wasn't going to be cheap. Harold reluctantly agreed after a half-hearted attempt at bargaining. Jay smiled, knowing that he'd now screwed both the wife and the husband. I watched him take off his shirt, craving him more than ever. In the house, Harold carried on over the cost of all this, but I didn't pay him much attention. I was watching Jay through the kitchen window. His upper body glistened with sweat in the mid-day sun. I made him a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, wanting just to smell him, then I took it out to him. "You wanna help?" he asked, grinning. "Get down in this hole and help me dig." I got a shovel out of the garage and joined him in the hole. Within five minutes I was breathing hard and my blouse was soaked through with perspiration, but it was worth it to be so close to him. I imagined his cock inside his jeans, sweaty and musky-smelling, and my nipples ached. Then I thought about Harold, no doubt watching us from behind the kitchen curtains. He must have thought I'd lost my mind! Every so often, Jay would back up against me, knowing how I thrilled to the contact of his ass against me. I think he knew Harold was watching, too. Then he stopped. "There it is," he announced. I could see a section of washcloth sticking out of a crack in the plastic pipe. He stabbed at the pipe with the shovel a couple of times and it broke open. The release of all that water behind it sprayed both of us, and I screamed, laughing at the same time. My blouse and slacks were covered with god-knows-what. "I need a shower," I said, clamboring out of the hole. Jay stopped me with one hand on my ankle. "Uh-uh. Not until I get this section of pipe replaced." He pulled me back down into the hole next to him. "Then we'll both get a shower," he said, grinning. He pulled me to him then and kissed me, briefly but authoritatively. When I turned to climb out of the hole the next time, my face was flushed and I had butterflies in my stomach. Harold was at the door when I came inside. "I saw that," he said, fuming. "What the hell did you think you were doing out there?" I looked him in the eye, my voice calm despite the violent shaking inside me, and said, "Oh, get off it, Harold. He's an impetuous guy; that's all. You certainly weren't about to be any help with fixing the problem!" I began to unbutton my blouse as I walked toward my bedroom, and I dropped it on the floor as I said over my shoulder, "I'll say one thing, though. That man can kiss!" Fortunately, I didn't have to listen to any more of Harold's bitching. Jay's display, and my statement of the obvious, seemed to cow him into a submissive state of mind. He wouldn't meet my eyes when I came back into the kitchen, now dressed in a tank top and shorts, with no bra. I'm sure he could see that my nipples were trying to break through the thin material of my top, and he had to know that Jay would see them, too. I didn't care how he felt about it. When the repairs were finished, Jay brought in a change of clothes and a bill for Harold. It was for quite a bit more than the original estimate, I saw. Jay didn't bother to explain; he just stood there, winking at me and waiting for the inevitable explosion from my husband. Harold asked me to bring him his checkbook. While Harold wrote the check, Jay asked about our house. I told him it had four bedrooms, but that we had no children. I offered to show him the house, and to let him shower in our master bathroom. After I gave him a tour, he told Harold that he was going to take me up on the offer of a shower, and to leave the check on the kitchen counter. Then he took my arm and pulled me toward the bedroom "Wow, this place is a palace!" he gushed as we walked through the living room. He said loudly enough for Harold to hear, "Hell, I could easily live in one of these rooms, and you two would never even know I was around!" I laughed, but the thought made my stomach flutter again. "I don't think I'd be able to ignore you," I said, also loudly enough for my husband to hear. Jay laughed and stopped in the middle of the bedroom. He turned to me and slid his hands onto my ass. "Listen, what's with your old man?" he asked, more quietly. "He couldn't have missed my kissing you out there, but he didn't even have the balls to say anything." His hands gripped my ass cheeks, and he pulled me to him. He looked sideways at our bed. "I could fuck you right here," he growled, "and I bet he wouldn't even stop me." I straddled his leg, feeling his hardness against my thigh. I was already wet as I kissed him. "I wouldn't care if he tried," I breathed. Jay laughed. "You're a saucy little thing, aren't you? Now, why don't we get that shower, like I promised?" His lips kissed away any argument I might have tried to put up. Taking a shower with a stranger, with my husband out in the other room, was the single most exhilarating experience of my life! We had left both the bedroom and the bathroom door open, knowing Harold could hear us clearly. As I stepped out of my shorts and panties, I stole a glance out the door, and saw Harold's shadow on the carpet. Smiling wickedly, I joined Jay under the water, shrieking at the coolness. "Makes them nipples stand right out," Jay said loudly, glancing toward the door. He scraped a rough thumbnail across one, and I gasped. There was no response from the other room. Later, Jay handed me the washcloth and commanded me to "wash this big ol' dick, darlin'." He said, "I might want to use it later." I dropped to my knees, wiping his cock gently with the soapy cloth, hefting it to clean around his balls. It wasn't as hard as I remembered it could be, but it felt alive, and I wanted to take it into my mouth and suck it until it stood straight out, then let him use it on me. He didn't, and the desire filled my belly with fire. When we came back into the kitchen, Harold was sitting at the counter, silently crying. He wouldn't look at Jay, but he stared at me with reddened eyes and asked me what I was doing to him. My heart broke, and suddenly I felt as humiliated as he did, standing there with wet hair, naked under a half-open robe. I went to him, begging him to forgive me. It was probably too late. How could I ever earn his trust again? I was relieved when his arms went around my waist. Jay laughed at us. Folding the check and putting it into his pocket, he shook his head and said in a taunting voice, "Well, look at the lovebirds, now. Isn't this just the picture of connubial bliss?" As I turned to look at him, he continued, "...not at all like the picture of a couple of weeks ago, when you were squirming around on the end of my cock, is it, Dianna?" The air seemed to suck right out of my kitchen at that moment. Harold's arms, which had been holding me tightly around the waist, now dropped away. I felt his body stiffen, and he turned to shoot me an accusatory look. I can't explain the feeling I had in that moment. It was a combination of fear, shame, dread and anger. And, lust. I couldn't help it. I still craved the cock I'd just been washing, while my poor husband stood just outside the room. Jay galvanized all these feelings into one decisive monent when he walked over and took me by the arm. "That's right, Harold." He spoke my husband's name like it was the term for some disease. "I fucked her, and she loved it. Now I can see why. She needed a real man." He pulled me to him and wrapped a possessive arm around my waist. "You know what else?" he said, as his hand did a slow slide down over my belly. "I think I knocked her up." Suddenly I remembered my carelessness. I sucked my breath in harshly, knowing that it could very well be possible, and Harold seemed to read the harsh reality in my eyes. I was a cheating slut. His reaction surprised me. He sobbed once, and dropped his gaze to the countertop. Jay whispered to me, "I think I'm gonna fuck you again, Diana." Then, more loudly, "And I don't think Harold's gonna have a problem with that. Are you?" My husband never even raised his head. When Jay led me back into the bedroom I was feeling such a combination of sensations inside me, not the least of which was desire. I almost hoped Jay would impregnate me. I deserved it. I was a shameless slut, and if Harold divorced me, perhaps I could spend my days raising our child; Jay's and mine. For the next hour, Jay ravished me like he had that first day, right on my own bed. He was tireless and inventive, taking me in every position I'd ever imagined, and a few more. When at last he was ready to cum, he moved to my mouth, filling my mouth with his cum before he pulled out and shot the last of his load across my face. I clenched my eyes shut, secretly loving the slutty feeling of having his sticky trail of semen emblazoned across my nose and forehead. "That's so you don't get pregnant this time," he said as he pulled away from me. He leaned over and put his hand on the back of my neck, pulling my sticky lips to his. "Now," he said after he'd kissed me, "let's get busy. I think I'm gonna set my office up in here." Another moment of lucidity hit me, and I sat up suddenly. "Are you out of your mind?" I exclaimed. "Jay, this is our house. Harold will never let you do this." Of this, I was fairly sure. Even as meek as Harold had been concerning his wife, he was a businessman, and a successful one at that. Jay, however, seemed not to consider this. Jay: A Cuckold Fantasy "Oh, he'll come around," he said confidently, pulling his jeans on. When we came back into the kitchen, Harold was gone. I checked the garage, and he'd left in the Hummer, probably while I was screaming my slutty pleasure out in the bedroom. I looked around the kitchen, but he'd left no note. The checkbook was gone, though. I had to assume he was clearing out the account, then. I didn't much care. Jay handed me my cell phone off the counter. "Call him," he ordered. Harold answered on the first ring, and Jay took the phone from me before I had a chance to speak. "Listen," he began, "I need you back here. Where the hell did you go?" He listened for a moment, then said, "How can you walk out of your house while another man is fucking your wife? Are you that much of a wimp?" He seemed angry. He let his eyes travel down over my body as he listened, then he smiled and said calmly, "Well, we need to make some adjustments. First of all, bring the checkbook back. Your wife needs a boob job." I blushed, glancing down at my 34B breasts. I'd never felt inadequate, and Harold had always told me my breasts were perfect. Now, however, if Jay wanted bigger, I knew I'd do it. I wondered how Jay would make Harold pay for it. Jay continued, "I need to use your bedroom. I'm gonna make it my office. You'll have to sleep in one of the other rooms." I heard Harold's voice, then. It was high, angry beyond words, but we could both hear the resignation in it. Jay simply waited for him to finish, then ended the conversation with, "When you get back, I'll likely be fucking Dianna again. Don't be alarmed by any more screaming." With that, he smiled broadly at me and hung up. "Piece of cake," he said, as he put the phone on the counter. "I had him pegged for a wimp the minute I saw him." He put his hands on the shoulders of my robe and tore it backward in one rapid movement, letting it fall to the floor. "Now, let's work on getting you pregnant, for real." ********* The next two months were strange. After ten years of marriage, I thought I had understood all there was to know about my husband, but the thought that Harold could ever become my cuckold never entered my mind. I was amazed at Jay's instant dominance over him, and as time went by, of my own. Harold, for his part, seemed defeated from the start. I suspected something in his childhood contributed to his submission; something I never had the chance to find out. I would probably never know, and it seemed irrelevant now. Our roles had been reversed. I was the boss of the house, along with Jay. Harold had become our whipping-boy, literally and completely. Though he kept up his office position, he came right home to wait on us, as Jay ordered. He even allowed all of our combined finances to be taken over by me, through Jay. He told me, in confidence, that he preferred it that way; that he was tired of being the accountant. I was amazed at the assets we actually had. I'd been the clueless housewife, grateful for the shiny new Porsche I got every two years, but never questioning where the money came from. This was all new to me, but it didn't take me long to make a decision: I secreted $100,000.00 away before Jay even saw the account register. I knew that a man with a cock like Jay's might get tired of me one day, and I wasn't going to be left out in the cold. It didn't seem likely at the moment. Jay and I shared the master bedroom, banishing Harold to one of the guest rooms. Harold was allowed, and even encouraged, to watch us having sex, and if Jay was in the mood, he could even masturbate while we fucked. Jay laughed at the sight of Harold stroking his undersized penis while he ravaged my holes with his monster of a cock, and sometimes he'd have me show Harold what a real man's cock was supposed to look like, as I took it into my throat. Later, after I'd taken Jay's copious load in my pussy or my ass, Harold was allowed to clean me up with his tongue. This always caused him to erupt, and then he would have to clean that mess up, too. Eventually, Harold was even allowed to finger my clit while Jay fucked me, and then to catch Jay's seed in his hands, so we wouldn't get the sticky mess all over the bed. Then came the day that Jay took things to another level. He had been making Harold dress in some of my old spandex workout tights while working around the house, and even forced him to model my lingerie for us once, while we watched one of Jay's porn movies. I guess I should have known that things were getting too weird. I'd gone out for a couple of hours. Jay had given up his plumbing business, and was now working part of each day with Harold's stock accounts, constantly moving them around in order to find the best returns. He'd been doing pretty well, and that morning had told me we'd made an instant $6,000.00. He was elated, and so I left him, with Harold cleaning the house in my stretch bra-top and spandex shorts, and went to my appointment with the plastic surgeon who was going to enlarge my breasts. The news wasn't good. The mammogram had showed a dark spot, and they wanted another done right away. I phoned Jay and told him I'd be another hour, at least, then headed for the Women's Center for the mammogram. I was worried, but I didn't want to tell Jay there might be something wrong, lest he begin to think of me as 'damaged goods'. He liked the perfect breasts and perfect tight bottoms of the girls in his porn movies so much, I was afraid of losing him to a younger, more beautiful woman. Two hours later, I got home. At first, I didn't notice anything amiss. Harold wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, so I assumed he must be back in his room. Jay would still be fooling around online, either looking at porn sites or stock options. I put the few groceries away that I'd bought and sat down to take my heels off. That's when I heard the unmistakable sound of Jay's voice. "That's it! Take that cock like a good little bitch!" I was instantly on my feet. The groaning sounds coming from our room were from two different people, and my heart sank as I imagined another woman in my place under Jay. Who was this little skank? I rushed through the door, expecting to find some underage bimbo with too much makeup getting the best my man had to offer. Instead, I was greeted by the sight of my lover and my husband. Jay was sitting naked on the side of the bed with his legs spread widely, watching Harold, who leaned over him. I could plainly see Harold's head bobbing up and down over Jay's stiff cock, and hear the slurpy sounds of his sucking. My spandex shorts were around his ankles, my stretch top was in a wad on the floor, and I couldn't imagine what had gone on. "Jay?" I said, softly. Just then, he stiffened and groaned. I saw his hips come up, and I knew he was about to cum in my husband's mouth. Harold coughed as Jay's spunk hit the back of his throat, and I saw his adam's apple rise and fall as he swallowed. Jay's hands went to the back of his head, keeping him from pulling away. Harold's hands were on Jay's thighs, but he wasn't pushing away. "Ohhhhhhh, god, yeah," Jay groaned. His head turned my way, but he didn't seem to even notice me. I think his eyes were closed. I stood there and watched him buck up into Harold's mouth again and again, emptying his balls just the way he did with me. Making Harold try to swallow every drop, just the way he did with me. Calling him his slut. Just the way he did with me... I turned and walked from the doorway, my mind reeling. I guess I knew our situation was too good to last for long, but I'd fooled myself into thinking it would take years for him to get tired of me. Now I saw the future: things would get progressively more depraved. Jay would want more and wilder sex, and with his cock, he'd have no trouble getting it. He'd bring others into my house. There would be girls; younger, prettier girls. Harold would be powerless to stop it, of course, and so would I. Jay had taken over our lives. I could see myself becoming as much an unwilling cuckold to Jay as my husband was to me, and I knew I couldn't allow it. I went online on the laptop in the kitchen, even as Jay was making Harold clean up his cock, and opened up my secret account. In a matter of minutes the stocks and securities were liquidated, the assets were transferred, and Jay was penniless. I, however, was very rich. I grabbed my purse and strode to the Porsche in the garage, never looking back. "Have a nice life," I muttered, as I pulled away from the house. Then, smiling, I added, "There's a mortgage payment due this week."