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This Cock Tastes Like My Wife

By: Turned



Because the following story is so long, it will be submitted in multiple chapters. This story is a cuckold story. If you do not like those stories or all of the "faggy" things they entail, do yourself the favor and stop reading now. You have a fair warning.

Any negative comments about the subject matter will be ignored and deleted. You were already told what the story is. I don't care if you like cuckold stories or not. I just want to know if the people who DO like them, like this one. Any other comments / feedback are welcome and appreciated.

*

Part 1 -- The obsession.

"Oh god, DD! What have you done you filthy little whore?" I grunted, my dick in my hand, as my eyes jumped back and forth between the words on the computer screen and the naughty picture of my Asian wife that rested beside it.

I focused on the photo for a moment as I stroked. I never got tired of looking at it. My wife, absent of clothes but for her black thigh-high stockings, kneeling forward on the bed with that dirty look on her face, biting down on her bottom lip. Her full, golden breasts were dangling beneath her and the crack of her tight Cambodian ass was visible just above her head. It was the only dirty picture DD had ever allowed me to take of her, thank god for Tequila!

I remembered how I used to hate that she drank so much. She was such an angry, demanding bitch when she was drunk. After the night that picture was taken, I'd wished she drank more often.

My eyes returned to the screen and I read on. "Oh DD. Oh fuck. You dirty bitch! You can't even control yourself, can you? You need that cock! Fucking slut! Nasty slut! Dirty slut!" I rambled on incoherently as I took in the fictional account about some poor bastards cheating wife, soon bringing my cock to an eruption that landed all over my chest.

In that way, as I always did, I imagined that my wife was the slutty central character in the story I was reading. Finding that dirty Literotica site had taken my rituals of fantasizing in an entirely new direction.

My mind always became clear in the moments after I expelled my nut. Most of the time it was clouded by fantasy. I often had a hard time focusing on real life matters because of my obsession with the fantasy world that existed in my head. This was my release, and I welcomed the short-term clarity I got when I wasn't consumed by thoughts of sex.

But that clarity also came with feelings of shame and guilt. What kind of man was I to think of my wife as a cock hungry slut? In fact I felt down right pathetic afterwards, not only for my outrageous fantasies, but also for the way I vicariously lived them out via the Internet, an erotic picture of my wife, and a bottle of Jergens lotion.

As much as I obsessed over the idea of DD fucking other men, in those moments of clarity I knew that I'd never have the courage to broach the subject with her, nor the courage to risk losing her to another man. In my heart of hearts, I knew that was a good thing. The fantasy would have to remain exactly that, for my own good, and the good of my marriage. .

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Part 2 -- The monotony.

"Hey Boo Bear," DD said plainly as she walked through the door at 9pm that night.

"Hey sexy," I smiled at her, feeling my cock twitch.

DD got off work at five. When she came home late, it usually meant she'd stopped at the bar on her way home and had a few with her co-workers. But I knew right away she hadn't that night because if she'd been drinking she wouldn't have called me by that affectionate nickname.

"Sexy? Not even," My wife modestly blew off my compliment.

"Yeah, baby, you're always sexy," I said, getting up from my seat to give her a welcome home kiss.

"Oh no, don't you even start that with me!" DD wiggled away from me, giggling, "I know what you want!"

"Awww, come on! You know I'm always horny for you when you get home!" I followed her, grabbing her butt before she could escape.

"No! Stop!" She slapped my hand away with a smile on her face.

I relented for a moment, letting her take off of her shoes and put away her laptop. I knew eventually I'd get what I wanted. DD tended to make initiating sex with her a chore. I never saw it as her not wanting to, I just thought she liked to make me pursue her.

"You're home late," I noted, waiting for an answer.

"Oh, you know, we went to Bennigans after work."

"Yeah?" I said, puzzled, "You don't seem like you've been drinking."

"I only had one. I've got kind of a headache today," DD shrugged.

"I hope you're not going to use the headache excuse again," I said, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind, grinding the erection in my pants against her butt.

DD gripped my hands and pried them off of her. "Stop it now, seriously. All you wanna do is screw, screw, screw when I get home. Go watch sports or something," DD said in a more serious tone as she walked into the kitchen.

"Most women complain that their men pay too much attention to sports and not enough of it to them," I noted.

"Well I certainly don't have that problem, do I," DD said coldly as she poured herself a glass of water.

I frowned. DD was being more of a cold fish than usual. I decided to change my tactics. "Pleeeeease?" I sank to my knees and pulled her into me by her hips.

DD rolled her eyes, "Will you stop?"

"I can't help it baby," I said, unbuttoning the front of her suit jacket, "I just want to make love to my beautiful, hot, sexy wife." I pulled up the blouse under her jacket and began kissing her stomach. "Pleeeeeease?" I begged a little more.

Finally she cracked a smile. "Awwww, you're so cute when you beg. You should do it more often."

I grabbed the waist of her suit pants and attempted to undo the button, but she pushed my hands away and turned her back on me.

"Come on, DD! What gives!" I whined.

"I just don't want to, ok? What do you think anyway, I'm going to let you do it to me right here in the kitchen?"

Now it was me rolling my eyes. I wanted to fuck her all over the house, but DD always insisted on going to the bedroom.

I peeled my shirt off and dropped it on the floor, then undid my pants and dropped them to the floor along with my boxers. "Yes, I want to fuck you right here in the kitchen," I spun her around and pushed her back against the counter. Her eyes got big as she saw that I was naked. "I want to fuck my wife, and I want to fuck her now!"

"But..."

"Darareaksmey!" I stated her Cambodian name firmly.

"Ok. Ok. But in the bedroom," DD bowed her head and slid out of my grasp, heading for our bedroom.

I smiled, seeing my wife's submissive nature kick in. When all else failed, I knew all it took was demanding sex, rather than asking for it. I usually tried to avoid that tactic for two reasons, the first being that I wasn't the domineering type to begin with. I much preferred to feel like she wanted it as much as I did. And secondly, her enthusiasm for sex when I had to force it was minimal. But I'd settle for what I could get.

DD stepped into the bedroom and methodically removed her clothes while I sat on the old, squeaky, queen-sized bed. She was mechanical in doing so, not trying to be sexy at all.

Whether she tried to be or not, I always thought she was sexy. At twenty-nine years old with no kids, her body was a little thicker than when we'd first met, but still nice and firm.

She stripped down to her panties and bra and slid under the sheets before removing her panties.

I scooted closer to her and began kissing her sweet smelling neck as I slid my hand down to her hairy pussy. As my lips threatened to invade her cleavage she pulled me back up to her neck.

"They're sensitive today," she said plainly. That was always the excuse when she didn't want me to touch her boobs, which was often.

"I guess I'll have to find something else to do with my lips then," I said, giving her a soft kiss on her lips before sinking below the sheets on my way to her muff.

Again she stopped me, grabbing my shoulder and giving me a tug. "You can just put it in me. I don't need that today."

"But you're dry," I pouted, disappointed with all the rules she was throwing in my way.

"It's ok," she said, putting her hand on top of mine and pushing my fingers inside of her.

"Oh, wow," I said, surprised. She was as wet as I'd ever felt her once my fingers were inside.

I climbed on top of her and worked my hard dick inside of her. She laid there silently as I began to slowly pump her. "You like this don't you? Damn you're so freaking wet tonight baby," I sported a cocky smile on my face.

DD nodded, but stayed quiet, turning her head to the side.

I was used to her lack of interaction during sex, so as always, I found a way to make it more fun for myself. I became somebody else.

Some of my friends who were bored with their prude wives liked to close their eyes and picture another woman under them as they hammered away. But I liked to pretend that it was me, not her, that was another person.

I was another man who was thrusting inside of my wife's pussy. Where's your husband, slut? I bet he doesn't fuck you like this! You like having another man's cock in your pussy? I bet you do! I kept all of these thoughts to myself, only vocalizing them in my mind.

I was ready to cum quickly, as the idea of her lying there under another man excited me so much that I could hardly contain myself. But she put her hands on my chest and stopped my thrusting before I could.

"Do you want to try doing that thing again?" she said, shyly.

"What thing?" I searched my brain.

"Don't make me say it," she quickly turned her head away from me, too embarrassed to look me in the face. "The other night...after I came home from Bennigans."

"Ohhh!" I got excited. "Really?"

She shrugged. "I mean, if you want to. I don't care, I guess."

"Um...yeah, if it's ok?"

She pushed up against my chest. "Let me turn."

I eased off of her and let her flip around onto her stomach. She buried her face in the pillow.

I'd had to get very drunk one night while out with my friends to find the balls to touch the topic of talking dirty during sex with her. I bitched about how she barely moaned and never said anything when we made love. I'd been forceful that night, I pushed for it and she let me get away with a few mild comments; "You're bad girl" and "Who's your daddy", I didn't go too far with it. She'd insisted on lying on her stomach and having me screw her in the lazy dog position so she didn't have to look at me when I said those things.

The next day she'd gotten mad and outright refused to let me ever do it again. In fact, she cut me off from her pussy for a week. But a few weeks later she'd come home half in the bag after work and nonchalantly asked for it again. She still insisted on lying face down, so I knew she was still embarrassed, but I got my wish. That time I got a little more vocal with it, and I lasted all of 60 seconds because I'd got so turned on. She didn't hold a grudge the morning after, but she could hardly look at me either, so I didn't push the issue again.

I couldn't wipe the smile off my face as I slid into her sloppy wet cunt from behind, hoping that this was going to become a regular thing with her. As I began to thrust, I wasted no time in getting vocal with her.

"You like that you naughty girl? You like being fucked from behind?" I gasped, measuring my strokes, being careful not to cum too soon like the last time.

DD said nothing, but let out a very soft moan, so I continued.

"You're a bad girl, aren't you? Do you need to be spanked?"

"No," She said pointedly, into her pillow.

Bummer, I thought. Another one of my fantasies vetoed.

Her reluctance had an ill effect on my sexual mood and I felt myself getting a little softer so I thrusted harder. I decided to push it a little further. "You're my little Asian slut, aren't you?" I cringed as soon as I said it, half expecting to get slapped.

DD said nothing, but moaned again.

Oh yes! It's on! I thought. "Naughty little Asian slut! You like this white cock, slut? I know you do!" I was fighting with all my might to keep from cumming, but I couldn't get my self to slow down.

"Fuck me," she moaned into the pillow.

I almost came right there. DD never said stuff like that when she was sober!

"Yeah I'm going to fuck you, you dirty Asian whore! You want this, huh? You want it? You like this strange dick? I bet your husband doesn't fuck you like this!"

"What?" My wife turned her head from the pillow and looked at me from the corner of her eye.

Fuck! I cursed myself in my head, realizing I'd just let my internal fantasy come out into words. How was I going to explain that? "I uh..."

"I want you to stop now please," she said, making a sour face.

"Um...ok. If you want me to," I couldn't hide my disappointment. I started to fuck her in silence as usual, but she pulled her self up and made me slip out of her pussy.

"No, I mean just stop. Give me my panties," she sounded very uncomfortable.

"Baby, I don't know where that came from. What a weird thing to say, huh? Just caught up in the moment I guess."

"Can you just hand me my underwear?" DD now sounded irritated.

"O...ok, baby," I said, crawling onto the floor to retrieve them.

She snatched them from my hand and put them on under the sheets, then got up, grabbed her bathrobe and locked herself in the bathroom without another word.

I slapped myself upside the head. "Fucking stupid!" I knew she wouldn't be speaking to me for the rest of the night.

I didn't know exactly what it was about what I'd said that had set her off. It must have sounded odd but it was hardly an admission of my true fantasies. But as touchy as she was about anything outside of missionary sex, her reaction wasn't surprising.

What was more pressing to me at the moment, was my raging hard on. I was back in that fantasy world and I knew I wouldn't be good for anything until I had an orgasm. Nothing mattered more at that moment -- it was my perpetual Achilles heel.

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Part 3 -- The journey.

Once again I was back in front of my computer with the door to my messy office locked -- not that DD would come anywhere near me for the rest of the night -- but better safe than sorry. I pulled out the dirty picture from a locked desk drawer and put it in place, then pulled up the internet.

I sat there thinking about how it had come to this.

Porn had been an occasional crutch for my sex life in between girlfriends at first. But a long dry spell after college had made it more of a wheel chair than a crutch, and soon it was an obsession. I'd sometimes choose to sit home on the weekends while my friends partied, preferring to indulge in all night masturbation binges. Talking to girls wasn't easy for me, but porn stars were a sure thing.

Straight boy-girl porn wasn't enough after a while. It turned into girl-girl, then three ways, then gangbangs, BDSM, fetishes, I just had to keep pushing the limits. At some point I even began whacking off to an occasional gay porno, just to push the envelope - to feel like there was something taboo still left out there.

And when nothing seemed taboo anymore, I found myself increasingly unfulfilled, even depressed. Nothing satisfied my appetite anymore, everything was too tame. I couldn't even get it up half the time when I did find a girlfriend; they were all too vanilla to excite me. Ironically, I ended up falling in love with the most vanilla girl of them all, DD.

DD was piss drunk when I met her at a nightclub with my friends, which made her the aggressor. I would never have had the balls to talk to a woman that hot, nor would she have approached me if she'd been sober, again, thank god for Tequila! She seemed wild, and that excited me. Plus she was so exotic, interracial dating was new territory for me and that also excited me. We fucked in the back of her car that night, and the sex was awkward and clumsy at best, but I'd never come close to screwing a woman that fine before, so that was all the excitement I needed.

I never expected her to call me after that night, but she did. I'd soon find out that DD was just as boring as me without the liquid encouragement. But that's partly what made us click. I didn't need to pretend to be exciting and adventurous, and she was wholly content just having someone who she could talk to, cuddle with, and who didn't smack her around for not having dinner ready.

She was in a miserable arranged marriage to a man from her country, and I was a lonely pervert who was tired of making love to my palm. We were both desperate for something more fulfilling, and we found that in each other. The fact that she was married never escaped me when I fucked her, and for the time, that was my excitement in the sex department.

When she finally divorced him and married me, the thrill of sneaking around and poking another man's wife was gone. The taboo of marrying outside of my race was all I had left to excite me sexually, but that was wearing thin. White and Asian couples seemed to be everywhere, it wasn't such a big deal anymore.

But we did have love, and that wasn't lost on me. We laughed a lot, we understood each other - at least outside of the bedroom - and we shared a deep emotional bond. She felt like I'd saved her from a life of servitude to an ungrateful prick, and she'd saved me from eternal loneliness. For a while I was able to focus on the less shallow aspects of our relationship. I was literally getting by on love alone - sex was side note. I convinced myself that I'd rather be happily married and sexually deprived, than the lonely pervert I was.

But after the first couple of years we inevitably found ourselves in a rut, facing the ultimate relationship killer -- boredom. She'd been sober for the most part during those first years, but when she started drinking regularly again, I knew something was wrong. Liquor had been her crutch when she was at her wits end with her last marriage, and I feared history was repeating itself. Likewise, I was back to my porn habit and hiding out in my office to jerk off.

When she was sober she seemed content, albeit less affectionate than before. But when she came home drunk, she had a laundry list of things to bitch about. I was suddenly too boring, we never went anywhere, we never had enough money, I left the toilet seat up, and I was always in that stupid office. I'd return fire with the only weapon I had -- you don't ever fuck me! She'd apologize for everything when she was sober, and so would I, but I knew -- a drunk mouth speaks for a sober heart.

We were on edge for the next two years. Everyday I feared we were nearing the end. I knew that DD feared the same thing, but somewhere along the line we'd lost our ability to communicate with each other so we seldom discussed how things had gone down hill or how to fix them. She was keeping herself sane via her crutch -- liquor, and I was using mine -- pornography.

Falling back into my old habits, I was always searching for the next taboo fetish to get off to when the old ones had ceased to be interesting. I stumbled across one so obvious that I couldn't believe I'd never given it a serious look before - swinging.

There were tons of wife swapping sites on the Internet. At first I watched videos of couples swapping partners. I remembered the feeling of screwing another man's wife and it immediately appealed to me.

When watching other types of pornography I always personalized the fantasy by imagining myself doing those things with my wife. I even dared to think that some day she'd come out of her shell and doing those things would be a real possibility. But swinging was out of the question. My traditional foreign wife on rare occasion showed flashes of willingness to explore new kinks, but she was far too possessive to ever consider such a thing. So when I fantasized about swinging my mind forced me to leave DD out of the fantasy, because it was plainly impossible.


This Cock Tastes Like My Wife Ch. 02



Because the following story is so long, it will be submitted in multiple chapters. This story is a cuckold story. If you do not like those stories or all of the "faggy" things they entail, do yourself the favor and stop reading now. You have a fair warning. 

Any negative comments about the subject matter will be ignored and deleted. You were already told what the story is. I don't care if you like cuckold stories or not. I just want to know if the people who DO like them, like this one. Any other comments / feedback are welcome and appreciated. 

The following in the second submission in the series. Part's 1-3 were contained in the first submission.

Part 4 -- The moth driven to the flame.

My hard dick was already in hand when my instant messenger beeped. I clicked on it. The message was from RagingBull68 -- Ron's screen name. 

RagingBull68: Thinking dirty thoughts? 

Me: Well I'm online aren't I? LOL Reading one of yours. 

RagingBull68: Good choice. Cock in hand? 

Me: You know it. 

RagingBull68: Shall I let you get back to it? 

Me: No. I got all night. In the dog house. 

RagingBull68: What now? 

Me: Slip of the tongue during sex. 

RagingBull68: ....Did you tell her? 

Me: No. But accidentally said something along the lines. 

RagingBull68: She drunk again?

Me: No. Unfortunately. But she suggested the dirty talk again. 

RagingBull68: Suggested it sober? She's coming around. Now is the time.

Me: Time for...?

RagingBull68: Stop torturing yourself. Tell her. The truth will set you free.

Me: Just a fantasy. Not going to happen. She'd flip. 

RagingBull68: Fantasy is only a prelude to reality my friend. You can have it. 

Me: Don't want it. 

RagingBull68: No? I disagree. I know better. 

Me: LOL. Maybe. 

RagingBull68: Not maybe. You need it. Your slut wife needs it too. DD wants to be a whore. And you want her pussy used. 

My cock jumped as I read his words. I loved it when he talked that way. It was far more erotic to hear someone talking about my wife directly than trying to mentally insert her name into a fictional story, especially someone who knew so much about her and I. 

RagingBull68: There? 

Me: Yeah, sorry. 

RagingBull68: Got excited, didn't you. 

Me: What can I say? LOL 

RagingBull68: See...told you...you deny yourself...you deny her.

Me: It's not so simple. 

RagingBull68: But it is. Your fear gets in the way. Bliss awaits both of you. 

Me: Or divorce. 

RagingBull68: That won't happen. Love is love. Sex is sex. 

Me: For me. Not for her. 

RagingBull68: Not so. You are fooled by her fear...when she's sober. But when she's been to the bar she loves sex, yes? A drunk mouth speaks for a sober heart -- your words.

Me: Seems that way. 

RagingBull68: She can't get enough. You told me. 

Me: True. 

RagingBull68: And you don't give her enough. You can't satisfy her when she's in that state. 

Me: She's insatiable. 

RagingBull68: Like I said. You don't satisfy her. 

I felt a lump in my throat. When he put it like that, I felt my insecurities flaring up. 

Me: I probably don't go long enough. 

RagingBull68: We've been through this. You don't satisfy her. You told me that. You know it. Don't lie to yourself it's not healthy my friend. 

Me: I guess. 

RagingBull68: You guess? We're always honest with each other. You're denying your own words now?

Me: No. 

RagingBull68: Then just say it. Say what you said before. Sober she lays there like a lump of coal. Intoxicated she gives you more than you can handle. You can't satisfy your wife. Say it. 

Me: I can't satisfy my wife. 

I got a chill as I typed those words. Ron had a way of forcing reality to slap me in the face. 

RagingBull68: But someone else can. You know it. And she knows it too. So what do you think will happen?

Me: I don't know. 

RagingBull68: She was a cheating whore when you met her. What will stop her this time? 

Me: Love, I hope. 

RagingBull68: That's not what you hope. You hope she will offer her whore pussy to another man to get what you can't give her. That's what you hope. 

Me: I don't want to lose her. 

My heart was beating frantically, and my cock was stiffening. 

RagingBull68: Things have been good lately, yes? 

Me: Yes. For the most part. 

RagingBull68: Then now is the time. Go with her on the journey before she goes it alone. You'll both be happier. 

I couldn't respond. It sounded crazy and it made sense at the same time. My conflicted emotions kept me frozen. 

RagingBull68: You're hard right now thinking about that little Asian slut of yours getting it good from a strange cock. 

Reflexively, I answered: Yes. 

RagingBull68: Care to play a little?

Me: Ok. 

RagingBull68: What did she wear today? 

Me: Red pant suit, white blouse underneath. Nothing special. Work clothes. 

RagingBull68: And her underwear? 

Me: Black bra, and boy shorts, I think. It was dark in the room as usual. 

RagingBull68: They were purple. I know because I saw them today when I fucked her. 

Me: oh 

It was all I could think to say. When Ron and I played this game he did most of the typing. I'd be busy jerking off. 

RagingBull68: The bitch was walking through the mall blabbing on her cell phone. She was talking to someone about how pathetic you were in bed. She was talking very loud and everyone could hear her. I wonder if it was anyone you know? 

RagingBull68: I followed her into a store, Bebe I think. Wait, let me look at the receipt...yep Bebe. She was searching for a new outfit. She told the person on the phone she needed to buy something sexy to attract someone who could fuck her better. 

RagingBull68: I knew that slut was ripe for a good fuck so I made sure I brushed up against her tight little ass with my big hard dick in my jeans as I passed her in the store. It wasn't quick either. She got a good feel for what I had to offer. 

RagingBull68: She couldn't stop smiling at me. A hot little piece of ass, that wife of yours. I knew she'd make a good pin cushion for my cock. So while she was picking through things on the rack, I pressed up behind her again. 

RagingBull68: Only this time I didn't move. I put my hands on her hips, pressed my bulge against her ass, and rubbed against her for quite a while. She didn't stop me. She started breathing harder. I told her to hang up the phone. She did. 

RagingBull68: I told her that if she wanted to be sexy she should wear something that showed her body off more. I grabbed the skimpiest little red dress on the rack. I think she got excited just looking at it. But she frowned at the $200 price tag. 

RagingBull68: I told her I'd buy it for her if she put it on for me. She got excited about that. Money has been a little tight lately, yes? 

Me: It has.

RagingBull68: I know. She bitched as much about your inability to provide a better lifestyle for her as she did about your sorry excuse for a sex life. But more so than that, your wife really just wanted the chance to get naked for me. 

RagingBull68: She wasn't as shy with me as she is with you. Maybe because she knew I saw her as nothing more than place to dump my sperm. She didn't have to pretend otherwise, or worry about what I'd think of her. She already knew what I thought of her. 

RagingBull68: I took her into a dressing room and told her to strip. The fucking whore couldn't even hide her excitement. She peeled off that pantsuit in no time while I sat there and watched. I even made her dance for me a little in her underwear. 

RagingBull68: Then I told her to take that off too. She needed it explained to her that a slut like her has no reason to be wearing underwear. The bitch hesitated a little too long to do it so I gave her ass a good hard spanking. That got her pussy wetter than before. 

RagingBull68: She was dripping, my friend. Juice was running down her thigh. The whole dressing room smelled like her hairy cunt when she took her panties off. It was fun watching her trying to squeeze into that dress, too. 

RagingBull68: Your wife wears a size 7, or a medium at Bebe. The dress I picked for her was an extra small. She started to get whiny about how it was too small, but I told her to shut the fuck up and put it on or I'd drag her out of the fitting room naked. 

RagingBull68: I think she liked that idea because she just stood there staring at the dress like she couldn't figure out how to put it on. So I opened the door to the fitting room and pushed her out. There were two guys sitting out there waiting for their wives. 

RagingBull68: She got a little antsy then when they started staring at her naked body. But I told to her stay put so she didn't try to run back into the dressing room. Your wife's a good little submissive slut, she does what she's told. 

RagingBull68: I made her apologize and promise to put the dress on before I let her back in. Took her a while to get it on. She had a little too much ass and hip to pull it all the way down so it left the bottom half of her ass sticking out. 

RagingBull68: From where I was sitting I could see cunt hair underneath the hem. Her tits didn't fit much better. Those are some beauties. The dress didn't cover any more than her little nipples. I made her go out and ask those two guys what they thought of it. 

RagingBull68: They couldn't tell her enough how much they enjoyed seeing her in that dress. I told them for $20 I'd let them fuck her. They didn't know exactly what to say. They looked at her like she was going to object, but she didn't. 

RagingBull68: I pulled up her dress and smacked her on the ass to show them who was in control. I offered again but they just rambled some crap about their wives being there. Oh well. I took her back in the dressing room, pushed her up against the mirror and...

I was stroking my dick voraciously, hanging on every word when he'd stopped. I waited for him to continue but he didn't. 

Me: And? What!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!

RagingBull68: You sure you want to hear the rest of this? 

Me: Yes! 

RagingBull68: Say please. 

Me: Pleeeeeeeease! 

RagingBull68: How about I tell you in person? 

Me: Are you joking?

RagingBull68: Not at all. We've been chatting now for what, 7 or 8 months? Why not meet? I'm not too far from you. You're in Oak Brook. I'm in Schaumburg. 

I paused a moment contemplating his request. It never occurred to me that he might live in the same state as me, let alone a nearby city. I'd never asked. For that reason, the thought of meeting him never seemed like a possibility. I thought it might be nice to have a real life friend with a similar interest. My fantasy world was a lonely one, save for him.

RagingBull68: I haven't got all night. 

Me: Where? When? 

RagingBull68: Staybridge suites, Schaumburg. Leave now. 

Me: Now? It's kinda late. Tomorrow maybe? 

RagingBull68: Now or never. Also, bring a pair of your wife's worn panties. Let's have some fun.

"Let me get this straight. I'm supposed to drive to a hotel in Schaumburg to meet a guy I met on an Internet porn site and deliver a pair of my wife's dirty underwear?" I spoke out loud to no one. "And why now or never?" 

Me: You gotta admit, this sounds a little weird. 

RagingBull68: It's your fantasy. I'm only here to help. It will be like your first time willingly sharing your wife's cunt. Think about it. I also have some things I want to show you. You'll enjoy. TRUST ME. 

Me: What is it? 

RagingBull68: Only one way to find out. Room 217. Don't keep me waiting. 

After that he signed off. 

I had a deep curiosity about what it was he had to show me. My cock was still hard. And Ron never failed to deliver with his ideas and stories; his mind was as filthy as mine. Plus, I liked the guy. 

And the thing about bringing my wife's used panties also peeked my interest. I guessed he wanted to see what her pussy smelled like. Awfully damn kinky in my book, but the thought excited me. It would be as close as any other man had ever gotten to DD's pussy during our marriage. 

But still, it was a weird situation. I was trying to let common sense prevail over my sexually driven euphoria. But that was something that almost never happened.



This Cock Tastes Like My Wife Ch. 03



Part 5 – The Partnership

This is part 5 of the series. Part 4 was contained in chapter 2. Parts 1-3 was contained in chapter 1. 

I was shaking outside of room 217. I'd been standing there for almost five minutes and still hadn't knocked. It wasn't too late to turn around. 

But who was I kidding? I'd come this far because my obsession ruled me. I had no power over it but for the palm of my own hand. I could have rubbed one out on my own and gotten enough mental clarity to avoid being here. But that was only delaying the inevitable. Bearing the burden of my all-consuming fantasy alone was wearing me down. I needed to share it. 

I knocked. 

A tall, fortyish man with slightly graying black hair opened the door, a towel wrapped around his waist. I thought he somewhat favored Richard Gere. 

"I was wondering how long you were going to stand out there before you knocked," Ron spoke with a slight southern accent, standing aside as he held the door. 

"Put yourself in my shoes," I said, cautiously stepping into the room.

"Oh, I understand you very well. That's why I let you stand out there and go through your process. I'm a patient man when I choose to be." 

The room was small and had a peculiar smell to it. The queen-sized bed looked slept in. The floral print comforter was in a heap on the floor. A half empty bottle of Cognac sat atop the dresser. The room was tidy aside from that. Not a total dive, but nothing special. 

"Excuse the condition of the room. I had a small party in here earlier and I've only just started cleaning up from it," He said, strolling in to the tiny bathroom and dispensing some deodorant under his arms. 

"A party, huh?" I stood near the entrance of the room. 

"A couple of friends of mine, and another man's wife," He said, plainly looking at me in the mirror. 

"I see," I nodded. "Ohhhhh," I belatedly realized what he meant. 

"Redhead, late twenties, nice tits. Fucked her in every orifice with her husband on speaker phone," Ron stated matter-of-factly, grinning. 

"Sounds like fun," I answered, fidgeting with my hands, aimlessly looking around the room. 

"You knew that about me, I presume," He asked, coming out of the bathroom and walking to the dresser. 

"That you had a party?" 

"That I fuck other men's wives for sport." 

"You're a bull?" 

"That term annoys me, but use it if you like," Ron poured some Cognac into two plastic cups. 

"Actually, I didn't. I mean, I wasn't sure. In your stories you always write from the cuckold's perspective. But then when we started chatting you always did seem kind of...I don't know...aggressive?" 

"I like writing as if the shoe were on the other foot. I find the dynamics of the submissive mind, fascinating. I'm particularly intrigued by those of you who have such a self-deluded image that you lack self-value to the point of actually favoring minimal sexual gratification, pain even, emotional and physical. I try, and if I do say so myself, succeed very well in conveying that type of psycho-sexual dysfunction in my stories because I've gained what I think is a very unique perspective on the situation." 

I scratched my head trying to figure out if he had just insulted me or not. Trying not to sound ignorant, I addressed the part that I did understand. "I wouldn't necessarily say I'm a submissive." 

Ron chuckled. "I would," he said, handing me a cup of Cognac. "Here, this will loosen you up a bit." 

"Got me all figured out, huh?" 

"I'd say so," He said, arrogantly. "I've encountered all types in this lifestyle. Some men are just victims of cold, selfish, calculating women and don't have the backbone to stand up for themselves. Others simply devalue their women so greatly that they long to see them used and humiliated, but also lack the backbone to do it themselves, detaching themselves from the act by putting it in another mans hands so they can hold on to their delusions of being a loving husband." 

"Shit, what are you, the professor of cuckolding or something?" I wondered if he could sense the complex he was giving me. "So which one do you think I am?" 

"Neither," he smiled. "Which is why I'm particularly interested in you. You convey the type of emotion and feelings that usually have to be absent to practice cuckoldry. I believe you actually do love and value your wife. And DD doesn't seem to be the manipulative type either, even though she is a whore." 

Hearing him call my wife a whore sent a chill down my spine and rush of blood to my dick. Somehow the effect was greater hearing it said out loud than seeing him type it on a screen. I quickly slammed the half-full cup Cognac.

"See what I mean," he cackled. "You get uncomfortable at the suggestion of your wife being anything but an angel, yet it excites you so much. I love it." 

"So what am I, some sort of science project to you?" 

"A lab rat of sorts," Ron laughed. 

My expression got dark. 

"I'm kidding! Lighten up!" He said, pouring me another cup of Cognac. "Sit down and relax for crying out loud! Get comfortable! I know it's not the Hilton, but you're in good company." 

"The room is fine," I shrugged, sitting at the edge of the bed, "I just get a little awkward meeting new people." 

"The room is a dive. But it's the kind of room you use to fuck a cheap whore, know what I mean? It's the kind of room I'd fuck your slut, Asian wife in." 

As I instantly converted his words into a mental picture, my cock stiffened. "I suppose," I replied meekly. 

Part of me felt obligated to sock him in the mouth for that remark. I had to remember the context in which we'd met. Spoken words verses written words. This was far more real now, and I was still adjusting.

Besides that, Ron was an imposing physical figure. I wasn't so sure I could take him anyway. As he handed me another cup of Cognac, I noticed his U.S.M.C. tattoo on his arm in old English letters. 

"So like I was saying," Ron sat beside me on the bed. "I've taken quite an interest in you and your wife, as you know." 

"Because I'm supposedly different than the other husbands you've dealt with?" 

"In a manner of speaking, yes. For one I think it would be fascinating to see how you react to the realization of your fantasy. And for another, I have to tell you, I really loathe most of the men whom I've cuckolded. A lot of their wives too. It was easy for me to use and humiliate them because of that. I'm sure you can imagine, the lack of respect I had for their marriages made me excellent at it. They were role-playing. I wasn't." Ron's gaze drifted towards the window as he took a long swig of the liquor. 

"What are you saying, Ron? You want to..." 

"To make you the cuckold you've always wanted to be," he finished my sentence. "It'll be a challenge for me, because honestly, I actually like you." He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "But in spite of that, I fully intend to use your wife like I have every other whore I've encountered, and I will treat you the same as I've treated their husbands. I won't deny you the full experience, I promise." 

"Um...look, that's flattering, I guess. But like I've been telling you, I don't think I could actually go through with it," I said, finishing another glass of Cognac. 

"Well, that's the beauty of this lifestyle, you don't necessarily have to go through with anything. You simply remain passive, if not submissive, and let it happen like all sissy husbands do. Let me take control," Ron looked me directly in the eyes. 

Did he just imply that I was a sissy? I wondered. "Ron, I don't know. I'm playing with fire here," I shook my head. 

"That's part of the thrill," he smiled. "And the way I see it, it's inevitable that it will happen. You're fighting a losing battle with your demons. And your wife craves a real man to fuck her. Wouldn't you rather put it in the hands of someone who won't completely try to destroy your marriage? Believe me, if she's allowed to stray with a man who doesn't understand this lifestyle he will ultimately seek to posses your woman. I merely want to use her." 

I stood up, went to the dresser, poured some more Cognac and promptly downed it. "You make it sound like I'm going to lose her if I don't do this." 

"You have to admit, it's a real possibility, all things considered. You have no idea." 

I sighed deeply, and faintly nodded as I fell back onto the bed. "But what makes you so sure that this will be the solution? What makes you think she'd even be a part of anything like this? As much as I fantasize about her cheating, it would kill me. 

"I'd have to be involved, you know? I have to be a willing participant, and she has to know that I am. None of that hiding in closets bullshit and letting her think I don't know. And I don't see how I could get myself to explain to her, how I could be ok with that. I wouldn't even know where to start." 

Ron grinned, knowingly. "It's the solution because unlike her previous husband, she knows she has a man who loves her, and she loves you back. But she also seeks to fulfill the part of her that's still wanting. If she truly believes she can have her cake and eat it too, by keeping your love and getting well fucked by another, why would she refuse? The rest, you just leave that to me. When the time comes, she'll be posing the question to you, not the other way around. I can make sure of that. I'm a master at this."

For the first time ever I found myself seriously contemplating my fantasy becoming a reality. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might jump out of my chest and land in Ron's lap. "And you...you really think you can do this? I mean, I don't even know if you're her type, no offense." 

"My friend, I'm already half way there." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I told you I have something to show you. Brace yourself." Ron leaned over and grabbed a laptop computer from the nightstand and set it in his lap. He opened it and began clicking and typing. "About that little fantasy story I was telling you earlier." 

"The one you still haven't finished? You really had me going, I wish you wouldn't have stopped." 

"Sorry, but I'm going to leave the ending up to your imagination. You'll have more fun with it that way. What I wanted to say was, what if I told you that story wasn't a fantasy?"

My heart skipped a beat. He had to be fucking with me. "I'd say you were bullshitting me." 

"Well, I am a fiction writer, and so I do take some liberties," Ron turned his head and looked at me squarely, "But I can guarantee you that at least some of what I told you actually did happen today." 

My lower jaw hung open involuntarily. I didn't know what to say. "H...how?" was all I could muster. Part of me didn't believe him. Part of me wanted to. All of me was numb. 

He turned the laptop screen towards me and set it in my lap. "Feel free to scan through these at your leisure." 

I was looking at Ron's email inbox. I first noticed one of the messages I'd sent him. Then I noticed several messages from a familiar e-mail address...it was my wife's. My glance immediately shot in his direction. 

Ron was smiling. "DD and I have been chatting for a while." 

I frantically opened the most recent e-mail, titled - Re; Feeling naughty today? The first thing I saw was a picture of DD standing in what appeared to be a bathroom stall. I could tell it was a self-shot cell phone pic. She was holding her red suit jacket and the blouse underneath open, exposing her bra-clad breasts, and her suit pants were at her knees, showing off her panties. Her underwear was purple, like he'd said. The message was short and sweet – 'Always feeling naughty for you'.

My hands were shaking so badly it was difficult to open the next one. I couldn't speak, or even look at Ron. 

The next one was from two days earlier and had no picture, only text. 'Yeah, I hear what you're saying. It was fun though. My emotions are all over the place these days. I'm happy though, mostly.' It was far too vague for me to understand the nature or the meaning of the message. 

The next one contained another low quality cell phone picture. It appeared to be in our kitchen. DD was holding the cell phone out in front of her, only her upper half was visible, and she had on only a bra. Her mouth was opened wide and she was pushing a cucumber into it. The text was short, and read like an inside joke - 'Stretch! LOL' 

I continued rummaging through his e-mail. Many of them were only text and most were short. My wife was discussing her emotions, her moods, and our relationship, explaining things her and I had done, and conversations we'd had. Some of them discussed her job and co-workers, most I knew, and some I didn't. All of the messages were about as vague as the first one I'd read and left me little to go on as far as figuring out what the nature of her involvement with Ron was. 

A few of them had pictures attached. A couple of them were innocent enough, fully clothed, smiling. One had both of us in it, I remembered the night we took it. The majority of them though, had her in various stages of undress in a provocative pose. I hadn't found any of them with nudity. 

Most of what I read was pretty tame. But a few things concerned me more than others. There was one picture of her lying on a bed, one that wasn't ours, wearing only panties, a see through babydoll, and fishnet stockings with her legs spread wide. Given the distance and angle I knew she couldn't have snapped it herself with a cell phone. Had Ron taken that picture? 

I was also bothered by a name that kept popping up a lot, Kane. I had no idea who that was, and nothing in particular was said that bothered me, just that she mentioned him so much. 

The main thing that bothered me was a passage of text in one of the messages that read – 'After we made love tonight, I went into the bathroom and cried. I was at my wits end. I finally had to accept the fact that I can never have an orgasm with the man I love. No matter how he tries, he will never satisfy me.'  

"Wh...I...did...who...uh..." I put my hand against my mouth and tried to gather my thoughts as I exhaled deeply. "How did this happen?"

"What are you thinking right now? How do you feel?" Ron analyzed me. 

"I, I don't know. This doesn't even make sense to me. I don't know what's going on. You have to tell me!" 

"I can imagine it's hard to make sense of it. Those e-mails are incomplete. I deleted a lot of them. We've had some very revealing conversations. I only wanted you to see a handful of them so you'd know I wasn't bullshitting you when I tell you about your wife," Ron refilled my cup with liquor and handed it to me. 

"Did you fuck my wife?" I asked, barely able to utter the words without clearing my throat. 

Ron smiled and brought his hand to his chin as if he were debating his answer. "I knew you would ask that. No, I haven't fucked her yet. But I will if you ask nicely." 

I tipped my cup back and took another drink. My conflicted mind was half way between fantasy land and painful reality, I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed. "Please don't be vague right now. I need to know exactly what's going on. She's sending you pictures of herself and telling you personal shit! How did this happen, Ron!" 

Ron squinted. "Change your tone, and ask me nicely." 

"What?" 

"If you're going to be a cuckold it's important for you to respect the man that owns your wife's pussy. DD has to always see that I am in charge. Now, if you want to hear this, ask properly," Ron brashly demanded. 

I was too stunned by his sudden change in demeanor to speak at first, but finally relented. "Ron, please explain this to me. I'm asking as a friend." 

Ron sat beside me and patted me on the back. "That's a good start. Did you bring what I asked you for?" 

I nodded, pulling a balled up pair of DD's panties from my pocket. 

Ron took them from me and pressed them against his face. "Mmmmmm. She got fucked the day she wore these. Her pussy was ripe. She must have been wet all day." Ron removed her panties from his face and began to explain. "I began chatting with her shortly after you and I began talking. One of those photo's you sent of her, it was taken at a company gathering, yes?" 

I thought about it then nodded. 

"The name of her company was in big letters on a banner in the background. I looked them up on line and found a company directory. It wasn't hard to find her. I found an obviously Asian first name with your Irish last name and I knew it was your wife. Darareaksmey Mc'Kibben?" Ron chuckled at the name. 

"Her name means 'bright star'," I said. 

"So I e-mailed her. I told her that I'd been browsing the website and come across her name, which was the same as the last name of an old friend of mine who I'd lost contact with from the same town. I asked if there was any chance she was related to Tony Mc'Kibben. Of course she informed me that she was your wife. 

"She was very friendly and helpful right from the beginning. She offered to take my contact info and pass it on to you, but I told her not to, that I wanted to come into town and make a surprise visit.

"I started out by asking questions about you and how things were, how long she'd been married to you, things like that. Your wife is quite a chatterbox, my friend! And trusting too, just like you. She was more than happy to tell me whatever I wanted to know, and plenty more that I didn't even ask...like you," Ron chuckled. 

"You guys are two peas in a pod, that's for sure. No wonder you wound up together. Never once doubted that I was who I said I was. But she had no reason too, after all I knew a lot about you from all of our e-mail exchanges. 

"I won her over pretty easily. I showed her I had a sense of humor right away. I'd crack jokes about you, like how boring you are, how you spend too much time on the computer, and all of the other things you told me she complained about. That resonated with her so she knew she didn't have to pretend that your marriage was perfect just for my sake. In fact, before I knew it I became the complaint department for all things involving you." 

I shook my head, "Telling all of our personal business to a stranger." 

"You should talk," Ron said, sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. 

I bowed my head and took a drink. 

"When a woman wants to vent about her man, there is no one she'd rather talk to than someone who knows her man. And there I was, unassuming, non judgmental, a good listener, and I could cheer her up by making her laugh. You should thank me, because I pulled your ass out of a sling more than once, whether you know it or not!" 

Ron stopped talking and stared at me, and I realized he'd meant it. "Thank you," I said.

"Your welcome. Because it got to the point where the bitch would never shut up. I had to listen and pretend to care about every stupid little thing that went wrong in her life. Car problems, money problems, she hates her job, her boss, she broke a nail, her friend wore an ugly dress, you name it, I had to hear it all. But it all paid off. By pretending to give a shit about all the little things, I got her to open up about the big thing." 

"Sex," I stated dryly, now hanging on every word. 

"Oh yes, my friend. I cracked a few jokes about how you never were a ladies man and she had a field day talking about your lack of performance in the bedroom. Did you know she's never had an orgasm with you?" 

I didn't answer, but the way I shrunk into my shirt must have told him how I felt. I downed the rest of my Cognac. 

"She wasn't happy at all. You remember that phase the two of you went through? The issues were many, but that was at the top of it. She was going to leave you," Ron said, sympathetically. 




This Cock Tastes Like My Wife Ch. 04



This is part 6 and 7 of the series. Parts 1-3 were contained in chapter one. Part 4 in chapter 2. Part 5 in chapter 3. 

Part 6 – The Battle Against Reality 

"Honey? Honey? Are you awake?" 

I cracked my eyes slightly, but pretended to still be asleep. DD was wearing red thong panties and a matching bra, checking herself in the mirror atop the dresser. She looked over her shoulder one more time to make sure I was still sleeping, then picked up and pointed her cell phone at the mirror to snap a picture. I knew exactly who she was sending it to.

I had morning wood, typical. The sight of her scantily clad body only made it worse. Knowing that Ron would soon be enjoying the sight of my wife's body heightened my arousal. And knowing that a stranger named Kane would be fucking her in a few hours stiffened my erection to a painful state. 

But knowing she might have feelings for Kane made my stomach turn. And knowing what I'd done with Ron the night before made my face flush. Then I was suddenly mortified to realize that under the covers, I was still wearing her panties! 

When I'd returned home from the meet up with Ron, I'd laid there a long a time watching her sleep beside me, the battle between my fantasy and my conflicted emotions raging on through the night. Somehow I'd dozed off and forgotten what I was wearing. 

I clutched the covers tightly in case she tried to yank them off of me as she sometimes did when she woke me in the mornings. 

"Honey? It's time to get up," DD said, pulling a sweater over her head. She stepped into her grey, below-the-knee length skirt and came to my side of the bed. "Wake up, Tony. You're going to be late," she said, shaking me. 

"I'm, uh, I'm taking a sick day. I don't feel good," I said, holding onto the covers for dear life. 

DD put her hands on her hips and gave me a concerned look. "Well I hope it's a paid sick day. We can't afford for you to miss work! What's wrong with you anyway?"

"Nothing, my stomach. I'll be ok, just need to rest." 

DD sighed. "I bet it's that flu going around." She paused for a long time as if pondering something. "Maybe I'll stay at my mothers tonight. I don't wanna get sick too. I don't have any sick days left. What do you think?" 

I think you want to spend the night with Kane, I thought to myself. Her parents hated me, mainly because I wasn't Cambodian. Snubbing her first marriage that they'd arranged was a slap in the face to them, and they saw me as the culprit, as if I'd corrupted her in some way. She knew I'd never call over there to check on her story. "Yeah, better not get you sick too." 

DD smiled big then quickly wiped it off her face. "Awwww, my poor baby. Get some rest. I'll call you later to check on you." 

"DD," I grabbed her hand, "I love you. More than anything. You know that right?" 

My wife stared at me blankly a moment, then her eyes began to water. "I love you too," her voice cracked when she spoke. She quickly turned away from me and rubbed her sleeve across her face. "Call you later," she said, making a quick exit from the room. 

I rolled onto my stomach and tried to think of anything other than DD. My urge to masturbate at that moment was an overwhelming, shivering, shaking, feverish feeling, like an addict in withdrawal. I hadn't done it since the previous day before she'd come home, and I was deliberately avoiding it. 

It was those blasted moments of clarity that came after an orgasm that scared me. I didn't want to face those feelings. Now more than ever, I imagined the guilt and shame that would come over me once my mind was unclouded by my perversions. Only now I'd have to face the fact that I couldn't turn the reality back into just a fantasy. I wasn't sure I could handle that. 

I thought of disgusting things like steaming piles of horse manure, and senior citizens in the nude, anything repulsive enough to shrink my erection. It worked. 

Too distracted by my problems to be productive, I called in sick to work anyway. I spent the next few hours searching for distractions, TV, cooking, cleaning up the house, anything to avoid the lucid mental pictures of DD with another man's cock in her mouth, or of Ron's in mine. Somehow, everything I did found a way to remind me. It was no use. 

I logged on to the computer, preparing to rub out an orgasm and face the music, when I got a text message from Ron on my cell phone. 

U r not really sick r u? 

"DD already told him," I thought out loud. No, I replied. 

Well Kane will be happy. Now he gets to spend the night fucking DD's brains out. Ron returned my text. 

I know. I knew what she planning when she said she was going to her mothers. 

Trying to make it easy for him? U r a fool. A lot could happen and I don't mean sex. 

Don't remind me. I fucked up, I replied. 

I'll find a way to fix it. U owe me. 

Thank you. 

Thank you, SIR? Ron reminded me of his dominance. 

Thank you sir. 

Are you wearing panties like a good little sissy? 

Yes, I lied. I'd long since taken them off. 

Show me. Send me a picture.

"Fuck!" I jumped out of my seat and raced into the bedroom to dig through DD's panty drawer. 

As I slid into a pair of my wife's lacy, white panties, I became keenly aware of the fact that there was no way out of doing it on a daily basis. There was no telling if Ron was going to check for proof at any given time. 

I sent him the requested picture and got a response of, Good girl. Talk 2 u later. 

I tried to resume my masturbation session but now I was too distracted. How was I going to explain it if DD caught me wearing her underwear? How humiliating would that be? She already thought I was a dud in the bedroom, what would she think of me then? 

Part of me wanted to tell Ron to fuck off, but I feared he had too much influence with DD. He might decide to take on a personal vendetta against me and completely destroy my marriage if I disrespected him. Besides, this Kane character had to go, and Ron had me convinced that I needed his help for that. And on top of that, my fantasy still ruled my thoughts. 

Who was this man named Kane who was about to spend the night with my wife? I decided to find out. I threw some clothes on, hopped in my car and headed to DD's job. 

I arrived fifteen minutes before DD's scheduled lunch hour. I parked across the street from her building where I could see the employee entrance. If they really were fucking on their lunch breaks, surely they'd have to go somewhere else to do it. 

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later I caught sight of my wife exiting the building with a large group of people. She seemed to be sticking close to one man in particular, a tall, mid thirties looking guy with dark hair. 

"Huh," I muttered, remembering what Ron had said about her being attracted to men who were similar in appearance to me. I found it flattering, at least I knew she found me attractive if nothing else. 

She stood talking to him for a while in front of her grey Chevy Malibu, shivering in the cold. Then he got into another vehicle and she got into hers. I expected her to follow him when he pulled away, but she didn't. She pulled up in front of the employee entrance and stopped. 

Suddenly a tall, black man emerged from the building. He swung his head around every which way as if watching out for something, and then quickly hopped into DD's car and she sped away urgently. 

"You have to be shitting me!" I wailed. I peeled out of the parking lot and gave chase, making sure I stayed far enough back not to be spotted by her. DD was really flying down the road in an incredible hurry. She never drove like that, especially on the slippery winter roads. 

You didn't tell me Kane was black! I sent a text to Ron. 

DD pulled into the parking lot of the Extended Stay hotel down the street from her job. I pulled into the parking lot of the Greek restaurant adjacent to it and watched them get out of the car together. Kane's hand planted firmly on my wife's ass as they walked into the hotel. 

Ron's reply finally came through. Why does that matter? And why r u spying on your wife? Think about what happens if she catches u. 

"What happens if she catches me?" I gasped. "She's the one in a hotel room with a black guy!" But I knew what he'd meant. She wasn't supposed to know I knew about this. 

I sat in the car contemplating my next move. Sitting outside was pointless. Why had I even come, just to see what he looked like? Did it really matter? I supposed it didn't. The supposed myth of the big black cock was ever present in my mind though. 

My cock stretched DD's panties as I sat there imagining her taking Kane's big cock in her furry cunt, making her scream and moan. This was my fantasy after all, my wife being a slut for another man, a black guy no less. It just wasn't happening how I imagined it...I wasn't there enjoying it.

Without thinking, I exited the car and walked towards the hotel. It was like my penis was leading the way, silencing the pleas of my brain to turn around. 

I asked the twenty something kid working the front desk what room the black and Asian couple had checked into, setting a twenty-dollar bill on the counter at the same time. He looked at it and told me he couldn't relinquish that information. I pulled out another twenty. 

"Three nineteen. I always give them three nineteen," he replied with a grin. "Damn, that little Asian chick really gets around. Any chance I can get in on it?" 

"She's a real whore, ain't she?" I said, smiling as if I wasn't bothered at all by his comment. 

"That's why I always give her a corner room, less noise complaints that way," he chuckled. "Man, I'd like to get a piece of that. I didn't know the black dude was into passing her around." 

"She always come here with him? Has she ever come here with someone else? How often do they come here?" I couldn't repress my need to know. 

"Every single...oh, shit!" he cracked a big smile as he stared at my wedding band. "You're the husband, aren't you?" 

I didn't respond. 

"Man, I knew she wasn't married to him. I noticed she had a ring the first time she came in, but he never wore one. Aw, man, sorry dude. I'd kick a guys ass too if that was my girlfriend. I'd fuckin' kick her ass too! Man, it's cool. Do what you gotta do. I won't call the cops, I swear man!" 

"Don't worry, there wont be any trouble," I said, walking away. 

"Oh, it's like that? You're one of those guys that likes that shit? Well, hey, man! What's up? Can I get some too?" He shouted after me as I headed for the elevator. 

Another text from Ron rang in while in the elevator. So u r sitting in the parking lot of the extended stay in Lombard right now aren't u. why? what is that doing for u?

I replied, I'm in the hotel. 

As soon as the elevator door opened on the third floor I could hear the faint moans of DD's ecstasy. As I nervously proceeded towards the room, they grew louder. The feeling was surreal, knowing that she'd never even come close to reaching that tone with me, but now another man's cock was driving her wild, past the point of inhibition. 

Another text from Ron distracted me, listening in? u have more balls than I thought. How does it feel to hear your wife scream in pleasure from another mans big cock?

"Oh Kane! Oh god! Fuck me Kane! Yes! Yes! Give me that big cock!" DD's voice bellowed through the door. During the moments of silence I could hear the bed squeaking violently. 

I put the phone in my pocket and ignored Ron. I was stroking myself through my jeans as I stood outside their door, listening. 

"Yeah, you like this black dick baby? You don't get this at home do you? Huh? Huh?"

"Mmmmm yes I love it! Talk dirty to me, Kane! I'm a bad girl!" DD moaned. 

"Yeah, you're a little slut for this black dick, ain't you bitch!' 

"Yes baby! I'm your slut! Fuck your little slut's tight pussy, Kane!" 

"Who's fuckin' pussy is this, bitch?" Kane's voice was followed by a loud smack. 

"It's your pussy, daddy!" 

I was shaking badly, a mess of emotions spinning my head, but still intently focused on the action, rubbing my dick through my jeans, praying no one entered the hallway. 

"I'm gonna stretch that pussy all night long, slut! Ain't I?" 

"Yes, daddy!" 

I heard another loud smack, "Ain't I!" 

"Yes, daddy!" DD hit a higher pitch. "Oh god I'm cummmmmmmiiiiing! Don't stop!" 

"Cum on this black dick, bitch! You ain't done! Turn over, slut!" 

I was getting ready to cum in my pants in unison with her when my phone rang, causing me to jump back from the door. I hurriedly shuffled down the hallway with a stiff leg, trying frantically to dig my phone out of my pocket and silence it before they heard it. 

"Hello!" I yelled in a whispery voice as I ducked around the corner by the elevator. 

"Get out of there, Tony," Ron said. "You'll have plenty of time to hear her moan in the weeks, months, and years to come. You're a cuckold now. Now and forever." 

"I, uh," I fumbled my words, as I processed 'cuckold - now and forever'. "Ok, I'll leave." I had no intention of leaving. 

"I want you at my office in twenty minutes. I'll text you the address. If you're even one minute late, you're going to regret it. Leave now." Ron hung up. 

"Damn it!" I rested my head back against the wall. I could still hear DD getting fucked. I didn't want to, but I knew I had to leave. 

I had a perpetual hard on all the way to Ron's office. The only thing distracting me from rubbing my dick the whole way, was having to weave in and out of traffic just to get there in time. I had no idea how he would make me regret being late, but I didn't want to find out. 

I speed walked from my car into his office looking at my watch, I had one minute. I took the stairs rather than the elevator to save time, and made it to the reception desk where she paged him, with little to spare. 

I made note of how she addressed him as 'Mr. Rossi.' It occurred to me that the name on the marquis near the entrance was Rossi and Associates, LLC. 

"Ah, Mr. Mc' Kibben, just in time. Follow me," Ron greeted me in a professional manner. 

Dressed in what appeared to be a very expensive business suit, Ron looked every bit as powerful as he acted. I felt relieved to know that he was a successful professional and not just some perverted loser who lived in his mother's basement. Not that I'd ever thought he'd be anything less, but now I saw the proof. Suddenly all of his promises seemed more real. 

We went into his office and he locked the door behind us. 

"A half hour drive, in twenty minutes," I said, a bit irritably. "That wasn't fair." 

"And it isn't fair that you only have half of a dick," Ron said, coldly, "But such is life. Strip for me. Let's see those panties." 

I looked over my shoulder at the door. 

"No one will be coming in. Now hurry up, I have things to do. Strip, bitch." 

"Yes sir," I submitted easily, shedding my clothes until I had on only DD's panties. 

"Very good," Ron circled around me, looking me up and down. "There's room for improvement, but it won't be hard at all." 

"What won't be hard?" I asked, my head hung down. 

"Bend over my desk," Ron shoved me in the back, ignoring my question. "It seems DD has her little heart set on getting stuffed with Kane's cock all night long, so I didn't bother to try talking her out of spending the night. But I'm going to look at this as an opportunity, rather than a set back." 

"How so?" I asked, getting goose bumps as he ran his hands down my back to my ass. 

"You were a bad girl following her to that hotel, Tony," Ron said, smacking me hard on the ass. "Or should I call you Tonya? Yes, I like that better. I'll call you Tonya." Ron spanked me again. 

"I'm...I'm sorry sir," I sheepishly replied. I was becoming aroused as I felt his power over me, and I didn't know why. 

Ron laughed. "Not a submissive? Did you try to convince me of that last night? What a joke." Three more strikes from his hand in quick succession stung my panty covered ass. "You are very submissive, aren't you Tonya?" 

"Yes sir," I answered, my stiff dick poking out the top of the panties. 

"You're getting turned on by this. Are you sure you aren't gay? That would explain why you can't please your wife." 

"Yes sir, I'm sure."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I'm not attracted to men. I love women," I said, feeling my cock pulse as he slapped my ass again. 

"So then it must be the act of submission that floats your boat, ey?" 

"I don't know." 

"I do. A very submissive, bi sexual." 

"I'm not..." 

"Shut up, Tonya," he slapped my reddened ass again. "You are. You sucked my cock last night. And you liked it didn't you?" 

I swallowed hard. "I, I didn't hate it." 

"You didn't hate it, and you hate that you didn't hate it, don't you?" 

"Sir?" 

"A straight man doesn't suck cock. And if he were forced to he would be repulsed by it. He would hate it. But you didn't hate it. That must bother you. You have to admit to yourself that you are bi sexual. You like cock, sissy girl," Ron cackled. "Say it. Tell me you like my cock." 

I heard his zipper go down, then felt his thick, swollen dick being slapped against my ass. I cursed my own feelings as I became even more aroused. I didn't want to say it. Saying it made it more real. I couldn't be that way! 

"Ashamed? Whether you admit it or not, you still liked sucking my cock. That isn't going to go away, your thoughts will haunt you. Own up to it. Own your sexuality my little cocksucker, don't let it own you." 

"I liked sucking your cock!" I blurted out, amazed at my own words. 

"Good!" Ron jubilantly exclaimed. "That wasn't so hard! It's easier to deal with the things we admit to ourselves than those we deny, isn't it? Now get on your knees and tell me again." 

I turned around and sank to my knees where Ron's stiff cock met me in the face. "I liked sucking your cock," I said, easier this time, as I leaned into it, letting it touch my lips. 

"Oh, you want to suck it again, bitch? Just say please." 

"Please let me suck your cock," I pleaded. I was so ready for it that I didn't have time to feel ashamed for wanting to, I just wanted to. Ron knew every one of my dirty secrets, and I felt like he saw me for what I was better than I did. I liked the feeling of not having to hide. 

"That's a good girl, suck on my big dick, Tonya," he said as he pushed deep into my mouth. 

I eagerly opened my mouth for his huge dick. Warm, pulsing, stiff, I sucked on it hungrily, forgetting the labels and judgments that I shamed myself with. My mind was numb from the events of the past twenty-four hours and I was tired of thinking, worrying, fighting against myself. I'd discovered something new that I liked and I just wanted to enjoy myself for once, without the guilt. 

I wanted to suck his cock. 

"Oh fuck, Tonya. It's so much better when you put your heart in it. You are a natural cocksucker. Ohhhhh yeees, keep going, just like that. I'm gonna give you a present," Ron groaned, holding a fist full of my hair as he pushed himself in and out of my mouth. 

Ron wasn't gentle but I didn't care. I remembered his lesson from the night before, swallow hard when you want to gag, and so I did. I let him gag me with his oversized pole and I sucked him harder. 

I looked up and stared into his eyes as he fed me his meat. On my knees with his dick thrusting into my mouth I'd never felt so completely under the control of another person. Maybe he was right, maybe it was the act of submission that got me going. 

I'd never looked at a man in a sexual way. I'd masturbated to gay porn, but never found myself attracted to the men in the videos. I was only turned on by the act. The same was true now. Even as I passionately slurped on his long pole, I didn't look at Ron the way I looked at my wife or another sexy woman. Yet here I was, hungry for his big dick. Was I bisexual, or was it something else? Stop thinking, I told myself. Suck that cock. 




This Cock Tastes Like My Wife



But at some point I stopped focusing on the pleasure of being able to screw someone else's wife, and began to ponder the other aspect of wife swapping that I'd largely ignored; what it was like to have another man screwing mine at the same time? It didn't take long for me to discard the idea of screwing other men's wives and completely zero in on the latter. I knew DD wouldn't swap with me, but would she cheat?

The thought scared the shit out of me to the point of making me sick in the stomach at first, partly because we had drifted so far apart that I couldn't rule it out. She had after all, cheated on her first husband with me. But at the same time it excited me like nothing else ever had. Imagining my prude, pseudo-asexual wife, whoring around like some cheap slut, gave me a rush.

Maybe it was easier to harbor a fantasy like that because we weren't as close at the time, so it was easier to detach myself from the emotional side of things. It was also easier for me to picture it as a reality more so than a fantasy, because unlike the other fetishes I'd obsessed over; this was something she'd actually done before. I knew I wasn't the first person she'd cheated on her ex-husband with.

My newest sexual obsession had begun. After that, every time I watched porn I imagined that it was my wife getting fucked on that screen, by someone other than me. I drifted away from the swinger sites and found more of an infatuation with sites that focused solely on men watching their wives fuck other men. I learned the term cuckold and it became a staple in my search engine.

That led me to Literotica. At first I wasn't so interested in reading about sex I could be watching on a video. But porno, with all of the cheesy plot lines, if there was one at all, left something to be desired. I knew those guys sitting their watching the porn starlet get screwed weren't actual husbands.

Somehow it became just as important to me how they got to the scene as what happened in it. I wanted more realism in my fantasies, because for a while, there was a big part of me that actually considered just how real this fantasy could become. And I wanted that, I wanted DD to spread her legs for another man.

It started with scenarios involving women who fucked men to please their voyeuristic husbands. But like everything else in the dark world of my obsession, it escalated. Soon I was paying attention to the most extreme, humiliating, cuckold stories there were. I couldn't get enough of it. As my obsession grew, my self-esteem plummeted.

There were days I'd want to throw up just looking at my wife. The guilt of knowing what dirty fantasies I had about her ate at me. Our marriage was hanging on by a thread, and thinking about losing her forever was the saddest feeling in the world. One minute I'd be plotting on how to get her laid, the next I'd be racking my brain trying to figure out how to fix things between us.

I was posting on cuckold websites asking strangers for advice on how to get DD to fuck someone else. I was serious about it. But no good advice came. Then I'd be on relationship websites asking strangers how to put the fire back in my marriage. No good advice came.

Then one day I found an online friend named Ron. He was the author of some of my favorite cuckold stories from Literotica. I'd sent him a rather jubilant e-mail expressing my love of his work one day, which was more like worshipping at his feet since I was rock hard in my fantasy mindset when I wrote it. He replied in kind, and we began an ongoing dialogue about my wife, and my fantasies.

Deep down I realized this guy was probably as sick as I was, but he also seemed very grounded and down to earth. Who was I to judge? We were seeds from the same tree. He made no outlandish claims about his experiences in the lifestyle, although he vaguely admitted to having some hands on experience with cuckolding. He didn't give me any pie-in-the-sky idea's about turning my wife into an overnight whore, but he did do his part in persuading me to pursue it. Sometimes I got the feeling he wanted to see it happen for me as badly as I did at the time.

By the same token, he appeared sympathetic to the conflicted nature of my desires. He listened and showed empathy when I backpedaled and recanted my deviant wishes in favor of rekindling the love in my marriage. He could be a total perv right along with me, or play the role of marriage councilor. Not only that, he was the only one I had to discuss such things with. I might have gone nuts if I hadn't had that outlet to vent my conflicted feelings.

During that vulnerable time in my life, I shared more information about myself and DD than any logical person would ever consider giving a stranger. Hell, I'd sent him pictures of DD and myself, talked about work, talked about family, this guy could have written my biography. But Ron never felt like a stranger to me, he was a friend. A very strange friend, but the same could have been said about me from his end.

Then came that strange night - the night I'd taken the picture of DD naked on our bed. She'd come home drunk off her ass after another drinking binge at Bennigans. I was fully prepared for another unprovoked attack on my character and a lengthy, emotional fight. I was used to it when she came home in that state. I got attacked all right, but in a very different way.

DD started peeling off her clothes the second she stepped in the door, laughing and stumbling around. I stood there in a total state of confusion, wondering what had happened to my wife. She stripped off everything but her thigh-high stockings and tackled me to the living room floor, kissing me with the kind of passion that hadn't existed between us in years.

I was stunned but not about to ruin the moment by asking for an explanation, so I went with it. She was aggressively ripping off my clothes and using sexual innuendo like I'd never heard come out of her mouth before, save for the first night I'd met her. For the first time since the night I met her, we fucked somewhere other than the bedroom, as she mounted me and rode me hard right on the living floor. That was another first, DD never got on top.

I remembered her pussy being wetter than I'd ever felt it before; it was sloppy and made a huge mess of our carpet. I remembered the hungry look in her eyes as she fucked me. Her aggressiveness had turned me on so much that I couldn't manage to make it last more than couple of minutes. But she wasn't satisfied with that.

She led me to the bedroom and told me she was feeling naughty. That's when the camera came out, at her suggestion. She was posing for me in various suggestive positions, showing me an exhibitionistic side of her that I never knew existed. Unfortunately, in my excitement I'd forgot to put the memory card in the camera! It was too late when I finally realized it and dug out the memory card. She'd lost her mood for posing and I'd only gotten the one last photo of her kneeling on the bed, before she snatched the camera from me and moved on to something else.

That something else was sucking my cock. That was big deal for me, because I could count on one hand the number of blowjobs she'd given me in the four years prior to that; three. She sucked me like she never had before that night, she was hungry and enthusiastic about it unlike the other times, and she refused to quit before I came. Having already cum once I was lasting quite a while, until she threw another curveball my way.

While sucking my cock, she lubricated a finger with her mouth, reached between my legs and slithered her finger into my ass! That was my introduction the prostate massage, and with her working me over with her finger and mouth at the same time, I was blowing seed all over her face in no time flat.

Staring at my sexy wife with my cum splattered all over her face drove me nuts. She looked the part of the cock hungry cum slut I'd always made her out to be in my fantasies. When she pulled me to her lips and kissed me that way, it was one of the most erotic things she'd ever done.

She didn't wipe it off either when she demanded I fuck her again. I was exhausted but she did all the work, riding my face for a very long time while I licked her sloppy pussy before hopping on my dick again and riding me until the sun came up. The next day she was silent and hardly even looked at me. I knew she was embarrassed about it.

But after that, things began to change for the better. Sex was still as mundane as ever on her sober days, but when she drank there was a lot less arguing and a lot more fucking. A blowjob was a virtual lock, along with the accompanying prostate massage, and I always got to blow my load on her face. She was aggressive, and needy, and took control. All I did was hang on for the ride and do whatever she asked.

The catch 22 was that her drinking became much less frequent, and with it so did the good sex. But the rift between us seemed to dissipate. We were talking and communicating again, and enjoying each others company like we had before. It was like we'd somehow re-fallen in love. The next six months were good.

With our relationship on more solid ground, I all but abandoned the idea of getting her to fuck other men. I did not however, abandon the fantasy. Wanting DD to be a slut for other men was still an obsession, and if anything, the obsession became even stronger. But I'd finally resigned myself to leaving it forever as a fantasy. I no longer thought of ways to actually make it happen.

I sighed deeply after recounting those events in my head, feeling a little less horny than before.

"Here I go again," I shook my head, "A fucking slave to a fantasy." I pulled up Literotica and clicked on one of my favorite stories, one written by Ron.

I looked at the lotion, but hesitated to begin my ritual. I sat there, idle, cursing myself. I could have been fucking my beautiful wife, but instead I was about to masturbate to the idea of her fucking someone else. I rarely felt such remorse before an orgasm, that self-torture was reserved for afterwards, but that night was different.

I almost clicked off the Internet and went to try and make another go at my wife. And even if she wasn't going to put out that night maybe I'd just hold her...but I didn't. And that would later prove to be a life changing decision.