Cuckolded By My Landlord 2: Hotwife & Submissive Husband Group Cuckolding

by Tinto Selvaggio

  Cuckolded By My Landlord 2

  Hotwife & Submissive Husband Group Cuckolding

  By Tinto Selvaggio

  Copyright 2016 by T. Selvaggio

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author. Reviewers may quote brief passages in reviews.

  Twitter@tintoselvaggio

  Tinto Selvaggio Blog & Newsletter

  Cover Design by D. Luck. Cover Images: ‘Corporate Male Gesturing Silence’ by Stockimages and ‘Sexy Model standing in bikini’ by Adamr Courtesy Freedigitalphotos.net

  This work of fiction contains graphic sexual content and is for mature audiences only. It is intended only for those eighteen years of age or older. All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are consenting adults eighteen years of age or older. As a work of fiction, any similarities to any situations or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  Description

  What happens when the old man living upstairs is your landlord and he's obsessed with your wife?

  Nick thinks he and his sexy young hotwife have put their first time cuckolding by their landlord behind them.

  But when the old man upstairs returns from his long cruise vacation it quickly becomes clear he has further plans for submissive husband Nick and his young wife.

  To make matters worse, the couple in this cuckold marriage are becoming increasingly reliant for their income on a friend of their landlord. Rochella; a middle-aged single female and lesbian with an agenda of her own.

  As Nick struggles to contain his young wife's worsening free-spending, their debt and what seems to be her increasing desire for exhibitionism, their landlord is determined to make them pay. But this time the old man has group humiliation and sharing on his mind.

  How will the naive young couple cope with submission to this experienced bull and his lecherous friends?

  This is a full-size stand-alone 24,000 words + novella adventure story written from the husband's point of view. It contains very explicit descriptions of sexual activity and action including submission, voyeurism and group cuckold humiliation. Only mature adults who won’t find that offensive should read this.

  Chapter One

  “You want us to go into the bar separately?” My wife Kelsey pauses on the sidewalk, the heels of her gold sandals falling silent as she faces me. We’re flying back home from vacation tomorrow so we’re out early tonight and there aren’t many people around.

  Kelsey’s eyebrows squeeze together and her crystal blue eyes look questioningly at me. The horn of a scooter rasps as it passes by. A swarthy-looking driver and his passenger look back at us grinning at my wife’s long tanned legs in her tiny white shorts. It doesn’t seem that long ago that she’d never have shown so much flesh in public at night– not even on vacation.

  “Yeah you know,” I say, “we could pretend not to be with each other. See if anyone approaches you. It might hot.” I pull her to me and hug her, smelling her after-sun and citrusy perfume.

  The hint of a smile plays across her plum-colored lips exposing the dimples below her high cheek-bones.

  I’ve done my best not to obsess about my wife with other men. Since what happened back home with our landlord, more than two months ago. I had a lot of guilt about that about that at the time. If I’d have been a better provider and we hadn’t needed the money it would never have happened. My wife’s not that kind of girl. In any case, its one thing for me to have got the cuckolding I’ve always fantasised about. It’s something else entirely when the man who did it lives in the apartment above your own home.

  Being away here all week in the sun though, seeing Kelsey wearing so little and the way guys have looked at her; I finally can’t help myself.

  “I might be a bit nervous going in there by myself,” she’s biting her bottom lip but her eyes are gleaming.

  Two girls pass us on the sidewalk and I look down the street towards the bar we visited earlier in the week. The one we haven’t had the chance to go back to since.

  “The bar staff in there won’t remember us as a couple. Well, they won’t remember me anyhow.” I glance at the plunging neckline of Kelsey’s red blouse. My stomach simmers as I recall the looks her 36” chest provoked from the all-male bar staff on our previous visit there.

  “No need to be nervous about going in there without me,” I kiss her forehead below her honey-blonde hair. “I’ll go in there now, before you if you like. Then you won’t be ‘alone’ when you come in.” I take her slender hands in mine. “I’ll sit away from the bar so you can sit on a stool there. I’m sure the bar staff will be more than happy to keep you company”

  “What if I don’t like it and I want to come out?” she giggles before glancing down the road again at the bar.

  “You just have to get up and walk out as soon as you’re ready to go. I’ll follow you. We can’t stay there too long anyhow. We don’t want a late night with the flight back in the morning.” I release her hands and kiss her on the cheek.

  She pulls her phone from her clutch bag and pouts at her reflection, twisting her face to look at herself.

  My chest tightens.

  “Just follow me in there in a couple of minutes. Obviously don’t acknowledge me.” I kiss her cheek again and hurry away from her.

  Inside, the bar is fairly empty this early but the music pounds and I position myself at a table in a dark corner. I nurse a beer with my heart thumping. There’s no use in trying to deny it to myself. This is what excites me.

  I check the time on my phone. She can’t be much longer.

  Two dark-haired guys in white open-neck shirts are serving behind the bar. An older guy with gray hair and a dark suit is filling the till with coins. A small group of girls laugh at something one of the bar staff says and then the females retreat to a table with their cocktails, There’s two or three other couples scattered around the room.

  I take another swig of beer. It’s funny how even when you’ve experienced the ‘trauma’ of seeing your wife ravished by another man you never lose the submissive urge to see someone hit on her again. I guess the desire for this kind of thing just goes into a kind of ‘hibernation’, lying dormant while you come to terms with what happened and ‘recover’ from it.

  Not seeing our landlord Arthur for several weeks has helped. The old man’s away on a cruise and has been for a while. It must be nice to have that sort of money. But money is one thing I do not want to think about. Not tonight anyhow. We might not have been able to financially afford to come on vacation, but emotionally Kelsey and I couldn’t have afforded not to.

  It’s the movement of my wife’s hips that I see first when she walks in. She eases herself onto a stool at the bar and crosses her long, bare legs. My chest tightens at the sight of her there alone. For a second I’m reminded how weird this would seem to some people. A husband getting off from something as simple as watching his sexy young wife by herself at a bar.

  The shorter of the two young barmen flashes brilliantly white teeth at Kelsey and takes her order.

  Kelsey hands over the bank note and it reminds me again that tomorrow we go home and will have to then start counting the cost of coming here.

  It’s not that we don’t have enough money coming in from her job and the design work I do for my clients. It’s just that every month we still always seem to have so much more money going out.

  The light catches off one of Kelsey’s shapely calves. Money isn’t everything. I mean what average-looking guy like me wou
ldn’t want to be with a woman like her?

  Kelsey raises her chin and moves her hair around her shoulders. She stirs what looks like Vodka and orange with a straw.

  I’m sure her spending got worse after that first modelling session in Arthur’s penthouse. The thought reminds me again of home. I guess in some ways it will be good to get back tomorrow. I need to get some other clients. I’m too dependent on Arthur’s friend Rochella for income. It means we’re too beholden to the old man, even when he’s not around.

  I shift my position on the hard wood seat as a group of guys about our age burst into the bar room. Four of them; shouting, laughing and loud. The largest, square-jawed and with what looks a carefully sculptured blonde quiff and a dark shirt leans in to Kelsey as soon as he reaches the bar. One of the other guys nudges another and they both laugh at each other.

  Automatic, familiar yet hugely conflicting urges sweep through my belly like fires as my wife is hit on.

  Anger that some arrogant jerk my wife has never met before thinks a woman like my Kelsey could be shallow enough to fall for what he thinks of as ‘charm’. But at the same time a sickening excitement. Another male’s most basic, primitive urge to mate and procreate is being directed at a woman who is already taken - my beautiful wife.

  She’s laughing at his jokes. Kelsey’s head leans in towards him. She’s sipping through her straw, his face pressed into her ear. Is he thinking how good she smells? My groin throbs. Is he planning what he thinks is his next move to bed this piece of unaccompanied treasure he’s stumbled upon?

  Guilt rises from somewhere inside me and grapples with my confusion of feelings. I’m staring at Kelsey, trying to catch her eye. It’s virtually impossible from this angle.

  What am I doing encouraging something like this again? What if he’s a jerk and she’s only doing it to please me?

  “Come on Kels, we’re going now.” My hand is on her shoulder, I shout above the music. Her head jerks back when she sees me standing next to her. The guy at her side is frowning.

  “Beat it buddy,” he yells at me before shifting his focus back to my wife.

  She’s off her stool now, standing, reaching an arm up to him, cupping her hand around her mouth yelling into his ear. He’s leaning his head down to hear her. His eyes slither down and across her large cleavage as I wait. He’s got his phone out. She’s shaking her head. She wiggles her wedding finger in his face and takes my arm. His friends are laughing at him.

  We’re out through the door of the bar and into the night. Her hand on my arm reassures me. Relief seeps through me.

  “Where are we going?” she’s laughing as I lead us across the street, away from the bars, down towards the beach.

  “I can’t walk in these on there.” She kicks off her heels and picks them up to carry them. Her shorts ride up her rounded ass.

  I guide her beyond a small cluster of trees and on to the sand. We stop and we’re kissing, the music from the bar on the street now only a dull thud.

  “It’s a good job I was in there with you before Kelsey,”

  “Depends how you look at it,” she smiles at my frown.

  “Did you like him?”

  “I liked the attention.” she kisses me, her body soft and warm against my chest.

  “He wanted you,”

  “Mmm,” she closes her eyes.

  “He thought he was going to get you too,”

  “Maybe he would have done if you hadn’t stopped him,”

  My stomach clenches, arousal and jealousy burning through me. “

  “He was too young really,” she murmurs, “The older guy in the suit behind the bar was hotter.”

  Chapter Two

  The flight was delayed four hours and it was almost midnight when we finally got home last night. At least today’s Sunday so I’ve got a full day to try and ease myself back into reality before facing the working week. Come Monday I’m going make time to reduce our dependency on Rochella.

  I pour myself a coffee in the kitchen. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m not sure what woke me. I thought I might have heard a noise from the penthouse. I didn’t think he was due back for a couple more weeks. Maybe it was just a dream.

  I move through to the dining area with my coffee and sit with the mail and my laptop in front of me. There are a couple of bills. I’ll open them later. My latest credit card statement doesn’t make great reading. Before the holiday I’d been starting to make some progress paying my balance down. There’s another envelope here from the credit card company addressed to Kelsey. I don’t even like to think about how much she might owe now on her card. She’s going to need to cut back on her spending at some point. All those shoes and clothes she buys. Maybe she’ll have to change to a cheaper gym membership too and cut down on things like getting her nails done. I’ve tried to tell her, make her see we need to live within our means. But it’s not easy.

  I don’t like the idea of my wife having to do without. Kelsey’s the kind of girl that should have the best. I’ve got to stop beating myself up about it; but sometimes I think she deserves better than me.

  I scroll through my emails. At least Rochella seems to have paid her monthly invoice on time while we were away

  There are several messages from her detailing various projects she needs doing this month as part of the retainer she pays me. One is a logo design I’ve already done for her. Except now she’s decided she doesn’t like the font. She wants me to do again. Shit! No wonder I can never make any time to win other clients. That woman certainly knows how to get her pound of flesh out of me.

  I take another mouthful of coffee before steeling myself to open what looks like an electricity bill.

  “I’ll get the washing out to dry; in case it rains later.” Kelsey saunters past barefoot in her red satin dressing gown. Her hair is tied up behind her head. The firm, rounded curves of her ass cheeks shimmy from side to side in the tight satin as she works open the patio door. Long, silky legs, newly tanned beneath the short hem of her gown distract me from this depressing pile of envelopes and papers.

  Kelsey’s not the greatest singer in the world, but she likes doing it. Her soft voice is soon drifting in from the terrace while she’s hanging up the clothes.

  It’s not until I’ve actually torn open the final envelope here that I realize it’s hand-written. It has both our names on. No postage stamp or address. My stomach hardens. Has this come from who I think it has?

  Inside is a brief note. It’s also handwritten.

  ‘Dear Nicholas and Kelsey,

  I trust you have both been keeping well.

  I called on you earlier in the week once I’d returned from my cruise. I’m assuming you may have gone away yourselves for a few days? Let me know once you’re back. I have a small gift from afar for each of you.

  Kind Regards,

  Arthur’

  He is back. ‘Gift from afar?’ Why is he buying us gifts?

  Hugely conflicting urges submerge me. On the one hand a raw irritation: When is he going to realize we might be his tenants but we don’t want to be his friends? On the other hand, some sort of sickly but slowly mounting arousal

  Not for the first time, I find myself wondering how often Kelsey thinks about when she had sex with him. Does she imagine it when we’re in bed together? His huge vein-covered old pole standing stiffly to attention for her. The way a cock like his must have completely plugged and choked the walls and depths of her pussy like I never could. The sounds of her squealing to a climax – more than once. My own wife making noises like no woman I’ve never even known. Like she was a stranger to me.

  We haven’t really talked about it. Not since before he went away. I haven’t known what to say. She never mentions it and I’ve always thought that was a good sign. But is it? Maybe she’s always felt guilty about how much she enjoyed being with him? Maybe she’s always dreamed of being had again by the old man with all his experience.

  Even in my uncertainty about my wife’s des
ire I feel a familiar unsettling stirring in my groin.

  “Look at this,” outside I hold Arthurs note up for Kelsey to read. She has a clothes peg in between her perfectly straight white teeth. Her arms are outstretched as she hangs up one of her lacy white bras.

  “I don’t know why he feels he needs to buy us gifts,” I mumble, ignoring the obvious.

  Kelsey picks the peg out of her mouth and finishes attaching her bra to the washing line.

  “He’s probably just being friendly,” she shrugs and reaches down to the wash basket.

  She’s defending him. Perversely, the mere thought makes my belly queasy. That strange brew of excitement trying to blend with fear.

  “Good Morning!” Arthur’s voice from his terrace above startles me. He’s leaning, grinning over the rail above our heads. His eyes move beyond me to Kelsey. Her face flushes as she fumbles with a black cobweb-thin g-string in her hands.

  “You’ve caught the sun by the look of you both,” he smiles from one side of his mouth and pushes at the center of his silver-rimmed spectacles with an index finger. “Have you been anywhere nice?”

  “The med,” I say as Kelsey attaches her panties to the line. Arthur smiles patiently at me and then his eyes move beyond me once more.

  “Ah yes, sun, sand and you know what I expect. I remember it well Did you get back last night?” he tilts his head at me.

  I nod. None of your business.

  “Ah yes, I thought I heard something. Bit of a relief when I saw Kelsey out here earlier. It did cross my mind it could have been in intruder.”

  Kelsey moves her attention to one of my t-shirts which Arthur seems less interested in studying.

  “Did you get my note?” he asks

  “Yes, Nick was just showing it to me,” Kelsey lifts the empty wash basket from the terrace floor and tightens her dressing gown around her throat.

  “I’m sure you’ll be very busy this morning getting everything sorted out after your vacation,” the landlord says, “You’ll have to let me know when it would be convenient to call and give you both the little something I’ve brought back for you from my own trip.”