by Tempesto
In a stroke of perfect timing Sir James called at 9 the next morning. Obediently, I used the proper words to signal to this man that my wife was ready for his homecoming. The humiliation was approached the level of the first night I saw his assertive black missile guided into my spouse’s treasured suppleness. Upon my confirmation that her period had subsided he abruptly hung up the phone, unbothered with the courteous detail of a goodbye.
My wife’s lover called again that evening. This time Christine took the cordless phone into the bedroom and closed the door for privacy. There was a strong urge to eavesdrop, but I didn’t out of fear of discovery. I felt electric curiosity about what was being said by this man to my wife. I tried to ignore the situation and focus on the television.
About an hour after the telephone call began I heard Christine enter the bathroom, and the shower water start. When finished she entered the living room wearing her red bath robe, her curly brunette hair still wet and wrapped in a towel.
“James is coming back tomorrow afternoon,” she said in an irritated tone. “I think it would be best if you let us have a couple of days privacy in the house. You can come back after work Monday.”
“Okay, if you think that’s best I guess I could get a room.”
“Yeah, you might as well because I can’t wait for James to come home and fuck the shit out of me!” The annoyance in her voice was growing and becoming haughty in nature. “That’s what you WANT isn’t it? I bet you would beat off watching us make love if we gave you the chance!”
“Christine, what the hell did I do wrong?”
“One of these days I’m gonna tell you. Now just shut up and go. I want to be alone tonight.”
I decided not to press the issue and quietly went to the spare bedroom to which I had been relegated, and where my clothes were now stored. My hands were shaking as I packed my bag. I had no idea why Christine was so angry with me, and felt like she was especially out of line considering how good of a mate I had been during her period.
“See you Monday,” I said standing at the door, waiting for my wife to say or do anything to stop my exit.
“Yeah, and don’t bother to come back any earlier because a real man is going to be in this house Ben. A real man will be here, in your house. You wife is going to make love to another man until there isn’t a drop of cum in him. I hope all this gets you off you fucking pathetic, masturbating pervert!” she said.
Her berating words hurt deeply. Rather than respond, thus escalating the argument, I made my exit.
Driving to the town motel I cursed whatever came over my wife, knowing in all probability James used his increasing influence over her emotions to stir this animosity within Christine. The despising from my beloved wife drove me to tears on the ride. This woman had my heart completely, and ironically even though I had married her clearly James had her heart. In a twisted web of sad devotion I was now at the very bottom of this triad, doomed to a nondescript hotel while he revels in the charms of my wife’s fleshy charms. Still my tears were only partially due to his vanquishing of me as her sexual lover. What truly hurt was the feeling of being lost without my wife’s kindness while her scent was still fresh in my lungs.
Chapter 6
There was only one motel in town, and it wasn’t a particularly nice one. In reality it was more of a ‘no tell motel’ where cheaters and recent high school graduates (who don’t have the money for an apartment yet) shacked up for the night. What the Lamplight Inn did have was rooms on the cheap and a bar with strong drinks to match.
I settled into my hotel room and unpacked. Then I flipped through the channels to try to occupy myself. There was a feeling of being a caged animal as I paced the room.
“Shit. Who fucking needs four channels of soccer?” I asked no one.
Christine’s sudden turning against me had given me a bad jolt. I knew that James would not be at the house tonight, and briefly considered going back to try to talk to her. Her anger and frustration at me seemed too fresh for reason yet though. The source of her mood was still a mystery to me. I wondered about the call from James, of course. Had he said something to set her off? Did he want them to have that lusty, angry kind of sex and jab a knife in me to get Christine in the right frame of mind for that?
Whatever the answers were next in my tale, I knew they were not going to be found pacing around my hotel room.
I walked down to the hotel bar to chill. It still wasn’t too late to get plastered. To my surprise I found Paul occupying a stool.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” I said to the bartender as I took the seat next to Paul.
He glanced at me and gave a nod in recognition.
“You too?” he asked staring at the bottles on the stepped shelves of the bar.
“Guess so,” I responded as I accepted my Jack on the rocks.
“I can’t fucking believe this shit,” he said.
“Me either! One minute Christine and I are getting along fine, the next she’s telling me to get the fuck out of the house till Monday!”
Paul quickly turned his head and faced me. “What?” he asked.
I related the story of taking care of my wife during her period for the last few days, up to finding him at the motel bar. When I was done he took a long sip of whisky.
“Nothing else?” he asked.
“What else would there be?”
Paul sipped his drink again, and said, “Oh, I thought there might have been something else. Samuel and Brenda broke some news to me today. Their relationship is getting more serious than I’m comfortable with. For a second I thought maybe there was a connection to it.”
I took a sip of my whiskey, curious.
“What is it?” I finally asked. “What more serious can it be than it already is? I mean if Samuel is like James he is fucking her night and day. All four of them go out on the town like there’s no scandal about it. What else is there to make it more serious?”
Paul turned away. After a pause he said, “You don’t want to find out.”
“No Paul, I really want to know. What’s going on? Is she divorcing you?” I asked.
“No, she isn’t divorcing me. I can’t bear to talk about it. Just pray that you never find out on your own.”
Then Paul finished his drink, paid his tab, and bid me goodnight. His warning tone struck me in a raw way. There could be no good in whatever had developed. But I had a hard time coming up with what could be worse than the humiliation of what these men had visited upon Paul and I. They had our wives, and reduced us to calling them Master and Sir.
I felt sorry for Paul. My sympathy was real, even though I didn’t know his circumstance. However, it was not hard to realize that at times nothing could be better than ignorance.
Chapter 7
When I returned to my home after work Monday night all three of the black Masters were in my living room watching my plasma TV. Christine was sitting next to Sir James, wearing a hiked up skirt that was hiked high up her tanned thighs.
“How was your weekend?” she teasingly asked when I entered the living room. “Sir James and I had a fucking great time!”
All four of them burst into laughter. The humiliation was overwhelming and emasculating. The fact that my wife was openly playing the part of Sir James white whore did, in some ways, actually turn me on in places I’d never admit. But the fact that her sexual relationship with Sir James, and thereby my sexual subservience to this black man, was a source of satisfaction for all three of the Masters was particularly humbling.
Christine cuddled up to James, kissing his neck as she rested her hand on his crotch. Then she whispered something in his ear.
“Hey cuck,” said Sir James, “go fix a martini for MY woman, and fetch some beers for your black Masters!”
I wasn’t thrilled by his attitude towards me, or my wife’s cold shoulder either. Still, I knew my place in this situation, even though I was bristling at the position this man had taken both with my wife and in my home I knew tha
t submission was the only option. Silently I accepted his order, and went to the kitchen.
When I returned with the drinks Christine was still ignoring me, kissing her black lover’s neck.
“Thanks for taking care of Christine while I was out of town,” Sir James said. “Now why don’t you go to your room and let us have the living room.”
I didn’t say anything, and obeyed yet another order from this man.
Obeying this man had become second nature since he had captured Christine’s affections. Sir James was naturally dominant, and it was not purely because of his size. He had a casual but extremely confident air that lent credence to his words. At first I bristled at his dominance both with my wife and in my home. As time passed and he was clearly the Alpha male of the home, accepting the role of submission to him slowly became natural. It was not much different than submitting to a new boss at work. At first, if one doesn’t like him, there is the impulse to rebel. But as his position of superiority solidifies accepting his position becomes easier. Eventually he is the boss and it becomes second nature to accept the lesser role.
After unpacking I got into my sleepwear and climbed into the increasingly familiar bed of what was formerly the guest bedroom. When Christine and James first started their relationship I struggled with insomnia. Often I jerked off in this room as I listened to them fuck. This was the only sexual relief I had since she chose him as a sexual lover over me. Their sex sessions lasted for hours sometimes, often with Sir James able to have several orgasms before his drive was satiated within my wife. Originally I couldn’t sleep hearing them, and when he was finally finished for the night he would let me lick Christine clean. But enough time had passed, and I had become acclimated to the situation. I was able to sleep that night, without waiting. Perhaps my insomnia cure was related to being exiled from my home while Sir James and my wife became sexually reacquainted. But I think it had more to do with the finality of what her recently completed period symbolized. I could sleep because I knew for a fact now that I had lost any chance to have impregnated her before he came along.
Sir James awoke me from my slumber later that night.
“Put on your blindfold,” he said.
Even though I was still sleepy I did as instructed. He led me to the master bedroom, and got me settled on the bed.
“Lay down spread eagle, cuck!” he ordered.
Again I obeyed this man. Even though I was blindfolded I was still able to gauge the center of the bed. I felt my wrists being tied, then my ankles also.
The room was quiet as I felt someone climb onto the bed (I was sure that it was Christine by her scent) and then kneeling over my head. Then my wife’s sex lips slowly lowered and kissed my waiting mouth. Her weight slowly lowered onto my face, grinding her pussy on my willing mouth.
“Oh YES,” she cried in ecstasy. “Suck my pussy like a good little cuck! Clean me up NOW!”
I felt the unmistakable thick glob of her lovers cum release from her sex lips to my mouth. Her scent and taste were mixed with those of her lover. It did not matter to me as I eagerly sucked on my wife’s tainted loins. As Christine continued her Queening of me I was subjected to more and more of the humiliating transfer of her black lover’s cum. I couldn’t believe how much flowed from her, and the evidence of their weekend covered my tongue. I sucked and licked my wife’s most intimate place, trying to clean her completely, if that were possible.
In the past when I had been permitted to clean Christine up it had been while she was laying on the bed. My position was to kneel on the floor. I liked that situation because it allowed me to avoid drinking in very much of James cum.
“Oh YEAH – FUCK this feels so fucking GOOD!” she cried. I felt her inner thighs starting to quiver, a sure sign that she was close to orgasm. “Oh James! Look at the little cuck drinking your seed out of me! I think you’re going to have to make love to me again after I’m done getting my thrills!”
“You know I’m already brewing up a fresh batch of juice for my sexy white bitch!” I heard him respond.
Her black lover’s cum kept streaming into my mouth, and I was forced to swallow. That heavy syrup felt sickeningly defeating as it flowed down my throat. I was torn between hating that I was being spoon fed his sperm straight from my wife’s pussy lips and eager to drain every wiggling sperm from her to keep them from attempting to impregnate her!
As Christine continued to grind her sex on my mouth she finally climaxed. The river of her cum washed even more of her lover’s essence into my mouth. She never let up her control, keeping her sex mated to my mouth. I was forced to swallow again. More of her lover’s seed slowly slid towards my stomach. I have to admit, though, that I had become used to the combined taste of Christine and James. As I became accustomed to my wife’s new enjoyment of Queening, the humiliation of drinking James cum became more palatable.
My wife continued to ride my mouth and feed me the evidence of Sir James presence within her. I eagerly accepted my role, and suckled her pussy until Christine released a pair of thundering orgasms to quench my desire for her. When she was satiated I was unbound, and led back to my bedroom.
That night was the beginning of the deeper level of my cuckolding. No longer did I clean Christine while she lay on the bed. From that night forward my wife preferred riding my willing mouth from the Queening position, leading to more of James cum transferring from her lips to mine.
The triad of the house lived like the previous month, with the added wrinkle of regular Queening. The days turned into weeks and while the situation never seemed completely normal, a regular rhythm developed in the house. James preferred for Christine to wear skirts and so she switched her wardrobe to feature them. Jeans were banished, and now it was not uncommon for James to using the easy access skirts and dresses provided to fuck Christine in public places, often while I was forced to be the look out.
I grew to prefer being Queened, and the month passed quickly. My wife’s period started and, just as before, James made excuses to Christine that he had to leave town for business. The situation was very much like the previous month. Christine was angry with James for not being there for her. Meanwhile, I took the role of emotionally supporting her, as well as pampering and massaging my wife.
There was a difference for me this time. Where during the last month I had obsessed over the evidence of my wife’s menstrual flow, it was no longer of any prurient interest to me. Don’t get me wrong; I was glad to see the evidence that she was not pregnant and that her birth control device had been effective.
Christine was less hostile towards me this time around also, which felt very nice. Her occasional menstrual-driven fits were directed towards James this month, and her increasing anger that he skipped out on being with her during her ‘time’.
When her period ended Christine’s tenderness lessened, but did not disappear like it had the previous month. James called her as he had before. I gave him the signal during one of his phone calls, just as the month before.
I was expecting to be banished to the motel again at the passing of Christine’s ‘monthly friend’. I felt tremendous relief when, rather than exiling me as she had done the previous month, my wife chose to spend the last night before James return cuddling with me watching TV.
Chapter 8
At the suggestion of Sir James and Sir Samuel, Paul spent the next Saturday with Christine and I had the opportunity to spend the day with Brenda. He thought it would be a good experience for us cuckolds to talk and vent with the other’s spouse. Secretly, I was thrilled. While my wife was still my wife, and I had an even stronger desire for her than I had for some time, I had started to have a curious interest in Brenda. I knew that she was totally off limits sexually. I suspected that the Masters motivation may have been to further the emotional distance between the wives and the cuckolds. Anyway, they had claimed that they had plans for the day and didn’t want us to have time alone with our wives and this was their edict.
It was still mid
-morning when Sir James left. Paul nervously asked Christine if she wanted to go out for coffee. She agreed, also uneasy, and they had left. Brenda had gone to her bedroom to change.
“What do you want to do?” Brenda called.
“Let’s drive out to the coast,” I offered.
“Sounds great! Go get your car and I’ll meet you out front.”
I knew I should not do what I was about to undertake. But I simply could not help myself as I slipped down the hall towards Brenda’s bedroom. The door was ajar and I was able to spy her in the glorious glow of morning light. She was topless with her back to me. I admired the smooth, milk white skin of her back, curved gently – and so enticingly female. She was looking in her dresser mirror, admiring the gold hoops that adorned her large inviting nipples. She was gently touching and toying them. My already stiff cock dripped seeing her naturally touching herself.
Suddenly I was caught, as her eyes lifted and saw me in the doorway!
“My, my, my, Ben! You really like watching me!” Brenda said coyly.
“I, umm, well ... I couldn’t help myself,” I stammered.
“It’s okay! I actually like it!” she said with a giggle and winked. “Now, be a good Boy Toy and go get the car!”
With that I exited and did as told. It was sunny, warm and already in the high 70’s. I put the top of the BMW down and parked in front of her house. She was wearing a loose fitting, pale yellow cotton sundress with buttons running down the front. I got out of the car and opened the door for her.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile and a sly glance over her shoulder as she entered.
I turned westbound toward the coast. I found myself a little intimidated by Brenda, and how fascinated I had become with her.