A Cuckold’s Paradise

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I was dreaming that I was a real man. I dreamed I was about to make love to my wife, to fill her up and satisfy her as she had never been satisfied before. I awoke with a slight erection. My hopes raised, I looked over at my wife, Julia. Her beauty was undimmed at 42, and the dappled morning light coming through the curtains gave her long blonde hair an enchanting shimmer. I crept between her long slender legs. I am only 5’5” tall to her somewhat Amazonian 5’10”, so we had always made an awkward couple in bed. I looked at my wife’s beautiful pussy, and prepared my attempt to enter her. She rubbed her eyes, then shot me a bemused but bored look, a look that said she had been here before and knew what was coming. Sure enough, as soon as the struggling little tip of my penis touched her pussy, it shrank back like a snail, reducing from 5 inches to 1 inch in a second. I slumped away from her, frustrated and humiliated.

“Its OK, Philip”, she said, leaning over and stroking my thinning hair.

“It’s not OK”, I said. “It must be a year since we made love properly. I can’t imagine how frustrating this is for you. I feel like a pathetic failure.”

“Hey there …” she remonstrated. “It’s not such a big deal. Let’s just say it’s not one of your strong points. Some guys are great in bed, some guys are great at taking care of their family. You’re a great guy, in so many ways.”

“Just not in that way.”

“No, Philip”, she admitted. “Not in that way.”

I gulped. I knew what I wanted to say but couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Words I had been trying to say for weeks, and thinking about saying for months, but had never been able to summon the courage. This time, finally, I forced the words out.

“Julia honey. Now please, don’t get angry, just hear me out. You know I love you and I want you to be happy, right?”

“Yes, Philip, I know that. What is it?”

“Well …”, my throat went dry as I tried to mouth the words.

“God dammit, Philip, what is it?”

“Well … have you … have you ever thought of … of … you know … taking a … taking a lover?”

The lengthy pause told me the real answer. Then she replied.

“Of course … of course not! How could you ask me that?”

“Because if you wanted to, well … I would understand. I wouldn’t stand in your way.”

I shivered slightly as I said it. There was another long pause.

“But what about Becky?”, she asked.

I shuddered at her blunt practicality. She was clearly taking this seriously. Our daughter Becky had just turned 16, and was apparently the first thing my wife had thought of as an obstacle to her taking a lover. Not fidelity, not her marriage vows, just how it could be done without our daughter finding out.

“Well”, I said, “I guess you’d have to be very discreet.”

She kissed me on the forehead.

“Thank you honey”, she said. “You’re such a doll. That’s so considerate of you. I’ll give it some thought.”

For the next couple of weeks I agonized over the conversation we had had, replaying it endlessly in my head and wondering whether, or when, Julia would broach the subject again, or act on what we had discussed. When I looked to her for signs, she seemed distant and thoughtful. But she did seem more content than she had previously, so I supposed that was a good thing.

One evening, I was busy making dinner while Julia sat at the kitchen table going through her mail.

“Do you remember Roy?”, she asked me.

“Your brother’s friend Roy? Of course. How could I forget?”

Julia and I had been high school sweethearts, and her older brother David had always disapproved of me, calling me a nerd and a wimp. He and his friend Roy used to bully me and tell me to stay away from Julia. It was only when Julia’s father told them to lay off that I got respite and our romance was allowed to develop.

“I bumped into him today”, she said, so casually that I became suspicious.

“Great”, I said sarcastically. “That’s all we need.”

“He’s grown up a lot you know. He’s not like he used to be. In fact he was quite the gentleman. He gave me his number and said he wanted to go out and catch up sometime.”

“You want me to go out with Roy?”, I said incredulously. “Like we’re old buddies or something? No way.”

“Well, actually”, she said, then bit her lip nervously, “I was kind of thinking that maybe … I could go out with him. On my own.”

Her words hit me like a hammer.

“Oh my God, Julia. Please tell me you’re not thinking what I think you are.”

“It was you that suggested I could find somebody else, honey. I thought maybe, just maybe, Roy would fit the bill. He is an old family friend, and I know I can trust him.”

Pictures flashed into my mind, filling me with horror. I had always suspected Julia of having a crush on Roy.

“But Julia, Roy? … you can’t be serious. The guy is huge for a start. He must be 6’4” at least.”

“Well … maybe that’s what I need right now.”

I blushed, cut by her words. I tried to protest, to speak, but I couldn’t.

“Look”, she said, placatory, “how about if I take it really slow. I’ll go out and have dinner with him, and then illegal bahis we’ll just see how it goes.”

So that Saturday evening I sat and moped as Julia prepared for her first date with another man. She had called him while I was out, so I didn’t get to hear their conversation. I tried to imagine his delight and bemusement when she suggested that they have dinner just the two of them. Becky had gone to sleep over at a friend’s for the night, so Julia was free to play without worry.

My wife sat at her dressing table, looking impossibly sexy in matching black bra and panties, garter belt and stockings, as she put the finishing touches to her makeup. She flattened her lips out and applied bright red lipstick. She glanced at me in the mirror, then stood and slipped into an elegant black dress. She looked lovely. There was a car beep outside the door.

“That’s my cab”, she said. “I shouldn’t be too late.”

She held her cheek out for me to kiss, so that I wouldn’t smudge her lipstick. Then she walked down the stairs and out the door. The smell of her expensive perfume stayed with me.

I sat alone for maybe an hour, my mind racing with thoughts. I could not quite believe that it was really happening – that my wife was out having an unambiguously romantic dinner with another man. To kill the time I decided to clean the house. I cleaned everything, the insides of closets and appliances, until the house was sparkling. I had always found cleaning a calming activity. Around 10:30pm I heard a car pull up outside. I peeked through the curtain. It was not a cab. Julia was talking to the driver, who then pulled away. She had been true to her word and not stayed out late. I took some crumb of comfort from that.

When Julia came in she seemed like a different person – lively, smiling, and happy. She was maybe a little tipsy. I asked her how it had gone, and she told me it was wonderful and that Roy had been the perfect gentleman. They had reminisced about old times and caught up with each other’s gossip. Roy was now a successful financier, and quite dashing and distinguished in a sharp suit, she told me. He had had a long string of girlfriends, but had grown tired of each one.

“Did you … did you … have any … contact?”, I asked, not really wanting the answer.

“Well, after the dessert had been cleared away, he took my hand in his, across the table”, she said. “It was romantic rather than sordid. It was very nice actually. It felt very natural, very right. Then we kissed on the cheek when he dropped me off, and that was that. As I said, he was a real gentleman. He knows I’m a married woman. I told him I was nervous about the situation and he said that was fine and that we could just take it easy and have a nice time.”

I was stung by her words. I could see them there at the table, hand in hand.

“It was a little awkward at first obviously”, she went on, “but Roy handled it really well. I told him you knew I was going on a date with him and that you were OK about it. I told him we had been having problems … sexually … but that you wanted me to be happy.”

Yeah, I’ll bet he just lapped up that part, I thought. I felt mortified and embarrassed that someone else, another man, now knew of my inability to satisfy my own wife in bed.

“How did he react to that?”, I asked.

“He was very understanding. He said not everyone is cut out for it, and not every man can rise to the challenge of having a woman like me. I was very flattered by that. He also told me he had always had a crush on me but hadn’t wanted to go after me because I was David’s little sister.”

My cheeks were flushed red. My head was down.

“Are you going to see him again?” I asked, again not really wanting to hear the answer.

“Of course. I said I’d call him next time Becky was going out for the evening.”

The following Friday, I was making some tea when I heard the words I had been dreading.

“Is it OK if I stay over at Ryanna’s tonight?”

Becky always went to her mother to ask anything. Julia had always been in charge of discipline.

“Sure honey”, my wife replied, glancing over at me. “What time are you going over there?”

“Around seven I guess.”

“OK sweetie. Call us tomorrow if you need a ride home.”

Julia couldn’t hide her delight. She went straight to the bedroom to make a call, closing the door behind her.

As soon as Becky was out the door, she went and took a shower, then got dressed up to go out. She came downstairs in a long black skirt with a cream colored blouse. She looked great as usual.

“I suppose I don’t have to ask where you’re going?” I said, with a hint of bitterness.

“No you don’t”, she said. “And I wish you’d quit sulking. This is best for everyone. You suggested it, remember? Roy’s just taking me out for dinner anyway. I’m having some fun, you should be happy for me.”

This time he collected her from our house. He beeped his horn from outside, so I was spared from coming face-to-face with him. Julia rushed out, looking flustered but excited.

Again, to my enormous relief, she returned at a civilised hour, around 10:45. I heard the car outside and peeked. He illegal bahis siteleri got out of the car this time. He did cut a fine figure, far from the young bully I had known. He stood towering over Julia, and held her shoulders in his huge hands. Then he kissed her full on the lips. My wife responded to his kiss and fell into his embrace, lifting her hands to tenderly stroke the back of his head. I was stunned. I prayed that none of my neighbors would look out of their windows. They kissed passionately, romantically, for a good couple of minutes. Then Julia squeezed his hand and turned towards the door.

This time, I tried to make a fight of it. I tried to be angry.

“How was it this time?”, I asked, “How was the gentleman? Where do you get off necking in front of the neighbors like that?”

“What? Don’t you dare speak to me like that”, she said. “I’ve just had a wonderful, exciting, romantic evening, and you want to ruin it for me?”

“You’re my wife, Julia!”

“Yes, and you’re my husband, and if you were up to the job this wouldn’t be happening!”

Defeated and hurt, I slumped back into a chair. I stifled tears.

“I’m sorry”, she said, stroking my head. “That was unkind. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you’re right”, I said. “This is all my fault.”

“It’s just … my relationship with Roy is developing into something really warm, and natural, and fun”, she said. “He makes me feel great about myself, he makes me feel so feminine. I just want you to be understanding. And besides, we haven’t even slept together yet.”

“Yet?”, I sobbed.

She paused and breathed in deeply.

“I think it will happen, honey, yes. I can definitely see myself sleeping with Roy. I want to. I think you should prepare yourself so you don’t get too upset when it does happen.”

For the next couple of weeks Becky stayed around the house, sitting by the pool a lot, so I was spared the continuance of my wife’s romance with Roy. I know she called him though, as I overheard her one day in the back yard on her cell-phone.

“Hey you! … yeah, its me … I know, I know … I can’t wait to see you either… oh no, its OK, he came around … he won’t cause problems … nothing we can’t handle anyway … OK … take care. I’ll call you soon. Bye!”

I could see that Julia was getting impatient. She took longer than usual on her shopping trips, and I suspected that she was maybe meeting Roy for lunch. She certainly dressed up more than she had before just to go shopping. She had also started looking after her appearance much more, going to the gym every day and having regular hair and beauty appointments. Becky even had a sleepover with a friend at our house, much to Julia’s obvious disappointment. Finally, after nearly 3 weeks, Becky asked her the question she’d been waiting for. My wife was effusive in her approval.

“Stay over at Emilia’s? Why of course, honey! What a wonderful idea! How lovely!”

The next evening as Becky was chauffeured away, my wife repaired to her wardrobe to select an outfit. I gloomily went up to watch and chat to her while she got dressed. This time she selected her black PVC pants and a white, somewhat sheer blouse.

“Isn’t that a little racy?”, I asked. “Where are you going for dinner?”

“Oh, we’re not going for dinner, Roy’s taking me dancing tonight. So I guess I’ll be a little later than usual.”

I got pictures in my mind of Julia dancing cheek-to-cheek with Roy, their bodies pressing together. I sank back onto the bed.

Roy arrived at 8:30 to collect my wife. This time he rang the bell. Not wanting to face him, I hid in the bedroom. This raised a chuckle from Julia, who kissed me briefly before going to answer the door. I heard her telling Roy all about it.

“My husband’s upstairs in the bedroom”, she said. “He’s hiding from you. I guess he thinks you might bully him again …”

They both laughed as the door closed behind them.

I sat alone in the dark for hours, thinking about my wife and Roy out dancing and having a great time. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t do anything. I went back to the bedroom and lay on the bed. I noticed a Victoria’s Secret bag by my wife’s closet. I went and looked at the receipt. She had bought new underwear today. I knew she was wearing it for Roy. I remembered the unfamiliar, beautiful lacy half-cup bra that had been visible through her blouse. It was all for Roy. As the night wore on, I waited and waited, but there was no sign of Julia. Deep down, I had a horrible feeling I knew what was happening. It just had to be. I could feel it in my bones, in my whole being. I must have dozed off, because the phone jolted me awake. I looked at the clock – it was 2am. My wife sounded drunk on the phone.

“Hi honey, its me”, she said. “I didn’t want you to worry. Listen, I’m going to stay at Roy’s place tonight OK? So don’t wait up. OK, gotta go. Love you.”

A huge lump rose in my throat. I had known that this was going to happen, but nothing had prepared me for the shock of hearing that it really was happening, right now, and there was nothing I could do about it. Roy was going to fuck my wife. Tonight. I closed my eyes. I saw Julia, canlı bahis siteleri my beloved Julia, who had stood next to me in church and made a solemn vow to forsake all others but me, laying back on Roy’s bed, opening her lovely long slender legs for him, offering her pussy to Roy for his pleasure, her marriage vows forgotten and discarded. I saw Roy holding his rock-hard cock, unrestrained by self-doubt, and sliding it into my wife. I saw him fucking her hard and long, and Julia arching her back, crying out in pleasure, all of her pent-up frustrations released. I imagined him climaxing into my wife’s womb, then collapsing onto the bed. I saw them lying in a loving post-coital embrace, then waking in the morning and fucking again. I thought about how it must feel for Roy, entering that forbidden place, and fucking another man’s wife. I imagined his smug face as he peeled my wife’s brand new panties, bought for his eyes only, down over her long thighs. It was then that I noticed it. My cock, shrivelled and shy for so long, was rock hard. Thinking about them had actually gotten me hard. Shame burned my cheeks, but I couldn’t stop my mind from recalling that mental image of Roy fucking my wife. The feelings I was experiencing were the most intense and confusing of my life; searing humiliation, jealousy and pain mixed with a strange throbbing pleasure so sweet it felt like some perverted paradise. I started to masturbate. The pictures in my mind were just so red-hot, so alive. In no time at all I spurted all over my shirt. Gripped by a post-orgasmic shame and self-loathing, I took off the shirt and threw it in the wash basket. Then I lay in bed, confused and torn, until I fell asleep.

Julia got back a little after 10am the next morning. I’ll never forget the look she had on her face as she walked through the door, or the chill that it gave me. She looked tired, but deliriously happy, and her face and neck were flushed. I could see that they had fucked all night. We didn’t talk. I just couldn’t face the reality.

A pattern developed in the months that followed. Every time Becky was away for the night, at her friends or at her grandparents, Julia would go out with Roy and stay at his place, not returning until morning, while I masturbated alone in our bed. We never talked about it, but after a while I began to see that she was falling in love with Roy, and that this was more than just sex, more than an affair. She practically jumped for joy whenever Becky went away or her cell phone rang. And as the summer approached, I began to feel a great sense of foreboding. I knew the cause. Becky was due to go to camp for two weeks, and I knew how my wife planned to spend the time. The week before Becky was due to leave, Julia and I talked openly about her affair for the first time since that night it had become sexual.

“Honey”, she said. “I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate how great you’ve been over my relationship with Roy. I know it can’t have been easy for you.”

I fought back tears.

“No”, I said. “It hasn’t been easy.”

“Well, for what its worth, it means a lot to me. Really. And you mean a lot to me. But so does Roy.”

I could sense that she was building up to something.

“What is it, honey?” I asked. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“OK. Look, Philip. I don’t know how do say this. I really don’t. So I guess I’m just going to say it. I … I think I’m in love with this man. I want him to be a part of my life. Becky’s too young to understand, but I think that you and Roy should meet so that things can at least be out in the open between the three of us. And with Becky going to camp, this would be the perfect time. I want us to have Roy over for dinner on Saturday night.”

“No, Julia, please …”, I begged. The thought of facing Roy at all was unpleasant to me, but now that he was openly fucking my wife it made me cringe with dread. He was someone who had always frightened me, and this made it ten times worse. I begged again.

“Please Julia, I just can’t, I can’t …”

“Oh, Philip, honey, come on …”, she said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Do it for me? Please?”

“I’m sorry Julia, anything else, please …”

“Philip”, she said, drawing a breath, her face darkening slightly, “don’t make me choose between you.”

I felt the threat in her words, and it hurt. I shuddered, and tried to suppress the shake of my shoulders. I had no choice but to agree.

“OK”, I said.

“Thank you, honey”, she said, and kissed me on the forehead. “You don’t know how happy that makes me. You’re a doll.”

When Saturday came around I had butterflies in my stomach all day. I cleaned the house, to try to relax and of course to prepare for Roy’s visit. Becky had gone off to camp in the morning, and Julia had gone out shopping. She returned around 4pm, just as I was starting to get the dinner ready. She had bought two new outfits, and more new expensive underwear. She spent the next couple of hours pampering herself and getting ready, while I made the dinner. At Julia’s request I was making roast beef, which was Roy’s favorite. I set the table for three, with our best silverware and napkins. I opened a bottle of wine and put it on the table. Then I went upstairs to see if Julia needed anything. She was applying her makeup at her dressing table, dressed in black stretch pants and a pale blue satin blouse. She had put her hair up in an elegant fashion.

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