Cuckold Club Tinas Story

Hi, it's Tom. You don't have to respond. I gave my presentation last month.

We have a much larger turnout than usual tonight. We have a mystery guest speaker, someone who is not a member of the group. I've helped Dave set up a screen in the front of the room. It's not a movie screen, but a panel of cloth. The speaker's stool is behind it, and behind the stool is a bright light. The door behind this setup is where the guest speaker will enter. The group is assembled in front. All they can see is the silhouette of the stool against the screen. There is a microphone connected to a box that will disguise the speaker's voice.

Everyone is nervously checking their watches. The guest will arrive at eight. Someone turned off the lights in the rear of the room. There is an air of expectation as we all sit down facing the screen. We hear the door open and close, then we see her shadow on the screen. Yes, it's definitely a woman. No man could have legs like hers. Her dress is short. Her hair is long down her back. As she sits down, we can see the outline of her high heeled shoes. She takes the mike in hand and holds it up to her face.

"Good evening, gentlemen." Her voice is distorted over the loudspeakers. "My name is Tina, and I'm a hot wife."

"Good evening, Tina."

My name really isn't Tina. I'm using an alias in case my husband is here. I can't see you anymore than you can see me. I don't want to take any chances of being recognized. I'm using this goofy sound system so no one can recognize my voice. I'm here this evening to give you an insight into why your wives cheat on you, to give you a woman's view of what it's like to be unfaithful.

First, I love my husband. He's kind, gentle, caring, and a very good lover. If he demanded I quit sleeping around, I would do it in a heartbeat. He doesn't, and, yes, he knows what I'm doing, except he doesn't know I'm here tonight.

You're probably thinking, "If he's such a great guy, why do I cheat on him?" It's a fair question. It's simple. I love sex. I can't get enough. I love having a cock in me. I don't care if it's long, short, thick, or skinny. I like bigger ones. They fill my cunt better. The man a cock is connected to has a lot to do with whether I enjoy myself. I had one guy with an enormous cock who was very gentle and concerned about hurting me. Another, also with a big one, was very rough with his tool.

What made me stray from my marriage bed? I have a very high sex drive. I am always horny. We both travel for our jobs. I often suspected he was fooling around when he was gone, so I figured, what-the-hell, I could too. It turned out he wasn't, but I didn't find that out for a few years.

Brad and I have been married for eight years now. That's not his real name either. I had my first affair five years ago. I guess it really wasn't an affair, just a quickie with a total stranger. I was nervous the first time. Since then, I've been hot to trot. Every time I go out of town, I pick up two or three men every night and take them up to my room. I don't do groups, just one on one, or one in one if you prefer. It's safer that way. When Brad's gone, I play around some more. I don't take anyone home. I don't want those guys to know where I live.

Here's how I pick men up. They think they are picking me up, but, believe me, unless a woman wants to be picked up, there's no way any guy will score with me or any other woman. It's very simple. You guys really do think with your cocks. It's true. I go to the bar in the hotel where I'm staying. Most of the men there are also from out of town. They don't know where the local singles' bars are. They stick close to their home away from home. I wear a semi-sheer blouse, a very short skirt, and no underwear, especially no panties. I sit on a barstool and pick out my target, then flash my pussy at him. He runs over to buy me a drink. After a couple minutes of small talk, I take his hand in mine and make him feel my hairless pussy. After that, he'll do anything I say.

As I mentioned before, my husband knows what I'm doing. He didn't always know. The night he found out, I was sure our marriage was over. I can't begin to describe how terrified I was he would leave me. We are still happily married. He gets a little extra on the side too.

It happened on one of the rare occasions when we both travelled at the same time. He was scheduled to get home Thursday night. My trip lasted until Friday. Instead of going home, he took Friday off and came to the town where I was to spend the night with me. Even though we have been married eight years, he still believes in romance. What a silly romantic idea it was. He did it as a surprise for me. He was the one who was surprised. Boy, did he get surprised!

Brad usually calls me at ten in the evening when he thinks I'm getting ready to go to sleep. We do a lot of phone sex. He never knew that while we were talking, I had another man inside me giving me real orgasms. That evening, I picked up my first fuck around nine-thirty. He only lasted a few minutes, and I hustled him out of my room. For a change, I would be having real phone sex with Brad when he called a few minutes later. He still hadn't called by ten-fifteen, which I thought was odd. He's very reliable and punctual. I gave up and went to the bar figuring I would have number two banging me while I talked to him.

When I entered the lounge, I noticed someone at a table stand up. I squinted to see in the dim light and saw that it was Brad. I was shocked, nervous, and excited all at the same time. I ran to him, threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him hungrily. For once I didn't need a stranger to fuck me. "Brad, what a delightful surprise!" I cried. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"If I had, it wouldn't have been a surprise," he said. We sat down, and he ordered a glass of my favorite wine for me. When he picked up his drink, his hand trembled. "So," he said in a shaking voice, "was he a good fuck?"

My heart leapt into my throat. How much did he know? "What are you talking about?" I said thinking I could bluff my way out of the situation.

"The man you took up to your room forty-five minutes ago. You came in here just as I came through the front door. By the time I got in here, you were rubbing his cock, and his hand was under your skirt. I sat right here; you were on the stool where the bartender is standing. I ask you again. Was he a good fuck?"

I had been caught red-handed. There was no way I could talk my way out of that mess. Tears welled up in my eyes. "Brad, the last thing I wanted was to hurt you." I started crying. I wasn't faking the tears. I was scared silly. "I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He put his hand on my cheek and forced me to look at him. "Was he a good fuck?" he demanded.

"Not nearly as good as you. P...p...please don't hate me. You have every right to, but, please...I love you. I can explain everything."

"Okay, explain. Explain why you had another man in your room right at the time you knew I would be calling."

"Do I have to do it here? Could we go up to my room?"

"I guess even a tramp is entitled to a little consideration."

My room was decorated with the woman executive in mind, complete with a make-up table with a lighted mirror. The bed had a brass frame with vertical cylinders at each end. A table with a couple of chairs was in the corner by the window. He sat in one chair and laid his hands on the table. When I reached for his hands, he drew them back. "Okay," he said. "I'm listening. Explain."

"I was lonely," I said trying to sound convincing.

"Lonely? You work all day, entertain your clients at dinner; I call you at night. You're hardly lacking company."

"It's not the same as having you with me."

"Was this the first time?"

"No."

He paused for a few seconds. "How long have you been...." He stopped and took a deep breath. His eyes were getting wet. "How long have you been picking guys up?"

"Since my first business trip five years ago." Bluffing hadn't worked, so I could only pray honesty would help. I was also struggling to keep from crying. "You know how horny I -- we are all the time."

He forced a weak smile. "I thought that was what our calls were for, to help calm your libido so you could sleep. Where's your vibrator?"

"It's not a cock; it's plastic. I need warm flesh inside me. At first that's all I thought about. After a year, I realized I could explore my sexuality too."

"Why didn't you explore it with me?"

"I was afraid you would think I was some kind of sicko. I was afraid you'd leave me. I can't believe how badly I've screwed things up between us." I couldn't hold back my tears anymore. I started crying again.

The most amazing thing happened. Brad got up, knelt beside me, and put his arms around me. He held me tenderly, occasionally kissed my cheek gently from time to time until I stopped sobbing. "What did you find in your explorations?" he asked as I wiped my eyes with a tissue.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"I bought some toys to use on the guys I picked up." He didn't react, so I went to the dresser and got out a set of handcuffs. "This is one of them. I always try to get a room with this type of bed. I make the man strip completely, then I secure his arms to the head of the bedframe. That way I can dominate him completely. I can play with any part of his body, sit on his face, give him a blowjob, anything I want."

"That sounds very enjoyable."

"Why didn't you say you wanted to try it?"

"You could have asked me."

"I guess I should have. It's too late now."

"Not necessarily." He stood up and started undressing. His cock strained against his trousers. Ever the neatnik, he hanged his suit in the closet and folded his other garments before putting them in the laundry bag. He stood before me with his dick pointing straight ahead. "What should I do?"

Was he forgiving me, or was he just turned on? At that moment, I didn't care. I was still randy as hell. The man I loved more than life itself was willingly submitting to me. He could still dump me after I played with him. I was still uncertain about our future, but I was happy that he trusted me. After all, I could have cuffed him to the bed and left him for the housekeeper to find.

Following my instructions, he laid down and put his arms over his head. I put one cuff on his left wrist, threaded the other one around a bed post, and attached the other cuff to his right one. I had picked up a cop one night early in my traveling career who taught me how to apply handcuffs snugly enough to keep someone from slipping out of them without being so tight they would cut off blood circulation to the hands.

I started with a foot massage we learned in a massage class we took when we were first married, which I knew he loved. It relaxed him completely. Next, I sucked each of his toes, then kissed both lower legs from his ankles to his knees. His expression changed from one of total bliss as I began kissing his thighs to one of lust. I did the outer side first, then switched to the inner. His prick pointed at the ceiling even though I purposely bypassed his crotch. Crisscrossing his belly, I planted row after row of kisses across his abdomen. His breathing slowed and became deeper. His ribs were my next oral target. When I got to his chest, his nipples were as hard as mine. "What do you think of it?" I whispered.

"Is this heaven?" he replied. "I've never experienced this much loving."

"That's because you can't interfere with what I'm doing. When your hands are free, you try to reposition my head, or you move to try to return my kisses."

I opened my blouse exposing my 40D breasts. His eyes betrayed his desire to suckle them. I straddled his waist and leaned over. He lifted his head in a vain attempt to place his lips on my nipples. After a couple minutes of torturing him with my tits, I moved up and lowered my pussy onto his mouth. My slit was already open. I was dripping with desire. His tongue knew how to press every one of my buttons. I made certain he didn't miss any. My legs clamped against his head twice before I climbed off his face.

I got off the bed and went to the dresser to get a black leather bag. "What about me?" he pleaded.

"I have more toys," I cooed. I unlocked one of his wrists, and he sat up, his cock still rigid. "I need to have you on your stomach next, but first I want your hands behind your back." He gave me a quizzical look and followed my instruction. I quickly refastened the loose cuff to his arm. He was again totally in my control. I reveled in the power I had over him. I kissed him on his lips. His eyes closed. I kept one hand on his cheek while I extracted my next toy from the black bag. Brad's expression was so blissful and trusting I hated to do it, but I broke the kiss and shoved the ball of the gag into his mouth and snapped the strap behind his head. His eyes flew open in shock. "That's a rubber ball with a leather strap riveted to it," I told him. "The strap holds the ball in your mouth. It will keep you quiet for my next toy. Lay on your tummy and spread your legs." The apprehension in his eyes when he laid down made me hesitate, but the wonderful feeling of power prevailed.

I sat where he could see what I was doing and took a butt plug and a tube of lubricant from the bag. "You know how you wake up with a major hardon in the morning?" I began. He nodded his head. "That's because you bladder is full and pressing against your prostate. That causes the erection. When you pee, the pressure goes away, and your cock goes soft." He nodded again. I coated the plug liberally with the lubricant. I pressed the tip of the plug against his anus and pushed. When it appeared it wouldn't fit into his bottom, I slapped the base hard, and it popped in. "That bulge is now pressing against your prostate. It will keep you hard as a rock. One guy came seven times in two hours with this thing up in butt, and he never went soft for an instant. It was fantastic. You can sit up now."

I took a chair from the table and set it in the closet. After pulling the door mostly shut, I checked to see how well I could see the bed. With a couple adjustments of the door and the chair's position, I could see the bed with just a two-inch opening. I took two more sets of cuffs from the bag, then led him to the chair and made him sit down. Quickly I secured his legs to the rungs. He was forced to sit with his legs spread wide apart. He looked ridiculous with his boner sticking up. I knelt before him and stroked his turgid cock a couple times. The gag prevented him from gasping out loud, but he inhaled sharply each time my fingertips touched his glans. Within a minute he was panting through his nose, and his balls rose up. I wrapped my mouth around his shaft just in time to swallow his seed as it spurted down my throat.

It was eleven-thirty. I gathered up my toy bag and stuck it under the pillows, then put all of Brad's clothing out of sight in a dresser drawer. "The bar closes at midnight," I said as I put my boobs back into my blouse, "so I won't be gone long." His prick again stood straight up. I ran my fingertips up the length of his shaft. "I love you," I said closing the closet door leaving a small gap through which he could see the bed. Leaving only one light on beside the bed, I dashed out the door and headed toward the elevator.

I stopped just as I was putting the room key in my purse. What was I doing? I was heading to the bar to pick up some stranger and fuck him while my poor trussed up husband had no choice but to watch. Why? Brad had done nothing wrong. I was the one misbehaving. I certainly wasn't honoring my marriage vows. He was honest, faithful, loving, trusting (probably too trusting), kind, gentle. No woman could ask for a better husband. How had I returned his love, his trust? I had handcuffed him to the bed and made him pleasure me. True, he was a willing participant. Then I tricked him with the ball gag and shackled him to that chair. He didn't deserve that.

I, on the other hand, was a trollop, a slut, a tramp, a whore. Yes, some men paid me, but it was their idea. I never asked any of them for money. I turned back to the room door ready to go back in, turn him loose, and beg for his forgiveness. Clearly, I didn't merit any mercy. He should divorce me for what I had done. Our marriage was undoubtedly over. There was no reason for him to want me. Yet, when I told him about the bondage, he was eager to try it to please me. He had not resisted when I put him in the closet. It was painfully obvious what I was about to do, and he had gone along with everything. Would I be that cooperative if I intended to divorce him? Definitely not. I dropped the key into my purse and took the elevator down to the lobby.

Considering how late it was, I expected the pickings to be limited with half of the men probably too drunk to perform. I spotted my mark the moment I went through the door. He was sitting at a corner table reading a newspaper. The bar was almost closed, so I didn't waste time waiting for him to come to me. I plopped onto a chair beside him and flashed my pussy. Within five minutes, his hand was under my skirt feeling my hairless pubes. Like all other guys, he followed me like a lost pussy to my room. "How much?" he said as he got out his wallet.

I waited until he had pulled out a hundred dollars. "That's enough," I said. Brad was undoubtedly convinced I was a prostitute. On average, one man per trip offered me money. Why should I refuse it?

I took off my blouse and sat on the edge of the bed. "Come on, Lover," I said. "Show me what's inside those pants." He took off his clothes slowly swaying his hips trying badly to imitate a stripper. I doubt he had ever seen a male stripper in action, but he did a fair job of copying a female's act. When he was down to his shorts, he turned his back to me. Bending over to look at me between his legs, he pushed them down as he straightened up. His pants had been bulging when he began undressing, but he kept his back to me while he stroked himself a few times. "Come on, let me see it." He placed his hands behind his back and made a quarter turn. His equipment jutted straight out. While it wasn't the biggest I had experienced, it was much larger than average. Brad's six inches seemed puny by comparison. "Get that thing over here," I said breathlessly as I patted the bed beside me.

He laid down with his head on the pillows. His cock became even bigger when I licked it slowly up and down its full length. Long ago I learned the art of deep-throat. It's the same technique sword-swallowers use, suppression of the gag reflex. Positioning myself so Brad could see what I was doing, I took the guy's prick into my mouth and worked it down my throat. I couldn't see Brad in the dimly lit room, but I could imagine his surprise as I had never taken him into my throat before. I made a mental note to do it on him before we went to sleep that night. Within a minute, his balls rose up, and he shot his sperm down my throat.

"Oh, baby, that was great," he said. "Most women can't take all of my like that."

"Now it's my turn to have fun," I said as I turned around. "Grab that post over your head." He did as I ordered. I straddled my legs over his waist and leaned over to kiss him. When he closed his eyes, I pulled a set of handcuffs from under the pillow and quickly secured his arms to the bedframe.

"What are you doing?" he protested.

"Getting you ready for the time of your life." I got off the bed and dropped my skirt. I struck a couple poses for him.

"You have a beautiful body. I can't wait to fuck you."

"You don't have a choice about waiting. Do you? What do I want first?" My pussy dripped in anticipation of being filled with a large hard cock, but his was flaccid. I only had one butt plug, and Brad was wearing it. For safety reasons, I never did two guys at once, although I would have loved to try it, so I didn't have a need for more than one plug. I knew Brad's muscles would be getting sore, so I could have used an extra one that night. I crawled over his chest and lowered my mammoth mammaries to his face. "Kiss them," I commanded. He pressed his lips to one boob, then the other. I moved around so that first one rigid nipple, then the other, was in his mouth. His sucking was half-hearted, but his erection was returning. Stretching out on top of him, I kissed his face gently, then worked my way down his neck and shoulders to his chest. Soon his nipples were as hard as mine, and his breathing rate increased. I kissed his ribs next. His dick got bigger. He relaxed as he became more and more aroused. After I planted a series of kisses across his belly, I skipped down to his inner thighs.