Kirsten was sat in the front seat of the car, her short, black dress hugging her curves tightly, finishing abruptly at the top of her thighs. Her lack of underwear allowed me glimpses of her carefully sculpted landing strip when she uncrossed her legs, although I had to keep my eyes on the road. Her black-painted toes matched her black 5-inch high heels. Her dress was tight around her breasts but stopped below her shoulders. She was beautifully made-up and looked stunning. The meandering drive to Oxford was tense. The excitement combined with a heavy nervousness was almost palpable from within the car. This was not my girlfriend's first encounter with another male during our relationship.
Neither of us had met him before, but the photos of his member stored on Kirsten's inbox were irresistibly compelling. I had seen the glint of excitement in her eyes when she showed me his messages, like a girl at a candy store pointing to the biggest, most delicious sweet on the top shelf, desperate to have it. Except Kirsten didn't need to ask. The instructions were clear - "we're going to Oxford on Friday." My heart always skips a beat at those moments. Sometimes I forget that her cute, innocent-looking face is a deceiving mask behind which her dark, erotic fantasies reside. Cuckolding toys with your mind like no other fetish. It plays with your emotions, swallows them, chews them up and ruthlessly spits them back out again. It plays with all those emotions; doubt, jealousy, humiliation, temptation, desire and fear.
But there's a reason we left the vanilla life. It's the concoction of all those emotions swirling around in a cauldron of sexual desire and at times, absurdity, that makes it so appealing and so addictive, both for her and for me. As the first road-signs for our destination emerged, I questioned whether it was worth the risk of losing her. All those years of building a relationship together could be thrown on its head by a single, albeit enormous, penis. Although her unwavering loyalty reassured me, I knew that cuckolding was a risk. I'd heard many a story about a happy relationship being slowly prized apart and ultimately severed by the allure of the bull and what it symbolised. But with great risk, also comes great reward. I only had to look down at the throbbing bulge in my jeans to appreciate how much I wanted to see my Kirsten with another man. It had been 6 months since her last encounter and this was no ordinary man.
Kinsey is a small village south-west of Oxford. It was 8pm and we'd arrived. I parked up and walked Kirsten down the road, her heels clicking seductively and authoritatively along the pavement. There was no doubt about who was in charge. She had been very quiet on the drive. She was understandably nervous. I wondered what was going on in her head. My bulge hadn't settled, which wasn't helped when I realised just how short Kirsten's dress was. No bra. No knickers. It was rare for her not to wear her stockings for a meet like this. It was the height of summer and we were in the middle of a rare English heatwave, the mercury that day just brushing 30 degrees. It was still sweltering despite the sun being low on the Oxfordshire horizon. That may have explained the lack of stockings.
There was no doubt that whatever waited for her on the other side of that door, it was going to be a hot and sweaty evening. She ordered me to kneel on the pavement in front of her. She squatted down, almost certainly revealing the lower half of her ass to anyone behind should they happen to walk past. But the neighbourhood was eerily quiet. Her index finger tilted my chin up towards her face. She looked incredible. She whispered in her well-spoken Southern accent. "Now, you will do everything that I say tonight...everything...do you understand?" I nodded, never losing contact with her big, seductive eyes. Then whack; the sound of my slapped cheek resounded around the limestone buildings. "You should know better that nodding isn't how you answer to me."
"Sorry Miss, yes Miss I will do everything you say" I whimpered, desperate to please her.
"That's better. Silly boy. You never know, it might be Mrs by the end of the night if he's as big as he looks in the photos" she laughed, knowing exactly how to toy with me. I felt my bulge throb. We continued to walk towards the house. "And don't even think about touching that cock of yours unless I tell you to."
"Ok Miss" I replied obediently. Already I could tell she was behaving differently to previous meets. On the first one, she was very reluctant and shy and it was me almost dragging her down the road to the door. Now things were different. She was more authoritative, more confident, probably more sexually charged. Six months like a coiled spring and now she was ready to fly.
The doorbell rang. We seemed to be waiting an age although it was probably only 20 seconds. Our hearts were pounding. The door opened. I noticed Kirsten's head tilt up and down, taking in the 30-year-old figure at the doorway through her greedy eyes. At 6 foot 4 inches he towered nearly a foot taller than her petite frame. I noticed myself having to look up at him too, which was unusual for me at 6 foot 3. His hands were so big they looked like they could crush her in his palm. To my surprise, he was very slim and didn't appear particularly muscular. His skin was still fair, despite the recent hot weather and he had short blonde hair. Kirsten seemed very happy on first impressions and leant in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, grinning from ear to ear. She knew that so far his height and hands matched up with his photos.
He invited us in to the living room and handed us a glass of wine. He turned to Kirsten, "wow you look gorgeous," he said with dancing eyes that lingered over every part of her body. "I tell you if I had a girlfriend as beautiful as yours I wouldn't be sharing her with anyone!" he said. We both laughed, mine with an edge of nervousness. After all, he was right, why was I sharing her? It was me that got her into this scene, slowly progressing things through the years. Me, not her. But now she'd grown to relish these experiences, dare I say, crave them.
Now it was her who wanted to push the boundaries of our relationship. Pushing me that little bit further every time. It was one thing imagining her with another man in the safe confines of my room at night as I stroked my cock, but another thing having them in front of you. This was real. This was my girlfriend. Their eye contact was intense. The look in her eyes was like that of the night we met; lingering, piercing, captivating...the kind of eyes that told him "I'm your slut tonight."
I noticed Kirsten's glass was already empty and as he went to retrieve the bottle to top her up, Kirsten sat me down on the sofa, dipped into her handbag and hung the ball-gag seductively from her fingers. She fastened it in place around my mouth. Kirsten sipped from her second glass. I knew she was nervous. But she remained so calm. Now they were both on the same sofa across the room from me. There was more agonising eye contact, I could almost touch the sexual tension, then both their heads moved closer and their lips eventually touched. Slow at first, then their mouths began to work. I watched closely. Captivated. I saw Kirsten's tongue enter his mouth, and now they were properly kissing. Passion surged through their veins as their kissing became messier and more animalistic. Then it happened. His big hand crept down her dress and it wasn't long before it was caressing her bare thigh. Up and down, up and down. Kirsten uncrossed her legs and he needed no second invitation. His hand slipped up her very short dress and brushed over her pussy. It was at that moment that it all felt very real. I questioned what I was doing letting my girlfriend do this. She must be laughing at me. I felt pathetic. He seemed slightly surprised by the lack of underwear. Kirsten moaned. I could see a small wet patch on her dress. Their kissing became even more frantic as he teased her pussy, stroking all around her clitoris without giving her the satisfaction. It felt like an age that their lips converged. He dipped a finger inside my girlfriend. She moaned again and kissed him even more fervently, gently gyrating her hips, grabbing his face with both hands.
Then he inserted a second finger. At last the kiss was interrupted as his fingers, glazed in juice, were lifted to her lips and sunk between them. She sucked his long finger. I could just imagine what she tasted like and my cock stirred even more. He took her hand and directed her fingers to her pussy. She instinctively inserted 2 fingers and then he withdrew her hand and sucked her pretty, ringed fingers. It seemed so sensual, the room so electrically charged, like a heavy, suffocating humidity before the storm clouds roll in and the lightning strikes. It didn't take long for the storm to hit. He frantically fingered her pussy, now her gentle moans had risen to louder, more guttural yells. Her breathing suddenly fastened. I could hear the sloppy sound of her wet pussy on his fingers. I couldn't try and deny it anymore. She was horny and longing for him - I could hear it! It was as though I wasn't in the room, she gave him her undivided attention, fully devoted to her man. I felt betrayed. But I also couldn't deny that I was thrilled watching it. My cock was rock hard in my trousers.
They kissed some more and without me noticing he had lowered her dress below her breasts. Now he was using his other hand to pinch her nipples which I knew was a particular favourite of hers. As I expected, her breathing became even quicker and deeper. She told him to pinch harder and he did, elevating her to a higher level of pleasure. All I wanted to do was unzip my trousers and take out my bulging cock but I couldn't.
As soon as that crossed my mind, Kirsten's hand began hovering over the unmissable mound in his trousers. Now was the moment of truth. My heart was beating faster again. What was it going to be like? Surely it couldn't be as big as it looked in the picture? Surely that wasn't his cock. If it was as big, the one thing that wasn't in doubt was how Kirsten would react to it.
She stood up from the sofa and I'd noticed that he'd lifted her dress up above the curve of her ass. Now it looked like a waistband, covering nothing other than her abdomen. He stared at her ass. Although it looked like her plump butt cheeks were staring at him just as much. The dress in it's current position seemed to pronounce the curvature of her back. She arched her back and it threw her round ass out towards his eyes, seeming fuller and more voluptuous than ever. I'd seen her ass almost daily for over 2 years, yet now that it was plopped in front of another man at the mercy of his infatuation, it seemed even more desirable.
