Cuckolding For Beginners Ch 21

Chapter XXI

Bryn

"Tea!"

The soft, giggling voice of Michael's flatmate interrupted my deep slumper. I opened my eyes to see a naked lady smiling warmly, holding two cups of steaming liquid.

I stretched, squirming in the warm bed, alongside my bisexual one night stand. Sandy flicked her long blonde hair, putting the drink beside my pillow on a bedside table before striding to Michael's side of the bed.

She wriggled her arse seductively as she walked; drawing my attention to the present and throwing me from my sleep quicker than if she had dowsed me with icy water. "Come here, baby," Michael crowed, grabbing hold of her waist as she placed his drink on the table.

She shrieked as he hauled her onto his bed, touching her breasts as his mouth pressed against her lips. They kissed, squirming alongside me as I watched; I said nothing, just watching transfixed.

His fingers squeezed her bosom, her hands gripped his waist; their touches dancing frantically over their bodies as their morning horniness boiled over.

"Lie down," he panted, directing his words at me. "Head at that end of the bed."

I said nothing and pushed the thick duvet away from my body as I scrambled to the other end of the mattress. The warm, gentle smile from Sandy had been replaced by a devilish, demanding look; she wordlessly untangled from her partner and slid alongside me, placing her knees either side of my head.

"You don't mind?" She whispered; my face inches from her delicate flower.

"Of course not!" My eyes traced the smooth cunt of the delicious woman. I savoured every contour of her womanly folds: so beautifully intimate, so wonderfully unique.

Her nipples swirled in my fingers, I rolled them between my thumb and forefinger while I cupped her breasts. She exhaled sharply, lowering her hips until I could feel the warmth from her groin radiate against my face.

She shuddered as my lips met her lips. I took a moment to savour the taste and enjoy the sweet aromas of her cunt. Delicate, flowery, musky, sexually delightful.

She groaned as my fingers played with her breasts and my tongue teased her cunt: flicking her clitoris, rolling against her sodden crack and twisting into her hole. She gasped and flinched, moaning into my erect cock as it slipped into her mouth.

Her mouth adored my prick; I felt a warm wave of sensation grip my dick as her lips worked intimate attention against my glans and her fingers massaged my shaft. My balls were touched, my perineum pressed as Michael stood behind her.

His bare cock poked at her hole, sliding his cock against my tongue and pressing his sweaty balls against my face. I could smell the masculinity on him, taste the femininity on her. I could feel his powerful thrusts against her cunt as he drove his cock deep into the squirming woman. She squealed; groaning her pleasure onto the erect shaft of my prick.

I could feel, taste, smell and enjoy every part of their sex as I watched the cock slide past my eyes. I relished the touch of his skin, pressing my tongue onto his shaft as he slid out of her cunt so I could savour the wonderful taste of their union.

The aura of submission swirled around me; the deep lust of filthy enjoyment smacked into my arousal as she fellated me and I provided oral enjoyment to the two sexually-crazed lovers. Her body shook, his motions furiously passionate as his cock parted her lips with increasing speed. He gasped, his cock quivered and he buried his prick deep into her cunt, resting his sodden balls on the bridge of my nose.

I felt his muscles contracting; I sensed the overwhelming urge of enjoyment cascade through his body and breathlessly leave him squirming. His morning lust sated, his base arousal spent.

"Clean her," he demanded as he withdrew, walking around her as she sat upright. The first globule of his orgasm dripped onto my tongue: a sweeter taste of cum that gathered delightfully in my mouth and fired an electric shock to my groin.

"Finish him," she cooed, giggling in the room as her hips wiggled. He wordlessly replied as his warm mouth fell against my cock, sucking the tip of my prick as I devoured his cum from his bisexual lover.

She bucked her hips, riding my face as my tongue probed deep. I felt the smooth, gloopy texture slide into my mouth as pressure swelled in my balls. I was close to orgasming, closing my eyes as I devoured her cunt with increasing speed.

She panted, snatching at breaths, as my tongue swirled against her clit and slipped across her hole. My hands massaged her breasts, cupping her smooth orbs in my hands.

My climax was nearing; I gasped into her cunt, taking a lungful of sweet pussy-clad air as my balls quivered and my release filled the bobbing mouth of my bed fellow.

Sandy came a few moments later, soaking my face with the last of Michael's cum as her breathless squeals dominated the small bedroom.

We lay, sweaty and exhausted, on the mattress, exchanging glances and smiles as we soaked in the afterglow. "Good Morning," she giggled.

"Good morning!"

My phone beeped while I was in the shower and I opened an e-mail from Erin, containing pictures of her with two other women. The smooth cunts that glistened in the Ibiza hotel room, complete with a smiling wife was proof that I wasn't the only bisexual in our marriage enjoying themselves that weekend.

I showed Michael and Sandy, and the latter made me pose for my phone camera, with Michael's cock inches from my lips, to send back to my holidaying wife.

Billie was bubbly and friendly; the lesbian woman made us breakfast and we chatted like old friends. I found their dynamic intriguing but never probed as to whether Sandy was foremost Billie's girlfriend or Michael's girlfriend. I didn't think it really mattered. I dressed in the grey suit from the conference the night before and left their house, with their numbers in my mobile.

I rang Bryn as my train navigated through the suburban sprawl and arranged to meet him at the hotel; he had stayed away too and the muted grunting into the phone as the one-sided conversation unfolded led me to believe that my neighbour was being arse-fucked as we spoke.

The suite in the hotel that Bryn had paid for was luxurious; the giant double bed dominated the bedroom and the small lounge had incredible views over the spectacular British capital.

My clothes were in the boot of Bryn's car and feeling dirty in my suit, I threw my clothes onto the floor. I took a glass of water onto the balcony, standing naked in the hustle and bustle of London.

Car horns blared, the sounds of the vibrant city swirled around the building as I settled on the cold chair of the balcony and closed my eyes, taking in the warming rays of the morning Sun.

"I'm sure sexy man to fuck was an optional extra," Bryn teased, waking me from my unexpected nap with a gentle stroke of my hair. "I'm sure I expected to have to pay extra for this!"

"Hiya mate!" He smiled, slouching on the chair opposite with a wide grin. "Good night?"

"Oh, the best. I spent all night with cocks and cunts bouncing off these lips!" His eyes twinkled. "So much cum, so little time! You?"

"Ahh Billie was cool. Her flatmate went to a fun party."

"Get fucked?"

"Ummm ... yes!"

"Me too! I was getting rammed by a strap-on when you rang!"

His confidence buoyant as he gulped at a glass of water, slouching in the chair in his stained suit. "The best evenings. Sex, sex and more sex. And fine whisky of course. You up for some sightseeing?"

"Sure." We changed into leisurely wear; both of us wearing the delicate lace panties our beloveds had packed for us. We smiled, holding hands in front of the mirror, as I took a picture with my phone and sent it to my wife.

We ate on the cosmopolitan South Bank before Bryn and I took a trip on the London Eye, captivated by the breathtaking vista across Europe's greatest city. I think we looked like a gay couple; not by design but simply because it felt so natural.

We didn't kiss in public, or really hold hands, but there was a closeness that "normal friends" don't have and we got some interesting looks as we queued and rode the Ferris wheel.

Our evening meal in one of London's best restaurants was fantastic; I worried about the amount of money the venue would bill until Bryn promised that the weekend was "on the company" and I was told not to think of the cost.

It was a mark of how far my friendship and relationship with the multi-millionaire had come; we shared an intimate bond as sexual partners, as cuckolds and of great friends. It would be without hesitation that if someone asked who my best friend was, the answer would definitely be the married cuckold sitting opposite me.

Our evening was finished with a leisurely stroll through the busying streets of the capital, wandering aimlessly until we arrived back at the hotel and Bryn fished in his pocket for a scrappy piece of paper. "Let's have some fun tonight," he giggled and called the number, stepping away from me so his muted conversation was barely audible.

He was definitely up to something; his charming smile disarming as he returned to his bisexual companion. "Fancy a drink?"

He never told me what he had planned and I never pushed him; he would tell me when he was ready. I bought us a couple of drams of fine Scottish spirit as we chatted in the bar, ignoring the colourful chants of inebriated football supporters celebrating a victory in the adjacent establishment.

We returned to our bedroom as the phone buzzed again; Bryn spoke briefly but said nothing directly to me. A few moments later, I was opening the hotel room door to a clothed gentleman -- about five years my junior - and carrying a large bag. "Bryn? Peter?" He spoke in a foreign accent as I sized him up.

He was a gym bunny; 6ft of smooth muscle that his skin-tight clothes did nothing but accentuate. His short black hair was flawlessly styled, his smile broad and genuine. Bryn passed him an envelope, doubtlessly full of cash, and our guest introduced himself as Conan.

I doubted it was his real name, but I was no closer to knowing the purpose of the man's visit, although his impressive physique suggested Bryn had planned something exciting and enjoyable. I admired the smooth arse as his tight shorts stretched across his rear.

Bryn caught me looking, as Conan retrieved a large plastic sheet from his bag and draped it over our double bed. He repeated this with a softer cotton sheet.

And then he got naked; I was right about his torso and body. Rippling muscle, hairless skin and a lissome gorgeousness that oozed sexuality. I wanted him. I wanted to slip on my knees and push my lips against every square inch of his fabulous body and lick the tip of his cock. I wanted to bury my face into his arse crack and I wanted to slide my tongue over his hairless balls.

But Bryn was the first to experience the delicate treats of Conan. A big bottle of grapeseed oil was retrieved from the bag and my friend was invited to lie face down on the bed.

It was entrancing. Sexually evocative and hypnotic. Soft, gentle music filled the room from his music box as I slouched in the chair: my erection prominent and my eyes entranced by the soft, gentle massage.

Bryn's skin glowed. The oil radiated the twilight from our large window as I watched, twinkling majestically as Conan's hands glided effortlessly over my friend's body, massaging his skin with casual movements.

It was sensual; firm strokes of the skin, pulling gently at muscles until Bryn purred in delight and slipped into a semi-conscious relaxed sanctuary.

Conan repeated the elegant movements of his hands on Bryn's front, turning my bisexual lover to draw his relaxing fingers over the muscles of his thighs and arms, chest and tummy.

And then the oil poured onto his cock. Slippery hands glissaded over his tumuscent manhood, stroking and pawing at his firm erection in his right hand, while he gripped the oiled balls in his left.

It was slow and steady, gentle unrushed glides of his hand that drew a deep satisfaction from the relaxed subject. It was a worship; the rhythmic movements of a man adoring the erect cock glistening in the evening light. His hands clasped together to slide the manhood between his palms and he stroked.

Each stroke drew a whimper of delighted lust from Bryn, each touch was bringing him closer to a sensual orgasm. The music was soft, the atmosphere was sexually charged. His fingers swept over the frenulum, tickling his sensitive spot until fists pumped down his shaft, leaving my neighbour teetering on the edge of his climax.

A few final glides of the masseur's oiled hands over glistening genitals had Bryn emitting a brief groan and his cock quivered, sending cum arcing into the air and landing on his shiny body.

Conan continued, slowly rubbing his hands over the thighs and balls; he rubbed his semen into his chest and sent the blissed out man into a state of deep relaxation and contentment.

It was sexually incredible; I was captivated by the beguiling display of male sexuality. Conan was so effortless in his motions, and so elegantly graceful in his massage.

It was my turn a few minutes later; the cotton sheet was damp in some places where the oil had rubbed off but Conan said little as he guided my naked frame onto the two sheets.

I barely felt the oil as it touched my skin; Conan poured it into his hands to warm and then drizzled it over my back, pushing against the pooling liquid with firm motions.

I closed my eyes as his hands swept over my skin, savouring his smooth movements against my body. It was relaxing; a gentle aura of bliss tumbled from my closed eyelids as I was taken away with the tranquil sounds of the mellow music and the hypnotic trance of his massaging hands.

I was in heaven, drifting to euphoria as I felt nothing but calm stillness. I felt his hands smoothly glide over my buttocks and my thighs; I remembered the tenseness float away as my muscles were kneaded into a stress-free dimension before he calmly flipped me onto my back and rolled his hands over my chest and my legs.

And when I was at my most relaxed, his hands went to my genitals. I never saw what he did, I just felt arousal swell inside my cock as he massaged my slippery prick and hairless balls.

I could barely contain my lust; the tension was building in my cock, shaking with every motion of his orgasmic hands. Every touch of his fingers drew bolts of lightning from my loins. Every flowing motion that frictionlessly glided over my oiled body left me shaking with horniness. I was inches from my climax.

I gasped, feeling the pressure of my arousal overwhelm my shaking body and the first spurt of my semen shot from the end of my cock as my body tensed and my perineum pulsed.

A cool shiver of intense relief swept through my skin as the cum splattered onto my stomach and I sank into the mattress, enjoying the aftershocks as Conan continued to massage.

He said little as I woke from my trance, seeing the sticky semen splashed across me as the naked man leant over me. And his cock was inches from my face.

I blew gently on it. A subtle blow of cool air that whistled past his thick, hairless, veiny cock. A gentle brush with air, a delicate dance with him.

He looked down at me and smiled, leaning back and then further forward across my body. His cock was closer; less an inch from my lips. I blew again, harder. I watched his cock bob slightly and I stared at the purple tip of his penis; so enticing.

He smiled again, winking at me as his hands glided across my chest and then to my stomach until his cock was almost touching my face.

I couldn't resist. I wanted his cock, I wanted to feel his thick meat slide over my tongue as his hands had slid over my body. I wanted to feel his hot member engorge in my mouth as I sucked on his prick. I wanted to be a cocksucking slut, unable to resist any opportunity to fellate horny men.

So I did.

His cock slipped into my mouth as he leant over me. I sucked, drawing my tongue over his thick head as his hands worked on my stomach.

I barely realised any of his smooth movements with his hands, so eager was I to fill my mouth with his engorging cock. He said nothing as my head bobbed along his shaft, tasting the products of his arousal.

He never groaned or grunted, or said anything; his hands continued to slide over my stomach, and cock as my mouth worked on the masseur's prick. Feeling the veins as they slid over my lips, enjoying the submission of the fellatio and savouring the sinful taste of the sexy gym bunny.

My hands, slick from the massage, rubbed his smooth muscles on his chest, and gently squeezed his nipples. They were slippery; I was unable to grip them as they slipped out of my fingers. I felt the familiar quiver of an orgasming man and he spilt his seed into my mouth, gathering his delicious earthy cum on my tongue until I swallowed it.

Blissfully happy.

And the only thing that made it better was a series of picture messages from my wife with two men enjoying her charms.

I studied them; the sight of her fucking other men was still beautifully hot for me, as I saw the sight of her lips closed around a gigantic cock while another slid between her legs.

"That's nice," Bryn mused after we shared a shower to wash the oil from our bodies. "Gorgeous picture."

"Yeah," I muttered, feeling a pang of regret after the shot of arousal subsided. Regret that I wasn't there to witness it or share in her enjoyment. Regret that I wasn't sharing my bed with my wife to hold her after her infidelity.

"Wanna talk about it?" Bryn asked, sensing my reticence.

"Nah." He passed me a glass of whisky and we sat down together to watch television. Anything to take my mind off what my wife was doing.

I'd get over it; it's only natural for a cuckold to have bouts of doubt every so often.