Chapter XXIV
A Total Cuckold
Erin panted; her nasal grunts filled the room as I watched my naked wife on the television. The video wobbled, the sights of the two men savouring the cunt of my gorgeous Erin.
She stroked my cock as we watched. Her hands flitted over my tenting lacy panties as the memories of the previous week flooded back. The recollections were powerful, the sex was intense.
Two hours of solid fucking from the four friends. I videoed Erin and Yvonne at the young student's "going away" party. It was salacious at the beginning, and turned into an orgy before the final guest had arrived.
I had forgotten how sexy she looked when she got screwed and the Scottish missy was taken by most of the visiting men that night. She came repeatedly; her body covered by a slight sheen as five demanding women were outnumbered by around twenty-five demanding men.
Of course, as a cuckolded husband, I had my own duties: glasses to be refreshed, nibbles to be served, cocks to fluff and cunts to lick.
And be the camera operator; we took it in turns. Three hours of salacious footage shot by myself, Bryn and another cuckold, was turned into a present for our departing friend; she had found a place in rented accommodation with two of her regular co-stars and was planning to increase her webcam output. It was easier, more enjoyable and more convenient work than other student jobs.
Which led us to the film première: Leicester Square Odeon it was not, but Bryn's lounge held a dozen adults and the ladies had dressed up glamorously for the event. Long, flowing ballgowns and the invited men had suits and smart attire.
Except the cuckolds -- Bryn and I -- we were in our panties and nothing else. We watched our ladies smooch with the stars of the video, and fawn over their razor sharp suits and impressive attire. They responded to the elegant women, and we watched as hands wandered.
There was some fucking; orgasms on the screen were replicated by orgasms in the lounge. And Bryn and I just did as we were told, watching the sluttish debauchery around us.
We fluffed a little but as the film drew towards it's final conclusions, they teased us. Erin's finger dancing lightly over my crotch. She enjoyed that I squirmed, and loved to emphasise my lack of size by using a solitary finger to stroke me.
She did it so often when we were with other men: subtle things. I might get placed in chastity or left in pink panties. She might use hands on her lover's cock but one finger on mine. Or she'd fuck me with her strap-on after I begged for it.
And if her lovers wanted to screw me with their cocks then they could; my holes were always open for her and her bullish partners. In front of them, and during the sex I was grossly inferior to her in every way. A submissive, a slave and a pathetic husband who failed to satisfy his wife properly.
She brought me to the brink of my orgasm, edging and teasing me as the rampant orgy on screen drew to a close. Her fingers swirled against my cock, still encased in lace, and her lips touched mine briefly.
I was there. I was at my orgasm. My point of no return. And then she stopped, tipping my cock into ejaculation but denying me my orgasmic release.
One of her specialities: a ruined orgasm.
I felt spent but not sated. Frustrated and horny. It was a nasty torment and my wife giggled malevolently as white globules of my cum pooled on the lacy knickers.
"Naughty little boy! You've ruined your little panties."
It was evil. And I wasn't allowed to clean myself up. The visitors sniggered as they saw the pathetic state of a grown man wearing female underwear soaked in cum, and it wasn't until I arrived at our house I was permitted to wash myself.
But I slept cuddled up to my wife as we drifted off to sleep. Content and happy; it had been a good night.
The weekend after the film première was my youngest's birthday and our neighbours erected their giant marquee in their grounds for twenty four excited children to be treated to a variety of children's entertainers.
Uncle Bryn and Auntie Christina had never been so popular; it was good to see our friends have a good relationship with our children and my wife and I chatted to the other mums and dads as two dozen kids became hyperactive on sweets, cakes and excitement.
We looked the respectable couple, and we acted like we were too. Nobody knew anything else.
We reached the six-month anniversary of our cuckolding the weekend afterwards and Christina suggested we visit a sex club in an adjacent town, ten miles away.
It was a little closer to where I grew up, but it was one of the few swingers' venues where the participants and the management were tolerant of kink and male bisexuality. We'd heard some nightmare stories from Bryn and Christina from other venues, and they only played at a select number of clubs that they knew to be safe.
Heaven 'n' Hell was one such establishment, nestled in South Cheshire countryside outside Stoke, the smart building was once a hotel and now worked as both a swingers' lounge, a sinful massage spa, a photographic studio and a dungeon for hire.
My wife had chosen our outfits; I had a smart black shirt and non-descript dark black smart jeans. I would have blended in with any weekend party, casual enough to be relaxed, smart enough to be admitted anywhere. It was a safe outfit.
Erin's choice of clothing was anything but safe; her red dress came a few inches below her waist, tapered at the front and back and held up with two thin straps over her shoulders. And it was see-through: a scarlet sheer outfit that flaunted her bosom and revealed the tiniest thong that left nothing to the imagination.
My wife was covered with a coat for the journey, and Christina's outfit wasn't any less revealing, as her dress was four sizes too small and ended an inch below her belly button.
"What's the point getting dressed anyway when I'll be getting it off the moment I get in? I'm going to get fucked so much tonight. You'll fluff for me, won't you?" Erin squeezed my cheek with a giggle, enjoying belittling me.
I can't say I was nervous; I'd been to sex clubs before when in London, but it was the first time with Erin. I was glad that I had to pay attention to the motorway in the drizzling rain. It meant I didn't have to think about the swingers' club and could tune out of the lustful banter in the car without appearing rude.
Erin produced a copy of a utility bill to sign us up as members, and Christina produced her membership card. Bryn paid for the entrance, although I offered to pay our share. The generous cuckold dismissed my offer with a wave of the hand. "You can give me a blowjob later," he teased.
"Was going to do that anyway!"
The welcoming hall was full of risqué outfits as women openly flaunted their desirable charms and men tried to interest the sexy swingers. I returned from the cloakroom to see a dozen pairs of eyes follow our wives into the room.
There was no need to mentally undress them; they were already advertising their infectious charms to everyone. Erin's nipples protruded through the soft, flimsy material as their carnal gazes enjoyed the salacious exhibition of sexuality.
