I was driving home the morning after my Manhattan Challenge, ostensibly because I'd over-imbibed and the lady of the house, Theresa, refused to let me drive. All the revelations (and realizations) of the past twelve hours swirled in my head.
Fair to say, I was in the middle of a bunch of spouse-swapping sexcapades. And no question about it - I was the chump, the dupe who least knew what was going on. In the course of one wild evening, the trysts between my wife, Marcy, and our good friend Thomas were revealed to me. And the Dom/Sub relationship between Theresa and me intensified.
I was nervous as hell. How should I act with Marcy? I'd be seeing her within the half hour. I'd learned that she'd been fucking Thomas, our longtime friend and husband to Theresa. I recalled the phone message I'd been forced to leave him (at Theresa's command). "Thank you for fucking my wife. I hope you keep doing it, often." Boy, was I confused. I felt like a cuckold schmuck for saying it. I was excited that I obeyed a difficult command from my Mistress (for that's what she was now, having clearly graduated from the status of a Fantasy Dom). And I felt a panic because I didn't know if Marcy was aware that I knew. What a fucked-up situation. I was nearly home and at a loss about how to proceed.
I crept nervously through the threshold to our home, still not knowing what to say or what Marcy might say. Would she confess? Lay everything on the table? Play dumb and ignore it? How should I even begin?
"Babe," she said, getting up from the couch and sauntering up to me a bit uncharacteristically, to give me a welcome hug and assume control of the situation. "I'm so glad you're okay. You know I don't get much sleep when you're not here."
I was immediately relieved at the overall reception, but I was also shocked at the blatant double entendre embedded in her welcome. I thought to myself, yeah, you don't get much sleep when I'm gone because you stay up all night fucking Thomas. Before I could process much more than that she continued without interruption.
"Theresa's a good friend. I'm really glad you did what she said and stayed the night. She has good judgment. You should always do what she says."
I realized I'd just been double-barreled with yet another double entendre. She may as well have said, "Obey your Mistress." But that train of thought was interrupted as well as she put her arms around my neck, kissed me sincerely and said, "I'm so glad you're home. Are you hungry?"
And with that mundane request, any talk of sexual escapades or infidelity were rendered inert. I kissed her back and recall thinking of the old adage, "Let sleeping dogs lie." And that was that. A dreaded moment defused and buried by my wife. In spite of the circumstances, my love for her deepened during that interaction.
We each went our own way, attending to mindless household chores and typical weekend preoccupations. We each grabbed a bite to eat unceremoniously, on our own. The day crept along without any notable interaction.
As evening came and nightfall progressed, Marcy told me she was exhausted and going to bed early. In my mind I said something snarky like, "Yeah, cuz you were fucking all night." Of course, I merely smiled and told her I'd join her soon. I did add aloud, "I didn't get much sleep either." And then I winced at the potential stupidity of the remark. Luckily, she ignored it.
I sat on the sofa and absent mindedly picked up a magazine and leafed through it without focus. I reminisced about the previous night's game of "Who makes a better Manhattan cocktail." My Mistress parlayed that friendly competition into a session of domination. She slapped me, applied my own belt to my bottom, edged me (unbelievably) a good twenty-five times and had me bury my face in her pussy while she laid back on a lush recliner and issued instructions. She demolished any doubt I may have harbored about her interest in a Dom/Slave relationship.
I was still horny as my boyhood dog Beauregard when the neighbor's standard poodle would go into heat. (I can still see him clawing at the back door, exposed boner, trying desperately to get out to pursue Daisy.) Theresa had taken me to the edge and denied me so many times, my balls were tender and my cock was still half way to a full erection. And with all those cluttered thoughts jostling in my mind, I decided to join my "sleep-deprived" wife in bed.
Just as I was about to move, my phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Thomas. "Got your voice mail. Thanks for the encouragement, sport. Will follow through with your request. Your buddy."
Wow, I thought. I really have given a green light to my friend to fuck my wife. And I was pretty sure I had said "often" in my message. But what choice did I have? My Mistress made me. And I couldn't refuse her - right? I felt a bit like a manipulated loser. I also felt a renewed arousal. I erased the message without reply and resumed my previous course.
I brushed my teeth, removed all my clothes and attempted to join Marcy under the covers, hoping that I might find some release. I lunged my head towards hers, hoping to land an erotic kiss, a prelude to even greater luck.
She kissed me but held me at arms-length.
"You're horny, aren't you?" she asked.
"Yeah, I am. Being away from you does that to me," I added disingenuously.
"Here, lie back," she told me, as she guided me back to my side of the bed and onto my back. She placed my hand on my cock, leaned over and began kissing, licking and sucking my nipples. This had become, in our mature marriage, a default scenario. When I was horny and she really didn't feel particularly amorous, she'd get me to masturbate while she attended to the most erogenous zone in my body...my nipples. No one else in the world knew how sensitive and arousing this part of my body was. She kissed, flickered her tongue and sucked, knowing that I'd be instantly aroused. And then she ventured into that Dom realm, which she was ordinarily reluctant to embrace, and said, "Jerk off for me." And she added, "That's my cock. Those are my balls. Jerk for me! Cum for me!" as she continued her nipple teasing.
I immediately made the connection to Theresa, who had chided me so similarly the night before while edging the shit out of me. I could still hear her. "Whose balls are these, whose cock is this?" Holy shit! Were these gals coordinating this thing or was it just the common language of domination? I didn't know. But logical thinking was out the window. I was only aware that my hard, desperate cock was in my fingers and some sexy woman was licking my nipples and telling me to cum for her. I wanked like the piston in a souped-up Shelby Cobra.
As usual, she sensed when I was near my ejaculation. It didn't take long. She leaned back and watched as the first forceful, spasmodic jet stream reached my chin, followed by subsequent emissions on my neck, chest and stomach. She giggled. And in my eye-fluttering, semi-conscious, rapturous state, I was vaguely aware of her exclaiming, "Holy shit! You were packing a load there, mister!"
After calming down, I expressed deep gratitude for her indulgence. I think I said "thank you" a dozen times.
