I Make Believe Im A Cuckold

[Writers love feedback. Please comment on and rate this story. About 99 readers out of 100 do *NOT* bother to do either one. The story carries the label "BCS". In other words, if I put it in the Loving Wives section, it would be lambasted as Bi Cuck Shit. Tough crowd over there.]

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Every few weeks I travel with a female coworker to three-day site visits in distant cities. I am happily married, and she is recently divorced from a guy she caught cheating on her. Nancy isn't exactly a slut, but she does love good times, and a hotel in a far-away city is an opportunity for her to have some good times with new men. On most of our trips she gets laid by some random bar pick-up. Nancy loves her job.

On the other hand, I am a genuine straight-arrow and never cheat on my wife, Sally. Indeed, Nancy sometimes chides me for so often saying that I'm happily married. She too was once, or she thought she was, and I think sometimes she tires of hearing me praise my wife and our marriage, given her divorce. When I go on and on too long about my faithful marriage, I can see her slight eye-rolls. She just can't seem to bring herself to accept that some marriages really are made in Heaven.

It's hard to describe how it came to pass, but Nancy always had zero interest in me as road-cock. Zilch, nada. I've been with her once or twice late at night when she not found a guy and even though she was wearing beer goggles she left me alone. I am perfectly OK with being in her friend-zone. We like each other as office buddies and friends, nothing more.

I do enjoy her company when we're on the road together. Our work travel involves a lot of hotel breakfasts and dinners together. She's witty and friendly and easy to be with. Nancy also has a terrific body, which she works hard to maintain even when traveling. She tells me that hitting the hotel Exercise Room pays two benefits -- keeping her tight, and finding buff men. No one ever called me buff.

When we travel we normally have dinner together, fairly early, maybe in the hotel, and then go our separate ways until breakfast. More than once after a trip my wife has grilled me about what Nancy and I do with our evenings, but I've never been tempted to misbehave and I know for sure Nancy feels the same way about me.

One night, in Boston, a guy dining by himself at another table started flirting with Nancy despite the fact that she was obviously with me. She pointed him out to me, without being obvious about it, and said "That guy's no saint, Don. Notice his ring? He's married, too. Some guys still 'have it' even if they're married." I didn't take any offense, because I'm proud of my restraint.

He later ambushed her coming back from the bathroom, out of my sight, with a proposition. He wasn't what Nancy had in mind, so she blew him off, and our evening continued. I didn't see their short conversation near the restrooms, but I had noticed his attempts at eye-contact while we were all seated at dinner.

The next day at breakfast she told me that the guy had assumed we were a married couple and had asked her if her "husband let her play around". He loved wives with open marriages! It was convenient for her to let him think we were married -- easier to brush him off -- and she told him I was very jealous, and then left him.

We both had a good laugh. But then she floored me by asking if I would be willing to have some fun with her that night. I guess she noticed from my expression that I thought she was hitting on me, and she quickly explained her idea. She said there were lots of guys who really got aroused by the idea of banging some other guy's wife. She admitted she herself thought the idea of being a hot wife was kind of exciting, and that because she was, in fact single, being a slut wife was a thrill she couldn't really experience.

Our conversation wandered around for a bit. Remember, we're not an actual couple, and it is a least a little bit awkward to be talking about sexual stuff, even though we're not flirting with each other. I think I sounded a bit disapproving of the impulse, and she told me not to be "all goody-goody." She made at least one joke about how if she'd known her ex-husband had been cheating on her, she would have done it to him, too.

I said I would be willing to play-act as her husband at dinner as long as she didn't expect me to do anything my wife wouldn't approve of.

"Oh, no," she taunted me, "we wouldn't want to piss off the Ice Princess. Or test if you're really holier than everybody else."

Nancy proposed that we merely walk in at meals holding hands, no kissing or other touching. Maybe we laugh a little too hard at each other's jokes, I hold her chair for her, and -- her best idea -- that I call her my "wife" when speaking to the wait-staff, as in, "my wife will have the trout." She added, "Are you so pure that you won't even let me have a little dirty fun?"

So, that night we did all those things. I held her hand, which felt weird, pulled out her chair, etc. It was easier than I had feared to pretend to be affectionate to Nancy. I didn't find her attractive or anything, but other men treated her like she was pretty hot. She played her role to the hilt, smiling at everything I said, and leaning into me once or twice as we dined.

She soon caught some guy's eye and sent him those secret signals women have that say "hi there, big fella". (Not to say I've ever gotten such signals!) She asked me to go to the washroom for 10 minutes, to give her some space, and he approached her right away. Of course he did. Other men were drawn to Nancy most of the time.

Later, when I'd returned to our table, she went to the bathroom, and he made his big move. He caught her in the hallway on her way back to our table. She told him some story about how yes, now that he mentioned it, she loved cheating on her husband, and that her cuck had no say in who she slept with. She agreed to go upstairs to his room with him.

He was smirking smugly when she walked him back to our table. They stood next to me while I remained seated. Nancy said, barely loud enough for the server to overhear, "Darling, I'm going to sleep with Thomas here tonight. I'll see you in the morning. Don't play with yourself until I get back, you understand?"

Her catch-of-the-day was standing very close to my chair, and I couldn't help noticing the sizeable bulge in his trousers. I may have stared at him a moment too long, and I briefly imagined him in bed with "my wife." I don't think either of them noticed me looking at his erection, so close to my face. They turned and walked back to the elevators while I choked on my drink. He was so proud of himself, thinking he's bagged a hot wife, when in fact he had been her trophy. Some guys are so stupid.

As "my wife" and her lover went out of sight, I turned back to my meal. Only then did I notice the waitress hovering next to our table. The look of pity and contempt on her face was striking. Even though this was an act, I felt ashamed of myself as a man, as if my real wife had just kicked me to the curb for a more macho man with a bigger penis.

We didn't have sex much anymore, now that we're no longer youngsters. My wife tells me all the time that people our age, people in their 40s, are "...pretty much done with sex. None of my girlfriends have sex with their husbands much nowadays," she told me. I had come to be quite accustomed to intercourse only every six or eight weeks, tugging myself off in between if I couldn't control my urges. My wife seemed satisfied with our less-active sexual activities. I love my wife, and I'm not going to cheat on her with some slut I meet.

Now remember, I had zero sexual involvement in Nancy's "hot wife" charade. I agreed only to be a stage prop in Nancy's sex drama. I wouldn't have considered anything else.

But that night in Boston I was shocked to realize that I was, first of all, as hard as a rock, and second, jealous that "my wife" was fucking random dudes. As soon as I paid the check -- and the waitress was trying very hard not to laugh at me - I went to my room and beat my meat like a teenager.

Lurid pictures raced through in my brain of my own staid wife opening her legs for some young stud. My fantasies focused on the particular guy now with Nancy -- I saw him in my bed back home, pleasuring my wife with his enormous cock while the two of them laughed at me. I not only disobeyed Nancy, but I beat off twice, pumping my own lonely but pure cock in my bedroom that night. I first imagined that guy from downstairs making love to my wife, and then I imagined him in bed with Nancy. In my fantasy, naked Nancy was absolutely beautiful, and I wondered why I'd never thought so in real life.

The next morning breakfast together was genuinely weird. Although in reality, we were still just friends and coworkers, we now had some sort of kinky sexual history together. For my part, having masturbated to thoughts of her naked last night, I felt guilty, almost as if we had actually done something illicit together. On her side, I had been involved, if only peripherally, in her passionate evening.

So there we were at breakfast, still just a business couple on a professional trip, nothing more, each with a brain full of dirty pictures. She couldn't stop talking about Tom, his dick, and his triple-header performance. I'm sitting there secretly enjoying the details, pretending to be disinterested, and kind of baffled at why she thinks this is of interest to me.

I finally said to her, "Nancy, you know I'm not really your husband, right? Did you forget? Before last night I never cared who you slept with, and I don't much care now."

She held my gaze for a moment and replied, "Yes Don, you do. I can see it in your face, and I saw it last night. You were turned on last night. Did our little husband-wife play-acting give you a hard-on? Did you play with your cock in your room while picturing me getting laid? And this morning you have been undressing me with your eyes ever since I came in."

I stared back, unsure what to say. Pretty close. I think dreaming of her having sex while I masturbated would have been *less* of a transgression than what I actually dreamed of, which was my own cuckolding by my real-world wife. Which will never happen, because she pretty much hates sex.

She grinned triumphantly. "It did, didn't it? Donnie got all boned up watching his sweet make-believe wifey go away to get laid by the big strong man! You pretend to be so pure and noble, and you love your wife, and you'd never cheat, blah, blah. You're such a better person than I am, right?"

And then, before I could answer, she leaned forward, touched the back of my hand, and said, "I'll bet you're hard right now Don, aren't you? You're my make-believe cuckold, and it makes you hard that I give your make-believe pussy to another man, doesn't it?"

Remaining silent, I nodded.

Her serious expression vanished and, with a big smile she told me this was terrific, and we could play "cuck & slut" again that evening. Cuck & slut? She even had a name for what we were playing!

The next 2 nights in Boston we acted out a similar script in a nearby bar, and at a restaurant a few blocks away. Each night she left me behind as she went away with "a better man". Each night I pulled on my cock so much it was sore. Each morning she recounted their conversations, and their acrobatics, from the night before. Each morning, she gently taunted me, "Old Mister Straight Arrow Faithful Hubby," for getting visible boned at the breakfast table. Each morning I sheepishly affirmed, or failed to deny, that I had masturbated myself to sleep the previous evening.

She always told her lovers that her husband was a wimpy cuck who got off on her cheating with younger, bigger, or better-looking men. They all ate this shit up; loved thinking they'd cock-blocked her husband. She loved insulting and demeaning her (make-believe) husband with these studs because in some corner of her sick mind she *was* somehow cheating on her real (ex-) husband.

Telling total strangers that her husband was a limp-cocked pansy was her way of punishing her ex- for the real hurt he had caused her with his real betrayal. Some of this verbal abuse she unloaded in my presence when the three of us had not yet gone separate ways, and I had to pretend to be embarrassed by her insults. But most of her "he's a cuck" stuff she fed the guys after I had been left behind for the night.

At breakfast our last day she went on and on about what the two of them had said the night before about her "stupid husband". At first, I considered this just sort of part of our role-play -- she was telling me the parts that happened off-stage, so to speak. But also knew that telling (real) me, to my face, all the insulting and degrading things they'd said about (make-believe) me the night before was getting her aroused. I was just pretending to be her husband, but she got to come down the next morning with her well-fucked pussy and degrade and humiliate me to my face - while "just pretending."

I'm her senior in the office, but on the road, she's getting to call me a worthless little-dicked sissy. And it makes the real me hard. She's putting me in my place; she's emasculating me and, by extension, she was pissing all over my "perfect" marriage.

This whole scene was getting very kinky and confusing, even though I had done absolutely nothing sexual to anyone. One complication is that I am indeed smaller down there than the average guy. Nancy couldn't possibly know this but, hard as a rock, which doesn't happen often, my erection measures five inches. Almost. And after many years of marriage, I was sometimes unable to get it up with my wife, even if it had been almost two months since the previous fuck.

Nancy's insults, fiction thought they were for her, were right on the money for me.

This was such a thrill for her that a few weeks later, back in the office, she told me she had even bigger plans for our October trip to Denver....

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During our first "naughty trip" -- and I repeat that she and I had no sexual relations at all -- we played a game Nancy called "cuck & slut". It was important to me that I not cheat on my wife, and my struggle was made easy by the fact that Nancy and I had no particular sexual attraction between us. She obviously preferred men who are big and broad, and I'm a little on the short side -- I'm even an inch or two shorter than Nancy.

A few days before we were scheduled to go on our trip to Denver she told me that it continued to bother her that her ex-husband had cheated on her and she got divorced before she ever got an opportunity to "pay him back". Playing the role, on travel, of a cheating, dominant "wife" had been a real boost to her battered self-esteem. She seemed genuinely grateful to me for letting her stretch her libido outside its normal bounds.

She told me that she respected my insistence that we not do anything "romantic" with each other, and buttered me up a bit by saying that I was clearly a model husband. She didn't actually mean it; she found my constant references to my solid marriage to be insulting and supercilious. But I outranked her, so she kissed my butt a bit in the office. Needless to say, she didn't know that I sometimes failed sexually to satisfy my real wife.

But Nancy had just one favor to ask....

Looking back on things now, I realize that she was smart to tell me in advance about her plan to ramp up our "game" in Denver. It would have been a bad idea to spring it on me on the road. If she had changed the script while our scenario was being played out in real-time, I probably would have balked. No, I certainly would have balked. It is only because I had a few days to prepare myself that I was able to agree to what she wanted.

To better pretend that she was cuckolding her husband, she wanted me, playing the role of hubby, to be present next time she "cheated" on me. Not literally in the bedroom, not watching her in the act. She quickly said she knew my wife would never approve if I actually watched her "get laid" in real-time. But she wanted me to be nearby when the guy she would seduce took her to his room to cuckold "her husband."

She had this all figured out. We booked into a Residential Suite Hotel in Denver so that she and I -- and her lucky winner - would have hotel rooms with a separate bedroom. We strolled into the hotel bar holding hands, acted for all the world to see like a husband and wife, and after about 30 minutes she was dancing way too close with a guy who was about 10 years younger than us.

For this new scenario, she brought him to our table, and the 3 of us had another drink together while he tried to figure us out. I mean, this dude's wife was coming on to him, and the dude didn't care? Nancy was improvising conversation like mad, and I struggled to keep up with her bullshit about "our kids" back home, and how we just moved into a new house, etc. I did a lot of nodding and agreeing. He eventually figured out that I was so agreeable I'd agree to let him pork my wife.

Her target had picked up pussy in bars before, even married pussy, but never with the husband right there watching. Nancy sat close to him, ran her hands over his thigh a lot, and told him that "we finally decided after 10 years of routine sex, that "we needed to have an open marriage." She then added, with just a touch of snark, that "sex with my husband just doesn't do it for me anymore, does it, Don?"

She then told me, "I've kissed you enough tonight, Don" (she had *not*!) and now I want to kiss Gary." And with that, she gave him a short but sweet kiss, on the lips, right there in front of me.

Gary actually looked uncomfortable, but he kissed her back while her hand did God knows what under the table. Then she sat back with a big smile on her face and said "Don, let's go up to Gary's room for a while. You can watch TV or something while this young man and I get to know each other better. Is that OK with you, Gary?"

She rather dramatically took both our arms and led us to the elevator. I was too flustered and unsure of the part I was supposed to play to notice how many people in the bar watched Nancy make a chump out of "her husband".

Once we were inside the elevator, Nancy grabbed Gary and gave him a long kiss that seemed to assure him that this was all going to be a real adventure for him. It also obviated any need for any more talking. I stood by silently as my "wife" French-kissed the man who would soon make me a "cuckold." My passive acceptance of their making out was all the evidence Gary needed to relax about my being along for the ride. Clearly, the wimp husband had nothing to say about anything this hot wife wanted to do.

Nancy was the only one of the three of us who knew exactly where this was all going. She had clearly planned this to a "T" and had all her lines ready for delivery. As Gary opened the door of the room Nancy led me in by the hand and said, "Daddy, you sit out here and make yourself comfortable. Gary is going to make Mommy a real woman in the bedroom."

Got it; now we are "Daddy" and "Mommy", which is in fact what my wife and I have called each other ever since our first child many years before. Nice touch, I thought.

"You stay right here and listen. Maybe you'll learn something. And you damned well better be here when we're finished, too, no sneaking off to beat off in our hotel room, like you did last time I made a new friend."

What "last time"? I was getting confused between what was real and what was make-believe. I knew Nancy really did want me, her friend and co-worker pretending to be her husband, to be next door listening while she, in her own mind, got even with her real ex-husband for cheating on her and then divorcing her.