Chuck and I have been married for 10 years. He loved watching me undress before sex, and he often asked me to lie on the bed by myself so that he could masturbate. I wondered why he did not want me to jerk him off, but I figured that it must've been a fantasy of his. One night when he was watching me and jerking off, he said that he wished he could see me in bed with another man. I frowned. What is he on about?
Oh, my God. My husband wants me to cuckold.
Three weeks had passed since that night, and Chuck had not mentioned anything about wanting to see me in bed with another man. I can't say that the thought of it didn't turn me on. Chuck was great in bed, but there was something about being with a stranger and my husband watching that got me wet. I would never have cheated on him, so having his consent would make me comfortable. The only thing that made me uncomfortable was picturing Chuck watch me suck another man's dick. It felt so dirty, but I liked it.
We used to have sex every night until Chuck got involved in a business venture. Then, it happened three times a week, sometimes twice when he was exhausted. I felt sorry for him, but I felt worse for myself since he didn't satisfy my cravings. I had a healthy sexual appetite and wanted to express myself whenever possible.
On Sunday, I made Chuck a lasagne, his favourite, and gave him a massage in bed. He flipped onto his stomach and pulled up my skirt. I opened my legs, and he wiggled his tongue like a dog. My back arched before I dropped my eyelids and moaned. He did his usual routine of jerking off in the corner when watching me strip. Something about it made me wetter. It's like he could have me whenever he wanted, but he restrained himself. That made me feel I could not have him, which made me want him more.
He gave me a good banging. I have to admit that it was not his greatest performance. Not having him inside me for a few days had made me crave his dick. Any performance on that day was better than nothing for me. We didn't have sex for the next two weeks. Chuck used his business as an excuse, and I got sick of it. I reached a point where I did not care about his exhaustion. All I wanted was dick.
He came home late on Wednesday. I offered him dinner, but he refused. After rubbing his shoulders, I sat in his lap and stroked his dick.
"Jane, don't do that," he said.
I had never heard those words from him when we got frisky. "Oh. Okay. Didn't mean to upset you. So sorry," I said before standing up and darting to the bedroom. He apologised when he got in bed and said that he was stressed. Chuck was concerned about pleasing his partner, Evan Hughes. He had invested a lot of money in Chuck's venture, and hubby was afraid that the launch would not be successful since the business wasn't ready.
"Anything I can do to make you feel better, baby?"
"I was thinking about inviting Evan for dinner tomorrow night. I have to tell him that we might have to postpone the launch. The best way is for me to fatten him up a bit and kind of slip in the news. Would you make us your famous casserole?"
"Anything for you, sweetie."
Chuck kissed my forehead before falling asleep. I was hoping for more, but alas. He got up at five and left after the shower. I had hoped that he would have coffee with me. Being home alone the whole day and expecting a grumpy husband at the end of the day had become irritating. I needed new energy around the house.
"Evan's gonna be here in half an hour," said Chuck after he greeted me.
He took a shower before changing into a suit. I put on a sexy, little number and hoped that Chuck would comment. No such luck. My lips tightened before I looked at him from the corner of my eyes and shook my head. I hated being ignored.
Chuck scrambled to put the files away when he heard the doorbell. I told him that I would answer the door so that he had time to regain composure. A smile appeared on my face when I opened the door. A man with a British accent and one of the nicest suits I had seen was staring at me.
"I believe you must be Jane," he said before holding my hand and laying a peck on it. "Evan Hughes."
Butterflies flew around my stomach when he held eye contact with me. I could not remember the last time I felt that way. My cheeks flushed when he complimented me on my dress. It was more the thought that mattered than the words, but those were also special.