I know that a man can technically only be a cuckold if his wife is fucked by another man (though perhaps if the lady is his steady partner he is a cuckold in spirit). I have neither wife nor GF but I still think I claim the rank of honorary cuckold – or was perhaps I was just used as an object of amusement by a very kinky woman.
History: At school, a lad called Dominic was very tall, very athletic and acknowledged leader of the 'in crowd' while I was a nobody in that respect. He was far from stupid (but not as clever as me) and in the first year of sixth form we happened to share a table during a maths tutorial. When it was over Dominic tossed his papers in the air saying, "I might as well pack it in now – I don't know what the fuck he was talking about." I took the time to explain the mathematical theory involved and when the light dawned Dominic slapped my back and said, "Hell, I'm going to stick with you – I might just make it if I do." He was as good as his word and over the next two years we developed quite a friendship. He was 6' 4" against my 5' 3" and we were jokingly referred to as 'the long and the short of it'.
Early last year I bumped into him again and he was even bigger than I remembered. He explained that he'd done several years of serious weight training and had even worked for a period as a male model. Telling about myself I said I was writing a paper that would involve spending the next few months engaged in Internet research and this prompted his offer. "We live in the south of France and in a couple of months Sylvie and I are going on a six week tour of the Far East – so the flat's yours for free while we're away if you want it." I jumped at the chance. Some time later, after some thought, he was even more generous saying, "The flat is only one very large room in an old chateau. You can come straight away if you want but it means you'll be sleeping in the same room as us and I've no intention of curbing my sex life while you're there but Sylvie and I are quite used to fucking with spectators so it all depends how embarrassed you'd be." I eagerly jumped at his suggestion; I mean I wasn't getting any anyway so any gratuitous voyeurism could only be a bonus.
I couldn't believe my eyes when I first saw Sylvie because she was an absolute Goddess, extremely beautiful with tumbling blonde hair to her shoulders and almost six feet tall in her stocking feet. She was wearing some kind of sarong that first night so I didn't see much flesh but it was obvious that she was very nicely rounded in all the right places. Sylvie had been warned of my arrival and made a big fuss of me but take note that that was the only time I ever actually had physical contact with her. To make conversation I asked how the pair of them had met and was a bit shocked by the reply. "Sylvie was a stripper and I was doing a bit in that line myself at that time," Dominic told me. "We still do guest spots from time to time but now usually work together doing simulation stuff – that's what our Far East tour is all about. The rules are usually no actual penetration and no ejaculation on stage but I generally manage to slip it in a few times to please the punters."
I don't think they had sex that night and I woke next morning in my futon wondering how to go about getting dressed with the pair of them already up and about. Peering out from under the covers my first sight was of Sylvie striding across the room wearing nothing but high heeled sandals and a very brief bra and panty set. She had perfect long showgirl legs, full breasts, a narrow waist and her well rounded hips and buttocks were a delight to see. At that moment I didn't know that this was the start of two months of delicious torment for me.
I got dressed in shorts and T-shirt, partially under the cover of the duvet, and then went to get some breakfast but felt unable to drag my eyes away from Sylvie. Dominic saw me drooling and told her, "Make yourself decent woman – we do have a guest." At that she turned, caught the look of worship in my eyes but told Dominic, "Don't be silly, the bikini I wear on the beach shows far more, hell, on the beach you always want me to go topless." At that my old friend wandered off without further comment but Sylvie continued to look at me boldly with an amused expression on her face.
I'm not sure what Dom did for a living but, except for weekends, he had left by nine and didn't return until after five. Sylvie did a small amount of paperwork in the afternoons but apart from that spent all the time lying in the sun, mixing drinks or walking about flaunting herself in front of me and as a result of that my own intended research became sadly neglected.
I did try not to look at her but it was almost impossible, especially as all day she found some reason to bend or stretch in front of me – and every time she saw me watching a small smile of satisfaction crossed her face. That night they did have sex and it was apocalyptic. There was very little ambient light so all I could see were vague outlines but the sounds of passion were loud enough and at times the whole room seem to rock to the rhythm of them rutting. The next morning, following up her retort to Dominic the day before, Sylvie had dispensed with the bra. Her breasts were large with the perfection that cosmetic surgeons aspire to and even though she later swore they were completely natural, they had the same over-firm full look. At one point she stood in front of me pushing her tits up and tweaking the nipples to ask, "How do you like them? Which would you prefer to do squeeze them, suck them, rest your head on them or fuck them?" I could only gaze in adoration, tongue-tied and trembling. Later on when we were both sitting down during the heat of the afternoon she asked, "Did you hear me and Dom going at it last night - - didn't you wish it was your cock inside my hot juicy cunt?" Unable to speak I could only nod.
*
Throughout my stay they fucked at least once every night and about a third of the time there was another session in the early morning. In the night time darkness much was left to my sordid imagination but in the early sunlight every detail was crystal clear and the only difficulty was trying to conceal my hungry voyeurism. For the benefit of statisticians I can say that Sylvie later told me that Dom's dong was marginally over nine inches and I saw for myself that it was pretty damn thick. On my third morning Sylvie had switched from panties to a thong and soon found opportunity to ask which garment I preferred. When she was walking away I preferred the thong but if facing, I thought the front of panties revealed rather more of her slit. Managing to control my tongue I voted for the thong upon which she said, "You men don't know how much women suffer for your benefit – have you any idea how uncomfortable these bloody things are?"
So saying she peeled the garment off and tossed it disdainfully by my side giving me the overwhelming urge to grab it and press it to my nose. In that second of distraction, Sylvie had turned in her high heels and with legs apart bent forward to grasp each ankle and smile at me up-side down from between her thighs, saying, "Go ahead, sniff it if you really want to." Needing no second chance, I snatched the thong up and as I did so, in true stripper fashion, she reached through to sensuously stroke the whole pubic area with her fingers. As if in a dream I breathed in that so intimate aroma, watching as she turned and slowly dropped into a squat position facing me. I think I was allowed a minute of gazing at her fully exposed charms before she suddenly stoop up briskly, holding out her hand and saying, "Show over, time to put these things in the wash I think." For the rest of the afternoon I walked about very self-consciously, with my hand held awkwardly trying to conceal the wet patch on my shorts. I'm pleased to say that, from that moment on I always had the benefit of seeing her completely naked while Dominic was at work.
Apart from a small tempting tuft her whole vaginal area was completely bare and very smooth. Sylvie told me that she had professional depilatory treatment both laser and electrolysis. She went on to say that no treatment is truly permanent because pubes do eventually grow back which is why my delightful daily task became doing a thorough visual inspection, looking for rogue hairs trying to reappear.
In the afternoons we took to sitting facing in opposing chairs chatting. She always sat with legs well parted giving me a good show and often gently caressed herself in that area with one hand. One day she ordered me to stand up and when I did she said, "Now drop those silly shorts. I've given you plenty of chance to see what I've got so isn't it about time I knew what you're hiding." With a penis just marginally more than four inches in length I was understandably reluctant to comply but she urged, "I already know you are pretty tiny down there so I promise I won't laugh." On that undertaking I undid the belt and allowed the shorts to fall and reveal my little dick sticking out stiff as a pencil. Of course she did laugh but as I blushed and bent to retrieve my dignity she said, "Don't be embarrassed. I'm not really laughing, I love it, I really love it – it's a perfect miniature." In this and other remarks I'm still not sure if she was being deliberately humiliating or if it was pure naivety.
After that Sylvie insisted that I walk about as naked as she. My penis was permanently stiff and if it did start to fall below the horizontal at any time she could quickly rectify the situation with a remark or bodily display. All that I have related so far occurred roughly in order but I am not sure about the chronology of all the other stuff that happened. My temptress had taken to really masturbating herself as we sat chatting. One day she withdrew glistening fingers from deep inside herself and then got up and walked over to me with them held out. I opened my mouth hopefully but on reaching me she just waved the fingers tantalisingly under my nose then slid them lasciviously between her own wet lips and returning chuckling from whence she came. In another tease she hooked both legs over the arms of the chair then held the lips of her cunt open so I could see the inviting pink wetness inside. "If you kneel on the floor in front of me you can see far better," she invited and when I eagerly complied she urged closer still. "As long as you don't actually touch, you can come a lot closer," she kept saying until I could actually feel the heat emanating from her as I basked in that special sexual aroma and fought the urge to extend my tongue that vital extra half inch.
Another time she remarked that I had watched her pleasuring herself plenty of times and didn't I think it was her turn to watch me. Rather shyly I started to oblige but she quickly stopped me saying, "Your hand's stopping me seeing anything when you do it like that – can you make it work with only your finger and thumb? Clumsily at first, I did as she asked and duly ejaculated, upon which she gave a shriek of delight saying, "It squirts just like a real one." After that we used to sit tossing off and watching each other doing it but after a couple of times my conscience told me that I was abusing my friend's hospitality. When I mentioned this Sylvie just laughed and said, "Don't worry, Dom wouldn't mind one little bit – not that I'm going to tell him if you don't."
