Beneath the Marital Veil

Chapter 1 : The wife

This is the first chapter of a long, well-developed cuckold story. All characters are above 18, and you can expect the story to introduce cuckold-related themes such as cheating, submission, nudity denial, and perhaps sissification. Each chapter should stand on its own, but characters will be fully developed over many chapters to come.

Anne's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and saw a new message: "I want to see you again." The message was not entirely unexpected, but its arrival nonetheless made her heart skip a beat.

She hesitated to reply. She gave a quick glance at her husband across the bed. His name was Luca and he was lying on his side of the bed, with his phone in his hand and laughing at memes on Instagram. Only when she was sure that he was not paying any attention to her, she typed back: "Ok, at your place?"

Another message popped up in the chat. "6 pm tomorrow."

"Tomorrow evening," Anne thought as she put down her phone and stared at the ceiling. In the warped reflection of the ceiling panel, she saw a girl of early thirties with blue-eyes staring back at her. Her blond hair fanned out in a soft, unruly halo on the pillow, and the warps accentuated her already generous curves.

A pang of guilt sprang up in her chest. She felt sorry for Luca. Despite his inadequacies in the bed, the man had been a good husband to her. He had been dutiful in every other aspect of their marriage, and betraying him and his trust weighed heavily on her. She felt the need to do something for him, even though she knew it would be as hollow as her attempts to resist the temptation. "I'm in the mood for some head," she offered.

A smile spread across Luca's face. He set the phone down on the bedside table and began taking off his pants. His boxers followed, and within seconds, he was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard and naked from the waist down. "I am ready. Let's go," he said, peering down between his legs.

Despite her pity for him, the sight was utterly disappointing for Anne. His cock--if it could even be called a cock--was small, limp and shrivelled in the cold and was no larger than her little finger. She smiled slightly as she suddenly remembered the nickname her secret lover, Michael, had given it.

"It's not a cock. It's more like a pinky," Michael once said, looking at the picture she had shown him. She remembered that day well. She and Michael had argued the week before whether a cock could be that tiny, and Michael fell silent when he saw the proof--a picture taken when Luca was asleep--before breaking out in laughter. From that day on, he only referred to her husband as 'Pinky.'

Anne regretted her decision to offer Luca a blow job, but the promise had been made, and she had to follow through. She hesitantly took Luca's cock in her hand and gave it a few strokes. The little guy stiffened at her touch, and soon she knew that it was ready for her mouth. She lowered her head between his thighs and took in the tiny cock between her lips. Its entire length went in with ease and glided smoothly into her mouth before she suckled it like the teat of a goat or her favourite lollipop.

There was more sucking involved than stroking as Anne did not have much length to work with. But she still gave it her all, and the ecstasy on his face was proof of her effort. Within seconds, his hips bucked, his back arched and his cock twitched, signaling Anne that he was close to cumming.

She braced for the salty taste of his cum, and soon he spurted into her mouth what little his balls had produced. The amount of cum in her mouth was as much a disappointment as the size of his cock, yet she did not complain. She held the thin, scanty cum in her mouth, gave a courteous peck on his lips before making a run to the toilet and spitting everything into the bowl. "I am not gonna swallow it--especially the unworthy seed of a prejac," she thought as she gargled her mouth with water and Listerine.

When Anne returned, Luca's little prick was getting hard again. This time he wanted her. His hand slid up her skirt, reaching out for her panties, but she grabbed the hand before it could travel further. The whole experience had turned her off.

"Maybe, another time," she said before leaving the bedroom to watch TV in the living room. She did not know what he did in her absence, but the thought of him jerking off alone on the bed disgusted her.

The next evening, Anne stood in front of a full-length mirror. The elegant white blouse that she wore had a high-ruffled neckline and a semi-transparent lace tracing her upper chest, offering a teasing glimpse of her cleavage. The long sleeves of the blouse draped off her shoulder, revealing the smooth and shiny skin underneath. She didn't wear a bra so as to avoid bra straps showing on her bare shoulders.

Next, her gaze drifted down to the skirt, a flowy pleated mini that swayed gently as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The legs were bare as she did not wear tights, and she knew that every eye in the streets would be on them. "Let them see my legs," she thought, but she trusted her delicate cotton panties to shield her from prying eyes that would inevitably wander to her crotch.

Anne walked a distance from her house to the taxi waiting for her. She didn't want anyone to find out about the ride to Michael's apartment, and for the same reason, she refused Michael's offer to pick her up. "The last thing I want is to break Luca's heart," she thought. She knew that she couldn't hide her secret forever, but she would rather come clean and part ways with him than be caught red-handed.

The ride took some time, and when the taxi came to a slow halt, she got out and walked to his building. Then, she took the lift to the 5th floor and knocked on his door. A moment later, the man appeared in front of her, dressed in a neatly fitted cashmere sweater and comfortable dark jeans. "Hi," he said. "Come on in."

As soon as the door closed, he closed in for a kiss. His kiss was passionate, unlike Luca's sweet childish pecks. His tongue was confident as it invaded her mouth while one of his hands rested on her waist, and the other grabbed her ass, its fingers intruding between the two cheeks.

"You are so beautiful," he said as he broke off the kiss. "Pinky doesn't deserve you."

"Don't be so mean," Anne replied, half smiling. She put her handbag down on the floor and felt for his crotch. The bulge grew bigger at her touch, and she knew that he was as aroused as she was. She unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of the loops in one swift motion before letting it drop to the floor.

"I'm not mean," he argued. "That's a fitting name for him." Michael unbuttoned his jeans, pulled down the zipper, and let his pants fall to the floor. "Anyone with a cock that small shouldn't touch any woman--let alone someone as pretty as you," he added.

"But still...he is my husband. You know. He is kind, gentle and loyal to me," she replied as she led him to the bedroom. She had been here many times, and she knew the place like the back of her hand. "And I have you to please me anyway," she continued.

Anne felt him follow behind her, probably staring at her ass that jiggled with each step. "Fair enough," he said. "but I would rather keep you here all the time instead of letting you go back to that pathetic man. His little cock should find some fleshlight to plunge into and leave your pussy alone."

By the time they reached the bedroom, he had already taken off his sweater and briefs, revealing his tone body underneath. His dick swung between his legs, and Anne couldn't help but mesmerise its length and girth. "My pussy is all yours," she said, feeling his schlong in her hand. "I hardly ever let Pinky put his prick in," she continued before kneeling down and taking his cock in her mouth.

With her mouth full, she felt no desire to argue anymore, but she also didn't want to give him a blowjob either--what she wanted was to savor the cock's warmth and fullness in her mouth.

Michael took her head and pushed his cock further down her throat, making Anne gag. "You better cut him off entirely," he said in a grunt. "I want to hear you promise that you'll keep him caged soon. That little twig should not be able to touch anything except cold steel bars of a cage"

Anne ignored his request at first. Then, she felt the cock sliding deeper into her throat, making her cough. She pulled back her head, but Michael 's grip on her hair was firm, and the dick remained deep in her throat. She could no longer breathe as she gagged and sputtered, struggling for air as Michael waited for her answer. Eventually, she looked up at him in submission and nodded her answer. Only then, he let go of her head, allowing her to cough and gasp on the floor.

At about six feet tall, he towered over her petite five-four frame lying on the floor. "Is that a yes?" he asked as he nudged his big toe into her crotch over her skirt.

"Yes, yes... I'll break the news to him soon," she promised, squirming and writhing on the floor. With a satisfied smug, Michael removed his big toe from her crotch and let her rest there for a moment. He then carried her his arms before dropping her on the bed. Her body bounced slightly from the impact, the recoil making her breath hitch.

Without hesitation, he got on top of her, his body pinning hers to the mattress as she sank into the mattress. "Do I have you for the whole night?" he whispered.

Anne was aware of his weight on her petite body and more so of his dick pressing hard against her crotch as she recollected her thoughts. "No, I have to get back home tonight," she said, her voice steeped in disappointment. "I promised him to return home before the night ends"

"That's unfortunate. What does he want you for anyways?" His hands unbuttoned her blouse, freeing her breasts from the tight confines of the fabric. "When I am done with you, you will be sore everywhere, with cum leaking between your thighs and your body stinking of sex, sweat and my essence."

Anne felt the roughness of his hands on her soft skin as he squeezed and rubbed her two sensitive mounds. He kissed them, fondled them, and blew air on her nipples, making them taut before taking one into his mouth. A moan escaped her lips before she could reply to his question. "He doesn't know that. As far as he's concerned, I'm hanging out with the girls now." He suckled her nipple like a newborn babe, sometimes softly biting the flesh. "Maybe, he thinks that I'll wake him up for a quickie when I reach home," she added.

Michael popped her nipple from his mouth, nibbled at the soft flesh above, and then sucked hard enough to leave a hickey. "I'm gonna fill every inch of you with cum and mark you so badly that you won't even be able to let him see you naked--let alone give him a quickie."

He continued nibbling at her sweet flesh for ten minutes straight, leaving purple blotches across her breasts, belly, and sides. Then, he pushed his head beneath her skirt, sucking bruises into the soft skin of her thighs--both left and right--but carefully avoided any exposed areas, as if letting her maintain the illusion of innocence.

Once satisfied with his artwork, Michael ordered Anne to get on all fours. Her mind flashed back to the first time she had asked him to fuck her in the missionary position. He had told her that the position was reserved for his wife, Catherine--a loving, loyal, and honest woman who lived in New York--while unfaithful sluts like her should be taken from behind like bitches in heat. She was vexed at him at first for saying that but eventually came to understand what he meant.

"Unfaithful sluts like me don't deserve the missionary position", she told herself as she assumed the position Michael demanded, her cheeks pressed into the cool crisp bedsheets, her ass in the air and her hands behind her back. She then felt his hands bunching up her skirt at her waist, exposing her round, firm ass to the warmth of the room. "Are you ready?" he asked, gently rubbing her ass over her panties.

"Yes, Sir," she replied. Whenever she was in this position, she felt utterly submissive. If Luca had the wits to put her like this, she might even let him do anything to her. "Maybe I would... but still, he doesn't deserve me on all fours," she thought.

Michael pulled down her panties, just enough to expose her bald pussy to the wicked caress of the open air. For some reason, he always insisted that her panties stay bunched between her thighs. And if they didn't, he would spread her legs until the fabric stretched taut between them. "Don't let the panties drop," he often said. And on the rare occasions she did, he punished her. She still remembered the sting of his belt on her cheeks, a memory that ensured she spread her thighs wide this time.

Anne shivered as Michael's fingers traced over her pussy lips. He spread them apart, exposing the glistening pink flesh to his hungry gaze. His thumb pressed against the slick heat, smearing the moisture as he toyed with her. Then, he pinched and tugged at each lip between his fingers, testing her sensitivity before releasing it and making Anne let out a sharp yelp. "Your pussy is the prettiest I've ever seen," he murmured. "Even prettier than my wife's, and you should feel honoured--she was the most beautiful girl in her class when I took her maidenhead back in college."

Anne knew a lot about Catherine--Michael never missed a chance to talk about her. She never liked hearing about his wife during sex, but afterward, she couldn't help but want to know more. According to Michael, Catherine was a devout Catholic--the daughter of a pastor and a regular churchgoer. She worked as a designer for Donna Karan and refused to leave her job behind to join him in Richfield, Minnesota. As a compromise, Michael visited New York a few times a year to be with her and their daughters.

His ultimate goal, he told Anne, was to relocate to New York permanently and be with his family. When Anne confronted him, saying that leaving Richfield meant losing her, he simply shrugged. "I can find a slut like you anywhere," he said.

A sudden jolt of excitement passed through Anne as Michael slipped a finger into her moist cunt. He moved his finger in and out slowly, building her desire until she was practically begging for more. Her ass squirmed and her hips grinded against the finger until he ordered her to stay still. She felt a strange sensation deep in her lower belly as his finger probed and prodded her cunt, the frustration mounting because she couldn't move her hips to meet his touch.

"Do you fuck your wife the way you fuck me?" Anne asked. It was a question that she didn't have any ideas how he would respond to. Would he be pissed? Would he take it as an insult to his wife?

"No," Michael said, his voice filled with a hint of amusement. "I don't fuck her. I make love to her, and I cherish her. You, on the other hand, are my whore. And whores get fucked like whores."

Anne didn't mind being called a whore, slut, or cunt--she was used to it. But sometimes, she longed to experience the 'lovemaking' Michael often spoke of. "But tonight, I want you to make love to me like you do to Catherine," she fantasised but did not say the words aloud.

Without warning Michael slipped his dick in. He was done with fingering and small talk, Anne thought as she braced herself for each inch of his 81/2 -inch dick. It was as she expected--thick, lengthy and larger than she could take.

Six years with Luca and a year with Michael hadn't changed the size of her hole--it was as tight as ever--and she took pride in that. His cock stretched her and filled her, and she felt secure at that moment as if she didn't have a single thing to worry about in the world.

She closed her eyes. Her mind was calm and her heart was at peace as she let her hips move back and forth with each thrust. His hands rested on her hips, and occasionally he would give a slap or two to her butt, probably making them turn to a shade of pink or red.

Anne had always been prone to blushing and flushing. Even at a young age, the slightest compliment about her looks would bring a red hue to her face. When she lived with her parents, they could always tell when she was lying by the way she blushed. And when her first boyfriend, Mark, used to grope her in the park, her breasts and nipples would remain red for hours. So, she wouldn't be surprised if Michael's handprints were on her butt cheeks now.

With her ass in the air, Anne bit her lower lip and moaned in ecstasy. "God...Mmmm...I love it...more...more." Michael's hips rocked back and forth, gliding his long cock in and out of her sweet pussy. The pace increased, and Anne's breath hitched as she closed in on her climax. In a hypnotic trance, she gasped as she achieved her first climax. "Ahh... Yes... Yes..." she moaned, her voice muffled by the bed sheets. Her pussy juice dripped around his cock onto the bed, and the squelching sound became louder as more fluid was added between his cock and her vaginal walls.

Anne knew that he was close as well. They had been fucking for what felt like an eternity, and the pain in her neck and back started to set in as the pleasure from the climax waned. Before long, his hips bucked, and his pace quickened as he spurted thick and warm waves of cum into her well-soaked cunt. Some of it trickled down her pussy into the panties beneath as she clenched her butt and tightened her pussy around his cock.

When Michael pulled out his cock, more cum dripped onto her panties. "I guess you'll be going home in wet panties," he said as he wiped his cock clean with her skirt. Anne's heart sank when she realised that there would be a stain on her skirt. "No, not my clothes," she said quickly. "Luca will notice."

Michael grinned at her plight. "Ah, the woes of an adulterous woman." He scooped some cum from her cunt with his fingers and smeared it on her skirt, making the stain larger. "Let him see it. He needs to know that someone else is spending their precious time pleasuring the wife he failed to satisfy."

They fucked two more times in the hours that followed. Only when both of them felt drained and tired, they passed the time spooning on the bed. He kissed her neck and hair as they talked to each other. Her panties were still between her thighs, and her skirt was still at her waist. His cock twitched, touching the bare skin of her ass. "Do you really have to go?" he asked.

Anne knew that her fun was about to be over as she had to be home soon. She told Luca that she was going to a club with her best friends--Sophie, Charlotte and Eleanor, and that she would return home before midnight. Anne knew that would be asleep when she reached home as he usually went to bed early at around 10.

"Yes, I have to," she murmured, turning her head back to look at him.

After a while, they walked down to the parking lot. Michael offered to drive her home this time, and Anne did not refuse. "Luca must be asleep, and It is too late to be taking a taxi anyways," she thought. The drive did not take long as the roads were clear at this time of the night. Michael pulled over his car opposite her house. Luca's car was parked in the driveway and the house was dark. "He's definitely asleep," Anne told herself.

Anne's mind was calm now that she could go inside the house at any minute. The anxiety of not getting back home in time no longer hindered her, allowing her to fully focus on Michael. She turned towards him and gave a kiss. She felt his hands on her thigh, moving upwards to her crotch. "We don't have time for another round," she said. But Michael's hands did not release her, becoming emboldened with each passing second.

To be continued---