*** Disclaimer ***
The following story is a work of fiction. It contains themes of cheating, cuckoldry, voyeurism, and NTR. If this isn't the fetish for you... oh hell, if you've read 5 chapters with the word "Cuck" literally in the title, this is definitely the fetish for you! Enjoy!
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Chapter 6...
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You know, it didn't always used to be like this— my wife sneaking around and wildly fucking some meat head stranger behind my back. When I first met Alexandra, a.k.a. "Alex", we were inseparable. We laughed. I remember laughing a lot. When she got on a roll, she had this intoxicating cackle that sounded like an evil mastermind. I used to tease her that she laughed like she was a cartoon villain who just tied somebody to the rail road tracks.
For Christmas our first year of dating, she got us matching Onesie pajamas, complete with footies. We looked ridiculous— like Thing 1 and Thing 2. But holy shit were they warm and comfy. We had a good laugh over it, had some drinks, and lazed around the house. She surprised me when she unzipped hers and revealed that she hadn't worn anything beneath— just her round perky tits and puffy pink nipples, flat tummy, shaved pussy, full ass, and long sensual legs. Nothing else to cover her up but that fuzzy pajama suit. We fucked like rabbits, took a snack break, and fucked some more. We fell asleep on the floor in front of the Christmas tree— the PJs were that comfortable.
So how did we get to this point? How did my marriage turn into the motel scene from "The Getaway", with the hostage husband tied up in the next room while his wife eagerly fucks some rough and tumble fugitive while laughing at her husband's misery? It might be impossible to imagine, given everything that you know so far, but at a time there WAS love and laughter and good times— which was why it was so difficult for my mind to switch gears like a light switch and accept this sudden new reality.
What most of us can't accept, (myself included) is that good things in life can go away very easily, and sometimes through no fault of your own. If you have good things, there will always be someone trying to take them from you.
You're probably asking yourself, "Did this chick ever love you???"
The answer is shockingly simple. "Yes. Until the moment that she didn't." You can pretty much say that about all things in human nature. "The cheater was a good wife... until the moment that she wasn't." "The thief was an honest person... until the moment that he wasn't." "The drunk behind the wheel was a good driver... until the moment that he wasn't." "The serial killer was a good man... until the moment that he wasn't."
Those moments are hard to digest. Not just for me, but for everyone. It's the same reason juries take so long to deliberate, why friends plead the innocence of convicted friends, why wives return to abusive husbands again and again...
I was still assigning benefit of the doubt, because for me, there was plenty of it. But that was about to change...
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We sat in the hot tub listening to the bubbling of the jets. The cold winter air was still and silent. The snow had stopped falling, but if we were to grow brazen enough to step off the deck, we'd sink up to our thighs.
I was lost in my thoughts. Brett was a serial cheater, who had a literal harem of women texting him. Not only that, but he was fucking his best friend's future bride. I could forgive all of that if he wasn't making himself comfortable around my wife. My mind was occupied, trying to come up with a way to reveal this information. To bring it to light and snuff out any possible flicker of interest my wife might have for the guy, and unmask him to be the true asshole that he was...
This was probably the reason I didn't take notice that Alex's bikini top was missing. She sat in the bubbling hot water up to her neck and didn't inch herself any higher.
It was also the reason I failed to consider why they were sitting side by side. Though Brett had swatted away her hand, she continued to curiously trace her fingers along his muscular thighs. They were still playing beneath the water where I couldn't see.
He lounged back, his hands tucked behind his head, smiling to himself. The cartoon cat that caught the canary. Though he was good looking, he was also insufferably cocky, even with his mannerisms and the way he smiled at me. He had looked at me many times that way since this nightmare started. Trying to antagonize me with his grin. We were in competition and he was always happy to remind me of that, without having to say a word out loud.
"I don't think it's a good idea to stay in for too long," Brett said finally.
I looked up. "I barely just got in."
"I know, but we've been drinking a ton these past few days. Especially you, lightweight," he smirked at me. "And hanging out in here for long is only going to dehydrate us." Beneath the water, his hand rested on my wife's leg like he owned her. And maybe she did. She wasn't pushing him away.
Alex was all too eager to agree with Brett's astuteness. I may have been oblivious to a lot, but I noticed how fast she jumped into his corner. For what reason, I had no fuckin' clue.
I grumbled but climbed out of the bubbling water. Alex took this as her opportunity and deftly retrieved her discarded bikini, throwing her towel around her body before I could turn and notice her nudity. She yelped and shivered against the cold night air. As we dried off Brett came out last.
He emerged from the water completely naked. My jaw hit the floor. Where the fuck had his bathing suit gone? That knot of dread was back in the pit of my stomach as I realized that he'd slipped them off at some point while he was in the hot tub beside my wife. Did she know about that? Had she been a part of it? Or was this just another way for him to jab me?
Alex giggled as he strode across the deck, oblivious to the cold. Only wanting to put on a show. If the cold was shrinking his manhood at all, he had plenty to spare before his size even came close to mine. His cock swung heavily from side to side.
"Where are your swim trunks, dude?" I asked, annoyed.
He shrugged indifferently. "I took them off."
"Why?"
He smirked. "Why, to fuck your wife, of course." He gave Alex a wink and headed into the house. His comment was said so naturally, that for a minute, I honestly couldn't tell if it was hyperbole or truth.
"He's kidding," Alex said dismissively.
"Seriously, Sean. Lighten up. We've seen each other naked way too many times for you to be a prude about it now." Brett strode up to the lit fire and warmed himself in front of it, only dabbing himself periodically with his towel.