Cucing the Snowbound Couple

*** 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 6 chapters with the word "Cuck" literally in the title, this is definitely the fetish for you! Enjoy!

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Chapter 7...

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"Open this fuckin' door right now, or I'll burn this god damn place down!" I screamed so loud that my throat hurt. There was a rawness to it.

I meant it. And from the sound of my voice, they knew it too. I had lost all control. And why shouldn't I?

I had been enduring the slow violation of my marriage for the last few days, on my own honeymoon, no less, by this fuckin' interloper. And while I had my suspicions and concerns, I genuinely liked to believe the best in people and assign benefit of the doubt. That was a huge mistake.

Because after losing a bet to Brett, my wife followed him into the bedroom, they locked me out, and fucked like crazy while proclaiming whatever sick twisted version of love that they thought they felt for each other. And they did it so blatantly loud that they knew I would hear. They wanted me to hear. They wanted to break my heart.

Maybe Alex actually had feelings for this jack ass... maybe she was naïve enough to fall for another guy so easily. But I knew Brett wasn't like that. That asshole was just using her, and wanted to not only fuck my wife, but to completely obliterate anything we'd built together. He didn't just want to leave his mark on my metaphorical home— he wanted to kick me out, change the locks, sleep in my bed... and when he was satisfied, burn it to the ground and salt the earth with my humiliation.

That ended now.

I grabbed his phone where he'd left it on the charger in the living room. Dumbass. That was his mistake, since it had all the evidence of the things he'd done. The photos were still there. He hadn't deleted them. When I was satisfied that I had my smoking gun, I returned to my assault on the bedroom door with the log from beside the fireplace.

After a moment of pounding and screaming, the door finally unlatched and opened.

Brett greeted me, completely naked. His muscles were gleaming. He'd clearly built up a sweat from the intense fucking he gave my wife. But his cock was semi-hard, wet with his cum and hers. His drained balls still looked virile and able to procreate over and over for hours.

A full head taller than me, he greeted me with an expression of mild annoyance. There was no fear in him.

Behind him, Alex was clamoring to throw her robe on. I noticed beneath, that she was wearing lingerie— something special that she'd bought for us for this trip. Black lace (which was definitely the color for her), a thong, thigh highs, and an intricate lacy black bra with red bows. While any other situation would make me drool at the way she looked, she had worn it for him, and that drove me even deeper into a rage. She was also wearing something else— an expression of anger toward me, for interrupting them.

"What do you want, quick dra—"

I hit him. I hit him hard with the log. It knocked him into door frame and he went to his knees for a second.

From the bedroom, I heard my wife bark at me. "Sean, stop it!"

For a moment, Brett was stunned. A dark bruise appearing on his cheek, and the rough bark had opened up multiple scratches that started to bleed.

I felt good. Better than I had since the moment we got here. I wound up for another blow.

Brett lunged forward, threw his arms around my waist, and tackled me to the ground. The wind went out of my lungs the second I came down. "Oof!"

I couldn't breathe. I began to blindly throw punches at this muscular naked man who had me pinned. But face to face, this close, they weren't having the intended effect. I had never been in a fight before. Not a real one. Not like this.

"You fuckin' cocksucker!" I screamed a string of profanities and threats as we toppled into the coffee table, knocking bottles and other items aside. I had one single minded goal— to get this asshole off of me and continue my relentless assault. I was done taking his abuse, and now that I hit him, I knew that would never ever stop.

Is that what cabin fever is? It always seems to come to this in the movies and books. Problems boiling over into violence. I kept up with my fists. The muscles in his abs were too hard... I felt like I was punching concrete. I switched my rampage to his face.

For one glorious second, I caught the glint of my wedding band in the firelight. Then my fist crashed into his cheek bone and I saw the skin split. He started to bleed.

My heart was pounding now. He might have crossed the line first, but now we were past the point of no return. I was all too aware of this as I screamed obscenities and threw my punches. I felt like I'd finally woken up. I had been in denial this whole time, walking around in a non-confrontational fog and clinging to the last lingering shreds of my dying marriage. Before, I didn't know what I wanted. Now, I did. I wanted my wife, but that hope was gone. Now, all I wanted was my dignity. That was the only thing I had left to fight for.

I thrashed and kicked. I scratched and punched. I tried to bite his face at one point when we rolled across the floor and his nose came dangerously close. I could hear my wife yelling for us to stop... for *me* to stop.

I don't want to make excuses for myself any longer. I know he was bigger than me by a full foot. I know he outweighed me by a lot— and much of that was all muscle. I know his abs and arms were stronger than I could ever be. How do you win a fight against a Terminator? Well... the answer is you don't. But I feel like that's a cop-out. Maybe I just didn't want it badly enough.

I might have been running on high octane hatred, but unfortunately Brett was much stronger. His punches went straight to my gut, finding almost the exact same spot with each hit. He pummeled me. Every time I managed to catch my breath, he would hit me again, and the air would go right back out of my lungs. He was relentless.

My vision started to go black. I was trying desperately to breathe, but couldn't seem to make my lungs work. You know that feeling when you dive just a little too deep into a pool and think you're going to drown? Now I was experiencing that. I couldn't breathe!

Panic set in. Brett must have seen it in my eyes because through his menacing snarl, he grinned at me. His eyes were dark. I'm not religious. I don't believe in heaven or hell, per se. But Brett is as close to evil as it gets.

He knew I was suffering. My limbs giving up the fight. My ribs hurt, my stomach was on fire, and still I couldn't breathe. He grinned even wider, and hit me one last time, hard straight to the gut. I fell back onto the floor and my head thumped off the floor boards.

When he stood up, I was flopping on the floor like a fish out of water. I was so scared I was dying that for a moment, I couldn't even recall the humiliation that drove me to this. This vacation was supposed to be a happy time... and instead, this had turned into my greatest nightmare.

Brett stood over me, the fire reflecting off of his naked sweaty body, gleaming like Goliath. His chest heaving heavily from the effort as he caught his breath, staring down at me— ever the triumphant. And appearing at his side, there was my wife. Her arm seemed to hook around his. The first person she turned to wasn't me. It was him. Her eyes were starry, looking up at him. I felt the most primitive form of attraction right then, centuries old— from gladiators to sword fights to action heroes. This was one man besting another to win the hand of the girl. And the way my wife looked up at him just then, the first time I'd ever seen my wife really resemble the 'damsel' was right now. Her robe had come away from one shoulder, revealing her sexy lingerie. Her leg and black thigh high was visible.

She let her hand freely roam this naked towering hero, feeling his sweaty bulging muscles. His face bleeding from the heat of battle. Brett glaring down at me, all the while making sure that I didn't get up.

And just to really drive that point home, he slid his arm around my wife's slender waist, pulled her in, and kissed her deeply right in front of me. Their mouths melted together, as their tongues found their rightful places, entangled with each other.

I groaned pathetically from the floor. My breath squeezing in and out as a wheeze, as my brain urged my protesting muscles to breath deep.

The kiss went on for far too long. Somehow that was the worst thing they could have done— worse than the sex even. They were enraptured. Alex's hands moved across the muscles of her man, her slender fingers tracing over the contours of his abs. There was true passion in it. Her leg drifted upward, her inner thigh gracing along his leg. His huge swinging cock started to come back to life. There was a considerable swelling in his girth, even though they'd both just climaxed. The victory of battle had jump-started their libidos like a defibrillator to a heart in cardiac arrest.

When the kiss finally broke, Alex peered up at her man. "I want you... now," she gasped with large eyes and a voice that was barely able to catch her breath. Her hand wandered up to his bleeding face and caressed the injuries.

Brett let her caress him for a moment. "We have to do something about him first," he said at last.

Then they both turned to me. There was true contempt in Alex's expression. She was gone. There was no coming back. I groaned, and started to sit up. Everything hurt from the shoulders down.

Brett placed his foot on my chest and pushed me back to the floor. "Not so fast." He said. He turned back to my wife and said "I don't trust that he won't be a problem in the future."

"What do we do then?" She asked, her eyes big and pleading, trusting in Brett to have the solution.

"There's some rope in the utility closet," Brett replied.

***

Is it starting to make more sense now? Why I've been sitting in the living room for the last couple of days, listening to Brett and Alex fuck each other's brains out, all the while praying to god that the snow melts?

Maybe I was too passive when all this began, but now my predicament sure as hell wasn't by choice.

That night, Brett tied me tightly to a kitchen chair, which he then tied to a support beam in the living room.

The sick sonofabitch hadn't even bothered to put on clothes. He wanted me to see his naked body flexing and strutting around. He wanted me to get a good look at the body that would be pleasuring my wife for days to come... probably even after this was over, because I knew that Alex wasn't coming home with me.

I was withdrawn. My eyes were distant. My expression wasn't one of defeat, but of annoyance. I was emotionally drained. I didn't have much left in me after the ass kicking I received— both physically and emotionally.

"What happens if I have to take a piss?" I asked mildly, as Brett added some duct tape to the menagerie of restraints. I suppose I was complimented that he thought I needed this much excess to hold me back. Like I was freakin' Hannibal Lector.

Brett shrugged, and gently touched the bruises and scrapes on his face. Alex was hovering over him, applying Neosporin. "You're a resourceful guy. You figure it out."

"What if I get hungry?" I asked.

Again, Brett's reply was indifferent. "The human body can go forty days without food. I think you'll be fine."

Alex looked at me slightly apologetic. But it was a formality expression— the same way she'd apologize for beating a team at volleyball. 'Sorry, good game though!' "It has to be like this Sean," She said. "You're completely out of control. If you're going to act this way, then I don't feel safe with you in the house."

Maybe I only made her point, but in the blink of an eye, I was furious. "Act this way? Act this way!?! You're the one acting like a complete nut! You literally proclaimed your love to another guy out of the blue!"

Brett snickered. "It wasn't exactly out of the blue, quick draw."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

That was when they sat down and explained everything to me. You, the reader, wanted to know how I was able to narrate everything that they did, said, and thought, even when my back was turned? Well that's how.

They told me how they felt the second they laid eyes on each other. They told me about the little glances they cast. The little flirtations. They talked about the night they'd spent in front of the fire after I went to bed. They talked about fucking in the kitchen when I went outside to shovel, and the thrill they got from being displayed in front of the window. They told me about the night I'd gotten drunk and passed out. That they really had fucked in front of me. I didn't imagine any of it. They talked about the hot tub while I went inside. Everything.

If they expected me to cry, I guess they were mistaken. I just didn't have it in me anymore. I was too emotionally broken. Have you ever been so exhausted that you actually have trouble falling asleep? It was kind of like that. I was so far down the rabbit hole of sorrow and misery, I couldn't have mustered the tears if I tried. I was destroyed, devastated. They'd not only broken me, but they'd burned the rubble and scorched the earth.

"Well since we're sharing a few things," I forced my mouth into a wry little smile. "Brett, you really should password protect your phone."

Brett didn't really react on his face. But he wasn't smirking either. He was thinking.

Alex couldn't resist smiling in amusement— her usual teasing smile. "You don't password protect your phone? Amateur." She laughed.

"So?" Brett asked.

I told him how I'd gone through his phone while they were fucking behind my back in the hot tub. I wasn't really being smug. There was no point in gloating. It wouldn't undo what's already been done. But maybe I could knock those stars out of Alex's eyes whenever she looked at Brett.

"I have to say, I'm sincerely impressed by all of the girls you're actively fucking." I commented.

Alex pivoted her head curiously and glanced at Brett, then back at me. She didn't look shocked. Her expression one of animated contemplation.

"I mean, it takes a special kind of friend to be in a relationship with his best man's future bride." I continued.

Brett looked momentarily pale.

"Is that true?" Alex prodded. She didn't look upset or offended. She looked... I don't really know how she looked. She was never the jealous type, at least not with me. She understood that everyone had pasts.

"Oh totally!" He declared. "Why do you think I made her a replica of my cock?"

Alex sputtered laughter. "Well I'm sure it's not your sparkling personality that she's infatuated with."

"You'd be surprised, I'm charming as hell." He grinned.

I admit, this wasn't really the response I expected... or wanted. They were joking and jabbing each other. Alex didn't seem to mind one bit that this asshole was involved with other women.

"Well they'll have to be okay with me stealing you from them." She said. There it was. Ever the competitor— she enjoyed the challenge just as Brett did.

"You'll have to try really hard," Brett said.

"Do I though?" She asked, and took Brett's hand and slid it up her strong thigh.

I could see his cock jump slightly with excitement. I sagged. Well so much for that.

They detected the change to my posture. "Nice try buddy," Brett commented. "But did you really think tattling on me would change Alex's opinion of me?"

Alex glanced at me and shook her head. "You probably did. Sean," she sighed. "I'm going to do what I want to do. You can't change my mind. So you're just going to have to be okay with that."

"Speaking of things I want to do," Brett said and turned to my wife. He pulled her into him again and laid a long sensual kiss on her lips. She came to him willingly. As they made out in front of me, his hand went to her robe, opening it and sliding his fingers along her thigh, up to her hip, and around to her ass. I must say, the sight of their passion even made me a little hard.

"Take me to bed, my big strong man," she cooed in his arms, completely smitten by the way he'd dominated me and won the fight. I once heard something about women getting a chemical release in their brains when they see a man best another man. It's supposed to make them swoon, and feel like they're in love.

"One second baby," he said, stroking and caressing her in front of me. "I want to have a private word with Sean here." He said. But before he ushered her off to the bedroom, he took a moment to slip her panties down her long legs. They were wet, coated in his cum from their last romp that I had interrupted.

He wadded them up, and a second later, grabbed me by the jaw and forced them into my mouth. I nearly gagged at the taste of this guy. Then he was duct taping my mouth shut. Alex watched. There was a sense of apology to her expression, but also one of arousal. She was turned on by this final act of degeneracy and humiliation that Brett was subjecting me to.

With the gag in place, I wouldn't be able to make a sound.

Then Alex hurried off to the bedroom to get herself ready for their next round of lovemaking.

Brett sat down in a chair across from me. His immense cock hung over the edge of the seat. He smiled at me. It was that same demeaning triumphant smirk that he'd been flashing at me all week to get under my skin. But I couldn't help noticing his split lip, his bruising, and a few other places where I'd bloodied him. I had done a number on him, and I was kind of proud. I never knew I had it in me.

"You really brought this on yourself," Brett said to me.

I couldn't talk, but I managed to roll my eyes.

"Seriously," Brett commented. "It's not the size of your dick versus mine. Although in that regard, who really can compete?" He laughed as he hefted his heavy sleeping python in his hand and started to stroke it. "And it's not even your looks. Honestly Sean, you're not a bad looking guy. The problem is you have no balls and no backbone. Everything that's gone on here this weekend... you tried to be so malleable, up for whatever, not wanting to upset anyone or rock the boat. Wanting everyone to like you, not wanting a conflict. But sometimes, those conflicts are inevitable." He still held his cock in one fist. He glanced to the bedroom door, then back to me. "The reason you're out here, and I'll be sleeping in there with the hottest woman I've ever seen is because of you. You've never made a real decision about anything your whole life."

I stared at him for a while. Even though I legitimately hated this man for what he did to me, my wife, our marriage... it was tough to argue with his point. He was right. My whole life I'd taken the path of least resistance in order to preserve the delicate ecosystem of my life.

Brett shook his head at me in disbelief. "How the fuck did you get a girl like Alex in the first place?"

That one did it. I thought I was out of tears, but I wasn't. I started to cry. We had both met doing online dating— because all of the available men in her life at that point were not in her league, and she was tired of bar hookups and one night stands. Her tagline had been a funny one that begged anyone who messaged her to please be normal. We'd bonded over our shared sense of humor. But realistically, that's not what drew her to me. I had simply been the least annoying man on the internet. And if you've ever been on the internet, that's simply like being the prettiest person on 'The View'.

I was crying, not because my marriage was over... but because I was wondering if it was ever really real. I had a lot of thinking to do... and from the looks of my predicament, there would be plenty of time to do it.