Cuckold Consequences Ch 01

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This series is going to focus on the consequences of a cuckold relationship going sour. The husband not wanting to participate anymore and the push and pull of desires between spouses. Of the betrayal, trust, arousal, humiliation, embarrassment, etc. that could come with this sort of falling out. TW for marital strife, cheating, lying.

Note: this is not to shame the lifestyle of cuckolding. This is just a story I was inspired to write because I wanted to explore what might happen with a couple that started and got steeped into the lifestyle but then one party souring on it, wanting to get out, but the wife resisting and the strife that comes from that.

This series was been highly inspired by Don Silver's Toxic Attraction series. I suggest you go check it out. This series in no way is affiliated with his works, just an inspiration to explore something different from what I often see in Cuckold stories.

I hope you enjoy the first chapter.

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Chapter 1

Plap! Plap! Plap!

My nails were digging into my palms.

"Oh, holy fuck! FUCK OH GOD!" Julie screamed. The bed groaned under the weight and vigorous activity on the mattress.

I was sitting across the room, in the dark, watching. Forgotten. Pushed aside... again.

"FUCKING TAKE IT." Plap! Plap! Plap! "Who's fucking cunt is this!" Devon's voice was gruff and pitched low, panting with effort. Hands on Julie's narrow hips, he gripped tightly. Her ass jumped and rippled red from his harsh slaps and spanks, as well as the friction of his pale, hairy stomach that was smacking into her repeatedly. His horse cock thrust into her tight little pussy recklessly. Her lips gripping and dragging over his shaft with slick squelches.

"Yours! Oh fuckin' shit yours, baby! Yours, daddy! Please don't stop!" Julie's voice cracked, mixed with pleasure and pain.

The lights on either side of the bed lit them, but left the rest of the room in shadows. My chair was uncomfortable, rigid and too short for my long legs. Light glinted off my glasses as I watched my wife... my beautiful wife, get owned. Railed. Completely destroyed. And she was loving it.

Devon grabbed hold of her honey colored hair, long and sweaty and matted from their efforts over the last half hour, and pulled her head up from the bed. Her eyes were blazing gray blue, rimmed in red. He pulled her hair like it was a bridle on a horse, making her look at me as I sat feeling impotent and pathetic.

It was all winding me up more and more. Pressing me like a spring, ready to break.

"Fucking look at your weak little husband. Tell him who owns this pussy!" Devon's voice was harsh, commanding, almost hateful.

"Ohhh f...fuck.... It's his. My pussy belongs to Devon, honey...AAAHHH!" Devon slapped Julie's ass cheek so hard the snap filled the room and his hand print was visible on her pale skin. He paused for only a second, then thrust deep and firm back inside her slick tunnel. "Don't call him that. He's a limp dick! Call him a fucking limp dick unworthy of this little cunt!" He pushed and ground inside her, making her whine until she said it.

"That's fucking right. You love me! Not that pathetic little shit." He kept his grip on her hair, making her look me in the eye.

"Yes daddy! Yes, I fucking love you. Love your cock. Use me please. Don't stop! Fuck meeeee!" She cried, tears in her eyes. His cock rammed deep again, balls swaying and slapping her clit rough and hard. He pulled her up, lifting her from her hands onto her knees and arching her back. Her B cups bounced furiously, arms dangling as he rutted her like an animal.

I could see his cock pistoning deep into her. Her bald slit was puffy and red, lips gripping hard and swollen and dripping frothy cream. "Look, limp dick. Look what I'm doing to your little wife. She's not yours anymore. This pussy is fucking mine!" He laughed and then grabbed her by the back of the neck, slamming her back onto the mattress, face to the side. Devon squatted behind her and continued ramming downward into her pussy.

She was crying. Whimpering. Gasping in orgasmic grief.

"Take it. Take it. Fucking take my cock, you slut." Devon chanted it like some sort of magic spell.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

The smell of sex, musk, sweat, salt, and ass filled the room. I gripped the arms of the chair, nails digging grooves into the wood. One of my nails cracked and started to bleed. I didn't feel it. I was numb. So numb. My eyes itched with unshed tears. I was thankful for the shadows. If they saw me like this, it would only make me look and feel even more pathetic.

This wasn't what I wanted. Not anymore. Not like this.

Julie arched, face down and ass up, getting reamed hard and deep. She was in a trance of pleasure and euphoria. Panting. Words tumbled out of her mouth, but most were incoherent or so filthy my brain tried to bleep them out.

"Yeah! Fuck yeah! Your little cunt is mine, you stuck-up bitch. Take it!" Devon's face was red, slick with sweat. His jaw was set, teeth grinding as he drug his hands into Julie's hips, making her ass shake and thighs ripple with every thrust. "Ever think you'd be taking a cock like mine? Huh? Well, now you know you're not better than me. You're just a lowly cock slut and I'm your fucking master!" His hand slapped her ass again, making it even redder.

Salty, warm tears dripped down my cheeks. I should be stopping this, but I couldn't move. We'd been doing this for months now. Almost an entire year. At first... at first, it had been intoxicating. New. Adventurous. It was exciting and erotic. Seeing Julie pleasured, such a huge dick splitting her open. And the dichotomy of Julie's beauty and Devon's somewhat basement dweller look just added to the taboo and excitement.

But now, all I felt was bile in my throat. My stomach clenched and my cock shriveled. And yet... my balls still ached and contracted with the urge cum. Balls as blue as the ocean.

Devon continued his assault. Splitting her cunt open with his thick cock, ramming to depths I'd never be able to reach. Julie makes sounds that would put most porn videos to shame.

I grit my teeth. Devon's flabby stomach bounced on my wife's ass as he ground her into the bed. Stretching pink lips becoming puffy and raw from his girth and frothing cream and continued stimulation.

In all the blogs and articles I'd read, cuckolding was about emotion, denial, titillation, often humiliation. There were men out there that would kill to be sitting where I was. Seeing and hearing what I was experiencing would have been enough to make them ejaculate without even touching themselves. And for a little while... I was one of those men. But now... now I felt a wave of clarity breaking through the fog in my brain. All my twisted desires and perverted thoughts seemed to have played themselves out. It was as if I'd been sprinting and had finally hit the wall. Now I was stumbling, about to fall flat on my face, my lungs collapsing and heart exploding.

The thrill had faded, and the scales had fallen from my eyes. What I was looking at wasn't an inclusive spicy adventure anymore. This wasn't the woman I had married. She'd changed. And that was my fault. I started this. What right did I have to complain? And didn't Julie have a right to her own body and desires? She had come along this journey reluctantly but now was riding the rollercoaster in the very front with her hands up waving and screaming with unrestrained excitement.

Me? I'd been pushed to the very back of the ride. Maybe not even on the ride. I was waiting at the exit, looking at the pictures taken of those having fun. I was a spectator in my own marriage, in my own home. It had been over a month since I'd touched Julie in any sort of intimate way beyond some goodbye kisses. And those were fairly chaste. She liked to playfully tell me I "didn't deserve" to touch her breasts, to feel her pussy or ass. Devon had claimed them. She always said it with a playful, seductive twinkle in her eye, but I didn't feel titillated about it. It may be a game to her, but those words were knife digging into my bones. I rarely saw her naked, except when she was servicing Devon.

I was left to satisfy myself, while she was taken to heights unknown, by a man that didn't remotely deserve her, even if he did have a massive cock and the skill to use it.

Devon hadn't earned her love. Her respect. Her hand in marriage. But he was the one whose dick was balls deep inside her. And he was the one she was screaming for. Screaming for him to cum inside her, to fuck her any way he wanted.

My eyes were hot with tears and my mouth was dry, like it was full of cotton.

I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't.

I wouldn't...

--

Devon's cock was so deep. Julie could feel it in her stomach every time he rammed it home, hitting her cervix painfully, repeatedly, with his never ending stamina and determination to have his cock reach every hiding spot within her pussy. Her lips were stretched to their limit when he bottomed out inside, wrapping around his base and squeezing. Her body convulsed on its own, orgasms acting like waves on a beach. Crashing in one on top of the other, never letting up.

Julie's mind was on fire. Vision blurry. Gasping as she tried to keep her breath and to keep from passing out. Devon had fucked her hard before. In fact, nearly every time he'd been inside her, he was firm and in control and never gentle. But this time, tonight, he was relentless. It was like he was on a mission to just ruin her completely. And he was definitely on the verge of succeeding.

He turned her over from her downward dog position, flipping her to her back. She groaned and lay there, head off the side of the bed and legs opening of their own accord. Her smooth mound was now puffy and pink from the assault. Devon was lying on her. He pushed her legs open further, and she felt a pang in one of her thighs as a muscle cramped. Her face twisted in pain, but it didn't matter. Devon didn't notice. His cock was at her entrance again and then he was inside.

"Fuck! How are you always so tight, fucking bitch!" He held her thighs and thrust his meaty hips into her, sweat dripping down his hairy chest and belly. Plap! Plap! Plap!

They were drenched in sweat. The sheets were stained and ruined. The smell of sex and sweat would never come out. Julie looked down at her pussy, amazed that she could take something so huge inside her. It was intense and her eyes rolled for a moment as his cock head rubbed her g-spot. Another orgasm rolled over her. She shuddered, letting her head fall back and off the edge of the bed to see the room upside down.

She expected to see the shadow of her husband in the corner. He was always there. Present. Watching. Like some other worldly observer. Her body was being taken, used for pure unadulterated pleasure. A body she'd pledged to Tom on their wedding day and even before that. She wanted him to see her in ecstasy. Making sure her eyes conveyed the painful bliss she was in, she looked over at her husband's chair.

It was empty.

Where was Tom?

Devon grabbed Julie's neck and her eyes darted to meet his blazing, hungry stare. He started squeezing, choking her, cutting off her air and sending her body into a spiral as her brain was denied oxygen.

"Take it! Take it! Fucking take my cock you whore. Yeah. Like that. Let your husband see me own his pretty little wife. Fucking own you. Mine. Say it!"

But Tom's not there. Julie's brain sent the message, but it didn't click. Her words were impossible to get out even as she tried to say, "Yours. Yours. All yours." It just came out as a choked mess. Her vision blurring as he kept thrusting, another orgasm building.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna cum in your cunt, Julie. Look at me when I cum inside your married cunt!" Devon roared and tightened his grip. Her face turned cherry red, lips blue, eyes wide.

Julie's orgasm exploded, sending hard tremors through her. Gushing wet juices flew and spit around Devon's cock as he thrust again and then rammed one last time. His cum rushed out in a torrent like a spewing firehose. Pleasure. Pain. The need to breathe. It mixed and turned and tumbled inside Julie as she wept, screamed, gasped and then, head falling back one more time to see the empty chair across the room, she fainted.

--

Julie's eyes opened slowly. Her head was pounding. It felt like she had a hangover. Everything ached and her pussy felt like it was on fire. Her hand drifted to between her thighs and felt along her skin, her lips, feeling how sensitive her vulva was and inside feeling a throbbing pain and ache. Her hand also came away sticky and wet, the leaking cum from her vagina still warm.

Pee. I need to pee.

The thought was vague and foggy, but insistent.

Getting up was an effort. Rolling off the bed and seeing Devon laying sprawled out snoring deeply made Julie grimace. She quickly shuffled to the bathroom and relieved herself, then cleaned herself up before coming back out to the bedroom. Putting on her fuzzy gray robe, she tied it loosely, allowing it to hang open enough to show the curve of her breasts and stomach and pussy.

Tom wasn't in the room. Something about that itched at Julie. Her eyes went to the chair her husband usually sat in during her activities. He'd been sitting there for months now, watching her break every rule of their relationship and marriage and agreement for this new lifestyle. She'd had adventures outside this room, without Tom. Things she'd only ever hinted about or joked about, Devon had made reality but she hadn't told Tom. He didn't know how far down she'd gone into this whirlwind of sexual exploration.

Tom had been a good cuckold, letting her degrade, belittle and humiliate him while she was used and abused in all the best ways. It sent a thrill through her and made her nipples harden under the robe even just thinking about it.

Her pussy started to warm up and she bit her lip. With an effort she pushed past the thoughts about how she'd been pulled out of her little church girl shell to become a complete slut. Owned by a man like Devon, allowing him to take her any way he wanted. Her hand moved between her legs, touching herself with a soft breath, feeling herself throbbing again. Her eyes went back to the chair. The empty chair.

Usually, Tom fell asleep in there after jerking off watching. But... he'd been missing when she'd looked over during the final moments before she'd passed out. Had he gone to the bathroom? Maybe to get a drink of water?

Brushing back her hair, a waterfall of honey locks that were sweaty, tangled, she slipped out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. The house was dark. She grabbed a glass and filled it with water, taking two long gulps. She was definitely dehydrated. It had been the most intense session yet. She could still feel the jolting in her bones as Devon had laid into her, filling her pussy so completely over and over.

Getting another glass of water, Julie downed it more slowly, then put the glass in the sink and went to the living room. Maybe Tom had been uncomfortable in the chair?

Sure enough, there was a dark form on the couch, covered in blankets. It was quiet. She couldn't hear Tom's breaths. Usually he breathed very heavily and snorted on occasion in his sleep. It was cute. But he was still, quiet, and it sent a chill down her spine. Quiet, like when he was sitting across the room in the dark, while she was being fucked.

Julie moved into the room and sat on the edge, not wanting to disturb her husband. "Tom..." she whispered.

No answer.

Surely he wasn't that deep asleep. Maybe... maybe he was awake and listening, but not wanting to talk. It wouldn't surprise her. After what she'd just done in front of him. Said. Maybe he was still processing. Upset.

"Tom, honey..." She hesitated. "I... I know tonight was... um, intense..." She licked her lips. "It's... it's just sex talk, you know..." That wasn't true. But she couldn't let Tom think she didn't respect him, or didn't still love him. She did love him. Completely. But her love had changed. Tom wasn't the sexual dynamo that Devon was. He didn't make her feel like Devon did. Desired. Worshiped. An object of pure sex to be pleasured and used. Tom was great, but...

"I know it was probably hard. Seeing me like that. Doing those things and saying those things but... It's just sex. Just the heat of the moment kinda stuff, ya know?" Julie wasn't sure if Tom was listening. He really could be asleep, and she was just talking to herself. But that seemed okay, too. Her words made her feel better, even if they weren't reassuring her husband.

This whole adventure had been a rollercoaster. Moving so fast and furious and driving towards an exciting potential end. Though what end, Julie wasn't sure. Before all this, they'd been thinking about kids. Now... now they had put that on hold for this fantasy. However, Devon had been whispering things about impregnating her. Of getting her off birth control. Letting him put a baby in her. She couldn't deny that the taboo of it was exhilarating. Maybe she could talk Tom into it? Would it be so bad? They wanted kids. Did it really matter if the child was biologically Tom's?

She looked at her husband's sleeping form. "I love you, honey. I'll see you in the morning, okay? We can talk about... about anything." Standing up, she turned to face her husband's sleeping form so her exposed vagina was next to where his head was under the blankets. "Wanna see what he did to me before I go back to bed?" She whispered it seductively, breathy, hoping to ignite that jealous desire in her husband she loved seeing. Before she'd started denying him, this sort of thing had led to some very amazing reclamation sex.

Tom didn't stir.

With a sigh, she pulled her robe closed and walked back to the bedroom. Devon was still lying prone across the bed, snoring and sniffling, his pasty, sweaty, naked body exposed since the covers had slipped off the bed. Julie picked up the sheets and put them back, quickly slipping under them, still wearing her robe, and cuddled close to Devon. She hated his snoring, and how his rough hair always rubbed against her, but his softness and heat were comforting in their own way. Her fatigue took over, and she fell asleep, thinking everything was fine.

--

I didn't stay at home. I left my bedroom while my wife was screaming out in orgasm and spewing filthy, degrading words, all directed at me. For a moment I considered just curling up on the couch, plugging my ears and trying to go to sleep. But even as I'd tossed the blankets onto the couch, I knew that nothing short of deafness would block out the sounds of bodies slapping, screaming, grunting. The smell of sweat was wafting through the house. It made my stomach churn.

So I did the only thing I could do. I left.

I drove away like I was abandoning my life. All the thoughts going through my brain were screaming at me to just keep driving. To go forever or until the gas ran out, and I found myself somewhere new. Start over. Become a new man. Start a new family. But... I wasn't that stupid.

Muscle memory took over, and I drove to my office downtown. I parked in the garage and thankfully had my backpack, so I could use my keycard to get into the building. My office was small, but cozy. There was a decent chair I could recline in and put my feet up on my desk to get some shuteye. It was quiet in the building, which allowed me to think. Thinking wasn't something I'd done in months. My dick had been in charge. My libido, hormones, and my primal animal brain had been driving my actions. It was those things that had led me to allowing my wife to indulge in sexual exploits with a man I'd never have ever considered a threat.