Cuckolded By Our Cat Pt 02

The couple I wrote this story for are delighted at the volume of negative comments the first part received, mostly from that vast horde of "Anonymous" readers. They hope this second chapter will draw just as many! As for me: as a writer, I thank those who have written me to say they enjoyed the way the story was written. It's not always easy to tell someone else's story in a way that satisfies both parties. On to the conclusion!

Okay, so we've established that it wasn't the cat. Bernie was only an aggravating symbol of what was happening to our marriage. Carol continued to tease me after that night. In fact, it got worse; much worse. The next night she didn't get home until after 8:00. When she did get in she made no pretense about where she'd been.

"I met James and Burt after work for drinks," she said. "We had some work to do, after work. You know?" She gave me that grin, and slipped her hand around my neck. "You look desperate. Are you okay?" She stared into my eyes, a look of genuine concern on her face.

"I... I'm fine," I told her. "Carol, I mean... what are you doing? You're out all hours now, and you come home looking like you've run a marathon. You don't seem to care about my feelings at all anymore."

She stared at me for a full 30 seconds. I knew how whiney I sounded; my words hung in the air. "Awww, baby," she said at last, "of course I care about you. If I didn't, I wouldn't let you know what's happening! Would I?"

"I guess," I said, dejection in my eyes. "How..."

"How what?"

"I keep thinking about it. How many times have you..."

She finished for me, finally putting all my fears to rest. "Fucked them?" Her gaze never wavered as she nodded. "I know this is difficult for you. You're being cuckolded, and it's natural to rebel against that, isn't it? Knowing your wife is fucking someone else, yet knowing how happy it makes me..." She sighed. "It doesn't mean you're not great; you are. It just means I'm more satisfied than ever as your wife."

I took a deep breath. "Carol, I need to know."

She grinned again. "You need a number, cuck?" Her eyes raised toward the ceiling, and I could see she was counting in her head. She looked at me again. "You mean Burt, or James, or a total since I began? I mean, it's been going on for a while. As I'd thought you would have figured out by now," she added.

I felt a tear form and then escape from my right eye. Oh god, how many men had she fucked? And why could I do nothing but cry about it?

She took her hand from my neck and wiped my cheek, then kissed me. "Let's just say it's been enough to make me realize that I have the greatest husband in the world." We kissed again, and she repeated, "You are, you know."

Another tear, and another brush across my cheek. "Okay, stop that, now," she said, her face breaking into a wide smile. "I've been neglecting you, I know. Three months is absurd!" She hesitated. "Don't worry, I won't make you wait that long again. It was... kind of a test, you know? And you passed with flying colors!"

She released me, and actually began to bounce on her spiked heels, her eyes also filling with tears, I saw. Her joy at my submission was infectious! I managed a smile. Even with a black hole smoldering in my gut, I was finding myself happy for her. I wanted to make her happy, now that the boundaries had been established, but I still didn't know where I stood.

"Honey? Will I be able to act like your husband? I mean..."

She beamed at me, "Of course you will, silly," she said, half-giggling. "In fact, a day like today always leaves me really horny afterward! I'd really like if you would do what you did for me last night." That cruel grin that I'd grown to love reappeared. "Will you do that?"

Still, I hesitated, knowing she'd just been with at least two men. "I... well, I guess," I said softly. At this point, I didn't think I could turn her down. This was going to be my new reality. But, had she cleaned herself up first?

Carol was already reaching behind herself for the zipper on her dress. It was a dark blue spandex type material that really highlighted her long, lean body. I didn't recall seeing her wear it before; but then, she seemed to have a lot of new outfits. I wondered if her bosses bought them for her, or was I paying for them? Regardless, she always looked sexy, anymore.

"Can you?" she asked, turning her back to me.

Like a good cuckold, I ran the zipper from her neckline down her back. Watching her skin appear, I felt myself getting hard. God, how I wanted to kiss my way down her back, following the line of that zipper! Just knowing I might get to please her again had me aroused. Twice in two days? Maybe this time I'd get to fuck her, and show her I could compete with those other men.

She turned, holding the top against her breasts. "Take it off me, will you, cuck?" she purred, fixing me with that smoldering look she'd perfected. In the low light of the living room, she looked like one of the porn stars I'd been watching. My cock throbbed as I reached for the shoulder straps. Slowly, at her urging, I pulled it down and she allowed the material to slide over her breasts and down.

"God, Carol," I breathed, "you're so beautiful."

She smiled at me as I slid the slinky dress down over her hips. "Am I?" she asked. "Thank you, baby."

I unpeeled her like a banana, and she at last stepped out of the circle that was her dress on the floor. She was still in her heels, but totally naked above. I saw tiny bruises and what looked like bite marks on her breasts and down her sides, and one huge hickey on her left thigh.

"They marked you," I exclaimed. "Oh, god! Are you okay?" I reached for her.

She stepped back, grinning at me sexily. "Of course they did, cuck. All men like to mark their territory, don't they? Just because you don't, doesn't mean I'm not open to that." She giggled. "This one..." she said proudly, indicating the hickey, "was Burt's."

"Carol! That one?" I still couldn't imagine her allowing him to be that close to her pussy. "My god, honey, he's like, sixty!"

She laughed. "Hey, just because he's old doesn't mean he's not...well, very capable, you know?" She ran her hands down over her hips, drawing my eyes with them. "Now, are you gonna do your duty?"

With that, she turned and walked to the sofa. She settled herself back against the cushions and extended her legs outward, and I went to my knees between them. As my lips contacted her pussy, I realized it was covered in a slippery mix of fluids.

Oh, god! My worst fears were realized.

I pulled back and she laughed at me.

"Hey, what's the matter? Are you getting squeamish now?" She reached out and stroked my cheek with one hand, while stroking her inner thigh with the other. "Don't worry about that other stuff, baby. It's you I want, right here. C'mon. Please?"

I didn't want to; I truly did not want to, but I fulfilled my duties, reluctantly. If there had been any doubt about what I was, I couldn't deny it any longer. I lapped the combined fluids from within her core. They smeared my face, they ran down my throat. She even had me show her some in my mouth before allowing me to swallow. That, more than anything else, brought me to a realization of what I had become. I was her slut. She could use me for anything; anything at all. She knew it, and now I knew it.

I gave her a huge climax with my mouth, but I don't think it was my technique as much as our shared knowledge of what she'd done, and what I was now doing, that put her over. At one point, she held my head and rubbed my face over her pussy aggressively, chanting, "oh yeah, fuck yeah! Eat it up, baby, take all that mess!" She reached another orgasm, rapidly followed by a third. I had tears streaming down my face, but I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else in the world by that time. Once her phenomenal hunger for just one more climax had been sated, she lay back on the sofa and just allowed me to rove over her body with my tongue.

"Mmmmm, yes," she moaned, "you're the best, you know. I couldn't have chosen a better husband than you." She held her arms out to each side and reveled in my adoration of her skin. At that moment, she was the sexiest thing I could ever imagine. As my lips closed over her nipple, she arched her back and I heard her sigh. Then she pushed my face away, as if she suddenly realized she'd allowed me too much.

"Give me your dick," she said, and sat up. I stood before her and dropped my pants. I was ragingly hard. Carol took me in her hand and began to stroke me rapidly as she told me how sexy she found this. I wanted nothing more than to mount her, but she instructed me to keep my hands at my sides, and I complied. My climax happened in less than thirty seconds. She knew it before it happened, and once again released my dick just as I was about to erupt, leaving me to ejaculate without any sensation except for the overwhelming release I felt in my balls. My jism flew out in a wide arc, but she dodged it this time, letting it fall onto the sofa instead. I cried out; it was painful, this sudden release without the joy of getting to at least stroke myself. My second release barely cleared the head, dripping onto the floor, and three more slow surges followed. I wanted to cry, but I didn't touch myself.

"Good boy," she praised, looking up into my anguished face. "Now," she continued, "once you get this cleaned up and I've washed all your spit off me, I'll tell you all about my day." She headed off to shower, while I got out the spray cleaner and paper towels.

As we sat and watched a documentary on killer whales, she began to tell me how she'd been flirting with both bosses all morning, knowing James had already booked a room at the hotel near their building for that afternoon. By noon, she said, she'd already pleasured both of them, as well as the first of their clients. Those three took her to lunch, then directly to the suite.

"Oh, baby, you should have seen it! The carpet felt like it was an inch thick, and the tub and countertops in the bathroom were all marble." She giggled. "I got bent over the side of that tub more than once; that's why I have these little bruises all over the front of my legs." She showed me, lest I'd not seen them, then continued.

"Mostly, though, I just served as hospitality for our office, roaming around making sure everyone was taken care of. The bed barely got used!"

I had to ask. "Jesus, Carol, how many men were there?"

She paused, grinning at me. "Oh, baby, I don't know. I think Burt was calling everybody he knew to come up there!" She giggled again. "Once I told them you were fully on board, they couldn't wait to show me off."

That night was my 'coming-out' as far as she was concerned, and she proceeded headlong into cuckolding me. I loved her; I was helpless to turn things around at that point. So things went away rapidly, for me. I tried to negotiate with her -- I would not dress in degrading outfits or serve as her maid or whatever, but I had to help dress her as sluttily as her men demanded. I would not participate directly, but I would be made to watch, in the weeks to come. There would be no contact between me and any of her lovers, and I had to do clean-up duties afterwards.

This was the least and most favorite of my duties. It had begun that night, and would become a staple of our marriage from then on. The following night, however, she was home when I got there, and everything seemed normal. We had an intimate dinner and a much more 'normal' conversation. The night after that she arrived home shortly after I did, but it was clear she'd been used after the office closed for business.

"And during," she told me, as I was preparing to go down on her. "Hell, I didn't even have time to eat my lunch, I was so busy! Those guys must be taking Viagra with their breakfasts!" Those words stung, as she knew they would, but I barely paused. I was determined to please her. When I tasted them, whoever 'them' was, I went ahead with my duties as her cuck, slurping down whatever mess they'd left behind in her. And it was messy! She was energized, talking non-stop about her day, only becoming quiet as she neared her climax.

"Ooooh, baby, yeah. Right there, Yes! Oh god, yesssss. You do that so gooooood!"

Every orgasm was a triumph for me; an excuse to do what I'd been destined to do, so when she expressed an impending climax, I doubled my efforts. My tongue, no longer only there to scoop out the remains of her recent sexual activities, began whipping at her jucy pussy in an effort to bring her off as massively as possible. This, I reasoned, was my true worth; though she would disagree. To her, I'd become most useful as someone to recount her day to, and to lick the remains from inside her. Still, once she began to climax, she became more verbal.

"Oh god, don't stop! Don't you dare fucking stop, cuckie! Give me that gorgeous sloppy tongue, drive it deep drive it home oh godamighty fuckkkkkk!!!"

I felt her thighs tighten against my cheeks, and I changed my attack to her swollen, sensitive clit. She went into overdrive!

"Ohmyfuckingodyessssss," she screamed. "Do it, do it, do it do it do it dooooiiiiiiitttt..."

She began to squirm as my lips closed over her clit, sucking it into my mouth as my tongue flicked rapidly at it. Then... she began to squirt.

Carol had never squirted before, so the volume of her gush surprised me as it flooded against my mouth. I immediately parted my lips, as much in surprise at the force of her flow, as an attempt to receive it. Her scream was ear-splitting, even as her thighs muffled my hearing. Her ankles locked behind my back, her heels digging into either side of my spine as she contorted, and she almost rolled off the sofa, with me trapped between her clenching legs. The stream continued.

When it ended, she lay on her side. My neck was bent painfully, and I had risen on one knee, just to stay with her. I thought she was going to tear my head off! My face was soaked, as was the sofa beneath her and the carpet where my other knee rested. She was in an almost fetal position, her ankles together against my back. Slowly, her legs relaxed.

"Oh my god!" she gasped. "That was..." She allowed me to pull free, and was looking at me glassy-eyed as I rose over her hips to look back at her. "...are you okay?"

I nodded. A smile spread across my face. "Are you?" I asked.

She hesitated, reliving the moment. "I... I think I need a heart transplant," she gasped, then giggled. "Oh my god, I might have blown out an aorta!" she professed. She didn't look distressed; in fact, she was glowing. I glanced at her legs. A mixture of cum and what looked like oily water dripped from her tanned skin. She was soaked, from her crotch to her calves.

"Uhm, you might have even more of a mess to clean up, now!" she laughed, still trying to catch her breath. I returned to my work without complaining. 'Let any of those men even

try

to make you cum like that,' I thought to myself.

Later, as we discussed the 'terms' of my cuckoldry, she told me in detail about that afternoon, and informed me that I was going to 'host' her and her friends the next night.

"For now, though, I'm all yours." She reached for my cock, which was throbbing, as usual, and began to stroke it.

"Please," I whined, "can I make love to you tonight? I really need to cum, with your pussy wrapped around me."

She continued to jack me off, while pretending to consider my request. I was getting nearer and nearer to cumming, and tried desperately to hold off. "Well, let's see..." she mused, dragging it out. "If I do, will you clean it all out, like you do the other men's? Will you suck your little load out of my pussy, so it's sparkling clean? Make me look like a new bride?" She laughed at her own joke, and upped her motions on my cock. It was leaking pre-cum liberally, and her hand was now coated with it. I was close. So close.

"Maybe I should let you cum in my other hole? The dirty one! Would you like that?"

I exploded just then, and she snatched her hand away. "Awwwwww, too bad," she teased, as I ejaculated onto the sofa cushions once again. "Now you've got another mess to clean up. It's a good thing you're getting so good at it!"

I reached for my cock. I had to feel my hand stroking it for the last few spurts; to give myself what minimum of pleasure I could salvage! She slapped at it, though, admonishing me not to give in to what she called my "dirty urges." I reluctantly stared down as I pulsed and drooled my last meager load down my own shaft.

"I told you not to touch yourself, cuckie," she said, shaking her head at my impulsiveness. "Do I have to buy a cage for you?"

"No, Carol," I whimpered. "Please, no."

She got up off the sofa and headed for our bedroom. "You'd better sleep out here, Steve. Your urges are getting the better of you, and besides..." She laughed, "you've got cleaning to do." She paused at the hallway opening. "And NO touching! I mean it!"

The next afternoon I had laundered all the sheets and was in the kitchen when Carol got home from work. She wasn't alone. I recognized both James and Burt from meeting them before, but this time there was no pretense of fellowship among us males. They were there to fuck my wife, and to make sure I got to see it. Burt called me 'boy' as he shook my hand. James, though he was more respectful in the beginning, soon asked me how I got so lucky, to find such a sexy woman for a wife. I stammered a reply as Carol stood with her hand on my chest, smiling at me.

"Oh, he's lucky, and he knows it. Don't you, cuckie?"

James laughed and said, "Lucky cuckie. I love it!" Then he took my wife's hand and put it on his own chest. "Maybe it's time to show him just how lucky he is, hmmmm?"

Carol slid her hands around his waist and pressed herself to him. "That's why I asked you over," she said. "He's been a distant observer, even when he didn't know it." She kissed him suddenly and then said, "it's time he got to see what his wife really needs."

Burt had been watching all of this; watching me. I met his eyes briefly and he smirked at me. "Why don't you get us drinks while we play with your wife some more?" he ordered. He began to unbutton his shirt. "You know, she's not worth a damn as an assistant any more, but she sure gets the job done as the office whore!" He laughed loudly.

His words embarrassed me for Carol, but they seemed to have the opposite effect on her. She moaned into James's mouth, then turned to Burt and said, "I love it when you call me names, you big silly." She then turned and pulled Burt's open shirt from his slacks and pushed it off his shoulders. He looked fit, but he was clearly in his sixties. His skin was loose and sallow, his chest hair gray. Carol bent her head and kissed him on one nipple, then reached for his belt and zipper. She eagerly unzipped him, and pushed his slacks and boxers down, revealing a cock that was only half-hard. Still, its thickness was everything she'd told me, and it was already the length of mine.

"See what I mean?" she said, holding it in her tiny hand and turning to face me. "This is a man's cock!" She dropped to her knees and took it in her mouth as James took his shirt and pants off, handing them to me as if I were his valet. It was obvious he worked out, as he was muscular for a forty-something, and his cock was already standing straight out when he stepped out of his briefs.

"She is eager, I'll give her that," he joked, as together we watched Carol's head bob aggressively over Burt's cock. The older man was now fully hard, and beginning to pump his hips, taking her rhythm away. James put his hand on my shoulder and asked, "do you even get any of that anymore, lucky cuckie? Or is she too worn out by the time she gets home to you?"