So it occurred to me I started my fantasies here with an essay on cuckolding, and I should probably chime in on a personal level on the topic as well. So upfront and in the title and first paragraph this is a fair warning. This is a cuckold story of how my wife, the mother of my child, gave in to her slutty nature and fucked another guy both behind my back and right in front of me as I stroked my own smaller cock. He came in her too, and no, I didn't lick her out. I'm not that twisted for God' sake.
I wasn't going to write about myself when I started and it didn't actually go down this precise way but I did spend several years married to a hot wife. In spite of my personal fetish, I, like most husbands, would never have actually dared to do more than fantasise if Jen hadn't decided to submit to out hung neighbour. She'd grown bored of married life and wanted to indulge her own submissive fetishes, using my own as her excuse to take new cocks. We ended up having a number of adventures over the years, but this is the story of how it all began.
Now I must admit I had long harboured the fetish of sharing my girlfriend or wife, and once Jen got wind of it she went with the idea whenever she got especially horny. It became a relief valve for her, but she was a busy high school principal and had to protect her public image in our small city, so she was often too stressed to do more than grind her pussy against my face for hours on our shared bed. I fucked her afterwards, coming deep in her, if she wasn't too tired after I had licked her to orgasm. Still she had a slutty past, and looking back it was inevitable she'd want to explore this side of her own kinks.
"So you want to share me?" she purred, cuddling up to my back, reaching over to stroke my cock, trying to get it hard again the night I'd confessed to liking the idea of sharing her with an endowed lover. "You want to watch while a guy with a big cock fucks my brains out?"
Jen rubbed her pussy as she told me about how we could find a bull on the internet. She'd clearly given the idea some careful thought, and was not against it at all, unlike my first wife.
Now I knew she was a slut when I married her, but she had that classic over educated white girl mentality that she should be open to anything. In truth she was, and still is, a slutty submissive, and just used Foucault as a literary excuse to let men use her. She was an unabashed size queen who liked to be dominated. She enjoyed getting slapped with a meaty cock and would let the biggest guys jam as much of their cocks into her throat as they could. She didn't even mind gagging, something about having an extra large cock in her hands and mouth turned her on and led her to do yet more depraved acts.
One former boyfriend had, on their first date no less, after several drinks at a local bar, walked her to a local park across the street and found a deserted bench. He'd quickly talked her into dropping her panties, first rolling them down to her mid thigh while he fingered her in the dim light and then off entirely so she could spread her legs. This being NYC people still scurried by and Jen was never one to cum quietly when drunk.
Jen said the semi public nature of being first fingered, then fucked on a city bench just off a still busy footpath with the building and street lights only filtered by the trees surrounding them turned her on immensely and she didn't object when her date lifted her up and sat her back down after he'd unzipped and hauled out his meaty cock. She said he muffled her cries with his hands wrapped around her mouth and throat as he fucked her hard and fast from underneath. She didn't want him to fuck her bareback or come in her but she couldn't do more then grunt under his vigorous pummelling of her cunt. He came in her and never called her again, a not uncommon refrain.
In truth it was not hard to get laid in NYC before the housing crash, in the early 2000s. Guys could afford to be picky. Jen was pretty but not movie star gorgeous, and unlike me, many guys saw through her and ran once they'd dumped their loads once or several times.
Jen had the classic Scottish glow in the dark white skin that many American black guys find hot, along with light brown hair long enough to easily grasp. She had small breasts, but enough to fill a palm, and she had those faint pink areolas surrounding the barest nubs of a nipple in their generous centers. Her pussy was likewise a light pink flushing yet deeper when she was aroused, and she kept a thick natural bush above her delicate pussy lips. She had an unusually large ass and her devotion to yoga kept her waist tight, making the flare of her large and firm cheeks all the more noticeable. She wasn't that tall and although she did have bright blue eyes it was inevitably her backside that drew the most ribald remarks from guys on the street. She almost stopped wearing skirts after one guy was so bold as to put his whole hand up her dress from behind and cup her entire mound, caressing first her bush and then her slit with his fingers.
She yelped and jumped straight up, and turned and glared at him but that was all. She confessed she had intended to tell him off with her best feminist rant but her pussy was suddenly so hot and flushed from his unexpected grope, that she ran to the nearest bathrooms in the next cafe, locking herself in the stall and sobbing, shaking, and cumming all at the same time.
She didn't know what had just happened, or rather she knew she had just been attacked and practically fingered on a NYC street and it had made her come harder than she ever had before. Like everyone in the city Jen had a busy and complex life with no time for romance or dating. She'd had her string of one night stands like most, but only a few stood out and none had made her cum as hard as this sudden assault.
The nearest was the Nigerian musician, a Yoruba with a cock as thick and long as her arm, she swore. He'd jammed that log of a cock down her throat in his car, parked on a city street. He'd fucked her bareback too. He'd finally returned to his own wife, but he had used her for months first, exploring her desire to submit to his whims. She had quite a few stories about him I heard over the years, often stroking myself to orgasm beside her as she gave me the details.
That also was a theme in many of Jen's bedtime stories about her exes, that they somehow knew they could fuck her without protection. Men liked to claim her in the species's ultimate gesture of ownership, shooting their loads into her womb. She felt conflicted, used and disrespected when they came in her without asking permission, but it was the only part of coital sex that made her cum: regardless how large the guy was, she needed that feeling of utter helplessness. Her pussy spasmed in pleasure as she indulged in the most basic submission a woman could make to a more powerful male, accepting his sperm, her legs spread for his pleasure. The thought of this complete contradiction from the strong modern feminist she saw herself to be and the helpless slut used to for a man's cum made her quiver and shudder in delight and made her cum every time.
There was something about Jen's girl next store good looks, her whimsical smile, the sweatshirts and sweaters that jiggled suddenly when she forgot to wear her bra, or her open blue eyes that seemed shocked, even as she was obediently kneeling to suck a strange cock. She mastered the art of pretending she was just allowing the man to take the lead as he led her down the exact path of giving him what she wanted.
I don't want to make too much of her being a complete submissive slut, because most weeks she lived the normal harried New Yorker existence, rushing to and from work, getting drinks with friends, getting home too late for enough sleep before the next day dawned. But every once in a while a guy would catch her in the right mood and be bold enough to bend her to his wishes. She figured these short interludes of depravity relaxed some of the city's stresses and, well, NYC is a stressful place.
Now how Jen and I met and how we got married are stories for another time. We'd bonded in part because I loved the idea in theory of watching her take on another man in my presence and because she wanted a more stable life, with a trustworthy partner to return to after she scratched her own sexual itches.
The time I want to talk about occurred when we were married for a few years and having the usual Saturday morning sex, both tired from the week. Jen was giving me some desultory head to stiffen my cock when I looked up and saw my neighbour Chad gazing back at me from the side yard, stroking his jeans.
I should back up and set the stage here before we get back to Chad and how he soon forcibly introduced us to wife sharing.
Jen and I had moved upstate to Dutchess County, to the outskirts of a small town named Redhook. We were in that stage of life where getting ahead in our careers was taking a backseat to starting a family. We'd moved into this newly built subdivision with an officious HOA, something the previous owner had forgotten to mention.
We got along well enough with our neighbours, but Chad, the head of the HOA, was a passive aggressive asshole and we'd butted heads a few times on the topic of his dogs shitting on our lawn. The usual suburban white people problems, bills, neighbours trying to tell you what kind of tree you can plant in your front yard, or what your mailbox has to look like, that sort of annoying minor shit.
