Limits

Author's Notes:

Recently, TheMarlboroMan, one of my favorite authors, has introduced right-wing politics into his stories. The overall political bent got me thinking about stereotypes and how they might play out within the cuckold lifestyle.

As I outlined this story, Chris, a Trump supporter and Rush Limbaugh fan and his business partner Ben, a long time Bernie Sanders disciple and avid CNN watcher are in conflict over the cuck dynamic.

Always, when I write, my finished product turns out much different than the original outline. In this story, I couldn't justify Lefty Ben being a poor willing cuck, just because of his politics. Likewise, Righty Chris isn't an offended husband due to his right wing political stance. I suspect that there are sick pups on the left and right that want to drink a Bulls cum from their wife's overflowing cunt. In fact, I know there are.

Thanks to TheMarlboroMan for giving me the start on this tale. I hope I haven't disappointed you by submitting a story that's free of politics.

Second, I am in the process of writing a Humor/Satire offering. It's something completely outside of my comfort zone. As a warmup, I've attempted (poorly perhaps) to introduce humor into this story. I hope you notice and appreciate my self-deprecating effort.

Last, but certainly not least, thanks to Dave for his effort to make this story more enjoyable for our Literotica community.

—-

Limits

Everyone has them.

It was a Tuesday evening and I was lying in bed, waiting for my wife Wendy to finish up in the bathroom and join me. Although our "honeymoon" year was over, Wendy and I continued to have sex almost every day. I was hoping she was in the mood tonight.

I smiled to myself as she strutted into our bedroom. She was naked and looked fucking hot. Wendy is about 5-10, a blue-eyed blonde with a runner's build. She has lean, sexy curves, round firm B-cup breasts, a toned midsection, and incredibly long legs that seem to be able to wrap themselves around me twice.

"Hey baby. Can I ask you a favor?" she asked.

I reached for my mostly flaccid cock, stroked it a couple of times and answered, "What do I get in return?"

"You dirty old man! You know what you're going to get"

"What's the favor, Sweetheart?"

Wendy reached onto her bureau top and grabbed her iPad before climbing into bed next to me. After snuggling into my side, she said, "I've been following this new author on Literotica. His name is The Style Guy and I think he's a pretty good storyteller. I read a story he posted a few months ago, "Joy Meets Her Bull," and I think it's hot. Would you read it, so we could talk about it?"

Wendy handed me her tablet and I opened the page. I didn't tell her that I had read a few of The Style Guy's stories and hadn't been overly impressed. His stories didn't have a great deal of sex and those stories that had sex scenes were juvenile and very unrealistic.

I quickly scanned to the bottom of the first page and was thrilled to see that I only had to read two pages of his drivel.

As I started to read, Wendy kissed her way down my body and took my now rigid cock into her mouth. After a half dozen slow, sensual deep swallows, Wendy said, "Tell me when you get close to the end."

The story was incredibly stupid and centered on a rich, dominant black man and his online seduction of a white couple into the cuckold lifestyle. As is usual with this type of rubbish, the 50-year-old bull had a huge black cock that could stay hard for hours. The white husband was a wimp with a penis the size of his pinky finger and an insatiable desire to drink another man's cum from his wife's well-used cunt. The white wife was a woman with great intellect combined with a sexy innocence and the body of a porn star, who wanted to be used like a slut and be left with cum dripping from all her holes.

Under normal circumstances, this type of story wouldn't excite me even after a week-long fishing trip with my buddies, but this wasn't a normal circumstance. In this instance, Wendy was sucking my entire cock down her throat. When she needed a break, she would take turns sucking each of my balls between her puffy red lips.

I was hot and excited and Wendy kept me on the brink of an orgasm. When I noticed that I was a few paragraphs from the end, I said, "I'm about to finish the story."

Wendy straddled my body and guided my cock into her tight wet pussy. As she started bouncing on me, one hand groped and pinched her right nipple and her other hand rubbed her clit.

Instead of continuing to the end of the story, I tossed the iPad to the side and grabbed Wendy at her waist. I jackhammered into her until she groaned in orgasm. When I started to grunt, Wendy reached back and cupped my balls and massaged them as I emptied a load into her pussy.

Satisfied for the moment, Wendy collapsed against my chest. I rolled us onto our sides and we snuggled together in post orgasmic bliss.

"Will you do something nasty for me baby? It'll be so hot!" Wendy whispered into my ear a few moments later.

"Nasty and hot? What do you need, Lover?"

"I want you to eat me," Wendy pleaded. "Can you lick my cum-filled pussy? Please? For me?"

Her big blue eyes were staring at me.

There had been hundreds of times, since our relationship started, when I'd cum in Wendy's mouth and then have a long passionate kiss afterward. We'd even had wild sex and before fucking for a second time, we'd rested in a 69. I didn't mind the taste of cum, as long as it was

my

cum.

"What's this about, Wendy?"

"Don't overthink it, Lover," she replied. "Please eat me and make me cum again."

"Is this between you and me, Wendy? You weren't fantasizing about fucking some other guy and wanting me to clean you?"

"No! I promise," she said. "The story got me hot and I just want to cum on your tongue."

For me, the key words were "I promise." I'd never known Wendy to exaggerate the truth, much less lie to me.

I hissed into her ear, "I'm going to lap your slutty little pussy till you explode."

I crawled between her widely spread thighs and licked two fingers before sliding them into her bald wet pussy and attaching my lips and tongue to her rubbery clit. Wendy instantly exploded. She arched her lower back and butt off the mattress and grunted and groaned as she climaxed. Over the next 30 minutes, I continued the manual and oral assault on her pussy and pushed a finger up her wickedly tight asshole. She came two more times and then begged, "No more!"

Wendy was like a rag doll as I changed positions. I held each of her legs in the crook of my arms and drove my rejuvenated cock into her well-used hole. Wendy was right. Tonight's sex was wicked and hot. I filled her pussy with a second stream of cum after 10 minutes of hard pounding.

The next couple of weeks passed. We had our usual sex almost every night. Every third or fourth play date, Wendy would ask me for oral sex after I came in her pussy. As a reward for the mind-blowing orgasms she had, our twice monthly rounds of anal sex had increased to weekly. I loved fucking Wendy's ass!

One night, Wendy and I had finished dinner and were cleaning up the kitchen. I had just turned on the dishwasher when I noticed her opening a bottle of wine. She poured two glasses, looked at me and asked, "Can we sit and talk on the patio?"

"Sure. Let's go."

We walked through the back sliding door and onto our condo's patio. We took seats kitty corner to each other at the backyard table.

I asked, "What's up?"

I noticed a slight blush of red spread over Wendy's upper chest and neck area as she said, "I've been thinking about that story, the one by The Style Guy, and I've been reading other cuckold stories. They really turn me on."

When I didn't respond, Wendy asked, "What do you think?"

"Last week, I read a non-consent story on Literotica. The story involved a married woman who was cheating on her husband. A neighbor discovered her infidelity and set-up the cheating slut. She was blackmailed and spent the weekend being gangbanged by a group of 20 men at a bachelor weekend getaway. The story was incredibly well written and turned me on. Just because a story excites us, doesn't mean we want it to happen."

"That kind of story is gross," Wendy said dismissively.

I responded, "In real life, it's despicable, but as a fantasy story, it was hot."

After a short pause, Wendy had gathered her thoughts and asked, "Have you ever thought about the swinging lifestyle?"

"Of course," I answered. "Be more specific."

Wendy shrugged and said, "I don't know. Do you have any swinger fantasies?"

"I suppose so," I agreed. "It might be hot, if you got dressed up in that sexy black dress and got all made-up and went out to a cocktail lounge by yourself."

I definitely had Wendy's attention, as I continued, "you could flirt and maybe even dance with a sexy little girl, pick her up, bring her home and let me seduce her and fuck her while you watched."

My wife was decidedly unhappy, but I continued. "After I fill her with cum, I'll get to watch as you eat my spunk from her pussy and when she is squeaky clean, you can clean her pussy juice off my cock with your talented tongue. That will get me hard so I can fuck her again.

"That's a pretty hot swinger fantasy, wouldn't you agree?" I asked her.

"That's disgusting" was Wendy's immediate response. "Crap like that doesn't happen."

"I'll bet I can find over a hundred similar fantasy stories on Literotica. Do you want to bet?"

Wendy didn't respond and we both sat in an uneasy silence for the next minutes.

I finally asked, "What is this about, Wendy?"

When she didn't answer, I asked, "Do you want to cuckold me? Do you want me to watch other men fuck you?"

It took a full two minutes before Wendy responded. "The idea makes me so fucking horny," she said.

There was a second long silence before Wendy asked, "Will you do me a favor?"

I didn't want to commit, so I shrugged. She continued: "Will you think about trying it?"

I'll admit that I was more than a little pissed, but I held it back. Wanting clarification, I asked, "You want me to think about watching another man fuck you?"

I let the silent tension build and when Wendy didn't answer, I finally asked, "Will you do me a favor?"

Wendy's eyes narrowed. Assuming she didn't have a choice, she nodded in agreement.

"I'll think about being a humiliated, sissy cuckold, if you think about being a 32-year-old divorced slut."

"Who the hell is talking about divorce?" was Wendy's immediate response.

"Wendy, we both come from divorced homes," I explained. "We talked about fidelity before we became exclusive and again, the weekend after you accepted my proposal. We pledged to be faithful. At our wedding, we made the same vow."

There were tears brimming along Wendy's eyes, as I continued. "You married a one-woman man and I haven't changed," I said.

I stood and took the last sip of wine from my glass.

"What if trying a cuckold play-date is important to me?" I heard her say from over my shoulder.

I turned and looked at Wendy for a few seconds, before raising the wine glass and taking a long look at it. With a flip of my wrist, I tossed the glass into our stone fire pit. It smashed into pieces.

"My God!" Wendy screeched. "Your grandmother gave you that glass two days before she died. You've treasured it!"

Looking back at Wendy, I told her, "I treasure a faithful marriage 10,000 times more than a wine glass. But I'll toss it away, just as easily, if you won't live up to your promises."

Bedtime was frosty that evening and over the next few days, things got back to almost normal.

On a Wednesday afternoon, a couple of weeks later, my best friend and business partner knocked on the frame of my open office door. Ben asked, "Do you have a couple of minutes?"

Ben and I met in college. He was a botany major and I was studying landscape architecture and design. Following graduation, Ben and I bought matching used Ford F-150 pickup trucks and went into business together.

I designed and oversaw the construction of our projects, while Ben determined the best plants to decorate my finished project. The first two years were difficult and we barely survived. By the fifth year, we were breathing easily and on our 10th anniversary as partners, we were running a successful small business.

During those years, I'd met and married Wendy and Ben married Cheri. We were close, as couples, but Wendy and Cheri didn't hit it off immediately.

Wendy is a "by-the-book'' type and a registered nurse at our local pediatric hospital. Cheri is a free spirit and herbalist. She also taught dance a couple nights a week. Ben and I were thrilled as the girls became closer friends over the last couple of years.

I said to Ben, "Yeah. Give me a second," and I pointed to a seat across from my desk. When I finished a design calculation a few moments later, I looked up and saw that Ben had poured an inch of bourbon each into two glasses. He started back to my desk before reversing himself. He returned to the book shelf and grabbed the bourbon bottle. He brought the two glasses and bottle to my desk before plopping into the chair.

"Is it that bad?" I asked.

It took Ben a few moments to gather his thoughts and asked me a question. "Are you familiar with the saying 'Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus?'"

"I think it was originally the title of a book," I answered.

Ben seemed to ignore me and continued. "One of the ways that the sexes are different is how they communicate about sex," he said. "When men talk about their sex life to other men, it's very impersonal. We've known each other for nearly 15 years and all you know about my sex life is that I like girls and I like sex. I know the same amount about you." Looking at me he asked, "Would you agree?"

I nodded my agreement.

"Girls are different. When they talk about sex they are incredibly detailed. They share all their glorious ins and outs. There aren't many secrets when girls talk about sex."

I wasn't sure if I agreed with Ben, but I knew he was trying to make a point. "OK," I said, awaiting more.

He took a sip from his glass and then pointed at my glass. I followed suit before he continued. "I've got to talk to you about my sex life with Cheri," he said.

When Ben took a second sip, I didn't need to be encouraged. I drained my glass and slid it over for a refill.

"Did you know, shortly after we started dating, Cheri introduced me into the swingers lifestyle?" I shook my head no, and Ben continued. "For Cheri and I, sex and love were totally different," he said. "We fell in love and we've devoted ourselves to each other, but we attended swap parties and have wild sex with anyone we are attracted too. I know that our view about love and sex are unusual, but it's worked for us. Are you with me so far?"

I indicated that I was, so Ben continued. "In the last few years, we've changed things up a bit. We are still regular participants with a couple of swing groups, but we've been exploring the hotwife dynamic. Do you know what that's all about?"

It was starting to dawn on me what Ben wanted to talk about. "Yeah," I told him. "Cheri dates other guys and has sex with them."

"Do you think I'm fucked up?" Ben asked.

"I honestly don't care what two, or five, or 25 consenting adults do. I really don't," I told him. "But you have to know, that kind of shit isn't for me."

Ben was nodding in agreement before I finished. "Cheri has been talking to Wendy about hotwife and cuckold play. Over the last couple of months, Wendy's interest has gone from mildly amused all the way to being mesmerized."

I told Ben about the incident after reading The Style Guy's story and told him about our fight on the backyard patio. I ended with, "I told Wendy that I'd think through the benefits of cuckold play, if she'd consider the consequences, including divorce."

"What was her reaction?" Ben wanted to know.

I sighed and said, "You just used the word mesmerize. I think that's the perfect word, she's mesmerized. I shocked Wendy when I mentioned divorce, but I don't think it's had a lasting effect."

"That's because of Cheri's influence."

Ben was right. I felt lost.

"We're going out to dinner and dancing on Friday," Ben reminded me. "I think the girls are planning something."

My emotions quickly moved from confused to royally pissed. "What the fuck are they going to do?"

"I don't know. I'd tell you if I did. I just have a knot in my gut that they are taking steps to get you interested in hotwife dating."

"I'm going to cancel Friday night," I said, the anger rising in my voice. "This is bullshit!"

We both took a sip of our bourbon before Ben asked said he had a suggestion.

My dead eyes bore into Ben. He shrugged and said, "I'd consider letting their plan play out. Don't put off the inevitable. Face it head on."

I considered Ben's suggestion. It made sense, but not trusting my voice, I nodded.

Ben could tell that I was filled with emotion. He told me, "You know I have your back. Don't you?"

I cracked half a smile and said, "Yeah. Thanks."

Ben poured me a third helping of booze, got up, and headed toward my office door. Before exiting the office, he held up the bottle and said, "That's enough for today. I'll give you back the bottle in the morning."

Friday night, Wendy and I met Ben and Cheri at Delmonico's, an upscale steak house. As usual, when the four of us are together, we had a great time. We each had a cocktail to start and shared two bottles of wine with dinner.

I noticed that Ben followed my lead and didn't drink much. The girls shared most of the wine. Dinner was delicious. We each ordered a decadent dessert and split each, four ways. I was relieved, when we were able to finish a wonderful meal without any negative discussions, but suspected that Ben was right. The girls had a plan and it would be sprung at the Twilight Room as we danced.

Wanting to test my theory, I asked, "Would anyone mind if we went to the Tumbleweed for some country style dancing instead of to the Twilight Room? I'm in the mood for a little line dancing."

Wendy's face showed a deep immediate concern, much more than a simple change of plan would justify.

Cheri saved the day when she said, "Chris, I told some girlfriends that we'd be at the Twilight Room. I'd hate for one of them to show up alone and not have anyone to sit with. I'd appreciate it if we could go to the Twilight Room."

Like a gentleman, I agreed. Ben did catch my eye. He had noticed Wendy's odd behavior, too.

As Cheri is a dance instructor, she has spent a great deal of time and effort training Ben and me. We are actually very good dancers and enjoy ourselves on the dance floor. When the music started, the four of us were up and in each other's arms. We spent close to 30 minutes dancing before Cheri and Ben returned to our table.

As the next dance was finishing, Wendy said, "Let's take a break. I need to catch my breath."

"Are you sure, Love? I could dance with you all night."

Wendy said, "I'm ready to sip my drink."

Pulling her close, I told Wendy, "I feel close, when we dance. Will you promise me every dance tonight?"

Wendy didn't answer my question. Instead, she kissed my cheek, took my hand and led me back to our table. As we approached our friends, I saw an unspoken sign pass between Cheri and Wendy.

We had barely arrived back at our table and taken a sip of our drinks when a good-looking man about five years older than us approached the table. Directing his question to Cheri, he held out his hand and asked, "May I have this dance?"

Cheri smiled and looking at Ben asked, "Do you mind?"

Ben nodded his approval and as Cheri walked back to the dance floor, Ben shot me a very aggressive look. I was on guard.