Notes: Cuckold themes.
I'm not sure exactly where I'm going to go with this. My idea is to go to some very bad places. Take note of the title. This story I envision as a tragedy. With eventual acts of brutality and violence. Not seeing a 'happy' ending for the protagonist. Without spoiling the ending, I just didn't want to mislead anyone that this is going to wrap up nicely filled with smiley happy people.
'A cuckold horror' story, if you will.
Just to give you an idea: I have two other works on my computer currently. "Space Babes: The Anast Spear Head" wherein futuristic hot girls get raped and mutilated by aliens. And "Bikini Ghost Hunters" wherein hot girls get raped and mutilated by supernatural monsters. Of course these stories won't be sent to this category. This is just a reference point.
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The Kosmo Politan magazine was face down and open on the coffee table. An alluring picture of someone named Kim Karstacian's face graced the cover, and most of the blurbs about its contents had something to do with sex.
As the wife was in the kitchen, and the half time show was on, I grabbed it for an amusing look at. The article that my wife Ruby was currently reading actually looked like some kind of medical report. This being boring, I was reaching to leaf forward or backward (were there any chick pics in here?) when my eye caught a sentence talking about the effects of deep female orgasms on brain chemistry.
Ok, let's just read a line or two.
"How is your team doing honey?" Ruby leaned out from the kitchen. Even in sweat pants and t shirt her figure caused me to spring an immediate boner. Her aerobics queen hips, legs and belly led up to her new huge tits that we had saved up for. The operation was 15 grand all told. About the price of a cheap new car. I liked the tits better. We'll wait a few years for another car.
Ruby had barely stopped smiling since the wrapping came off her new tits. I was worried her facial smile muscles might go into fits from over use. She beamed. I beamed. She felt like a princess. I felt prouder than anything to stand beside her. Did I mention how big her tits were? Let's just say her nipples would be hard from the cold long before her tight little backside was out the front door.
"Well, they are almost keeping up with the other team." My guys were losing. Who cared? Freaking sex babe looking out from the kitchen, smiling.
She gave a giggle and leaned back in the kitchen. I looked back at the article. I lost all sense of my surroundings.
The game was well on, playing at full tilt when I looked up from the magazine some time later.
Deep orgasms for women.
They released happiness chemicals into the woman's brain that were wholly irreproducible as yet by human science. Chemicals were released into almost every major organ that promoted health and longer life. The joy of deep orgasms exceeded even the most brain altering stimulant drugs.
I was aghast. My dear wife, these years of marriage, with just me. She seemed so content. Had she read this article? The story opposite this page had to do with hair and makeup. She had probably been reading that one.
Ruby walked toward me, boobs bouncing in her t shirt, sexy athletic legs swaying, and sat onto the couch next to me. She cuddled up to me.
"I think this weekend we can...you know!" She said coyly. During her boobie surgery recovery time, the doctor had recommended we stay "hands off" for 2 weeks. Add to that the 2 weeks prior to surgery, wherein we were both emotional wrecks from the stress, fear and uncertainty of the procedure....and my balls were ready to fire canon loads of semen. I'd even estimate in my mind that I could shoot from the bathroom, across our bedroom, and paint the far wall with my ejaculate! The pressure was intense!
I was rock hard! Her amazing body leaning against me! Her eyes were tilting towards me, her words laced with sugary promise.
I was thinking how special tonight could be! Not having cum in a month! Even our wedding night, as amazing as that had been, I had guiltily self relieved several times the week before our marriage. So in a very sexy way, tonight would be hotter and sexier than our wedding night. That's not even accounting for Ruby's big, red, firm balloons for me to enjoy!
"Hmmmm, somebody thinks that is a good idea." My wife was running her fingers along the erection bulge in my jeans.
"yes" I managed, meekly.
Her sultry smile melted the remainder of my resolve. I was hers. We kissed. And kissed.
The game was over when we came up for breath.
As we were both recovering from our make out session. I found the air to speak.
"Do you know about 'deep orgasms' baby?" I asked.
"Sounds kinky!" She played.
"No it's a real thing. Ever hear about it?"
She looked at me funny. This wasn't like me.
"Well, I read about them in your magazine." I offered.
"Honey, that thing is all trash. I read it for the laughs."
"Ruby, does our sex, well...you know."
"Yes wacky husband...our sex does well you know! " She looked at her magazine. "This subject really has you off center? Look, we'll google the topic, and you'll see what rubbish it is."
Ten minutes later, my betrothed was sitting sideways on my lap. The light from my computer monitor cast upon us both.
Deep orgasms were real. We had read the hits on the search together. What started as a lark, had lead us into awkward circumstance. The health benefits, if anything, had been understated in the magazine. What's more, internet information categorized my penis size as extremely small. I hadn't really known that. Really I truly had not known that until right now. Neither had Ruby.
"Baby" I muttered. "Does it feel like that, when we have sex?" I was referring to the descriptions of female climaxes achieved from penetrations of gargantuan size and animistic ferocity.
Ruby looked at me. She loved me with all her heart, I could see it in her eyes. She wanted to say yes. As our eyes met, she knew, she knew that any untruth spoken would be immediately clear to me. And I knew my answer.
Thrashing about? Eyes rolling into her head? Screams? Delirium, lasting disorientation? No. My dear wife did not have orgasms like that.
"Maybe this whole thing is fake, designed to make men feel inadequate? Maybe some 'woman liberation' thing that gets off on humiliating men?" Ruby offered, seeking to believe this herself.
"Honey, we read seven articles, they have medical annotations and footnotes." I said.
"Now you listen to me." She gripped the sides of my head and aimed our faces at one another. "You make me happy. You are the one I want to be with."
A warmth spread within me. From the center of my chest out towards all my extremities. We kissed.
When our lips parted, I reached to turn off my monitor. The last article we had read was still on the screen. I paused. Skimming over the phrases. Illustrations of male organs far surpassing my own. Descriptions of the lances of pure joy, of absolute energy, that fired through the brain of a healthy female in the throes of intense climax.
I brought my hand back, and turned towards my wife.
"Ruby."
"Yes honey?" She was arching her back and puffing out her new big round tits for me. Her nipples were hard as stones.
"I want that for you."
"What." She was confused.
"I want you to have the type of orgasm those medical journals were describing."
She was about to speak again, she was going to say that she only wanted sex with me, that it was 'ok' or 'good enough' for her. For some reason that shot a streak of anger within me. That she would settle. Settle for less. And in the name of 'her love for me', which made it doubly my fault, my failure.
"I mean it! I want you to climax so strongly you don't even know where you are. Cum so hard you don't even know your own name! I want that for you!" My tone was pure steel, my jaw set, my eyes unwavering.
"What, what do you mean? What are we supposed to do?" Ruby asked. Hell, she was as horny as I was. Certainly, in her state, even my cock (the one the medical journals classified as 'extremely small') would bring her off. She would have a orgasm, might even cum, maybe a lot. But it would not be like the events we had read of.
As solidly certain as I was about what I wanted, I was completely adrift as to how to attain it.
"Maybe. What about a fake dick. A plastic toy. They make them very big." I offered, trying to piece together some type of idea.
She was shaking her head. "I don't find those things attractive. They are impersonal, inanimate pieces of silicon. They are not a man. You are a man, my man. You have hair on your chest, you smell male (licking my neck) you taste male. I want you, in bed!"
My jeans felt like they were cutting into my erection. I carried her into the bedroom. Now I'm not a muscle stud by a long shot, in fact my fitness level was nowhere near my aerobic wife. Due to Ruby's modest dimensions, a little on the short side, and a little on the thin side (not counting her new volleyballs) I was able to get her to the bed before my arms gave out. Of course though my arms were leaden, I acted like I could carry her another mile.
She was biting her lower lip.
Her t shirt and sweat pants flew onto the floor. My jeans flew...and landed in the closet. I saw the dress.
The dress we had 'dream bought' before her procedure. The doctor had given us an idea what Ruby's cup size was going to be afterwards, and on a complete lark we bought a sexy dress. A complete impulse buy, meant likely to bolster our spirits. The tags were still on it, since we figured from the start we'd be returning it at some point. It had caught my eye, on its hanger, and wouldn't let me go. Ruby was pulling on my hand, guiding towards her pussy.
"Baby, the dress. Try on the dress for me."
She followed my gaze to the closet. Then we looked at each other. Did the mischievous grin on her face match my own? Most probably.
"Hmmm, you want me to wear the big titty dress?" Now she was playing, inflecting her voice. Her words seemed to resound in the depths of my scrotum.
"Yes, yes yes!" I shouted. I was suddenly crazy to see her in it.
Her eyes glittered. "What about those high heel shoes?"
She had a pair of shoes the same color. She had never worn them, because..don't laugh...they were so high she couldn't walk in them! She berated me when I had bought them years ago, saying that I was trying to break her ankles!
"Yes...Yes!...The high heels too!"
"Well, then. I have to get dressed! Wait down stairs, boner boy!" She tossed a pair of Bermuda shorts at me. Me and my boner reluctantly left her in the bedroom to wait downstairs.
I stared at the wall and had no sense of the passage of time until I heard clop, clop, clop coming down the stairs.
The first thing I saw were the blue high heels that craned her legs far, far upwards. Her ankles at a near impossible angle. The three or four inches of lift beneath the front of the shoes promised with all certainty that my 'little' wife would tower over my height wearing these shoes. The spikey heels were more than eight inches tall. I hope Ruby wasn't afraid of heights!
My wife's legs were sculpted by hours of jazzercise, latin music cise, and a bunch of other dance ercise aerobics classes. Her calves, lean and tones. Her thighs so long and fit! Is there a word for that gap between her upper thighs?
Her slim, trim waist. And then....oh Lord those tits!
