At some point in the small hours of the morning, my wife unpeeled her sticky body from mine and slipped away from me. I heard the shower go on in the master suite. I pulled myself up off the sofa and staggered into the guest suite. I washed the slime of the other men she had been fucking off of my body and stood in front of the misted mirror, wondering what I had become.
Cuckold. That's the term. I knew it well enough. I'd watched my fair share of cuckold porn on the web and while I knew that I found the concept exciting, I was now in it for real, balls deep. Part of me was sick with grief, part of me boiling over with rage, but a larger, darker part of me was thrilled at what had happened in my house just a few hours ago. I had watched my wife getting gang fucked by two young men and then raced home to confront her. Instead of killing her, or leaving her, I had willing licked their sperm off of her body and sucked it out of her cunt. Afterwards, she had told me her history of cheating on me with dozens of men, often two or three at a time. Again, instead of beating her to death or simply leaving the house, I had reveled in her tales, excited to the point of masturbating in front of her.
She in turn had been overjoyed to find that I was a willing partner in her duplicity, and already had plans to move her cheating on to a new level with a set up so that I could watch her have sex with other men, but not interfere or join in in any way. The physical pleasure was to be hers. Also the psychological pleasure as she would hold me back from participation, forcing me into a literal clean up and voyeur role. My satisfaction was to be strictly from the sick joy of being demeaned and reviled by the woman I loved.
Did I love her? That was the question I asked myself as I gazed into the mist enshrouded mirror. I know that my answer would have been a resounding Yes less than 24 hours before. We had been married for eight years and while we had both been disappointed that there would be no children, we had moved on and created a good life together. We both worked at well paying, mind engaging jobs. Our combined incomes gave us an excellent life together, and while our sex life had flagged over the years, I had thought there was still plenty of affection and intimacy between us.
Clearly I was mistaken. My wife had been cheating on me for five years and by her own admission the adultery had grown more and more flagrant as time went by. She wasn't having an affair with a lover, she was whoring her body to all comers and reveling in the attention and the physical experience of limitless sex with strangers.
It was horrifying. It was sickening. It was outrageous. And it was the hottest fucking thing that had ever happened to me in my life. My wife the slut was gorgeous. She was a horn-dog's wet dream. Just watching her on the computer camera as she fucked those two boys was the most exciting thing I had seen in a decade. And the fact that she wanted to share her illicit sex life with me, even under the constraints she had demanded, was even now sending buckets of arousal hormones coursing through my blood.
My cock was as sore as if I'd rubbed it in broken glass and poured lemon juice on it, but it was rock hard again already as I watched myself in the mirror. There was no doubt about it, I was a willing cuckold and I was in for a new life.
I slept in the guest bed and woke at my usual time, seven o'clock, ready to get up and go to work. The house was quiet. I peeked into the master bedroom but the bed was empty, the bedclothes pulled up neat and tidy. Her car was gone from the garage and there was no note or message to say where she had gone.
I got ready for work and ate a granola bar, something to take with me. Back at the office I went through the motions but my head was elsewhere. Luckily there were no emergencies, though a few things had piled up because of my sudden departure the day before.
It was past six o'clock when I got home. The sun slanted across the lawns and McMansions of our development, shining on groups of kids playing on large green lawns and I could hear the drone of mowers a block or two away. I wondered if it was Zeke and Dave, and if they were being entertained by another bored MILF at another house, plugging her from both ends at the same time and playing with her tits as she gasped and gurgled in pleasure at their attention.
My wife's car was in the driveway. A late model Mercedes she had bought for herself and enjoyed driving much more than my Jeep.
I made plenty of noise unlocking the front door and called out "I'm home!" as I dropped my keys and my briefcase in the front hall Now that I had been enlightened about her daytime activities and we had moved on to something new, I had no idea what I might be walking in on. I just prayed it would not be anyone I knew.
"I'm in the kitchen, honey!" she called, bright and welcoming as always. She had a pitcher of Martinis mixed on the counter and two glasses ready. She poured us two drinks as I came through to the back of the house. I figured that alcohol would be a large part of our lives moving forward. It had certainly fueled a lot of the confessions last night, and numbed my pain at the same time.
"I've had a busy day," she chinked her glass against mine. "I've rented a studio apartment on the south side of town. In Fish Town, you know, where it gets a bit dodgy, but they're trying for a bit of gentrification. I got a great deal. It's not a big place, but there's a view of the river and we don't need much more than a basic room, right?"
She sipped her drink and watched me over the brim.
This was it. It had been more than a day since I had learned of her sins, plenty of time for me to reflect on what she had been doing, to change my mind about how I was going to react to it. Our savage sexual couplings of the night before had been fueled by immediate lust. Now, in the cold light of day, would I continue to be the willing cuckold I had become the night before?
