Chapter One
Most cuckold stories begin something like 'I've always wanted to see my wife being fucked by another man but thought it would never happen.'
My story is a bit different. Before we were even a couple, I knew what it was like to watch Caroline being fucked by someone else. It was one of the things that made me desire her most.
One Saturday night back in 1978, at the tender age of eighteen, I watched as, only inches away from me, the love of my life lost her virginity to my best friend. I even held her hand while it happened and listened to the sweet sounds of that first, amazing penetration.
At the time her near-silent defloration was taking place, I didn't know that the girl whose virgin blood was being spilled alongside me would go on to become first my girlfriend, then my wife and the mother of my two children. I had even less idea that years later, I would hear those soft, sweet sounds many more times, more often brought about by the penetration of her sweet body by someone else's cock rather than my own.
But as I listened to the soft 'Uh-Uh-Uh' that emerged from her throat as she was being fucked for the first time, I fell deeply and eternally in love and knew that however long it took, in the end there could be only one girl for me.
Even if I wasn't to be the only man for her.
***
Standing an unremarkable five foot four inches tall, Caroline has a figure that over the years has varied from curvy to full and back to curvy again. My wife has never been skinny, and I adore her for it.
Her hair, an equally unremarkable mousy brown, has varied from shoulder length when at school to boyish-short after our children were born before returning to its current youthful length and (with assistance) colour once again.
What made Caroline special then and makes her even more special now she is in her fifties, is the sparkle in her personality and the mischievous glint in her eyes that, on the right occasion and with the right man, she can still use to devastating effect.
I am still the right man on many occasions but no longer exclusively.
My wife has always emanated femininity, vulnerability and intelligence. On carefully planned occasions, she can project easy availability too; a powerful combination that demands the attention of any male that encounters her.
It demanded mine from the first time I met her when she sat at the desk next to mine on her first day at our school.
Although not the kind of girl to immediately attract all the boys' attention, Caroline's soft loveliness gets under your skin and grows on you. I had known her since we were both thirteen and we had been friends of a kind for years before I watched her losing her virginity when we were all still at school.
I had known Marcus, her first lover and my best friend since we were even younger.
With our parents stationed overseas in the Armed Forces, he and I had been sent to a boarding school in the East of England from the tender age of eleven. Although the school was mixed sex, the number of girls in the first two years was small. Fortunately for us, that number increased substantially in the third year when studying in earnest for what were then 'O' Level exams began.
That was when Caroline and I first met. It wasn't the best of beginnings.
The run up to age thirteen is a difficult time for both boys and girls, what with puberty exerting its often-malign power, bringing spotty skin, body hair, greasy locks, uncontrollable erections and emotions and of course for girls, the development of breasts and the arrival of full-on periods.
So when, on my first day in the third year, our alphabetically aligned surnames meant I was placed at a desk alongside a newly arrived frowning teenage girl, I simply did not know what to do or how to behave.
Of course, Caroline was no more pleased than I was. At the time, my skin left a lot to be desired and I was as gormless with girls as most boys of that age, so our first relationship was one of suspicious tolerance. But over the first few weeks of term we came to appreciate each other's abilities -- mine in maths and science, hers in English, history and everything else - and a kind of mutually beneficial alliance developed.
She would help me in class when I needed it; I would repay the compliment on the rather fewer occasions she needed my support. From there we began to chat about other things too, but more as friends in class than anything approaching a romantic relationship. There was no suggestion of a date taking place; we just liked each other.
As time passed, we became confidants to some extent as well as workmates. When I had a crush on a girl -- or had been told a girl had one on me - I would seek Caroline's advice of what to do, or on occasion enlist her help in arranging a supposedly casual meeting with the girl concerned.
She of course, called on my help on far fewer occasions.
It was the sort of thing that happened, and no doubt still happens in every class in every school throughout the country. By the time we were both sixteen and yet more girls joined the school to study for 'A-levels', we knew many but by no means all of each other's secrets but hadn't exchanged even the lightest of kisses.
It sounds conceited, but the truth is that Marcus and I were two of the school's heartthrobs. Both tall and athletic, we were good-looking and played alongside each other in the First fifteen rugby team. As a result, we were never short of a certain amount of female attention, especially amongst the new arrivals who hadn't known us in our younger, spottier days.
We would often double date too, going to parties, discos or movies with whoever our girlfriends were at the time as a group of four.
The difference between us was that when it came to girls as well as rugby, Marcus believed in quantity over quality. Not confining himself to the prettier girls or more available, he had a predatory 'who dares wins' attitude that always seemed to put him one stage ahead of me in every game.
If I got to hold my girl's hand, he would get to snog his.
If I got to snog my date, he would be fondling his girl's breasts.
If I got to fondle breasts, he would have his hand inside his victim's knickers, fingering her.
And if I got to finger my date, he would... well, more about that later.
Between us, we worked our way through a sizeable proportion of the female element of the sixth form, but the notches on his figurative belt were always more numerous than those on mine.
I told myself I disapproved of his attitude; that I was the gentleman of the pair of us, but the truth was, I envied him his considerable success.
It was only when he turned his attentions to my friend Caroline that I began to have serious reservations.
Caroline was by no means the most attractive girl in school but over the years she and I had connected with a level of friendship unusual between boys and girls. It was platonic, at least on my side, but when it looked likely that she and Marcus would begin going out together, the level of unease I felt surprised me.
Also eighteen and like me, unquestionably still a virgin, she had been loosely associated with no more than a couple of boys since she had arrived at the school, and even those were believed to have progressed no more than snogging and perhaps a little light fondling through her clothes.
As I knew well, Marcus took no prisoners. Caroline knew this too, so her apparent complicity was something of a puzzle.
At the time, I myself had in my sights on Annabel, probably the best-looking girl in the school. Being probably the best-looking boy, it felt only right that I should have her on my arm and, if things went well, eventually in my bed. Having had a string of unsuccessful suitors, access to her knickers was known to have been denied to all but one or two sets of fingers and absolutely no erect cocks.
She was however, known by several boys to be an enthusiastic kisser. It was a chink in her armour I believed I could open and exploit, and I still had hopes that my more subtle, patient approach might yield results.
So, as we all came of age and entered the Upper Sixth form, though by no means a dare or a bet, my closest friend and I were involved in an unspoken challenge.
With the loss of two female virginities (and my own) as objectives, could either of us reach our goal?
And if so, who would be first?
Chapter Two
The answer to that question was as predictable as the rest of our friendship had been; we both succeeded but I came a clear second place.
My best female friend Caroline lost her virginity to my best male friend Marcus at quarter to three in the early hours of a Sunday morning in June 1978. She and Marcus were lying on rather than inside their sleeping bags alongside me and my new girlfriend Annabel on the lounge floor of her family house on a large farm in North Lincolnshire.
We had spent the evening celebrating her eighteenth birthday with a party to which two dozen of her friends from home and school had been invited.
As the school we attended was a boarding school, many of us lived some distance from Caroline's house so a sleep-over had been essential. We had all been dropped off by our parents or older siblings with the necessary equipment to cope with a night on the carpet and a good deal of well-concealed booze to ease the atmosphere.
Sleepover parties were familiar events during the school holidays and had been for several years. The difference this time was that at eighteen, there would be a lot more going on in the darkness than mere midnight feasts and the tentative sipping of illicit alcohol -- though that had played a significant part in enabling the sexual activities that were now taking place throughout the house.
The party had gone well. There had been plenty to eat, loads of dancing to Carline's parents' impressive Bang & Olufsen hi-fi, and rather more alcohol than those parents had intended there to be, most of it coming to light after they had discreetly taken themselves off to bed.
Once dance music had been replaced by slow, seductive tones and the lights lowered, the real work of the evening could begin; that of seduction, consummation or the reinforcement of existing sexual relationships.
Although the sleepover group comprised six girls and four boys, we were in fact five couples, four established: one brand new. Caroline and Marcus had been together for several months and wore each other's necklaces under their shirts. I had assumed they had been fucking for a long time but, as my friend told me gleefully the following morning, this had been their first successful attempt at proper sex.
Annabel and I had been together only a few weeks. As far as I knew, we were both virgins too; at least I knew I was. The resistance I had met trying to get more than just my fingers into her knickers suggested, as per her reputation, that Annabel's hymen was still very much intact - though the number of times those fingers had succeeded must have done it considerable damage.
Still, she was enthusiastic about those things she was prepared to do with me and for me, so until that night I had had little to complain about.
In the dining room next door were Nicky and Duncan, the longest-standing couple in the group. They were known to have been shagging for a few months at least and would certainly be doing it again that night if the body language between them was anything to go by.
In the room with them were Annie and Colin, two friends who we all knew fancied each other like crazy but until that night hadn't had the courage to do anything about it yet.
Getting them together had been one of the objectives of the party; they had been put next to each other during dinner and had been placed in the same room as Nik and Dunc to encourage them to finally get physical. The plan seemed to be working; they had certainly got well into snogging and groping before we had separated rather drunkenly for our various rooms, supposedly to sleep.
