Because the following story is so long, it will be submitted in multiple chapters. This story is a cuckold story. If you do not like those stories or all of the "faggy" things they entail, do yourself the favor and stop reading now. You have a fair warning.
Any negative comments about the subject matter will be ignored and deleted. You were already told what the story is. I don't care if you like cuckold stories or not. I just want to know if the people who DO like them, like this one. Any other comments / feedback are welcome and appreciated.
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Part 1 -- Pool Shark
"8 Ball in side pocket," He confidently announced, seconds before making a difficult bank shot look like child's play.
Jeff, Joe, Jerry, Jake, John, Jim, or whatever the fuck his name was -I just knew it started with a J- had just beat me for the fourth straight game. I resisted the urge to break my pool stick over his head and simply acknowledged his win with a nod.
"Nice shot, Brian!" My wife enthusiastically complimented him, sliding off her bar stool to give him a high five.
"Thank you, beautiful Lexi," He clasped her hand and pulled her into him, turning her high five into an unexpected, but well received embrace. "So fucking beautiful," he said as he squeezed her tightly, letting his hand fall from the small of her back to her ass while giving it a firm squeeze with no objection from her, "And you smell so good, I like to eat you maybe," he added.
"Brian?"
I muttered to myself
.
I had been sure his name started with the letter J. Or maybe that was his friend? Of course she'd remember his name, I knew these two metro-sexuals' were exactly the type she went for.
"Isn't she so beautiful, Jesse?" Brian said to his friend in his annoying European accent.
"Yes, so very much!" His friend replied in the same irritating accent. "Please, come here to me Lexi. Or will you only hug Mr. big shot pool star? I will also like to have hug from you too!"
"
I will also like to have hug from you too
," I quietly mocked his piss-poor English as I watched my wife strut over to him and squeeze him like a lover going off to war. And this piece of Euro-trash, 'Jesse', was even more brave than his friend, gripping her by the back of her thighs with both hands just below the hem of her tiny skirt, sliding a single finger from each hand just under the elastic top of her thigh-high fishnets and caressing the soft, tan skin around the edges of her stockings.
"I will like to do so many things with you," Jesse professed as he unabashedly slid his hands up the back of her skirt, "But I think maybe your friend, he will not like it so much."
"Friend? Try husband," I indignantly uttered.
"Don't worry about him. He doesn't have a leash on me," My busty, Native-American wife assured him, casting me a wicked glance over her shoulder as she let him kiss her neck and fondle her ass.
I looked around the crowded pool hall nervously. People were beginning to stare. Jesse had my wife's skirt pushed up all the way to her hips, exposing her thong-clad ass to anyone who happened to glance in their direction. I wondered how long it would be before we got kicked out. I was a regular at this place.
"What you are waiting for?" Brian asked, "You lose again. Rack them up."
"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, gathering up all the balls and carefully placing them in the rack, barely able to take my eyes off of my woman and the strange man who had his hands up her skirt.
"Buddy, you don't look so good," Jesse condescendingly quipped, delivering a swift smack on my wife's rear end that made her let out a mouse-like squeak. "Only one more game he wins and we will be enjoying beautiful Lexi very much!"
"We? What's this we shit?" I scowled. "Why don't you get your hands off my wife's ass and grab a cue if you want in. My bet is with your friend."
"Yes but your wife, she change it," Jesse smiled, kissing her neck again.
"Two for one, baby. Sorry, I just can't resist," Lexi cast me an evil grin.
"My friend, I don't know why you make this bet if you don't like for sharing you wife," Brian's shitty English continued to annoy me.
"I'm not the one who made this bet," my voice was drowned out by the sound of the cue ball crashing into the others as he made his break.
It had all started innocently enough, or as innocently as anything starts in a room full of hustlers and drunks. This guy with a strange accent walks over and asks if I just want to have a little 'friendly competition." We played a game and I tried to lose to make him think I sucked, but he sucked so impossibly bad that I ended up winning. I knew he was a hustler then.
Of course he then suggested a small wager to make it "more interesting" - typical pool hustler strategy -- and I accepted. I let him win the first then I up'd the bet. Unfortunately, from there on out, he just kept winning. I knew I was the better player but I was distracted and it was throwing me off my game.
It was hard to focus on the task at hand when my wife was being outrageously flirtatious with these two clowns. In fact, she was acting flat out whorish, and it only got worse as the night went on. It was making me sick with jealousy.