She Returns Roommate In Tow

Odiouser challenged other authors to take his story Her Roommate Returns and to take it in another direction if we had an idea. He left the character of Dave, the husband, and soon to be cuckold at a crossroads when his wife decided to cuckold him with her former college roommate and lover Clark while humiliating her husband in the process. It seemed Dave was ready to accept the inevitable but I see it as actionable for Dave. While my ending may not be a true BTB ending, it will show that Dave is neither a willing nor cooperative cuckold. Odiouser's story is in italics and where my addition will be in a standard font.

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My wife. Angie, and I (Dave) were sexually very simpatico. Sex 3 times a week was considered almost obligatory, although never treated as a duty that had to be performed. We were just into our 2nd year of marriage and enjoying most of the things in married life. The usual nitpicky complaints, but nothing very bothersome. We both made good enough money, she as manager of a high-end cosmetics store and me running my own stamp collector's shop on Market Street...not many of those left around.

We had never talked about our respective sex lives before meeting up but it was just understood they were both pretty active. We were definitely "liberal" in the morality sense of that word. Especially Angie.

Anyway, today she came home with a man she had run into downtown. She introduced him to me as having been her roommate at Texas U. His name was Clark Deering, and he appeared to be a nice enough fellow, big chested and rugged complected with dirty blond hair. That is a color, not a commentary on his cleanliness.

I never knew anything about my wife having a male roommate! No, never came up once. Oh, she probably mentioned the word roommate a few times, but that is one of those words that does not have an apparent gender. I now seemed to recall a certain aura of closeness when she had mentioned that her 'roommate' and she had done something or another.

Angie told me that the two of them had a few drinks downtown to talk about the old days, before she talked him into coming home with her to meet her husband.

Angie and Clark reminisce in front of me and it soon becomes clear that they had not only been roommates, but bedmates at TU. As I understood the drift of their recollections, they had been dating other people but having sex with each other on a regular basis. My wife was soon opening a 2nd bottle of chardonnay and shared it. They were becoming a little touchy with the hands but nothing that really alarmed liberal old me.

They were getting visibly tipsy to the point that Angie got up from the couch beside me and skipped over to plop herself in Clark's lap on the big rocker. He seemed fine with that bit of intimacy and his large hands gradually got more and more free with my wife's midsection. Neither seemed shy about what they were doing right there in front of me. Clark's brown eyes glanced my way a few times but I would not let him see any sign of concern on my part.

Only after his hand firmly grabbed one of her breasts and gave it a visible squeeze did I raise a theatrical eyebrow for my wife to see. "Oh, for Pete's sake Dave," she scolded. "He knows these breasts better than you do, I'm sure. He could never leave them alone and I was not allowed to cover them up while we were in our room. He fell asleep with one of them in his mouth more nights than not...so just cool it."

At that point Angie made a production of counting something on her fingers and then saying, "Husband, I'm sure my old roomie has fucked me more often that you have. If you count his falling asleep with his cock up my butt, then for sure he wins the contest since you have never liked that all that much. Right, Clark?"

He looked almost white-faced in embarrassment, and she finally realized the wine was getting to her. "Sorry, sweetheart." Angie said, but neither of the guys were quite sure who she was addressing that to. They both silently hoped that she was not openly calling her old sweetheart 'sweetheart'.

Angie held her glass firmly as she struggled her way up off Clark and got to her feet. She grabbed for his hand and pulled to indicate she wanted him to rise. "Get up, honey...oops, I mean get up from the chair, not this other thing..." she said as she snickered and patted her hand on the lump in his fly. She staggered just slightly as she tugged in the direction of the back of their apartment. "I want to give you the whole house tour."

I had seen the whole house plenty of times, but I felt compelled to follow them. My wife tugged his hand up over her shoulder and he did not resist, moving his hand in the proffered direction and, it appeared from behind them, grabbing hold of that same breast again; well possibly it was an altogether different breast but her little giggle made it clear it was one of her tits.

As they walked into the back hallway, Angie giggled again and put her hand on the back of his grasping mitt to pull it tighter to her bosom. "Fuck, I've missed you, Clark Deering. We have a LOT to make up for."

He didn't reply, but simply bent over to take her ear into his mouth and loudly suck on it. "He, he, what the fuck are you doing to my ear, my love? I have about 15 other parts I need you to suck on before my fucking EAR."

He all laughed as he spit out her wet ear. "You're saying fuck a lot all of a sudden my dearest. But I want you to name those 15 parts and I will see if your husband will allow me to suck on them."

"Oh, fuck, lover, do you think my fucking husband has anything to say 'bout my body parts? I married the man, hon, I didn't sell him my body. It belongs totally to you Mr. Deering, for so long as we can get you to stay with us."

He stopped their stroll, spun her around to face him, put a hand down between the legs in her shorts and pulled her into a passionate kiss. He sucked her tongue literally out of her mouth and manhandled her crotch, while standing two steps in front of me, the wide-eyed husband.

He glanced back at me and said, "Sorry man, you heard me trying to give you some say in events, but I am taking orders from a different voice and it looks like I am going to be seriously fucking your hot wife."

Knowing he was right and that Angie would certainly have the final say I could only respond, "Clearly."

My wife took Clark by the belt and led him into the nearest doorway. "I was going to take you to the master bedroom so my husband could watch us play catch-up, but I realize that we are going to be at it for hours after his bedtime, so I think the politest thing to do would be fuck around on him elsewhere. Do you agree Davie boy?"

"Of course, my dear."

I looked at the two of them, pathetic drunks, and watched with utter revulsion how my "loving and faithful wife" so easily decided to rekindle her sexual affair with her former lover without even the slightest concern for my feelings. In fact, she went out of her way to thoroughly humiliate me and did her level best to emasculate me. I'm shocked how little she knows me. Despite the searing depth of pain and injury she had inflicted upon me in such a short time, I planned on teaching both her and her would be lover a lesson in respect and make damned sure she felt some the pain I did at this moment.

"Before you go, I want to say something to Clark here." Clark had a Texas sized smirk on his face as he brazenly stepped in front of me. "I just wanted to say the best man won!" I stuck out a meaty right hand hardened by my days on the rodeo circuit and I grasped his paw in a firm grip and locked his hand into mine. I used my left foot to step firmly on his right foot before I applied the steel toe of my right boot squarely into his balls. I repeated it twice before Clark dropped to the hallway floor. The smirk on his face had been replaced by a grimace and his eyes glazed over in sheer physical agony.

Angie managed to come out of the ecstasy of her humiliation and degradation of her husband and from the fog of her alcoholic stupor enough to realize what had just happened to her lover enough to scream, "Stop, please Dave, you're hurting him!"

I looked at her shocked at how clueless the bitch really was. "Yes. I planned on it. Why didn't you stop when you subjected me to the sheer agony, humiliation, disrespect, and the mental cruelty that you and this asshat just put me through? You are my wife damn it!! You're supposed to care about me, to protect me! Where was your empathy, your sympathy, and your compassion for me? You're nothing but a no-good cheating bitch!" Just then Clark moaned and began to stir and I applied the one thousand plus pounds of force amplified by my re-enforced steel toe to the tender nether regions of old Clark several more times. Boy it felt better with each kick. Growing up in Texas I knew that the best way to make a bull docile was to castrate them. I guess that this was a faux castration but it suited my purpose since I knew old Clark wouldn't be "up" to the task at hand tonight or most likely, several nights in the near future.

Angie continued to whimper and became ashen as she witnessed her lover's comeuppance at the hands of her "inferior" husband. I grabbed her forcefully by the shoulders and I looked her in the eyes and told her to quiet down. "He'll live but unfortunately for you "Clark and Angie Cuckold Davie" won't make its scheduled debut on the marital bed stage due to a sudden unforeseen accident by the leading man. You should've auditioned an understudy." I grabbed her chin and forced her eyes up and as my eyes bored into hers as I added, "By the way slut, I'm David, not Dave and NEVER. EVER. DAVIE. BOY!!!! You hear me?" She just nodded in disbelief as tear flowed freely down her cheeks as she tried to hide her shame once again as she looked away.

I went into the master bedroom and I packed two large suitcases of clothes. From the bath my toiletries and personal hygiene items. When I opened the door to the hallway, I noticed that Clark had managed to crawl off into one of the spare bedrooms. It seemed that Angie, had gotten him some ice for his boys and sat with him as he moaned and whined incessantly. I carried my bags down by the garage door. I went to my office and packed up my financial records, computer, printer and all my external drives and chargers.

I made sure I had my phone before I returned to the kitchen. I then placed my wedding band on the kitchen table. I loaded my stuff into the trunk of my car, got in and fired up the engine. I opened the door to the garage and started backing out when I heard Angie as she screamed, "David, please don't leave!!" I ignored her pleas and as I watched her puddled on the floor of the garage as I closed the door on her and our marriage.

Epilogue

Clark needed to be hospitalized for several days and needed to have both of his testicles removed and replaced with porcelain prosthesis's. Seems I did both literally and figuratively castrate the bastard after all. He lived in El Paso which is a considerable distance from the Metroplex. His wife and their two young daughters rushed to be by his side. He told them it was a freak accident and that he had been hit by a wayward piece of steel thrown by the wheel of a dump truck on the construction site he had visited so he could revise the blueprints when the original design just didn't work in the real world. His firm had sent him as he was the projects lead architect as he needed to see it in person.

After he sobered up in the hospital, he had decided not to press charges. One, he knew that he'd need to come to Dallas for any trial and he'd be needed to testify and the time and travel involved would be hard to explain and if the court case became lengthy his marriage would be jeopardized. Any testimony or involvement would be a public record where anyone could find it and he didn't want his wife nor her rich daddy to fine out lest he be cut from the will. They stood to inherit millions.

Angie tried to visit hem in the hospital but one of the first things Clark did was to have her placed on the no-visit list. He didn't need her as a complication in his marriage. Secondly, he knew deep inside that that his lowered inhibitions caused him to think with his "little head" instead of the big one and that he had wronged the man. The price he paid was to forfeit any hopes of a male heir. He felt foolish and hoped that there was some medication, treatment or therapy that would allow him to have some semblance of a sex life and keep his wife satisfied enough to keep her.

The news on that front was both good and bad. After trying dozens of meds, creams, lasers, ultrasound, and radio wave therapies, he managed to achieve and sustain a limited erection once a month. However, unlike him, his wife took her wedding vows seriously and remained faithful, although sexually frustrated, for the next twenty years until her own libido subsided with the onset of menopause. In the interim, she managed to wear out about twelve dildos and burned up thousands of batteries to help take the edge off and slake her sexual desires in all those lean years.

I filed for divorce and Angie fought it tooth and nail. Her attorney managed to force me into counseling in an attempt toward reconciliation. The therapist focused on Angie's side of the story and then blamed her overindulgence with alcohol and the excitement of reconnecting with her former roommate as the root cause for her "careless" behavior. She contended that since I managed to, by "barbarically crude means," she added, had prevented any "real sex" from occurring then I needed to just suck it up, forgive my wife and move on from it together and stronger for it.

I simply replied, "That when the booze goes in the truth comes out," I told the psychologist, "that I could forgive her exposing her breasts and even his hands upon them but that I could never forgive nor forget the blatant and obvious disrespect, the humiliation and pain she inflicted with her deep seated desire to cuckold me and that an entire millennium could pass but that is one fact that will never change, I don't trust her. I don't hate her yet I don't love her either. I just don't mind that she just doesn't matter to me one way or the other." Angie broke down and wept openly, her sobs were loud and she hyperventilated so the therapist gave her a paper bag and coached her on her breathing.

I sat quietly and watched the events unfold as a casual but uninterested observer as one would do with a stranger. I didn't wish her any injury or ill will but I nothing beyond a normal empathy for a fellow human being in destress. Once Angie regulated her breathing, I told the therapist that, "Report what you will to the judge but as far as I'm concerned, this farce is over and I'm done." I got up and walked on out. Two days later I was back in court and had my petition granted. I'd be free in six months. I heard Angie sobbing as I left the courthouse determined to get on with my life.

Angie dated and married a milquetoast of a man whom she cuckolded before the ink had dried on the marriage license. He committed suicide after only six months as he couldn't take the shame and humiliation. He blew his brains out and splattered them all over her and her lover when they were in flagrante delicto in their marital bed. Angie lost all desire for cuckolding or any type of sexual activity. She stills sees her therapist but has been unable to make any type of breakthrough and remains voluntarily celibate. I intend to remain single for the foreseeable future at least until I stop transferring my trust issues with Angie on to other women. For now, I'm satisfied with the occasional one-night stand and I've had a few short term FWB relationships that have tided me over sexually.

Considering the long list of losers, I guess I broke even. I'm not dead or damaged beyond repair either physically or psychologically. Life goes on, a lot sadder and a little wiser but definitely goes on.