Dear Reader,
I have always wanted to write a cuckold story, and this is it.
It's not a "Revenge of the Cuckold" or "How the Cuckold Got His Groove Back" type of Cuckold story. It's the opposite of those; if it's not your thing, I will advise you not to read and move on. If you do not heed my words and blow a fuse, I cannot help you.
It's not written to please everyone. It's written for a specific audience that enjoys this type of story. I consider this smut. 100% smut. There is no good, bad, or morality to the story or any other smut I write. It's not supposed to be realistic; it's smut. This is fantasy.
Enjoy.
The Cuckold Entangled - The Shiver and the Tingle.
My relationship with Tamika was a web. One of my own making and of my deepest and darkest desires. A web that was then shaped and reinforced by her own desires. And I was hopelessly entangled in the mix of the acute pleasures that were the fulfillment of my dark desires and the torment and pain required by such desires.
I had grown up in a middle-class suburban lifestyle, with both my parents scholars and white-collar workers. I was the typical black kid who got accused by inner-city black kids of being too proper. I was the normal middle-class black guy.
Tamika, on the other hand, was more of a city girl. I knew her family was different from mine—not as stable or conventional. Her father had been in and out of her life. She did not talk about it much, nor did she like to talk about her upbringing, so it's just not something we got into. She, however, liked to hear about mine, and I like to talk about it, so we focused on it a lot, especially at the beginning.
My attraction to her had been strong and instant. Not only had I found her physically stunning, she had the confidence, body, and worldliness—all characteristics that were often staples of the black starlets in black entertainment I grew up watching and fantasizing over. She was the unknown, the somewhat forbidden, the mysterious, and I was smitten.
The fact that she was interested in me to the point of actually seeking out my company made me feel like the luckiest guy in the world and extremely flattered. I knew it was definitely not the norm, but an exception.
We met at a young professionals mixer. I had already graduated from college about a year and a half ago and was working as a junior system analyst.
She was in her second year of a master's program in political science.
About five feet five, she had an hourglass figure with C-cup breast, wide but proportional hips, and heart-shaped buttocks. She had on a stylish and classy cream sleeveless blouse, form-fitting jeans, and stilettos, which enhanced her features.
I was instantly smitten by her beauty, but most especially by the combination of the infectiousness of her smile and her confident and bubbly personality.
Believe it or not, she had first approached me, stinking up a conversation. We seemed to have just clicked, as a few minutes later, we were talking and laughing, having a good time, like we had known ourselves for a long time. I'll never forget the feelings I had several times she touched my arm as we spoke, usually when she was amused or surprised by something I said. It made me feel so big.
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We went on a few dates, and by the fourth one, we were officially a couple.
I was on top of the world, with a stunning girl on my arm. I saw the way other guys looked at her, validating just what a catch she was.
We became intimate after our fourth date, when she accepted my invitation to come up to my place.
As we sat on the couch watching a movie, I reached out and kissed her, and smiling, she pulled me into her, accepting the kiss and keeping it going.
She broke the kiss after a while of some more heavy petting.
"As nice as that feels, that's as far as it's going to go tonight. I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me," she said, smiling big at me.
"I was not expecting anything more," I said, returning her smile, although I will admit that a part of me was disappointed. I wanted to have sex with the type of woman I had only fantasized about—the type of woman I never thought I would one day say was my girlfriend. "Although, I was hoping to show you a good time with this sex organ." I smiled big at her, sticking my tongue out.
"Really, is that right?" she asked in a challenging tone while still laughing. "You even know what to do with that? I did not expect that; you quiet types are the most freeky, I guess."
I looked at her, laughing and thinking of just how sexy she looked even doing that. She looked so confident and worldly.
"Yup," I said, laughing and joining her, "what can I say? I am full of surprises."
"So I see, so I see," she said, chuckling as she drew me back in, kissing me.
We continued to make out, and I started to kiss and nibble down her jaw line. I gently tugged on the bottom of her t-shirt and slowly started to pull it up, but chucking, she slowly pulled it back down.
I did not let that deter me as I slid down the couch and started to plant kisses on her navel over her shirt. I heard her sigh in pleasure, and it gave me the confidence to try to pull her shirt up again. I did so slowly again, and she let me this time. I lifted, continuing to plant kisses until I was kissing the naked skin of her navel.
I kissed her belly button, inserting my tongue into it and eliciting another hiss of pleasure. I licked some more and started to trail kisses down from her belly button to her pubic area while also bringing my hands up to undo the button of her shorts.
Her hands came over mine, stopping me but not pulling mine away. I held on, not letting go, as I continued to kiss just above the button.
I waited a little bit and tried again, tugging on her fly. She was still holding my hand, but the button popped. I took a hold of the zipper, but again, she held my hand, stopping me. We repeated the whole sequence, with me finally pulling down the zipper while she resisted, but not with enough force that I could not push through.
