The Paul Night

Warning: this is very much a cuckold story but it is special to me. I wrote it about ten years ago at the request of a close American internet friend. Told from his perspective, it describes the events of a particularly intense evening in his life.

A work of fiction, essentially true but with some liberties taken with the actuality.

*****

At the age of twenty, I married an eighteen year old virgin anticipating lifelong fidelity but she opened her legs for another man within the first year of our marriage. I was in the navy and nine months after the wedding still hadn't enjoyed a terrible lot of 'married life'. The ship had been given a month shore leave so we took a flat in the port so that my young wife Karen could live with me for that short time. It was an idyllic month but it inevitably ended and the plan was that after I returned to my ship, Karen would stay on until the weekend packing up our things before travelling to Ohio to holiday with her aunt. On the Saturday evening, she was invited to a 'goodbye' dance by some friends and accompanied them gladly but finished up spending most of her time on the dance-floor in the arms of another sailor who was enjoying shore leave. The upshot was that she took him back to our flat to spend Saturday night and all day Sunday screwing. Even that wasn't enough because she gave backward to her aunt, this allowing Karen and the sailor to spend the next week solidly fucking before my young bride belatedly caught the bus to Ohio (alone) for a shorter holiday than planned.

She confessed almost the first moment we were together on my next leave. Her news made me physically sick but the strange thing was that my dick was so stiff I could hardly walk to the bathroom. On my return, Karen was in tears, apologising and saying that she didn't know what had come over her to do something like that. This gave me chance to comfort her - I was glad to cover my feeling of embarrassment at the way I had reacted. Still sobbing, Karen said that she thought it was the thought of being separated from me again that had made her behave so out of character. In bed my penis had a life of its own and this was only partly the result of deprivation. Despite a twisted feeling in my gut, I couldn't drive images of Karen being fucked by the sailor out of my mind. My prick just never went soft and I think that, at least in part, my continuous ferocious humping was an attempt to obliterate all trace of the other man from my wife's soft young body. During one lull, caused by shortness of breath rather than an inoperative organ, the truth began to come out. With us lying side by side, while fondling my privates, as if continuing a previous sentence, Karen said softly, " - And I could tell that he had a simply marvellous cock. Far, far bigger than this little thing," she added, giving my dick a fond squeeze. "You can see how I couldn't possibly miss the chance to know what it felt like to have it inside me."

One moment I could understand her point of view but the next I had flip-flopped to feeling totally inadequate with haunting visions of a married future of my wife opening her legs for every 'gifted' man that she happened to meet. Next morning in different mood, my beautiful wife kissed me softly and whispered, "I love you so much - what happened with the sailor was just sex and nothing to do with 'us'. Then switching tone again, she said happily, "It was bound to happen sooner or later because girls wonder about such things. But now I've satisfied my curiosity, got it out of my system so to speak right at the start of our marriage, I can stay faithful to you from now on."

During that leave I think I had my sexual organ inside my wife far more than in any equivalent period before or since. During our 'love making' various details of her weeklong affair began to emerge until in the end, I think I knew everything that had happened between them. The relish in her voice as she described what they had done left no doubt about how much she had enjoyed him. Her words tore me apart but at the same time aroused me to fever pitch - a kind of delicious torment. I think in the telling Karen mentally relived everything that had happened because at these times she turned into a sexually insatiable almost demented creature.

I have a small admission that might explain why I seem to have accepted this so easily. They say that a sailor has a girl in every port and for me that was certainly true in the shape of a hot little highland lass. During a two month posting in Scotland I enjoyed a passionate affair with her, immediately before returning home to get married. So you see, my 'virginal' wife's transgression was really only evening the score. Even so, during the next year when Karen and I were separated a lot, during the long lonely nights at sea, I used to rub my dick red raw. For masturbation fodder I used mental pictures of the affair that I knew about and others, conjured up by my fertile imagination that might have been happening at that moment. Hell, I even imagined that she might be screwing my dad.

I must digress to tell you about my Aunt Betty (my mother's sister) because she plays a significant part in my story. I was the eldest of a large family and after my mother died, partly to remove pressure on my dad, at weekends and holidays some of us went 'visiting' with relations. Betty was always my favourite but after what I am about to relate she was the only one that I wanted to stay with because she used to come into my bedroom, for a chat and to say 'goodnight'. Her habit was to push back the items on the bedside cabinet and perch on there but this meant that from where I lay, I could see right up her between her legs. She always wore very brief panties and after she had gone I used to play with myself remembering the pubic hair sticking out on each side of the crotch.

One time she wore nothing at all and the sight sent me crazy. I had seen plenty of bare little girl pussies playing 'Doctors and Nurses' but this was the first time I had seen the hairy cunt of a real woman. Even just thinking the word 'cunt' could make my dick stiff, so you can imagine the effect that the sight had on me. Now I had fondly imagined that she had been unaware of the free show she had been giving me. This night Betty suddenly abandoned her perch to kneel on the floor beside the bed and slide her hand under the covers. Taking me in hand she murmured, "My, we are growing up aren't we." I'm not sure if I actually ejaculated that first time but I was almost delirious with sensation and she did wipe off with a tissue when her teasing fingers were eventually withdrawn.

From that night her conversation changed. She had always been more than a little risqué in the things she had told me but now her words became overtly sexual. Her only topic was of naughty women. She admitted to being one herself and claimed that all of her friends were too. One day said, "I wouldn't mind betting that there isn't a single wife in this whole one-horse town that hasn't at one time or another, opened her legs for a man other than her husband." Betty backed up this opinion with detailed case histories, a seemingly inexhaustible stream.

Perhaps I ought to describe Betty. She was late thirties or very early forties at that time and I doubt if she was ever regarded as a raving beauty. She was also slightly dumpy and a little on the plump side but she was a fun lady, a bundle of energy and at that stage in my life I had never met anyone with such wickedly teasing eyes.

These 'visits' to her house took place over a period of more than four years but it was only in the last eighteen months that she started allowing me liberties. As time passed maybe I got bolder but it's more likely that she decided I was ready for more. Despite expectations, she never let me fuck her, probably that seemed just a little too incestuous but there was little else that was put off-limits. I loved having my fingers inside her when the declared purpose of that exercise was her instructing me on 'what women liked'. It got so that Betty never left my bedroom without giving me release, at the start that was done exclusively with her hand but more latterly she took me in her mouth, always following through to conclusion. There were times when she made me feel as if I had died and gone to heaven.

As I became more mature, I started to think about all the infidelities she described at a deeper level and one day asked, "Do any of the husbands ever find out what their wives are doing?"

"Some do, most don't unless their wives want them to," Betty told me with a knowing smile.

"And then I suppose that they get divorced?" I offered naively.

"A few do, most don't - you've no idea how much pleasure a husband can enjoy when his wife is getting fucked by other men." As Betty dropped this fact on me her hand strayed automatically to my dick.

My next question was personal and I think I stuttered slightly as I voiced it, "Does Uncle know about you?"

"I was rewarded with a squeeze. "Lee love, I've had men chasing me since I was at school and I let one hell of a lot of them catch me - and that's all through my marriage. Your uncle knew about them all, apart from the first few after our wedding - and we're still very happily married."

"What about the risk of getting pregnant?" I was now knowledgeable enough to know that fucking was not a pastime without possible consequences.

"That doesn't really matter," she said, "It will be the child of the couple and which man's seed put it there doesn't really matter. If the husband really doesn't want his wife pregnant, he can always suck the baby making cream out of her - that was the only method of birth control for thousands of years before condoms were invented."

I shuddered involuntarily. "That's gross."

Betty gave my dick a painful nip. "Don't knock it until you've tried it," she admonished. "For most husbands that's the best bit - you're uncle must have sucked gallons of the stuff out of me and I can't even have babies."

I started looking at my uncle in a new light. He was a tall man, friendly, easygoing and obliging. On board a lake boat he could be quite commanding but in general preferred to drift with the flow, happy to cede the floor to his livelier wife. Even so, I had never dreamed that he was quite so tolerant. All further thoughts were obliterated and Betty's teasing fingers started working on my genitals bringing me to throbbing fever pitch. I closed my eyes in anticipation of the explosion but suddenly my loving aunt paused in her ministrations. "I've got to talk seriously to you Lee to prepare you for the future," she said softly, just touching my nob enough to keep me at the brink. "You're a very handsome boy and you are going to have lots and lots of girls after you and at some time, with your looks, you are going to find yourself a really hot-blooded wife. Now I love your little dick to bits and so will she, but I warn you now, she's not going to be able to go through marriage without wanting something a great deal larger inside her from time to time."

Betty told me more or less the same thing on other occasions but that was more or less the end of my education. One reason was that I had started pulling girls and with the amount of pussy I was soon enjoying, Betty's sexuality became an ever-decreasing factor in my life. I didn't forget my aunt's tales but I did resolved that if any wives were going to get dicked then I was the one who was going to do the dicking. I don't know quite what I had going for me but girls fell for my charms like ripe plums, and even on shore leave when in the navy, I could always pull before any of my shipmates. My height was six-foot, I had facial attraction and enjoyed the elan of a school football player - in fact my only weakness lay in wishing that my penis had been even half as big as the thing my dad had dangling between his legs. I knew that I was shit hot as a lover and never received complaints about my equipment so it was easy to convince myself that nothing else mattered. I met Karen and we started 'seeing' each other. Now one trouble with courting a virgin was that my hormonal imperative didn't go on hold, so many times after escorting my chaste girlfriend back to her door, I immediately sought out a girl of the willing whore type to get rid of my frustrations in her. Even in those days, eighteen year-old virgins were in short supply and I have often wondered since, if in seeking one out for a wife, I was sub-consciously trying to avoid my Aunt Betty's prediction.

That didn't work because by the time I got out of the navy, Karen had already faltered that once but I was no angel myself and I managed to put her affair out of my mind. This was fairly easy because we were embarking on a new life. Karen had become pregnant on one of my leaves, so I was starting out with a new house, a new baby and a new job that I wanted to build into a career. On the road as a salesman, I still received offers from women but I had turned over a new leaf, on the basis that if I wanted my wife to stay faithful then so must I.

If I have given the impression that the next four years were completely tranquil with no jealousies on my part that is not so. When we were out, Karen liked checking out other men and made no secret of the fact. I still ogled pretty girls but where I did this surreptitiously, Karen was quite blatant, as if deliberately trying to provoke a reaction from them. When I complained about this, she laughingly told me not to be so insecure, asking, "What harm does it do? Anyway, you look at girls - you pretend not to but I know damn well that you do."

While growing up, my position as Aunt Betty's favourite was unchallenged but when Karen became my wife she came close to usurping that place. Rapport was established between the two while I was still in the navy and Betty rather took my young and lonely wife under her wing. During these years, on every possible occasion, the pair of them managed to get into a huddle together. Although having a young son, we were not unduly restricted on enjoying evenings out because I had plenty of relatives pleased to do baby sitting duty - and Betty took her turn at that as well.

We did different things on our evenings out but Karen just loved to dance. The big snag was that I was a duffer on the dance-floor - in modern parlance I would be described as being 'rhythmically challenged'. The result was that although I managed the odd shuffle to a slow tune, for the bulk of the evening I sat on the sidelines watching my lovely wife in the arms of successive men and this was where I had real reason for jealousy. Once on the floor, Karen went into automatic flirting mode and her way of dancing couldn't be described as 'formal' by any stretch of the imagination. Not all but with some men, she seemed to drape herself all over them, unconcerned when they took liberties and there were times that I even saw her hand stray where it had no business to be.

My reactions at seeing this were very mixed - I got all knotted up inside but at the same time I felt incredibly excited and aroused. Karen was very aware of this latter effect because on returning to our booth, while planting a quick kiss on my face, under the table her hand would grab hold of my dick. "Oh dear - aren't you stiff," she would whisper seductively in my ear, "Almost as stiff as he was - but his was a great deal larger." In the battle of my conflicting emotions, sometimes the jealousy came out on top. For instance, when a partner who obviously fancied his chances escorted Karen back to the table, I stood up to my full height and my size had an intimidating effect. If the truth were known, I'm not a fighter so if any had made an issue of it I would have undoubtedly come off worst in the encounter.

At night in bed it was far better because without the immediate threat of a rival male presence, I was able to abandon myself completely to the eroticism. My young sexy wife had developed three techniques that she used very effectively in combination. These were teasing my prick with her fingers, whispering wetly in my ear and tweaking my nipples in a manner of her own devising, sending me almost out of my mind with pleasure. And the words she teasingly whispered were all about the men she had danced with. "His cock was so big, and so hard. I could feel it pressing into me all the time I was in his arms - it was so huge it made yours seem like a little boy. He wanted me so bad and I wanted it too. I needed it. At times it felt as if it was really inside me and I wish so much that it had been. You'd like that too wouldn't you honey. You'd like me to be pleasured like that, wouldn't you - you could even watch? Would you like to see me with another man's huge cock up me? I know you would. Say that you would like me to be fucked by other men, say it or I won't let you have me tonight - I'll even make you look after yourself."

There were several factors working upon me. I knew my wife was perfectly capable of carrying out that threat and my cock was so stiff I was in physical pain. Her imagery had got me wanting it to happen, (at that moment more than anything in the world) and quite possibly there was subliminal influence from Betty's indoctrination years before. "Yes, Yes, Yes," I almost shouted.

"Say the words. Say 'I want you to be fucked by other men'."

"I want you to be fucked by other men."

"Say -'With huge cocks - cocks a lot larger than my little thing."

"I want you to be fucked by other men with huge cocks a lot bigger than my little thing," I dutifully responded. Some times at this point I was allowed to climb on top and seek relief for my aching organ but at others I was forced to repeat a whole litany of humiliating responses before being allowed access through the gates of paradise. There always followed some of the most intense sex of my entire life. My desire for her scenario to happen persisted right up to the moment of ejaculation and some times for a short while after but then abruptly disappeared. The worst time came as I lay waiting for sleep, when that familiar gripe started to materialise deep in my gut, prompted by the strong feeling that what for me had been just a wonderful fantasy, was very real for my wife.

The bandleader at the place we frequented was called Paul. He was a man with a surfeit of confidence, fair almost blonde hair and film-star good looks. The stock in trade of almost all bandleader's is a smooth arrogant image but where most stay on stage going through the motion of waving their hands to show they're in control, Paul spent most of his time on the dance-floor. Paul liked women and had quite a reputation for the number of local wives he had seduced - Betty had admitted to me years before that she was included in that far from exclusive club. So Paul spent most of the evening dancing and picking his next conquest, only really going back on stage when it was time for his solo spots. At some point he set his sights on Karen.

Karen had admired him from afar telling me that he was a perfect example of a man and saying, "If ever he glances my way, I'll already have my panties in my hand." Well glance her way he did. The first two or three evenings, he only danced with Karen a couple of times but that was enough to make her evening and have her almost ready to burst into flames when we got home. No matter how many men she had danced with during the evening it was the bandleader she talked about and this was especially true when we were having sex. In one of her more innocuous remarks she started by saying the Paul could really make his saxophone talk and when I had to admit that she added, "And I'd certainly like to blow his horn."

I felt very uneasy about that man far more so than any of the others and part of the reason was that it was easy to see what attracted my wife to him. Partly this was his supreme confidence because he strode round the floor as 'lord of all he surveyed'. My intimidation ploy was a non-runner. Although probably no taller than me and only slightly heavier, in contrast to the rather effete air assumed by many bandleaders, Paul looked capable of really using himself. In short there was an aura of danger about him and I was constantly aware of it.