I would like to sincerely thank neuroparenthetical for taking the time and effort to review and edit this story so thoroughly. Your help has certainly made it a better tale.
As the tags suggest, this story includes themes of cuckolding and humiliation. If it's not your thing, you can save yourself some time and skip to something else.
"Ha, you're kidding me, right?" Sarah asked in disbelief. "You honestly think you'd be able to handle it if I messed around with another guy?"
Tom took another sip of his whiskey and pushed forward. The idea had consumed his thoughts for months, the result of having accidentally stumbled across cuckold porn videos, which he'd been watching more and more of ever since.
"Okay, maybe I used to get a bit jealous but that's not me anymore. We've been married for eleven years; I'm very secure in our relationship. This would be something we both agreed on and within our control, not just some random guy hitting on you and thinking he can have you."
Sarah stared at him blankly, unsure of what to say. Their sex life had waned over the past few months, not just in terms of frequency, but also in terms of how satisfying she found each encounter. Her husband seemed to her to be disengaged -- even disinterested. On top of that, they were arguing more often -- sometimes about their finances, since Tom's company was in the midst of a series of layoffs, but often about trivial things. Tom's proposition immediately set her to wondering how long he'd been thinking about it, and if it had somehow played a part in their recent clashes.
"Tom, I don't -- this is crazy." Then she sighed. Deciding that she didn't want to yet another of their conversation to turn into a fight, she changed tacks. "What is it you imagine, exactly?"
"Well, like flirting with guys; dressing in outfits that are a bit more revealing; I don't know, maybe even..." He trailed off nervously, finishing his drink in one gulp.
"What?" Sarah asked.
"Maybe messing around, kissing and..." Again, Tom was reluctant to finish his thought.
"You want me to fuck someone else?" Sarah asked dumbfoundedly. "Are you serious?"
The conversation deteriorated from there for another fifteen minutes. Sarah struggled to believe what she was hearing; Tom felt both embarrassed for bringing it up, but also angry at her refusal to even consider it. He downed another glass of whisky, and their voices only got louder.
"I mean, it's not like you haven't fucked other guys before," he blurted out. "A lot of them, if I'm not mistaken. I mean, you've said you love sex! You liked fucking other guys -- you know, before we were together -- so what's the difference if I say it's okay?"
"If you say it's okay?" Sarah echoed incredulously. "So I would have your permission. Is that it?"
"You know what, Sarah?" Tom said. "Forget it. It was just an idea to spice things up, but forget I even brought it up." He slammed his glass onto the table and stormed out of the room.
Sarah sat flabbergasted, trying to wrap her head around the idea, but unable to imagine flirting or doing anything with another guy without Tom losing his shit. Every scenario she played out in her head, from kissing some random guy at a bar to ending up in a hotel room and having sex with them, brought to mind her husband becoming jealous and enraged.
He hadn't gotten into specifics on what he envisioned happening -- though she did remind herself that she hadn't given him much of a chance to. Indeed, she'd started out by almost laughing at the absurdity of it.
Maybe that wasn't fair of me. Now that I know he's serious, I have to admit that it did take a lot of courage for him to even bring it up.
Does he imagine me meeting a random stranger in a bar? With someone we know? Good lord, that one would end up with him in the courthouse for one reason or another -- maybe two at once.
She refilled Tom's glass with whisky and took a large sip, grimacing as it burned her throat. She didn't drink a lot, and whisky wasn't her preferred drink, but she needed something to settle her nerves.
She sat down at their kitchen table and, as she continued to wrestle with her husband's shocking admission, her thoughts inadvertently wandered to one of Tom's good friends. She'd never told anyone, but she'd always been drawn to Jake. Tall, athletic, and exuding confidence, Jake was always flirting with her whenever they got together. While she'd always brushed it off as playful banter, she secretly enjoyed his attention. She tried to imagine what it would be like kissing him, then blushed as she wondered how big his cock might be. He was large man; she knew that didn't mean anything, but her mind wasn't focused on science and reality.
She took one last swig of her drink, trying to shake off the scandalous images swirling through her mind. Finally, she got up and set the glass in the sink before turning off the lights and turning in for the night.
Three weeks passed, and things had only gotten worse in the meantime. Tom continued to bring up the subject of Sarah fooling around with other men -- typically when he was drinking -- and Sarah continued to argue that he wouldn't be able to handle it even if she were to be interested herself.
Though Tom never admitted it to her, he still harbored his own reservations. He was increasingly aroused by the thought of his wife with another man, masturbating almost daily to various scenarios that played out in his head, but he also found himself struggling with the pangs of jealousy that often accompanied them. That uncomfortable, almost sickening feeling was particularly strong immediately after he climaxed. He supposed that his wife had a point -- that he probably would be jealous and angry after she had played her part --but he was certain he was secure enough that he could handle it. Regardless, the fantasy wouldn't go away. On top of that, he simply didn't want to give her the satisfaction. Obsession and pride made persuasive bedfellows, so he persisted, maintaining it's what he wanted even as Sarah continually expressed her doubts.
To make things exponentially worse, Tom's number finally came up at work. For the first time in his adult life, he was officially unemployed.
On the third Saturday of June, the situation finally reached its boiling point. Sarah knew things couldn't continue as they'd been. Despite having entertained a few fantasies privately -- and having become quite aroused by them -- she still believed that making any of those fantasies a reality would spell the downfall of their marriage. The reason was simple, and ever the same: the Tom she knew was jealous, and she shuddered to think how that jealousy might combust were it to be given fuel.
"So is this how it's going to be?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You're going to let my refusal to mess around with another guy drive our marriage into the ground?"
Tom shrugged, not bothering to hide his disappointment. "No. I just don't get it. But whatever, you've made up your mind."
Sarah was exasperated.
He's like a spoiled child!
The next words fell from her mouth without her even thinking them first. "Maybe we need some time apart."
Tom stared at her, clearly stunned. After a full-minute stare-down, he finally broke the silence. "Fine. Whatever you want. Do you want me to move out?"
A tear streamed down Sarah's face. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. "Where would you go? We can't afford rent on top of our mortgage."
Tom felt a lump in his throat and swallowed hard. "I don't know. Maybe I can stay at Jake's for a bit. He just moved into a new place. I never... I never really thought about it."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Finally, Sarah spoke. "Look, I don't know if this is fixable at this point, Tom. I just can't do it anymore. It's exhausting. It's not ideal, but until we can find a more permanent solution, maybe you should just move into the guest room. We need space from one another, and that's a start, at least."
After another awkward silence, Tom got up and went to their bedroom to begin moving his things. He felt like he'd been on a drug trip for weeks, and had just come crashing back down. The guilt that should have been moderating his behavior all along finally found purchase. So, too, did fear -- the fear that he'd already done irreparable harm to his marriage.
The separate-bedroom solution wasn't as temporary as they'd hoped. Tom seemed halfhearted about finding work, so he couldn't afford to move out. Jake had agreed to take him in when he'd explained the separation, but it would have meant sleeping on a sofa, and that just didn't seem feasible to Tom for any longer than a night or two.
In the weeks that followed, Tom and Sarah remained civil with one another -- at least most of the time -- but the tension was palpable. Tom slept in the guest room while Sarah kept the master bedroom. She put all of her focus on her job during the day and occupied herself with hobbies or going out with friends in the evenings. She found herself missing the intimate moments they'd once shared, but she also felt that the distance between them was healthy -- even necessary.
It wasn't long before a particular kind of loneliness began to weigh on them both. One Saturday night, Sarah came home drunk from a friend's party. Still dressed in her short, tight dress and heels, she collapsed onto the couch, kicked off her shoes, and began scrolling through her phone.
Tom heard her from upstairs, but waited several minutes before coming downstairs. Sarah didn't notice him there at first, continuing to skip through and respond to messages. Finally, he walked past her and into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass from a half-finished bottle of wine that Sarah had been drinking while getting ready earlier in the evening.
"Want one?" he asked casually, holding the wine bottle up.
"Sure," she answered, not looking up from her phone.
Tom poured her a glass and set it on the coffee table in front of her before taking a seat in the recliner across from her. He sat and watched her for a few minutes before she smiled, finally set her phone down, and picked up her wine.
"Interesting text?" Tom asked, trying to hide the suspicion in his voice.
"Maybe," she replied, sipping her wine.
Tom wanted badly to ask who she was messaging with at that time of night, but didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how jealous he felt.
"So, did you have a good time?" he inquired instead. He tried to keep his eyes on her face, but couldn't help himself from glancing down to admire how her tight dress hugged her curves. It was far more revealing than what she typically wore, showing off her near-perfect tits and leaving little to the imagination.
She was so fucking hot, always had been, but she looked like a million dollars in that dress, he thought.
Sarah noticed him looking her over and decided to give him a bit of a show. She spread her legs slightly as she leaned back in the sofa and took another sip of her wine. Tom was transfixed. His eyes followed her toned legs to the hem of her dress, and finally settled on the black lace panties that were suddenly on display.
"Ooops," she said before pulling her dress back over her underwear. She took another sip of her wine and leaned forward to set the glass back on the table, her ample breasts threatening to burst from the confines of her low-cut dress.
