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.
Neither of them brought the events of that night up again in the days that followed -- neither the passion they'd shared with each other, nor Sarah's coy confession. Despite being tormented by the thought of another man's hands having been on his wife, Tom didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much it bothered him. He was angry with her, but with each passing day, he began to direct more and more of that anger towards himself -- not only because he recognized that he'd pushed Sarah to do what she'd done, but because he was still unable to square his jealousy and rage with his arousal.
The morning after they'd had sex and she'd confessed about James, Tom had woken up with a raging hard on and jerked off to visions of her and James not just making out, but fucking. He'd not lasted a full minute before exploding all over himself. He did it again multiple times over the days that followed, to the point that he was becoming an emotional mess, tormented and confused by his conflicting feelings. Each day his wife spent at work, he drove himself crazy wondering what she and James were doing.
He began to show her more kindness, hoping there was a chance they might rekindle their marriage before it was too late. Since losing his job, he'd mostly stayed in bed late each morning until well after Sarah had left for work, but he began getting up early to make her coffee before she left for the day. She was suspicious of his behavior at first, but said nothing. He would tidy up the house while she was at work, and began searching for a new job in earnest. He even made dinner for her on Wednesday evening. Sarah didn't question the sudden change in his demeanour. All she did was offer up the occasional "thank you."
Thursday evening, Sarah didn't arrive home until after 8:30 p.m. When Tom asked where she'd been, she simply said she'd had dinner with a coworker, then went straight to bed, leaving him to wonder who it had been and what else the two of them might have done.
That night, despite feeling jealous and frustrated, he masturbated twice while laying in bed, conjuring up various graphic scenarios of his wife with her coworker. Each time after he came, he immediately felt guilty and ashamed.
On Friday, he was supposed to be going on a weekend golf trip with his friends, but at the last minute, he cancelled. He told them he was under the weather, but the truth was that he wanted to stay home to be around Sarah, even though she hadn't shown a lot of interest in doing the same as of late. He thought a weekend together might offer an opportunity to reconnect.
It was after 10:30 p.m. when he finally heard her car pull in, and by that time he was already in bed, seething as he imagined what had kept her out so late.
He heard the front door open and then slam shut a few seconds later. Things were quiet for some time after, and he was about to go downstairs to confront her when he heard footsteps on the staircase and his wife giggling. He assumed she was drunk again, and was surprised that she'd driven home. Moments later he heard her voice -- barely audible at first, then louder, followed by more giggling. He got out of bed and listened from the guest bedroom door, wondering if she was on the phone with James and what they might be talking about.
He quietly opened his bedroom door and froze in his tracks when he heard a man's voice -- not on the phone, but right down the hallway. He swallowed hard as the realization struck: Sarah had brought someone home.
He edged closer to the wall, trying to catch any snippets of conversation as they moved into the master bedroom, but there weren't a lot of words being spoken. He could make out that they were kissing, and soon heard the shuffling of clothing being removed, followed by the creak of bed springs. Tom's entire body began to sweat as he imagined what they were doing.
He carefully crept down the hallway until he was just outside the master bedroom. He could see the door had been left half open; he remembered that his wife thought he was away on a golf trip. His heart raced as he tried to piece together the sounds he was hearing and debated what to do next. His anger made him want to storm into the room and cast out the stranger in his bed. Setting aside the question of a violent assault, he knew Sarah would be livid merely at the invasion of her privacy. The two of them had come to understand that what once had been their bedroom was hers and hers alone.
Tom felt he'd made some progress that week in beginning to establish more civil communication between the two of them. He didn't want to throw that all away. On the other hand, he worried that if he didn't intervene, Sarah would push past a point of no return, and would never view their relationship the same way again. He tried to swallow the growing lump in his throat, a powerful whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. Betrayal, hurt, anger, and jealousy he recognized and could call by their names -- but there was something else lurking in that maelstrom, too.
He heard his wife moan loudly, followed by the man's voice. "Mmmm, you smell so good."
Tom couldn't help himself. He ever-so-slowly peered around the door frame and into the bedroom. What he saw made his stomach churn.
Sarah was lying naked on the bed with her legs spread wide. The man was kneeling on the floor, his hands holding her thighs wide, his face buried between them. Her head was thrown back in pleasure. Her eyes were closed and she was moaning loudly. Her fingers tangled in the man's hair as she urged him on.
Tom felt like a knife had twisted in his gut. A bitter bile rose in his throat. Worst of all, he couldn't look away.
He recognized the man, as the one he'd met at Sarah's work function some time ago. To the best of his recollection, it was James. His tongue was flicking sharply against Sarah's clit, making her arch off the bed with pleasure. Her large breasts jiggled as his head moved up and down and he worked his fingers deeper into her pussy.
Tom felt paralyzed, but managed to turn away just long enough to look down at the bobbing tent in his boxer shorts. His cock had grown rigid as he'd watched the spectacle before him, and he felt ashamed.
As James plunged his tongue deeper into Sarah's pussy, she cried out in pleasure, her fingers tightening in his hair.
Tom absent-mindedly reached down to touch himself, slowly stroking his cock through his boxers. He knew it was wrong -- knew he should turn away and leave them alone -- but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he stood there, transfixed, as the scene continued to unfold.
He saw Sarah's legs tighten around James' neck as she whispered his name and tugged at his hair, a signal that Tom recognized all too well.
"Yes, yes, oh god," Sarah cried out, her eyes squeezed shut.
James continued to lap and suck at her clit eagerly as she came hard, her body shaking and trembling with each wave of pleasure. Finally, he stood up and looped his arms under Sarah's legs, yanking her closer to the edge of the bed.
Tom could see just how wet his wife was -- how her pussy glistened in the soft glow of the bedside lamp -- and he worked his cock from the slit in the front of his boxers and began to stroke faster. Then he saw it: James' cock, fully erect and impressively large. It hung heavily between the man's legs, and Sarah's hands reached down, gently stroking its length.
Another man was about to penetrate his wife -- the woman he'd vowed to love and protect. He considered once again stopping it before it went any further, but a perverse fascination held him back. Watching his wife with her coworker, and understanding the magnitude of what was about to happen, was excruciating, but also exhilarating. He knew it was wrong -- both what was happening, what was about to happen, and the fact that he was watching it happen while masturbating.
He was horrified; he was ashamed.
He was rapt; he was horny.
