Part 1 – Jane
DISCLAIMER: This is a piece of erotic fiction, the themes of which include cuckolding, unwitting humilition of the husband, and impregnation. If this is not your cup of tea then please feel free to stop reading at this point. Alternatively, if you are the kind of person with the time on their hands to read a long story with a subject matter you don't like, then post comments complaining about the subject matter, please continue - your feedback is sure to raise a smile. Finally to those who actually enjoy such things, I hope you enjoy this one.
I
I have read with interest many so-called 'cuckold' stories, generally written by the kind of pathetic losers (of which you, dear reader, are perhaps one) who actually get a kick out of what for most men, and for any man worth his salt, would be the ultimate in humiliation - another man fucking their wife. So I thought I'd tell my story, which is, so to speak, the other side of the coin. For while I personally don't identify with that peculiar fetish, I must say I approve wholeheartedly, as it leaves all the more women for normal hot-blooded men like me to fuck. And as I can tell you from my own experience, fucking another man's wife has a special magic all of its own, a magic with which nothing else can quite compare.
Let me tell you a bit about myself. My name is Mark, and I am a sex addict. There – I confessed it. Now I can relax and be frank. I won't lie to you; I have always been successful with the ladies. I was blessed for whatever reason with good looks, height, a muscular physique, a confident, commanding personality, and – yes – a big cock, all of which combine to create a strong appeal to most women I come across. Even in my younger days, before I had any money or any power, I could always get girls, and I must have had a hundred before I was 25. Yes, say it loud, I love women, and I can never get enough of them. Nowadays I run my own publishing business, employing - you guessed it - mostly attractive young women, thanks to a rather unsubtle recruitment policy in which I naturally take a hands-on role. Being the boss of my own business only makes it easier with the women, both my lovely employees themselves and the women I meet outside of work. They say that power is an aphrodisiac for women, and that certainly appears to be true in my considerable experience. It's supposed to get harder as you get older, but in my case it's just getting easier all the time. I go to work every day, and my office is full of sluts in their late 20s and 30s who just don't have the fear and inhibition that many younger girls have. Plus they are often desperate for a fuck. If they gossip about me afterwards, so much the better, because I know from experience that my physical endowments more than make up for any petty concerns about my ethics among the majority of the girls I come across.
All of this means that now, in my mid-30s, I pretty much have pussy on tap whenever I want it. I employ 42 women and I must have fucked 25 of them at one time or another. If they start getting clingy with me I usually just fuck them one more time, then sack them. Once, a wide-eyed little slut named Ashley, just out of college, tried to sue me for wrongful dismissal, so I went round to her flat, charmed her till she sobbed and apologised, then told her to kneel down and suck my dick, which she did, the little whore. Then I came in her mouth and left. A month or so later I got another lawyer's letter, so I went back round there, bent her over her kitchen table, pulled her skirt and panties down and spanked her till she cried again. Then I fucked her stupid and told her not to try it again. That was the last I heard of little Ashley.
But I digress from your favourite theme, don't I? Don't fret. The thing is, when women are so freely available one does become somewhat sated with it all, and the need for a little more excitement begins to rear its head. You begin to miss the challenge of the chase, and the thrill of genuine conquest. This was the situation I found myself in around five years back, when I got an invitation from my best college friend, Andy, to join him, his wife Jane, and their two young children at a villa they had rented in Italy. They were to stay for three weeks, and I was invited for the second week. Now, needless to say, kids are not really my bag at all, but I needed a break from London, and a holiday planned by somebody else is always welcome. All I needed to do was show up. Plus, although (or perhaps, because) Jane had always rather disliked and disapproved of me, I had always quite fancied her, and liked the idea of seeing her lying around in a bikini for a week. So I had no trouble in accepting the invitation.
The holiday turned out to be the relaxing pleasure that I had anticipated. Andy collected me at the airport, and all I had to do was sit by the pool, drink beers and G&Ts, and have my meals made for me. The kids were well behaved, Andy did most of the looking after them (since Jane played this role at home) and Jane was quite as fetching in a bikini as I had hoped. At 31, she was still slim and in-shape, the only evidence of her two births being the small and somehow sexy stretch marks on her belly. She had long, wavy black hair and large, dark eyes that I found very seductive. She must have been 5'9 (a good couple of inches taller than Andy), with long and shapely legs, superbly framed by a burgundy-red bikini. Every time she walked towards me on those fine long legs, wet and glistening from the pool, I stole a glance through my dark sunglasses at her pussy mound covered by the wet bikini, and imagined the dark bush inside. After a couple of days I was lusting after that pussy so badly it was driving me crazy, so I started to think about whether there was any way I could make a pass at her without Andy finding out. But I just couldn't see it. Although I was on my best behaviour, restricting my usual arrogant or "sexist" comments to a minimum, with a resultant softening of Jane's attitude toward me – she had barely shot me a disapproving look all week – I just couldn't see her standing for any nonsense from me. I knew I was highly likely to get a slap in the face and an early lift to the airport if I tried anything. Looking back, I must be honest and say this: the fact that Andy was my best friend never once entered my head, at least not as an obstacle to my designs. If anything, it added to the excitement of my fantasies. If I could have gotten away with making a straight pass at Andy's wife, I would have done it, no question about it. But when you have a way with women, life has a funny way of tossing them effortlessly into your path, and so it proved for me.
On the fourth day of my visit, Andy announced over breakfast that he was planning to take the kids to a water park for the day, but that Jane would be staying behind to have some time to relax without the kids. He hoped I didn't mind just having Jane for company for the day. Naturally I was more than happy with this arrangement, and I was all smiles as the car pulled away with Jane's husband and kids inside.
II
So the fragrant Jane and I spent a lazy morning sunbathing by the pool, exchanging occasional small talk, reading, enquiring whether the other would like a cold drink, and so on. All very amicable, but not overly warm. I spent a lot of time ogling her through my shades as usual. She had the most beautiful long thighs, which were covered in divine little goose bumps whenever she emerged from a dip in the pool. Her stern mouth was a little softer in the sun, more full than it had seemed in the past. It was getting toward lunchtime when she surprised me by lying on her front on the flat sun-lounger, undoing her bikini straps and lying topless, but face down, just a couple of yards away from me. Her back was just as slender and enticing as the rest of her, perhaps a little paler due to lack of exposure.
"You want to watch out, Jane," I said, trying to sound casual. "You'll get burned on your back. It's almost midday."
"Hmm," she mumbled, eyes closed as she enjoyed the warmth of the sun. Then to my surprise she propped herself up and looked at me. She had caught me looking at her, but I didn't feel embarrassed. Her nipples were almost visible as she propped herself on her elbows and smiled at me. "I'll tell you what, Mark," she said. "How about you rub some lotion on my back, then I'll fix us some lunch. Deal?"
Oh God, yes. Deal.
"Sounds good to me," I said, affecting as casual a tone as I could.
