I might be a cuckold. I'm not sure. You can decide.
Three years ago, my wife Marilyn's affair with a coworker had just ended. I'd written about that elsewhere here on Experience Project. Although I was responsible for suggesting she have the affair, I illogically experienced a brief spat of jealousy during their relationship which ended about four months after it had begun.
Despite that brief and unpleasant interlude, I encouraged her to continue dating other men. Unlike the first time I'd suggested this, she now readily agreed. I realized then that once the line is crossed, there's little chance of going back to the way things were.
We met a few swingers but I found that I'd rather she be fucked by other men; I wasn't as interested in fucking another guy's wife as having a guy fuck mine.
As this lifestyle was taking shape, we joined a nudist camp about 20 miles from our home. We stay overnight on average a weekend night each month at one of their rental cottages. The camp also has a small four-room motel, but we prefer their small three-room log cabins, each of which has a kitchen and dining area.
The camp boasts a bar, pool, lunch room, a small "night club" of sorts, a lake and several recreational activities. Families make up a majority of its membership, but singles can also be found there almost any day.
One evening, we were sitting alone at a dining room table in the clubhouse. Typically on weekends, the dining area is crowded until the hours grow late. A 19-year-old student walked up to our table and asked if he could join us. A camera bag hung from a shoulder as he gripped a cafeteria tray of food.
The young guy was tall and slender. His dark hair was trimmed short, his eyes a brilliant green.
I said, "Sure." He placed his tray across from us and pulled up a chair. Most diners were naked at all meals, but he and I wore towels at our waist that night. Marilyn that night had felt more comfortable with her white towel wrapped about her body.
His name was Dave, and he was halfway through his second year at a local community college. We learned he planned to attend a university a couple hundred miles away upon graduation. He, his younger sister and parents had been members of the camp since he was in middle school.
This weekend, his parents had paid the camp's fee for another rental. Around noon, his dad was called on his cell phone and told he was needed at his store that afternoon and the next day; two of his part-time employees had become ill and needed to go home as soon as he could get there. Their daughter Karen left with them. The dad told Dave he could have the room for the night all for himself.
As we chatted, he told us that he was also taking a photography class for an easy credit.
Glancing to a smattering of others around the dining area, he confided he had asked a couple of married women if they might be interested in modeling. He was turned down for reasons that either woman didn't want their pics to show up on some website.
His promises that wouldn't happen didn't convince them. The photos weren't for his classroom work, but only for "experience" and an intended personal collection.
My wife's eyes rolled a fleeting look to me, as if questioning whether she should offer to be his model. I nodded a quick approval.
Turning to Dave, she said, "Sounds like you're asking me if I'd model for you."
He laughed and said, "Well, not really, but ... well, would you? You can control the nature of the photos."
We finished the meal and walked out the door toward our rental. Holding his camera by its strap, Dave walked behind Marilyn to our cabin. Walking behind him, I noticed his eyes roaming over my wife's nude figure. Couldn't blame him. She is truly incredible. I later learned she was aware of his stare.
In the cabin, I removed my towel, walked to the laundry basket and threw it in. As I entered the living room, Marilyn hand was over her mouth as she gaped at David's monster cock. I too was startled and said, "Wow! You're, like, well, huge!" He grinned, "Yeah, I know. I get a lot of looks walking around the grounds here."
My wife's eyes darted to my member, then to his. She said, "I apologize for ogling. It's like a spike!"
His dick was only semi-tumescent. Although not bi, I was getting hard just looking at it; perhaps my reaction also was my suspicion of what was racing through Marilyn's mind. She gulped and asked, "Where would you like me to do for your first picture?"
Marilyn wore only large red ear rings and a red, beaded necklace.
Dave asked her to lean against a kitchen counter. After a couple of shots with his digital camera, he told her, "I won't need to 'direct' you. You're a natural. Do whatever you think is right for a pose."
She lay on the couch, and lay a leg atop the couch's back, the other on the floor. This position placed her just below the level of his cock. Her eyes again traveled down his body to his cock. Her voice tremored as she asked, "Is this okay for your next shot?"
Marilyn couldn't disguise her excitement. Her pale brown nipples stood out like spikes. Her groin pumped a couple of times in a subtle, lusty roll.
Neither Dave nor I was fooled by her feeble attempt to act cool. And Marilyn, gazing up at the young man's massive - and now throbbing - cock, certainly wasn't fooled by his pretense not to feel the same excitement.
From the age of 14, my wife had sex with several guys before we met and was still fucking another when we had begun dating.
Almost all her dates from high school on included oral sex at the end of the evenings; intercourse was saved only for those she considered longer-term prospects.
At the time she and I were in school, most students didn't consider oral sex to be "real" sex. One of the most often asked questions among girls was, "Should I suck a cock on the first date or the second?"
She had informed me about her past experiences only because I'd asked. She also had told me that the dicks of all but perhaps one were larger and/or longer than my slender four-and-a-half inches. Dave's oversized pole, though, was easily more than twice my length. I felt pitiful at the moment.
Although Dave's skin is pale, not tanned as are most nudists, his stiff member was darker and purple veined. The dickhead was broad, an oversized walnut atop the expansive stalk. And, although certainly not as substantial, I was now as hard as that young guy standing over my wife.
He reached into his camera bag and pulled out a pack rolling papers and a plastic baggie of green weed. He devised a joint, lit it and passed it around. This was our first experience with the stuff.
His dick was horizontally straight, not curved upward like my small member.
He shot more pics on the couch. Soon, the redness in our eyes glowed like cherries in milk. My numbed body felt as I was moving through gelatin.
My wife's breasts rose and fell as she stared at his generous dimensions. His hands now trembled. He opened his mouth as if to ask her something but didn't.
Marilyn opened her mouth like she was imagining sucking his length down her throat. In our intoxicated state, nothing any longer seemed real to my wife or I.
Her voice quavering, she said, "Would you rather have me on the bed?" and then, realizing the unintentional double entendre, restated, "I mean, you know, like me to pose on our bed?"
Dave caught sight of my stiff shaft and nodded affirmatively, saying, "Sounds good to me."
Lying on her back, my wife suggested to him, "Want to kneel over me and take a pic from above?" She spread her legs. He kneeled between her knees and pointed the camera at her face and breasts.
As she reached to push her hair back, her fingers brushed "accidentally" across his dick. Her hand lingered there for a moment, and then enwrapped his extensive girth. He laid aside his camera, leaning his hands against the headboard. She stroked his cock with unhurried, steady pulls.
