Cucle's Lot

I had often fantasised about my wife openly and brazenly cuckolding me. It was - and remains - difficult to explain why. The very idea of my beautiful wife taking a lover, of the pair of them deriving salacious pleasure from rubbing my nose in the fact - the thought of it was so very erotic. In my head. The mind games involved in such a scenario seemed just as stimulating as, perhaps even more so than, the actual physical act itself.

As much as I might desire it, I knew without a shred of doubt in my mind that Sammy would never for one second seriously contemplate such a relationship. Even if she might, she would be more than a little hard-pressed to find a partner she would like enough to do it with anyway. A man with the gumption, charm, nerve, free-time and intelligence to really understand and deliver the nuances of such a 3-way inter-relationship probably didn't even exist in reality.

And then, there was the fact that my wife was simply not that way inclined. Sammy was a nice girl. It really was that simple. Of these facts I was absolutely and one hundred percent certain. Not least because I had tried to lure her to embark on this road. On many occasions.

I had finally, though grudgingly, accepted that this was never going to happen at the end of the previous year.

After much persuasion (aka incessant nagging) on my part, Sammy had finally albeit unenthusiastically agreed to at least look at the possibility of meeting for drinks - if I could find a prospective 'Bull' who might be a suitable 'candidate'. So, in May, I had finally been given the green light to begin searching.

We had already agreed that this was not something that could ever be allowed to involve or affect any current friend, work colleague, acquaintance or neighbour. It was also not a situation that was likely to pitch up by chance either. This would require an active search and find.

The problem with that little enterprise was that after scouring internet sites supposedly dedicated to cuckold/bull relationships, it became clear that the kind of men who labelled themselves to be a 'Bull' all fell somewhere on the spectrum of narcissistic, insecure, shallow, opportunistic, sociopathic, arrogant arse who was looking for an easy and preferably instant leg-over. That kind of man was never going to appeal to Sammy. Not in a million years.

Registering on some of the more up-market contact websites proved a tad more successful. Or, at least a tad less vomit-inducing. She had even agreed for us to meet up for lunchtime drinks with several men we chatted to after they responded to our couple's profiles on those sites and acquitted themselves well during initial online and phone chats. Unfortunately, every one of them proved to be unsuitable for one reason or another. Or Sammy simply didn't fancy them.

None of this was about shallow casual sex, swinging or other similar pursuits. So, that ruled out roughly 95% of the 'applicants' from the outset. At 32, Samantha was a very intelligent, slender, beautiful and accomplished lady. She had established a respected career as Personal Assistant to a Senior Partner in a major international law firm. Far more high-powered than my taxi driving existence. Her job often involved long, irregular hours and hard work. Her spare time was precious. She was certainly not going to be interested in wasting her time on pointless liaisons with anybody. To pique her interest, a man would require a certain depth of character and intellect.

Sammy had pointed out to me from the outset that, in her view, any man who could possibly interest her would most probably be already in a full-time relationship of some kind anyway. He would in all probability already have commitments such that he wouldn't have the time or resources to be available to sufficiently please her, far less to deliver what I was proposing.

Or, I had concluded, more likely she was just stringing me along with the whole thing in order to shut me up until I took the hint. So, I reluctantly had to accept that Sammy didn't understand, like or want - let alone share any interest whatsoever in this fantasy of mine. I reluctantly had to accept that It was never going to happen. And that had been the end of it.

I of course had reacted in the time-honoured way that any mature, sophisticated 38-year-old man who hasn't got his own way would do. I sulked. And I was no ordinary sulker. I could in fact sulk for England. Since her refusal to play my game, I had become more and more withdrawn and fractious. I managed to find fault with just about anything and everything that she said or did. I reasoned that my behaviour was perfectly understandable, since It was just not fair that she wouldn't at least try to accept that this might even be fun. If she would only give it a fair crack of the whip. But she wouldn't.

This particular sulk had indeed gone on for almost a year, since that final acceptance back in January. As I became more withdrawn, Sammy had begun to work and socialise more without me purely in order to avoid being around me. And that suited me fine. She obviously didn't care about me anyway. So, what the hell. Oh yes. I could sulk alright.

I went underground, scanning the internet from time to time for cuckold related porn, erotic stories, video footage, chatrooms. You name it, I'd probably seen it. I was never sure that I could actually take it in real life anyway. But there was nothing to stop me fantasising instead. And yes, I even masturbated as I did so from time to time. In truth, it was probably much more than a 'from time to time occurrence. More along the lines of daily. Sometimes more.

I maintained this perfectly reasonable position until Sammy begged me for a cease-fire, at least until after Christmas. She wanted us to have a "Nice, happy Christmas."

And so it was that we were booked in for a romantic weekend away in a 5-star hotel alongside the River Thames in the English county of Surrey and just over 20 miles west of central London. It was to be a pre-Christmas treat for my gorgeous wife. Over the last several months, she had dropped several not so subtle hints that this was the only thing that she really wanted for Christmas. She made it clear that it would be easier to give in and book it. Even though it had cost a king's ransom.

So, here we were. On a rainy Friday Afternoon, driving through the early pre-weekend commute traffic, on our way to the hotel.

Upon our arrival at around 2pm, we checked in. I obtained the usual two key cards, since Sammy always liked to have her own key for reasons which were probably rooted in the fact that I had been known to lose such things. Often.

Our room was very pleasant. Not exactly a plush penthouse suite, but never-the-less it was described as a 'Superior' room. This of course meant that it was fitted with a mock four poster bed. And very sturdy that bed was too. Solid mahogany frame and material swathed posts, but - as usual - with a standard king size divan bed base stood inside the mahogany frame rather than the traditional webbed construction and drawable curtaining of a real four poster. Not that I was ever picky about such things you understand. I just tended to notice such marketing details. Still, the room was more than acceptable.

After a quick afternoon cocktail at the bar, we took a short walk around the picturesque grounds of the hotel. It wasn't the best of weather for taking in the air, so we settled in and had the obligatory little play session in our room. All quite routine and, as usual, very enjoyable it was too.

With those particular formalities out of the way we got cleaned up, dressed and made our way down to the restaurant for our early dinner reservation. Sammy had been quite insistent that she wanted an early dinner booking -- and so it was that we were seated at our table a little before 7pm. I noticed that she looked particularly gorgeous that evening in the new silk dress that she had cajoled me into buying for her (so much for the Romantic Weekend being the only thing that she wanted for Christmas. It seemed that, in her mind, the new outfits came as part of the package - adding yet further cost to the weekend. And the dress she had chosen did add significantly to that cost). But I had to admit, she looked pretty damned good! As usual, it didn't occur to me to comment upon the fact that she looked so very sexy. After all, she knew I fancied the pants off her right? Of course, she did. So that was alright then.

We ordered from the set three course menu. This was a tad cheaper than à la carte. Thank the Lord for small mercies.

As had become the norm, we didn't really speak much over dinner. We ate our way through the three delicious courses (each accompanied by a fair amount of rather over-priced house plonk). All we really found to discuss was ' how nice' it all was. We did notice, or rather Samantha pointed out, some sort of Corporate a black-tie affair going on in the adjoining function room. Samantha has always had a penchant for a man in evening dress, be that a cocktail suit or a Tuxedo. We joked about it as we watched the comings and goings at what appeared to be a rather well-groomed cocktail evening.

As I had often done in the past, I casually dared her to see if she could blag her way into that function room and get a free 'cock'tale. I laughed, ever the joker! "After all," I reasoned, "In that cocktail dress, you look better than any woman I've seen going in there." So, blagging her way in shouldn't be too difficult. "Make mine a Daiquiri." I quipped as I jauntily cocked my pinkie whilst sipping from the near vinaigrette house red in my glass. Samantha smiled patiently and benignly.

It never occurred to me for even one second that she might actually take me up on my dare. As if. But I found it amusing anyway.

Even when she smiled, picked up her handbag and wrap - and left the table. I truly believed that she was bluffing. She was simply going to 'powder her nose'. Since nobody could actually go to the loo in these pretentious establishments. I ordered a beer and checked my phone for the latest news.

It wasn't particularly unusual for Sammy to take a long time in the ladies' rooms in these places. My wife did rather enjoy trying out all the complimentary lotions and potions that were always set out for guests' pleasure and delight in those hallowed sanctums. I wasn't overly concerned therefore that she seemed to be gone for a long time. But when I looked at the clock and saw that she still hadn't returned over an hour and a half (and several very expensive glasses of lager) later, I deduced that the sneaky minx had sloped off back to our room and left me to it.

I signed off the meal. (Having fumbled for my key-card I reminded myself of our room number -- 206, of course it was). I headed up there. There was no sign of her in the room, or in the bathroom. In fact, it was quite clear that nobody had been in the room since we left for dinner. I wondered what time room service normally came to make up the room and turn down the sheets for us. It was already knocking on for ten o'clock. It seemed that they either had missed our room or that they didn't offer the service. It seemed to me to be quite tardy for such a nice hotel. Particularly for a 'Superior' room. I made a mental note to question it upon checkout. You never know, it might be worth a small discount.

Back downstairs, As I walked past the function room, I spotted her! Standing in with a group of 5 cocktail suited men on the other side of the circulating area inside the function room. I was stopped dead in my tracks. One of those men was casually running his hand over my wife's naked back and very expensively silk clad arse! I clearly remember being shocked to realise that - as well as mounting feelings of jealous rage, I was also standing there - watching my wife giggling and chatting while the man caressed her body through that sexy silky dress she had put on for me . There was I. Complete with a stalking great erection in my pants!

I had never in my life felt quite as horny as I did at that moment. I stood in that doorway transfixed as she looked over her shoulder, straight into my eyes. She held my gaze as the sexiest smile I had ever seen beamed across her beautiful face. She lifted her Daiquiri cocktail glass for me to see and wiggled her sexy little arse back against the guy's hand with a seductive shimmy. She visibly squirmed in the way that only ever meant that she was on the verge of an orgasm!

I needed a drink. Really needed a drink! So, a made a lightening quick visit to the bar, then returned immediately to my vantage point. My senses were slightly dulled by the amount of alcohol I had consumed over and since dinner. And pure lust. Which is probably why at that particular moment, it seemed like the appropriate thing to do was to join the group. So, I entered the function room and headed over in their direction. The fact that I must have stood out like a sore thumb in my casual trousers and shirtsleeves amongst the throng of immaculately cocktail suited men and ladies in expensive cocktail dresses didn't actually occur to me. Samantha fitted in very well in that wonderfully sexy close fitted yet flowing dress she had chosen. Perfect for just such an occasion. My attire, on the other hand was definitely not de rigueur for such an occasion.

As a drinks waiter passed the group, I saw Sammy tap him on the shoulder. She leaned close to his ear and said something, pointing directly at me. The waiter clicked his fingers above his head and nodded in my direction.

Before I progressed another two paces, I found myself surrounded by three waiters who quietly ushered me back to the entrance. Then they politely asked to see my invitation card. When I couldn't produce one, they not quite so politely, yet very professionally, informed me that this was a private reception and that I was to stay out of the function room, otherwise they would reluctantly have to ask security to remove me from the hotel.

I looked over at Sammy. She grinned broadly, turned to the guy who was still stroking her arse. She leaned in and pecked his cheek. His free hand stroked casually across the naked skin of her back. Hotel security arrived at that point and 'suggested' that I might be more comfortable in the main lobby bar. In fact, anywhere other than in the vicinity of the function room.

Despite my previous imaginings, it surprised me just how potent the mix of jealousy, anger, humiliation and lust really were together were. Sheer mind-blowing WOW! About an hour later, my darling wife emerged from the function room arm in arm with the guy and a couple of others. As the group passed me, she 'accidentally' dropped her evening wrap at my feet.

I retrieved the wrap from the floor and followed over to return it. She turned and thanked me as if I were a gallant stranger, then leaned into me briefly "buckle up cuck-boy - you wanted this, there's no going back from here darling." She smiled sweetly, then with a sensual flick of her hair, my wife turned to join her new friend. My mind was now utterly blown. I returned to my seat in a complete daze.

It was late now. Consequently, the hotel bars were closed to all but residents. Sammy bought her friend - 'Mikey' as it turned out - over to my table. There was no time for handshakes or proper introductions. She told me firmly to fetch them drinks as she sat down next to him and opposite me. He gave me a dis-regarding look that just said, 'Do it bitch'.

'Arsehole!' I thought to myself, as I dutifully trotted off to the bar with my room key poised for payment.

When I returned with their drinks, she didn't even look at me. Mikey looked up and said "We're just having a chat about your circumstances. If and when we require your input, we'll let you know. Until and unless that happens, you will sit somewhere else. The authority of the statement broached no argument.

I looked at my wife. She stared into my eyes with a quizzical 'Well, you heard the man, get on with it' look. I reached for my drink which still sat on the table "And you can leave that here. You have had quite enough to drink." My wife had spoken without even casting another glance in my direction. She was focused fully in on this other man. I was clearly dismissed. So, off I went to find a table on the other side of the room.

They chatted and laughed for what seemed like hours but was in reality much shorter. Eventually Mikey approached my table. He sat down confidently. "Well Sammy has told me your situation. So, you've been married for three years eh! You're a very lucky man to have such a gorgeous wife. You've had a good run." He smiled and gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder." Now then, old chap," - I really wished 'the Arsehole' wouldn't call me that! He was only a few years younger than me if that. Although admittedly in much better shape. "I've come over here to update your situation for you."

" I'll come straight to the point. Samantha and I have been chatting. We've decided that we are going to be spending the rest of this weekend together." This stranger was looking me directly in the eye as he spoke. He wasn't raising his voice in any challenging or threatening way. His tone was calm, matter of fact. His entire confident demeanour was relaxed and friendly.

" One way or another, you really do need to deal with that fact old chap." He continued. "Because that is what is going to happen." He sat back and smiled in a friendly, empathetic way. He clearly wanted to show that he understood my need to embrace the enormity of what he had just said. "Now, I'm sure that none of us would wish to have another silly scene like the one you caused earlier this evening in the function room. It looks as if hotel security is already poised to remove you from this establishment as it is." He gestured with his head to indicate the two security staff who had discreetly positioned themselves across the room from me since that episode. They were clearly tasked with keeping a discreet eye out for any potential further disturbance. "That would be rather unseemly. And It would be such a pity to ruin a perfect romantic weekend for Samantha, don't you agree?"

I reeled. My head was spinning. This had to be some kind of a wind-up.

"Now then, listen up. This is how it is: Beginning from tonight, your wife and I are going to avail ourselves of the comforts afforded by the weekend stay booking you have paid for." He deposited Sammy's room key card on the table and tapped his finger on it for emphasis. "Ah yes, room 206." Now, of course dear chap, since you have already paid for your weekend stay, you have options in this. Of course, you do."

He patted my arm and smiled in a friendly, reasonable manner. "That's only fair after all. So, let's examine those options; You could choose to either go home quietly now and wait for Sammy to join you after we have enjoyed our weekend. Or you can choose to stay." I began to laugh. This stranger was joking. He had to be. Sammy had put him up to this as a prank. The minx. My laughter almost immediately faded. Everything about him told me that he was completely serious. That much was obvious.

He shifted forward in his chair and continued, still perfectly amicably "You do need to understand a couple of things though old chap. If you should decide to stay, then make no mistake. It will be conditional upon you doing as we tell you. Sammy and I are in full agreement that, in that eventuality, you will do nothing to prevent us fully enjoying our stay. You will of course want to positively help your wife to enjoy her time here. I assure you that I want exactly the same for her. So, you see, we are in agreement from the outset." He smiled in an entirely calm, friendly way.

He paused for emphasis and to let it all sink in." Now, there are other ways of course. None of which will go very well for you I think." He was holding up fingers to count in the options as he outlined them to what he obviously considered to be a thick git. The Arsehole!