We've been married fourteen years Pen and I. I'm Oscar, Oscar Whitman, age thirty-six, I tape in at five-six and one-forty. Penelope, my wife, also thirty-six, comes in at around five-nine, one-twenty-five. Oh, and she's a very nice looking lady with some really nice female equipment: 36Cs and a truly sensational butt. Until today our lives have been pretty typical, mundane, routine: the stereotypical middle class couple. None of which, I'm discovering, are good things and maybe not normal either.
Pen is a stay at home wife, and no, we have no children. Me, I'm the head mechanic at Studstill Motors. Basically, I make sure that the used cars we take in in trade are up to legal snuff for purposes of resale. The pay is pretty good, and Penelope and I are doing fine in an era when not everybody is.
At any rate, the above being true, Penelope has decided we need to spice things up. Her method of spicing things up? She is dictating, yes dictating, an open marriage. Well, actually, that's not exactly right. She means open for her. Me? I'm to be ready to service her and her lovers on command. She is of the opinion that me watching other men do her will be thrilling for me.
What reason does she have for believing such a thing? That I would knuckle under to such a mandate? Maybe the fact that I have always given in to her. Maybe the fact that some of our late night fantasy talk has revolved around her cuckolding me, or her being the top in a role reversal relationship. Whatever it is, she's assuming, while I sit here with my head in my hands, some might say with my head up my ass, terrified that I may be losing my wife, my marriage, that I will knuckle under and do whatever she says.
"Calm down, Oscar, it won't be as bad as you think. Knowing your proclivities as I do, I am pretty sure you'll be getting off every bit as much as I do, at least in time," said my wife.
"Penelope Whitman, you can't be serious about all of this. I cannot accept being treated this way, not and claim to be a man!" I said.
"Oh pooh! You mean a macho asshole. Macho has no place in this house, Oscar, it never has, and you know it. We'll be having more and better sex than we ever had. And, I mean for you too. Just different is all," she said.
"You really intend to do this, to cuckold me. To make me a laughing stock, Penelope, don't you. What kind of a wife would do this to her husband? What kind, Pen?" I said.
"The kind that wants to put the thrill back in the sex life of a husband and wife," she said. "And, you won't be any laughing stock. No one but you, me, and Bill will ever know. Oscar, it's decided. Now, Bill will be here at seven. This one time, if you wish, you may go out and do your own thing while I am letting him do me. I'll text you when he's gone, so you'll know when to return.
"Or Oscar, If you're man enough, my husband, you can stay and watch it happen to you, your cuckolding I mean. Still, like I say, this time it'll be your choice," she said. "But, Oscar, if you do decide to watch, I need to know by, say, 4:00PM in order to prepare you for your duties. Okay?" I nodded. I began to get emotional in frustration. I was close to actually crying. I guess I was almost as big a wimp as she for sure thought me.
"Now, stop that, right now," she said, noticing my emotional state. It will be my job to make sure you enjoy this as much as Bill and me. Okay?" Her last words were delivered in a kindly tone; but they did little to calm me.
What was happening to me? Why couldn't I just say no and tell her to get real? Being honest with myself, and I hadn't been up to this point, her ideas were a turn on. That said, they, her ideas, were also terrifying. With my undersized dick, not to mention the rest of my body; and, my insecurities when it came to relating to women in general; I was sure that I was on the verge of losing both the respect of my wife and my self-respect, Penelope's reassurances notwithstanding.
By 4:00PM she'd said; I had to decide by 4:00PM. I looked up at the wall clock. It read noon. That gave me four hours before I had to make a choice. I watched through the kitchen's bay window as she left for her appointment at the salon. I knew she was having lunch with somebody; I wondered if it were Bill.
Her gone to her luncheon and salon appointment, I busied myself doing things on the computer. I'd suddenly and finally grown some balls. Her attitude was both killing my heart and making me angry, angry at the both of them. I just didn't have the guts to call her on it. So, what was I going to do about it. I was going to protect myself in case this was nothing more than a prelude to getting rid of me. I might be a pussywhipped wimp, but I was by no means a complete idiot. True I was on the verge of crying my eyes out, but what I didn't want to see happen was the two of them laughing at me as she dumped me.
Her notion of how to spice up a marriage notwithstanding, Again, I intended to not be a complete fool and just let the destruction of my marriage, if it did indeed came to that, destroy me along with it. My becoming a cuckold might be inevitable, but my economic ruination was not. I had to do something just in case. I headed for my little in-house office; the computer would be my friend. It would be the tool I would sue to set up my economic defenses in case the worst case scenario happened to me.
I heard the garage door opener operating; she was home. The door to the kitchen slammed.
"Oscar, can you help me please," she called out.
I came into the kitchen and saw her carrying a load of groceries; the salon had done their job: she was gorgeous, just not for me. I went to her and relieved her of her burden. "Any more in the car?" I said. "Oh, and you look beautiful. Your lover is going to be very pleased. I just wish it was for me." I said this last kind of quietly, but she heard me anyway.
"Oscar! Stop it now. It is for you. You could, should, and I hope will be the guest of honor tonight, not Bill. You're the one who will become a cuckold, my personal cucky; and that's a good thing! And I intend to make sure you are a very pampered cuckold. Okay?" she said.
"And yes, there are more groceries in the car, if you will," she said. "I need to go freshen up. We'll talk in a few minutes." She gave me a frustrated look and headed for the bathroom; I headed for the car.
I was just about finished putting the groceries away when she came back into the kitchen. She sat down and waited for me to do or say something. It was my play.
"I'm gonna be there," I said. "I'm gonna watch, and hopefully just watch. Okay?" I said. She looked down. She seemed to have lost a bit of the confidence that she had displayed earlier in the day.
"Oscar, if you're going to be here. No, it's not all right for you to just watch. At lunch, well, Bill made the decision that if you are going to be a cuckold; you're really going to be one. You will need to serve us, and service us. Please understand, it's part of it, part of you learning your place, your new place in the scheme of things." Well, now I knew who she'd had lunch with.
"Oscar, it is your fantasy after all. You don't have to be here. But, if you are..." she said. I nodded. I sighed.
"Okay, I guess. I can always run away if I can't handle it. Right?" I said, trying to lighten the moment a little. She just smiled benevolently. "What do I have to do?"
"Follow me," she said. He headed for the guest room down the first floor hall. There were clothes hanging on the closet door hook.
"Put these on," she said.
It was a suit—no—a tuxedo: bow tie and tails, the whole ball of wax. "What? A tux! I can't wear a tux, honey. Please, not a damn tux, okay?" I said.
"Bill requires it, baby. Don't worry, you're going to get a really good reward if you can just hang in there. Okay?" I was not happy. I wasn't afraid anymore, and I had been. I was humiliated.
I answered the door, and he looked me up and down. He didn't laugh. But, he did approve. That to me was worse than outright laughter. I was to be his servant for the evening, and he approved of me. I was his servant for the evening as Pen informed me, and I was to remain silent unless spoken to. I was soon to discover that good 'ole Bill had plans for me.
The party began in the living room where the two of them had drinks, served by me, and made out like a couple of teenagers on the couch. It was hot; I had to give them that. I stood near the couch in my tuxedo and bow tie, maybe five or six feet away; I had a small serving towel hung over my forearm. I had been told by Penelope to just relax and enjoy the show for a while.
Bill stopped feeling her up for a moment and reached under her dress and began slowly pulling her panties down; she raised up a little so he could slide them off of her. They resumed their kissing and feeling each over up, but now his hand was under her dress and he was obviously finger fucking her; she yelped a couple of times when he got a little too macho with her.
They stood up. Pen turned and looked at me, and then came to me. "You okay, Oscar? I want you to be okay," she said.
"I'm okay, honey, it's just, a little new to me. I'll be okay," I said. She nodded, smiled at me, and gave me a peck on the cheek. The look on Bill's face when she kissed me, even though only a peck, was not friendly. I felt kind of good about that.
They began stripping each other's clothes off, slowly. Finally naked, they stood, in front of me embracing. Their hands roamed everywhere within reach. I could see his finger penetrate her anus; she just smiled at him; Pulling his finger out of her, he sucked it—his finger.
"Ah sweet," he said, and laughed. "Her poop is like candy to me. You ever get any of that?" he said, looking straight at me. He left her standing naked where she was and came to me. He pushed his finger into my mouth. I almost gagged. It was a direct insult. Now, it was Penelope's turn to be not happy; he saw it in her eyes, relented, and moved back to her to avoid any unpleasantness from her disapproval of the way he had treated me. He led her to the couch and coaxed her into a kneeling position with her butt stuck out towards him.
He knelt behind her and began licking and sucking every part of her. I envied him to a degree I had never envied anyone or anything. He whispered something to her, and she spread her knees wide with her butt even more exposed to him than it had been. All of her charms were visible to the both of us.
She was clearly soaking wet. He aimed the head of his eight-inch cock against her slit and pushed. He pulled out a little and pushed in again, a little farther this time. Finally he drove himself into her. He began screwing her slowly then faster then furiously. Her moans told of the pleasure she was experiencing with his larger than mine cock. Ironically, I was as hard myself as I had ever been. That said, I was more than nervous about the entire scene.
After some minutes, she shuddered and came and came and came. He collapsed across her back breathing hard. He rolled to his left and sat spread-legged on the couch. She slowly rose from her kneeling position and fell to her knees in front of him.
She reached forward and took hold of his cock. Leaning in she began sucking it to life; I could see him alternately jerking and shuddering as she tortured his penis. I was still fully dressed and needing relief myself and that in the most desperate of ways. God how I envied him. She stopped sucking, as he seemed ready to cum, and lay down flat on the floor, legs spread wide for him. He started to mount her and stopped.
He looked at me for a moment. "You're a cuckold now, Oscar boy, take your pants off," he said. I looked at him. His words, his tone more than anything he'd done so far, stung me and awakened a resentment in me, a resentment that had been building in me all day.
"No," I said. "I don't want to. I don't even want to be here anymore. I don't want to take my pants off."
"Just do it cucky," he said. "You have no choice." I could see Penelope suddenly take an interest in the proceedings.
"Leave him alone, Bill, this is all new to him. He doesn't have to take his pants off if he doesn't want to," she said.
"Yes he does. You and I have talked about this. Once he was cuckolded he was to lose all of his husbandly rights," said Bill.
"And I said leave him alone, and I meant it," she said. "If you want to do me, then do me. Otherwise you can go home." He didn't look happy, but he refocused and mounted her. Twenty minutes later he was dressing and didn't waste any time in doing it. He was obviously not in a real good mood, a fact that bothered me not at all.
The door had hardly closed behind him before she came to me. "Come on big boy; it's time for your reward,"
Even with him gone, I felt a little down about all that went on. I felt that way mainly on account of Bill's attitude and the things he'd said about me losing my husbandly rights. But, evidently he had misunderstood my wife's willingness to deny me: I was about to be rewarded and that sexually.
I was so horny I would have done anything for her just to get a kiss, let alone a "reward." I needed relief. I put Bill on the back burner. My wife and I would be talking about him and his attitude a little later, maybe much later.
I followed her naked form up the stairs to our room. I was grateful for the small favor that at least Bill had not been allowed in there. The living room was one thing our bedroom and our bed were, if not exactly sacred, at least pretty important to me.
I was already shucking my clothes as we entered the room. "God I'm horny," I said. "I can't wait to get inside of you, sloppy seconds or not." She was standing by the bed about to lie down when she stopped.
"Oscar?" she said.
"Yes, yes, I know. You're rewarding me," I said, smiling big time.
"Well, yes, you are getting a reward, my husband. But..."
"But?" I said.
"But, Oscar, you're a cuckold now. I'm afraid you are not allowed to screw me. That isn't what you thought was it? I mean I thought you knew what a cuckold's place was, a cuckold's duty was," she said.
"Huh? What? I can't have you?" I said. I was already down to my underwear and now I stood transfixed by her words. She'd said them almost sadly.
"Oscar, your reward is to eat me. You know clean me up good and proper. I mean with your mouth. You know like in some of your fantasies and those stories you showed me. A cuck can't have real sex," she said. "It's the way things need to be." I couldn't talk; I couldn't move. My cock, hard as a rock a moment before, shrank like a pair of unsanforized jeans in the laundromat's hot cycle. She noticed.
"Oh my, you did think we were going to screw didn't you. Oscar, you're going to love how I treat you, really. Come on my good man, do your duty," she said, smiling broadly, like she was doing me a favor. She laid down and spread herself wide for me to do her with my mouth.
"I can't," I said. "I have to go. I have to go out. I mean, oh, I don't know what I mean." She stared at me. I think she was disbelieving. I picked up my clothes from the floor and began to dress. I was tying my shoes by the time she got off the bed and came to me.
"Honey, what are you doing? You knew what your duties would be. We've talked about them. I don't want to ruin your evening, Oscar, I want to make it good for you. Please let me. Okay?" I finished tying my shoes and stood up."
"Oscar come on, please. I just need you to, you know, be part of the goings on. I need you to be my good little man, my cuckold. Like we talked about," she said. I looked her in the eye.
"No sex for me?" I said. "None?"
"Oscar, just no intercourse. It's a cuckold's lot. I know you know that," she said.
"Now, come on over here and do your duty. I am filled with his cum, and you need to get it out of me. Come on, now. I mean it," she said. She'd moved back to the bed and laid down on it: legs spread wide and waiting. I looked at her.
"No," I said. "I'm leaving." I grabbed my jacket and my keys and wallet and left. I didn't even look back. I had a lot to think about.
"Oscar! No! Wait!" she called after my retreating figure.
I was sick to my stomach. I needed my woman, but not like this. No sex for me. No sex ever? I wasn't going for it. I couldn't go for it. I needed it. Cuckold or not, I needed to be able to fuck my wife whenever I wanted to, and that was the long and the short of it. But, what if only half a loaf was all I could ever get? Should I throw even that away? It wasn't like women were lining up to get me in their beds.
I drove around for some time. I was sitting at a traffic light when I looked to my left and saw a Travelodge. I needed to sleep and decided that this would be the place.
The sun was my alarm clock. The shower worked pretty good, and the water was scalding hot, just what I needed. I hadn't packed any clothes. At work I had what everybody called our fatigues. I'd be getting those the day after tomorrow, Monday, when I went to work; but I needed some stuff now if I were going to be staying out, out from my house, regardless of how long that might end up being.
I headed for K-Mart. Cheap would work, at least in the short run. I parked and went inside looking for the men's section. Odd, but as many times as I'd been in the place, and that to buy clothes, I didn't know where the men's wear was; Pen had always taken me by the arm and led me to where she would essentially dress me for the next many months. I guess I had never paid attention, knowing as I did that I would have no say in whatever she picked out for me in any event.
I asked two floor people where to find what I needed, and soon found myself hunting for my needs through the various racks. A woman behind me, said, "Try these on," and handed me a pair of shorts. I turned to thank her and stopped cold in my tracks.
"Penelope!" I said.
"I was driving around looking for you and I saw you come in here." she said.
"I ain't going back, Pen. I can't deal with the rules you and that asshole have set up for me. But, I'll take the shorts if you think they'd look okay on me," I said.
"They will look fine on you, and you are coming back with me, Oscar. You need me, and I need you. We'll talk about what you want and need in terms of the other thing when we get home. Okay?" she said. Her last words were uttered in an almost a pleading tone. I looked at her for a long moment; I was not smiling.
"I'm not going back if there is no screwing you, and I mean by me. I mean it," I said. "And, no limits. You okay with all of that?" Her turn to stare at me. She nodded in the affirmative.
"Yes, I guess I didn't realize just how hard a requirement like that would be on you. I should have, but I didn't. I do now. No limits on intercourse for you. Okay? Are we good?" she said.
I nodded. "Okay," I said.
We did a little more shopping for me while we were in the store and she bought some women's stuff too. An hour later we were at home. We put the new duds away and headed for the kitchen. Always the kitchen it seemed.
We sat across from each other. "You know the whole cuckolding thing was your idea originally," she said.
"Maybe, but not the way you and good old Bill wanted to go about it," I said.
"Oh come on, Oscar. Everything we did, and planned to do, is in one or another of your web stories, and you know it," she said.
"Yes, and as I mentioned on more than one occasion even then: there were some things that just weren't appealing to me, and you either if it came to that," I said.
"Granted, but the things we did do were all things you thought were hot. Well, okay, maybe not the one thing. I was reaching a little with that one.
"I guess, my husband, that I have to ask the inevitable question,"
"Yes?" I said.
"Do you even want to continue with the scene?" she said. I looked askance at her. The question was a fair one. That she was even asking me was a surprise to say the least.
"Under the right conditions, I guess it would be okay," I said.
"Oscar, we need to set the limits here, that, so I know what your limits are. I don't want to risk our marriage again, not for anything, and certainly not for any short term sexual thrill," she said.
"I guess, determining what my limits are will be something to discover over time. That said, I wanna be able to say that I object and have that stop anything that, in my opinion, is especially egregious," I said. She nodded.
"Okay, I think that maybe that would be a good idea," she said. "I mean, the 'I object' part," she said.
"When is the next scene?'" I said. She looked away.
"Anytime. Tonight, if you're up to it. Or, whenever," she said.
"Not tonight. I need to come down from my mental state before I can trust myself with him around. Today is Saturday. How about next Saturday. Would that be all right?" I said. She thought for a minute, and apparently coming to a decision, she nodded yes. I finally allowed myself a smile.
All week at work I wasn't worth a damn. I kept wondering if things would really and truly work out for us. I should have said no to the whole scene. But, truth known, I thought it was a hot scene if things were to be ordered well. And, we'd had sex three times during the week, so I was not overly concerned about the upcoming scene with Bill.
The day of truth finally arrived, and both my wife and myself were nervous as hell!
I was putting some more beer and soft drinks in my small service porch frig when she came downstairs. I looked back when I heard her footsteps and what I saw was a vision. Black midi; four inch spikes; beautifully done nails—hands and feet; makeup that Cleopatra would have envied; and her hair, cascading curls that blew me away. Oh, and the smell of her.
"You like?" she said. I couldn't speak. All I could do was nod, slowly nod.
"Oscar, can we talk for a few minutes?" she said.
"Sure, I guess so," I said. We adjourned to the couch.
"I'm a little frightened," she said.
"Frightened? Why frightened?" I said. "I'm the one who should be frightened. Bill? You? What do either of you have to be frightened about?"
"Frightened about how you might react. I mean the last time..."
"I only walked out because I thought that I was going to be denied intercourse, my husbandly rights as he said. Not because of the night in general," I said.
"No, not that, Oscar. That won't be a problem. It was when Bill wanted to pants you, and you balked. I was afraid then that there was going to be problems. That's why I jumped in and told him he shouldn't push you. I knew you were kind of fragile, all this being new to us. I just don't want to ruin everything because of some silly misunderstanding. This lifestyle, if that's what it is, can be great or us, but it can also be a serious problem," she said.
"I've thought some about that, Pen. I will do better this time. I promise. So long as you keep your promise to me, I will do my best to not rock the boat. Okay?" I said. She smiled.
"Good. I was hoping you'd say something like that. I think it's time for you to get ready if that's all right with you. He'll be here in an hour. Okay?" she said.
I found myself again in my tuxedo. I made a promise to myself not to be recalcitrant when her lover asked me to do something. And, I hoped I could keep my promise.
She looked at me. We'd both heard the knock. I glanced at her and went to the door.
"Good evening, Bill," I said. I slipped to my knees in front of him. I had not told Penelope of my intention to kneel in front of her lover. I hoped it would please her, and, reassure her. It did.
Bill smiled. He handed me his coat while I was still on my knees, and looked over at Penelope and whistled. He went to her and kissed her passionately.
"You look fabulous," he said. Well, she did. She took his hand and led him toward the hall to the downstairs guest bedroom, no playing in the living room this night. Just as they turned, she looked back at me and mouthed me a message.
"You will be very well rewarded." And then they were walking and kissing and feeling each other up as the moved down the hall. I rose and followed them.
I entered the room but a moment behind them; they were already by the bed and engaged in a very sensual embrace. She heard me and broke from her embrace and came to me.
"Oscar, stand over there, so you can see better. Okay?" she said. I nodded.
"Okay," I said. She took hold of my arm, and stopped me, as I turned to do her bidding.
"Oscar, drop your pants down around your ankles," she nodded toward the spot she wanted me to stand, "but don't kick them completely off. Bill wants to see your penis hanging down or maybe getting hard. Okay?"
I hesitated, but I obeyed her. "Okay," I said. "I went to stand where she'd indicated. I undid my belt and pushed my pants down to my ankles. I followed that by pushing my underpants down as well. I was semi-hard already. I faced them red-faced, as Bill laughed, and Penelope gave me what I could only describe as an indulgent smile. For some reason their looks turned me on and my half sized cock responded. The two of them noticed.
"Is that as big as he gets!" said Bill clearly and actually surprised. She frowned at him.
"Leave my husband alone. Yes, it's as big as it gets. Now leave him alone," she repeated. He scowled, but did as she said.
"Oscar," she said, looking over at me, "don't play with yourself. I want you horny for later. Okay?" I smiled broadly and nodded my obedience. I was feeling pretty good for the totally humiliated cuckold that I was. I did notice that Bill did not share my good feelings. He gave Penelope a hard look, but for the moment he didn't say anything.
Soon the two lovers were naked, but still standing next to the bed. I knew that situation wasn't going to last. I wondered why they were hesitating. I soon got my answer.
Bill whispered in her ear. She pushed back from him a little and had a concerned look on her face. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted to do something to me, and she was worried about it. She looked furtively at me. I shrugged. She came to me.
"He's asking if I can have you do something for him,,, " she started. I interrupted her.
"So long as you are going to keep your promise to me, I will do whatever I can to make this good for you, and, for him too, I guess. And, maybe me?" I said. She gave me a wan smile, but said nothing else.
She took my hand and led me over to him. "Get on your knees, Oscar," she said. I looked at her, smiled, and did what she said.
"Now, my little cucky, I need you t kiss your master's feet," she said. I looked at her and almost choked. I had said I would do anything; she was calling my bluff. Her smile was hopeful. I looked up at him, swallowed hard, leaned down, and kissed his feet one at a time. Straightening up, I started to come to my feet, but Bill restrained me, gently, lightly, but he clearly wanted me to remain on my knees.
"It's time for you to become a true cuckold, I mean a really true cuckold," he said. He waved his cock in front of my face. I paled, I could feel the blood drain from my face. Once again I looked over at my wife. She had a very serious look on her face, but she nodded for me to obey her lover.
I reached up and took hold of his oversized cock. I licked at it for a moment, and then let the tip slide into my mouth. I began to suck. It was my first blow job. It was humiliating, but thinking about what I was going to get later from Penelope minimized the worst of it. Well, as he had indicated I was a true cuck now as if there'd been any doubt before.
He took control of me by holding the back of my head with both hands while he fucked my mouth. I wasn't ready for it when it came; he flooded my mouth with his seed; I choked and coughed, but I swallowed most of it. He, for his part, fell backward onto the bed half out of breath.
Wiping my mouth, I looked over at my wife. This time I had what must've been an angry look on my face. She gave me a look that seemed to say, be patient you'll get used to it. I doubted that; I really doubted that. She'd seated herself on the side of the bed as she'd watched him fuck my face; now she came to me.
She knelt down beside me. She had evidently decided to take over where I had left off. Bill lay spread-eagled with his legs dangling over the side of the bed. She moved between them and sucked his cock like there was no tomorrow. The object was clearly to get him up again in order to fuck her; she succeeded totally, and soon he had her spread-legged on the bed and was plowing her fields with great enthusiasm.
Her moans and gasps were almost non-stop for the next twenty minutes; finally, she screamed as a seismic event engulfed her. I could actually hear her squirting her juices out as he deposited his load inside of her. For the life of me I was turned on—big time—angry at what I'd done, mostly at myself, but nevertheless turned on.
"Cucky, please be so good as to get miss Penelope and I a cup of hot tea," said Bill. Grateful for a chance to get out of the room for a few minutes, I nodded and headed to the kitchen. It took but a few of minutes to brew up the tea and carry it back down the hall to the guest room. As I neared the doorway, I heard them talking and I heard my name. There was a little phone table a few feet down the hall from the room, I set the tea service on it and crept closer to the door to hear what I could hear.
"You told him he could fuck you!" said Bill.
"I had to, he'd walked out. I had to stop him from staying out or he would have cut me off without a dime. He's a mechanic, a good one, and he could just leave and work anywhere," she said.
"No. That is one promise you cannot keep. He gets no pussy. He is allowed to eat my cum out of your pussy and your ass, but that's it. No kisses, no pussy, no blow jobs none of it," he said. "He's not a man anymore; he's a wimp and a cuckold. He gets no pussy, period."
"I have to let him do me, at least a couple of times to calm him down. He's agreed to do his duty when we all meet, like he's done tonight, but only if I let him have me," she said.
"Okay, okay, if you have to let him inside of you, tell him he can only do it when I have had you first. Sloppy seconds for him and only sloppy seconds. And, only a couple of times, after that nothing ever again. You have to train him," said Bill. They were silent for a moment. I could sense Penelope thinking.
"That might work," she said. "He actually gets off on the cuckold scene. He just doesn't want to be denied. He says he can't handle that, and I believe him. Right now he can't. But maybe, handled right, I could train him to accept denial. I guess it's worth a try."
"Yeah, well that's a much as he gets. You gotta get him to accept his place. I'm your main man now, not him. He is only legally your husband; I'm the man of the house, and I don't want him messing with my woman," he said.
"I picked up the tea service and headed back into the room. Inside I looked for his clothes. The two of them smiled at me, their servant. I set the service down, and, taking the pot of almost boiling tea went to his pile of clothes and poured the entire pot on them. The shock on the faces of the two of them was, for me, almost cathartic.
"What the fuck are you doing asshole!" screamed Bill.
"Oscar what has gotten into you!" said Penelope.
"You just couldn't keep your promise could you, Pen?" I said. She paled. She, the both of them, realized that I'd overheard them.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she said. "Look, Oscar. We, all of us, want a good scene. You just have to try an understand that a cuckold..."
"Fuck you, Pen. Marry the asshole. He can support you from now on. I'm done," I said.
"Oscar! No!" she said. "You can't just leave..."
Good old Bill had finally gotten seriously mad. He jumped out of bed and blocked my way to the door. But, I went to the closet. I pulled down a suitcase and started throwing my stuff in it. I was maybe at it for two minutes while the two of them threw various mouthings at me: she begging me to stop and think about what I was doing, him, assuring me that I wasn't going anywhere under my own power. The whole scene was amusing as hell.
Done packing my essentials, I turned to go. Good old Bill was still naked, and he was smiling the smile of the confident. At six-three and two-forty well he might. But, oddly, I wasn't concerned.
Carrying my suitcase, I headed for the door. He blocked my path. "Move or I will have you arrested," I said. Well, at half his size I wasn't into the hero scene.
"Whatsamatter pussy, not man enough to fight for your wife?" he said. I smiled.
"Well, let me see, Bill. You're eight or nine inches taller, maybe fifteen years younger, about eighty pounds heavier: yeah, that'd be a fair fight, I guess," I said.
"Muthafukka," he said, resorting to his linguistic roots. But, he did finally move aside; he wasn't risking jail over scalded pants. Anyway, his pants were going to be the least of his, their, worries.
My leaving was going to make things problematical for the two of them. That because they refused to play it straight with me. They both needed me, and they'd blown it. I was more than glad now that I had taken the measures that I had early on in this little farce to protect myself financially.
I was the one who handled the finances in our home; Penelope, as noted, didn't work, and Bill barely made enough to get by. Originally, I'd agreed and decided that I would do what she asked, the cuckolding scene, because it was a hot fantasy of mine as well as hers; and because I was totally in love with her, pussywhipped actually. Plus, until this moment, I had been sure, at least I think I'd been sure, that she was in love with me. Alas, now I knew different.
Had she not done what she'd done and essentially doublecrossed me, hurt me, things would have been okay. But she had hurt me, and now, as I hammered the keyboard to finalize all of the "just in case" measures that I had set in place when this all started; I was guaranteeing their poverty. It might be a fact that I was being replaced by some big dicked knucklehead, but at the least I wouldn't end up penniless.
My personal, and unknown to Penelope, bank account, really just a savings account; now augmented by the $133,000 dollars gotten via the second mortgage I'd taken out on my house, would see to that. I was able to do the mortgage on the sly because the house had been mine before the marriage, bequeathed to me by my mom and dad upon their deaths in an auto accident seventeen years before. Protecting myself didn't make me feel better about what had happened to me two days past, but I did feel safer. I would be dining in a different town, no more than twenty-four hours hence.
He's been gone almost six months. He's left me; my husband's left me. I've made a huge mistake, and now he is making me pay for it. Oscar is, was, a good man. He's worshipped me from day one, but not anymore. And me? Do I love him, my Oscar? Yes, I think so. It's just that I needed something more, well, something longer and fatter. I didn't before, but now I know what it is, and I do need it.
For ten years Oscar and I shared our sexual fantasies, tried new things, laughed, and had an all around good time sexually and otherwise, even with his miniature dick. The uptick in our sexual lives was the result of him reading things on the net and in magazines of one kind or another. Then, about nine months ago, I met William "Bill" Kristoff: tall, dark, and handsome; eight-inch dick, and outstanding stamina.
About a week after I'd met Bill in the supermarket where he worked, I ran into him again. He was coming out of the Department of Motor Vehicles where I'd gone to register Oscar's new car. He'd asked me to lunch. Lunch had preceded our going to the Motel-6 near his place of work. Until that day I had never cheated on Oscar. However, that day wasn't to be the last. Bill and I met at least twice a week thereafter. Finally, I sat down with Bill and we made some decisions, plans. We would involve, Oscar. Somehow, I had to get him into the mix. That, or we, Bill and I, would be discovered; and then what would happen would have been what has in fact now happened: my hubby is gone.
I needed what Bill could do for me, and I do mean needed. That first time that I'd let Bill do me made me know that I had to get Oscar on board, involved; and, as I said, Bill and I figured and planned. But the plans failed. I just can't seem to win. And Bill?
Bill, is a fun guy—in bed—but nowhere near the man that Oscar is in any other way. Bill wanted to take Oscar's place in my life, except for the actual marriage part that is, he was very clear about not wanting to tie the knot with me, ever. That, actually, fit with my desires; I did not want to lose Oscar, not at this stage of my life. Fuck! But that is exactly what has happened.
The knock on the door shook me out of my reverie. "Bill!" I said, as I let him in.
"Yeah, it's me. Any word about wimpy?" he said. He walked past me into the living room.
"Fuck you, Bill. If you hadn't insisted that I cut him off, and incidentally lie to him, he'd still be here. I can't tell you how fucking much I appreciate you fucking up my life, not to mention his," I said.
"Yeah, believe it or not, I'm sorry about that. I know you had a thing for the little guy, dinky dick and all," he said. I gave him a look that should have turned his blood cold.
"Let's put it this way, butthead," I said. "Oscar makes, or made, $75,000 annual. You make, what, twenty-five? How in hell's name do you figure I'm gonna be able to keep up the payments on these digs? I don't work, never have, and you're what? A box boy in a supermarket!"
"A clerk," he said.
"Huh? What?" I said.
"A clerk, not a box boy," he said.
"Yeah, well, hoopdeedoo!" I said. "I have to find that man and get him to forgive me, and you're gonna help me," I said.
"Hire a detective. He can be found. I'm betting he hasn't gone all that far. Probably not left the state. You've waited long enough for him to call you. It's time to go after him," said Bill.
"I thought of that. At $200 a day and expenses I stopped thinking about it. You wanna fund the search? I've used every spare dollar I could find to last this long. I'm at the end of my rope," I said. He looked down.
"You know I don't have that kind of money," he said.
"Yeah, I do know. But no matter what, I am going to find him. Sooner or later I'm going to find him. You can take that to the bank," I said.