Chapter 1: The bar

I am driving my pickup on the way home from downtown Albuquerque. My beautiful wife of over fifteen years sits beside me with her arms crossed, her body stiff, jaw set like granite. The way she is dressed, so hot and sexy, would get the attention of anyone who looked in her direction. Well, actually, she has already received plenty of attention tonight. The reason she is pissed is because I stopped it.

Let us back up a moment.

My wife (Anna) and I (Roy) have agreed to having a cuckold-hot wife arrangement. She agreed to fuck another man for me. The idea of her being pleasured by another man has always made me so unbelievably hot that I cannot put it into words. I can almost cum in my pants just thinking about hearing her moans of pleasure while another man is taking her.

We have talked about it in bed while we are making love.

We decided that, if we are going to have a cuckold-hotwife arrangement then, there must be some rules or guidelines to follow so nothing gets out of hand.

My non-negotiable rules were:

1. Anna is not to become pregnant with anyone but me.

2. Anna is never to lie, mislead or otherwise evade the truth, even to spare my feelings.

3. Anna is never to deny me her charms as a result of being pleasured by others.

She accepted my rules and added a few herself:

4. Roy is to stay completely faithful.

5. Roy is not her pimp and is not to choose men for her.

6. Roy is not to interrupt her choosing the men in any way, unless he sees danger that she does not.

This brings up the issue of the safe word, Purse, and the reason she is so mad at me right now.

As we drive the 6 miles from the motel to our house, I find the silence is deafening. I try to engage her and justify what I did by saying. “He was signaling to a man at the bar. I didn’t know if he was planning on gang raping you.”

She turns and spits out in frustration: “It was his roommate. He was letting him know we needed the room for an hour or two. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I am so, so, so sorry baby. I had no idea. I just saw him signaling.”

The rest of the trip was in silence. We pulled into the garage and she barreled into the house. I found her beautiful dress ripped in the hallway, her pumps thrown across the living room, stockings on the staircase and her bra in front of the locked door to our bedroom.

I paid the babysitter and, since she was only thirteen, I escorted her on the two block walk to her home. During the walk she asked me what had gotten Anna so upset. I told her that it was me, and that I had screwed up, big.

I returned and found the bedroom door still locked. Now, in 15 years of marriage, I had never slept on the couch. It would have only taken a screwdriver and a few seconds to open the door but I just left her and, for the first time, I slept on the sofa. How degrading.

All right, so you really want the details of the night and what made Anna so upset? Shit. Ok, ok, I will share them with you. As if I haven’t suffered enough humiliation already.