Tiffany and Dexter

by Matt Moreau

Copyright© 2009 by Matt Moreau

Erotica Sex Story: Tiff and Dex have fantasies. They live them out. Trouble ensues.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   BiSexual   Wimp Husband   Cuckold   Humiliation   Slow   .

My name is Dexter Lannin. My wife is Tiffany. Tiffany is five-nine, two inches taller than me, a bit overweight, but voluptuous rather than fat; and she is cute. She's a brunette and wears her tresses a trifle longer than shoulder length.

Me? As I indicated, I'm five-seven, one-fifty, brown-haired; but losing it I'm afraid. Well, whaddya gonna do. I'm a bouncer at a local country-western bar and dance hall. I was a fighter in my youth, golden gloves. Joined the Army when I turned eighteen, fought welterweight while in, got a halfway decent education out of it too (Sizemore Community College). After mustering out, I went looking for a job.

Problem was I had trouble finding a job. I had gotten my A.A. in Liberal Studies, Which as it happened, turned out to be not exactly a degree that was in great demand, but hell I was cultured. I had been working part time as a bouncer in order to get by while in school. Now, I had to try and make it full time. My boxing days were behind me, but I guess I still qualified as a pretty decent ass kicker. The pay was okay too, and the work not overly strenuous.

Roy Jenkins is the owner and chief bartender of Stacks. Stacks serves up good whiskey, decent burgers, and pretty good country music, disco style, seven nights a week. Roy had always appreciated the fact that I was always on time and didn't look for trouble like some of the more macho bouncers did. He'd just shrugged and said sure when I asked if I could go full time.

It was at Stacks that I met and saved Tiffany Gilchrist from a fate worse than death: Darrel Brothers wanted to fuck her—without her permission. I put him down, kicked him out, and my thank you from Tiffany was a night in the sack with her! We were married six months later, in the bar!

Tif and I have now been married for nine years. For the record we're both thirty-four years old. She works for a hot shot car dealership owner now. She's his office manager and private secretary. But, and you knew this was coming, I've discovered she's also been moonlighting as his sex toy. I know because right now, I am standing in the doorway of his office watching him bang her from behind.

Dwight Williams, her boss, is black, six-two, more or less, and an ex-jock who played for State a decade past—offensive guard, I think. Well, he's still offensive but not the football kind.

Stunned, angry, hurt, fearful of losing my woman, and undecided what to do; I continued to watch the tableau play out. I knew my marriage was probably in the shitter, and the thought devastated me.

Finished, the asshole pulled out of her and started to pull up his pants. He finally saw me.

"Oh Jesus!" he said.

Tiffany turned to see as she buttoned up her skirt. "Oh my, Dex. Oh my. I am so sorry, Dexter," she said. I just stared at her. I really was in a state of shock. She came to me. She nodded at her boss to get lost; he did.

She sat me down in a chair and knelt in front of me. The concern in her eyes real, and not for her; but for me! "Dexter, my God, you were never meant to see that. I feel so bad for you, my husband. Are you okay?"

She was tending to me as though I were a little kid who had just fallen of my bicycle. I wasn't okay. And, I was beginning to get back some level of self-control.

"Tiffany, we're through!" I said. The tears were coming, my tears. I couldn't stop them. She suddenly looked stunned.

"Oh my, no," she said. "I love you not him. He's just a plaything. A sex toy, that's all. Can you understand that, Dexter? Just a sex toy, nothing more."

She was combing my hair back with her hand. "Let's go home, my husband. I need to make you feel all better," she said.

"No dammit!" I said. "Seein' you—him—it's..." She started to cry too. I wanted to reach for her, do my duty to comfort my wife. But, she wasn't my wife anymore. She was somebody else, some stranger. I had to get out of there.

Somehow I found my car and began driving. I just drove. I had just broken up with my wife! I wasn't able to think. I needed a drink. The sauce would do me good. Damn straight it would, I thought.

I was sitting in a booth at Momma's, my other favorite bar, when who should show up but my erstwhile wife. It looked like I couldn't escape. I feared her. With her I was a complete wimp. I will take on a busload of shitfaced cowboys and do no worse than a tie, but with Tiffany? I have no hope.

"Let's go home, Dexter. I have some very serious fence mending to do," she said. I did as she instructed; well, I said I was a wimp when it came to her.

In our room, she stripped first herself then me. I was an automaton. I was hopeless. I knew that soon the chickens were going to be coming home to roost and something bad was likely going to happen. But, not today.

She knelt in front of my naked body and played with my penis. I was hard in short order and she sucked on it like it was a matter of life and death; well, it was, at least as far as my marriage was concerned.

She fucked me cowgirl style and collapsed on top of me drained. Well, I guess her previous bed partner that day had pretty well drained her energy supply. There was no encore. We lay there not speaking each lost in our own thoughts.

At some point we fell asleep. I remember her saying that everything was going to be all right; I was doubtful. How could it be? But, she'd said it; maybe it was true.

We awakened at the same time. We both stunk. We needed showers and we needed them bad. She rolled out of bed; she was still naked. Her matted pubis testimony to the serious fucking she'd had the day before. I knew she was still full of his spunk too; I could smell it in the mix.

She took my hand and led me into the bathroom. "Come on husband; we're going to shower together. Then, we'll get dressed, go downstairs, eat, and talk." She wasn't asking me; she was directing me. I wasn't sure I liked what she was saying, and I knew I wasn't going to like what I was going to be hearing; but we did need to do all of the things that she had listed.

I nodded. "Okay," I said, finally.

The shower was sensuous. My cock rose to the occasion and she actually giggled. "I'll take care of that little matter for you right now," she said. She went to her knees, right there in the shower and engulfed my hardon in her mouth. Every once in a while, I could feel her naked breast slap against my thigh. Off and on, her lips would let my staff slip out so she could lick the full length of it and my balls, and then she would engulf me once again and suck for all she was worth. It was clear to me that she was trying to make up for the pain she'd caused me the day before. I stiffened; she took it all. It was a mercy suck, I knew, but whaddya gonna do.

As my cock shrank, she gave my balls a final squeeze and looked up at me. "Are we okay?" she said. All I could do was spread my hands in an I-don't-know gesture.

We dressed and went down. She scrambled some eggs and fried some slices of russets. I set the table and made the coffee. We sat down to eat. Strangely, I was as hungry as I'd ever been. But, I was still shaken by the events of the preceding afternoon. I did not want to lose my wife, but I was afraid I already had; that, in spite of her efforts the night before and in the shower this morning. It was the moment of truth.

"Dexter, if you would like, why don't you ask me about it; or, if you want, tell me what you want to tell me. I promise to be as truthful and candid as I can," she said.

"How long?" I said.

She smiled. "Long enough. Almost since I started working there. Always at the office, never anywhere else. We thought it was safer that way. His wife—you—we didn't want either of you to know, either of you to be hurt. For us it was just the sex." She stopped and looked at me.

"But why? I thought we had a good sex life," I said.

"Dexter, we do. That is, what there is of it," she said.


"Dexter, how often do we have sex together?" she said.

"I guess, two or three times a week. I think you always cum too," I said.

"And those few times you don't come with my dick in you, my mouth finishes you off," I said, defending my prowess.

"You are exactly right in everything you say," she said. "But, could you do it every day?"

"Well I..."

"Dexter, no you couldn't. Neither can Dwight. Men are limited in their abilities in that regard. In spite of the silly bravado you men all put out there. Oh, you could do it for a while probably, but soon you'd be drained both of spunk and desire. It's nature, Dexter," she said.

"Dwight and I do it about twice a week. That coupled with your three times takes care of me.

"Dexter, Dwight is just the second string. He comes in to lead the team when you need a rest. He's a good guy, and he is sensitive to my needs and your honor, believe it or not," she said.

"But he's made me his cuckold!" I said. "You too. You've made me a wimpy laughingstock between you."

"My God no!!" she said. "We have never laughed at you, and no one else knows but you, me, and Dwight of course. And, that's the way it's going to stay. But, yes, you are my cuckold, I suppose, and Dwight's too. But that's just a definition, not anything meaningful in itself."

It was time, I had to ask the next question and I feared the answer. I slumped back in my chair. "Are you going to stop it? I mean now that I know."

She gave me a decidedly undecided look. "Let me ask you a question as a means of answering you, Dexter. Do I have to?"


"Dexter, I have never denied you anything in bed. I have cooked for you, washed for you, loved you, treated you like the heman you are. I have never had a date with Dwight or any other man. I just use him like a live dildo. He uses me like a live blowup doll. So I ask you again, do I have to give my toy up?"

I stared at her. "If I say to give him up, will you?" I said. "I mean really. No more sneaking around."

She stood and paced the kitchen floor several times before answering. She stopped and looked at me. "I'd try," she said.

I had been thinking the while she had been pacing back and forth. She'd betrayed me in fact if not in her heart. He'd betrayed his wife. And now I could go any of several ways, and none of them looked real good to me. The question was, how did I really feel about it all? Hurt? Betrayed? Ambivalent? Excited by the dirtiness of it? What?

"I don't know what to say, Tif. I just don't know what to say, and you are actually suggesting that..."

"Dexter, while I was cooking a little bit ago, I had a thought. It was—it was—it was kinda out of the blue. What if—what if there was a way to include you. I mean with Dwight and me. I mean if you were to participate in some way—I mean it sounds crazy, but..."

"You just said that you knew I couldn't handle more than I'm doing now, and you're probably right. So how do I participate, even if I wanted to do something as crazy as that, and I don't? I mean you already said that you know I can't do it that often?" I said.

"I don't know, but we could figure out something," she said.

I looked at her like she was nuts! "I have to think," I said. "I have to think. I'm going out. I'll be back later, and we'll talk some more. Okay?" She nodded but said nothing.

I picked up my keys and headed for the door. I was half way out the driveway when I remembered I was still hungry; I hadn't eaten any of the stuff she'd cooked. Well, I'd just have to make do. I just had to get my head straight. Participate?

I sat in the last booth at the local Denny's. My seventy-third cup of coffee in front of me. I made up my mind. It was Wednesday. It was 10AM. I didn't have to be at Stacks till noon. I rang a number I knew by heart. I must have called it a hundred times, a thousand times, over the years.

The man answered. He would be there in ten minutes. Good, he was nervous too.

I saw him park and stride toward the entrance as I waited with my seventy-fourth cup of coffee in front of me. He saw me, came over, and slid into the booth opposite me.

"Before you say anything, Dexter, let me," said Dwight. I nodded. When I'd played ball in high school, I remembered that our coach always elected to defend rather than to receive if we won the toss. I thought that was good strategy then, and I thought so now; I was more than happy to let the man who had cuckolded me go first and reveal himself. That would allow me to react more effectively. I could kill him any time. He was a big guy, but there was no doubt in my mind that I could rip him a new one if it came to blows.

"Yeah, that's okay by me," I said.

"Thank you. Before we get to the gritty stuff, let me say how sorry I am for putting you through this. I imagine you've already talked to your wife. Please, please, I beg of you; do not divorce her. She is a good woman and she is your woman. Yes, we play. Yes we've done it a lot. And, now that it's over..." He paused and changed the subject. I knew this was a selfish man, but at least he wasn't rubbing it in.

"Are you going to inform my wife? If you do, I will understand. But, I would beg you, and I am begging you, to please not do it. We have four kids, all under age. And, Letitia, while I don't think she'd divorce me—well, she would make life for all of us a living hell. That I deserve it, notwithstanding, I would hope you will have mercy on me, on us. There, that's all I have. But I will hear you out too. And thank you for this chance."

"Why?" was my first question.

He smiled I didn't. "Because I'm a horny assed toad and your wife is pretty. But, also because my sex life at home is—well, it's not all that great. Partly my fault, I guess, but Letitia just doesn't like it as much as she used to while Tiffany..."

I interrupted him. "If I lay off telling your wife, what assurance would I have that you wouldn't continue what you've been doing with mine?" I said. I was acting cold, but not aggressively so toward the man. I was conflicted. I had thought over all of the things that Tiffany and I had said to each other. But, now I was in a dilemma.

I knew I could get the both of them to swear off each other. But, would that stop the desire they had for each other. Would that guarantee that they wouldn't just be more careful? I could make her quit her job, get her away from him. But if she worked somewhere else, would it be less or more likely that she would cuckold me again with someone new. The issue of trust was becoming the biggee. And, she'd already informed me that her desires were almost too much for her to control.

And, what about her idea of including me? It had made my penis tingle and harden when she'd suggested it. But, threesomes? I was not at all sure I wanted any part of that regardless of how stimulating the idea might be in the abstract. And, even if I did go along with it, what would my role be?

I had to admit, but only to myself, that I had had fantasies. But, they were just that. I had never seriously considered implementing any of them. And, now here he was in front of me, the big, black, athlete of a man who I would conceivably be playing with, whose cuckold I was. What I said and did now would pretty much be irrevocable.

He'd been looking at me, no doubt thinking of how to answer me. Now he spoke again.

"I can only say that I swear on the heads of my children that I will not do anything sexual ever again with your wife. I won't anyway, Dexter, no matter what you decide. But, I still hope you'll not let Letitia know of my behavior. Again, I deserve anything you do to me, but telling her won't change anything and it will hurt her—and my children," he said.

I had to admit, he was saying all the right things, and more; his tone of voice was winning me over. "Okay, then," I said, "I will not let your wife in on this; but I expect you to keep your promise to me. There's a lot more I have to say to you, Mr. Williams, but right now, I need to get home and speak some more to my wife."

I pulled into the drive some six hours after having left. Tiffany was in the kitchen scrubbing out a couple of cupboards. I sat down at the table and watched her. I could see her glance my way every minute or so. She was waiting for me to start.

"I've been thinking," I said. She stopped and put down the soapy rag she'd been working with.

"Okay?" she said.

"I don't want a divorce. But, I can't live with you sneaking around either."

I could see tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I've been considering your idea?" I said.

"My idea?"

"Yes, of including me in the mix," I let it sink in but it apparently wasn't sinking in very quickly. She looked at me strangely.

"You mean with me and Dwight? You mean in our sex—acts?" she said.

"Yes. Your little 'ole cucky here is willing to listen to your ideas on the subject. But, at this point to just listen."

Now, she began bawling and bawling loudly! She came and threw her arms around me. She didn't, or more accurately couldn't, say anything, not at first. Damn women!

"I'll be your willing cuckold, I guess," I said.

"And no cuckold will ever have been treated better than I am going to treat mine," she screamed out in happiness. Damn women.

It was a good hour before she could calm down enough to set the groundwork for how it was going to work, the new scene.

"Yes, my darling. You have made me very happy. I want you to know I was more than ready to not do anything—well, what it was that I was doing, I mean. But, this decision of yours has caught me by surprise," she said.

"Me too," I said, sheepishly. "I'm not exactly sure what it will mean. I need you to know that we have to go a little bit easy, at least at first. To tell you the truth, I'm a little bit scared. I ain't scared of anything, Tif, but I'm scared of this."

"I promise you that I will take care of you. You'll have my back, but I will be watching out for your front, no pun intended," she laughed.

I heard her on the phone talking to him. It was clear that he was more than a little skittish, but hell, so was I.

She turned around and saw me. "Hi," she said. "I didn't hear you come in." She said goodbye to whoever it was, and she hung up.

"I just now got back," I said. "Things were slow. I didn't need to be there, so I decided to come home early." I motioned toward the phone. "Was that him?"

"Yes. It's on for Saturday night. Here," she said. I nodded. I was suddenly nervous. Having a date to look forward to, and that only two days hence, made things more real somehow. She saw I had paled a little.

"It's all about fun and games, Dex, just fun and games. For me that's the sex part. For you it's the teasing, and maybe a little mental and sexual humiliation, the fun kind, the cuckold kind. Are we okay?" she said.

"Yeah, we're okay. We're fine. I'm just a little nervous."

"That's understandable," she said.

"So how will it play out?" I said.

"Well, I've been thinking about that," she said. "I think it would be best if the two of you do not talk to each other. Maybe some other time, but not this first time. Anyway...

"He'll come over, and I will have both of us prepared. You'll get to watch the whole thing; unless, you decide not to at the last minute. He'll undress me, and play with me a little then he'll fuck me. When he's had me once, I will suck him back to life, and then he'll take me again. Finally, we'll cuddle a little, and then he'll go home.

"That's when you will be required to do your duty," she said.

I knew what that meant, but I wanted her to tell me anyway. "What will my duties be exactly?" I said.

"Well, you will have to clean me orally, suck out all of his sperm. Then you will get to fuck me too: sloppy seconds for you." She was giggling almost uncontrollably.

I could feel my face flush. "That ought to be humiliating enough," I said, trying to induce a small laugh.

"That's a sure bet, my little cucky," she said. She continued to giggle. "I can hardly wait see you squirming in your chair trying to get some relief."


"Well, dear, I will have to make sure you are safe and—well—secure. Do you understand?" she said.

"Uh—no," I said. "Secure?"

"Well, if it's all right, I had planned to strap you into a chair to watch us. Do you think that that is too much? If you do, we can do something else. I'm just afraid you might get too—well jealous, Dex. You are awfully tough; we both know that. My lover is going to be nervous enough even if you are strapped down good and tight," she said. "He's going to be thinking the whole time that sooner or later you're not going to be strapped down. And you'll be out and around, and maybe he'll think you'll be coming after him.

"He's a big guy, Dex, but not big enough to defend himself against you. He knows it; I know it, and you sure as heck know it."

I nodded. "If it will make you feel better, it's okay, I guess. I wouldn't do anything after I agreed to go through with it, but if it will make him and you feel more—secure. I will accept you strapping me into the chair."

"Thank you dear. I think it might add a little bit of spice to the action too, dontcha think? I mean you, as a willing cuckold, allowing yourself to be strapped down and denied for a little while? The thought of you being there, strapped down like that, unable to get relief; well, it's so hot."

"Yeah, I guess so," I said. She placed her hand gently on my arm. Jesus this woman was sexual.

"We won't laugh at you, Dexter. Tease you a little? Yes. But, we won't laugh at you. I promise you that," she said.

I was up early; there had been no possibility of sleep for me anyway. This was the day: the day I would become a "willing" cuckold. Before, I had been just the victim of a cheating wife. But no more, in a few hours that would all change. I wasn't nervous; I was terrified.

I heard Tiffany in the downstairs bathroom. I knew she was getting some things ready for the evening. She didn't want to be fooling with them later. I was busy with the coffee pot.

"Hi buster," she said, smiling the smile of one who was in control, which she was. "Excited about tonight?"

I swallowed. I swallowed hard. She noticed.

"Dex, you have to be loose about this. Kinda looking forward to it, or I don't want it to happen. I am doing this partly for me; yes, it will be hot and fun and all kinds of interesting. But if you're not into it neither am I. Okay?" she said.

"Yes. Yes. I'm fine. I won't pretend I'm not nervous, but I'm fine. It's kind of a turn on. I know I'll be better once we get started.

"Hey, I'm allowed to have some jitters, aren't I," I said

"Yes, of course you are. I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I'm a little nervous too.

"You know what," she said. "I'll bet you a million bucks that Dwight is twice as nervous as either of us." She laughed and this time it was infectious; I laughed too.

"Yeah, you might be right," I said.

I watched the clock closely all day. She caught me doing it a number of times and just smirked. I stuck my tongue out at her once.

"Oh ho!" she said. "Is my little cuckold getting to be a smarty pants. You're going to pay for that one, just you wait," she said, kidding me—well, I hoped she was kidding me.

At 6:30 she was almost ready. She came downstairs dressed to kill. God my wife was beautiful. "You like?" she said.

"Isn't my tongue hanging out," I said.

She laughed at me. "Well, only a mile," she said.

"Good, I was afraid it was obvious," I said.

She was wearing a strapless black sheath, with four-inch come fuck me pumps. Her hair billowed out from her face and in the wildest curls I had ever seen on her. Her lips were ruby red and nails matched. And, she smelled wonderful.

"All this for your lover?' I said.

"Hell no," she said. "I never dressed like this for him. Just work clothes. This is for you. It's designed to drive you nuts, not him. "He'll get his jollies, make no mistake. But this night is really for you and me. Okay?"

She came to me and kissed me lightly on the lips. "Are you ready?" she said. "We don't have much time. I told him not to come early, but he will be on time; I'm certain of that."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm ready," I said. I tried to sound convincing, for me and for her. She took my hand and led me upstairs. She was in charge now.

I watched her butt sway from side to side as we made our way slowly up and to the bedroom. God she was beautiful, I thought. It was going to be a tough few hours for me to get through. Real tough.

The chair was set several feet from the queen-size bed we had shared for so long. It had not been there earlier, and it was new, heavy, and oaken. "Dex, would you like to leave your pants on or... ?"

"I'll leave it up to you, I guess," I said. She smiled and nodded.

"Drop your pants, honey. Your undies too," she said.

"My shirt?"

"No, leave it on," she said. I stood in front of her naked from the waist down. She indicated that I should sit in the chair. She watched me as I got comfortable. My penis was harder than the chair I would be sitting on.

She went to the dresser and pulled out several lengths of rope. One strand was already looped into a simple noose, like a hangman's noose. She slipped it over my head and around my neck, slipping the noose snug, but not too tight. She pulled me gently back and tied it off behind me to the back of the chair. Next, she took a longer strand and held it up for me to see. "Put your hands behind your around the back of the chair, Dex," she said. I did as she commanded.

She bound my wrists very tightly behind me. "I hope that's not too tight, honey, but your bonds have to be secure," she said. I nodded.

"Their okay," I said.

She took one more long piece of rope and wrapped it around my chest. Next were my ankles. She looped strands of rope around each and secured them to the legs of the chair. I was spread wide and completely vulnerable to anything she or he would wish to do to me. I was totally at her mercy. She stood back and gazed into my eyes. I saw love there. She kissed me once more on the lips. "I love you," she said. She had one more thing to do to me.

"This is necessary, I'm afraid, Dex. I don't want you crying or threatening Dwight or being vocally jealous. Well, you know." She went behind me and fitted the ball gag into my mouth and pulled on it firmly and tightened behind my head. Now, I was not only immobile, I was also unable to object to anything as well.

Coming around to my front, she said, "Okay, my husband, now we wait for my lover." She turned and headed downstairs. It was six minutes to seven on the wall clock across from me.

Tiffany had been wrong. Her lover was four minutes early.

I could hear them out in the hall. I couldn't make out the words, but I could hear them. The tone was—tentative. It was clear to me that they were as nervous as I was. She was probably explaining to him what he was going to find when they came inside. Also, it was likely that he was getting instructions in how to behave. Whatever, the talking soon stopped and she led him by his hand inside. They were a dozen feet from me.

Dwight looked at me and smiled, but it was a friendly I-hope-this-is-okay-with-you-buddy smile. The noose around my neck made it difficult for me, and I didn't want to strangle myself by too much movement, but I nodded slightly acknowledging his greeting. He turned his attention back to the mistress of the evening. She looped her arms around his neck and they kissed, lightly, then more passionately.

My emotions were running amok. Seeing my wife lend serious affection to her lover hurt, a little; I couldn't deny it. His hands slipped down to her butt. I could see her smile at him. She turned toward me; her brow was wrinkled; I knew she was concerned about the effect their actions were having on me. I nodded my tiny okay to her. She smiled me her thank you.

Soon they were feeling each over up. They were still standing there a dozen feet from me, but it was clear that they weren't going to keep doing what they were doing for long.

He stepped back from her, touched her cheek and then turned her around. She was facing me as he slid the zipper on the back of her dress down. She hunched forward a little and the dress fell to the floor and pooled at her feet. She was in front of him, her back to him and I watched as he ground his hardness into her buttocks. His hands slid around to her front and cupped her breasts. She leaned back against him with her eyes closed in lust.

He got down on his knees behind her and undid her bra. It too now fell to the floor. His final act was to slowly very slowly pull down her panties and expose here completely bald mons and pussy lips. She still stood there, her eyes still closed. I could only see his face partially as she was still in front of him. It was obvious that he was licking her crack and her anus and loving it. God! how I wished it was me licking sucking her little brown place. I made a promise to myself that I would before the night was out. Well if she untied me at any rate.

His hand had snaked around to the front of her and had insinuated itself into the folds of her labia. She was jerking a little. I think she was having the first of a series of little orgasms as he played with her body.

Her eyes opened. She stared directly into my eyes and mouthed me a kiss. I started to cry, and she smiled at it. I was crying out of jealousy and desire and she knew it.

She turned around and her butt was for me to see as he licked her pussy with a ferocious intensity that I could well understand. He stripped in record time and his cock danced in front of her; she slapped at it playfully.

He stood and whispered something to her. She nodded. They came to me. She leaned forward placing her hands on the arms of the chair where I sat helpless, wordless, and bound. Her face was but inches from mine. She stuck her ass back and spread her legs wide for him. He looked at me thoughtfully and then began poking at her pussy from behind.

"Oh my, Dexter, he is so big. Bigger than you, honey; but not better, just bigger. It hurts a little. Ooooohhh," she mewed, as he pushed all of the way inside of her. He rubbed her back a little and then began drilling her. Soon he was screwing her fiercely. She choked back spittle from time to time as he mastered her and rudely handled her as though a conquest, one that she had to endure. Suddenly she began to jerk and shake and blubber something; the orgasm shook her to the core. She sagged a little as he emptied himself into her. She opened her eyes which had closed again during her cum. She mouthed me another kiss but did not touch me in any way.

He pulled her back to the bed and they sixty-nined each other. She was on top as his pole once again attained its hardness. He flipped her roughly over and took her in the missionary position. She stiffened and arched her back trying to drive as much of him as she could into herself. She screamed as her third orgasm tore through her.

He collapsed onto her, and after a moment rolled off. They cuddled and kissed and made romantic love. The tears in my eyes were many and seemingly endless during these moments. She was loving him, not just fucking him.

After a while, she rose and looked over at me. She brought him to me and knelt in front of him. They were sidelong to me. She began to stroke his cock. She stroked it for some time before he began jerking and spasming in the throes of his own orgasm. She aimed his cock at me and he spewed his cum all over my face and chest. She smiled. "My willing little cuckold," she said, smiling benevolently at me.

They returned to the bed, and cuddled a while. It was nine-twenty-two. He'd been with her—us— for almost two and a half hours. She said something to him and he got up, dressed, nodded to me, and left.

My wife came to me, touched my cheek and took the ball gag from my mouth. "It's time to reward my little cucky," she said.

I was silent. Well, I was silent until she engulfed my cock in her mouth and sucked me off with a passion I couldn't believe that she had left in her. She swallowed it all. She untied me, stripped me of my shirt, and took me to bed.

She looked at me seriously before she lay down beside me. "Did you enjoy it honey. I tried to make it as good as I could for you?" she said.

I was trying to form my first words since being released. Did I trust myself? "Yes, it was very good," I said. "But, I was so jealous..."

"That's what it's about, my little cuckold. You need to be jealous—and horny. It's what it's all about."

"I know," I said.

"It's time for you to do your duty," she said. And, I did.

We cuddled, and in the morning she fucked me once cowgirl style, and once with me taking her from behind. It was beautiful.

Finished and sated, I lay gasping. "Was it good for you, dear," said Tiffany, my wife.

"Yes, and I have to say, about last night, that your lover played his role very well. He cuckolded me well. I was jealous of him, but I did not hate him or want to hurt him," I said.

She smiled her thanks to me and kissed me gently. "Dexter, you know that as we get further into your cuckolding, it will be a little bit harder on you. You know that right?" she said.

I looked her askance. "I guess," I said tentatively, not really knowing what she meant. Her words left me a bit uneasy, but things had gone so well that I pushed any negative thoughts to the back of my mind. We'd see.

And things did go well, and remained fairly static for the next few months. Dexter would come over a couple of times a month, usually on a Friday night, and we'd repeat our experience of the first time. I had to assume they were also still doing it at the office, but I didn't have the balls to ask. While he was at the house though, he'd play with her, he'd fuck her two or three times while I was strapped down, and then it would be my turn. Finally, the last time we did it with Dwight—wait, I'll explain that in a moment; I'm getting ahead of myself—anyway, Tiffany put a couple of wrinkles in our game now.

"Honey, I'm not going to tie you up or gag you tonight," she said, "I mean not at first, just later."

"Thank God," I said. "It is really tiring for my jaw to be wedged open like that for so long a time."

"Weeell," that's a benefit to you, I guess; but that's not the main reason," she said.

"Huh?" I said.

"I want you to be with me at the beginning and help get him ready for me," she said.

"What do you mean," I said.

"I need you to undress him, and well, be on your knees..." she paused in mid sentence waiting for me to understand. It finally dawned on me.

"You want me to suck him?" I said, turning red as a beet, I could feel it. She just watched me, saying nothing. But it was clear that it is something that she had been thinking about.

I nodded. "I'll try, but no guarantees," I said. "This is what you meant about things getting more—something—as time went along, right?"

"Partly, dear, But only if you agree. You are his cuckold after all as well as mine. You need to show it. You know? I mean on your knees?" she said. But--no demands only requests and the trying as you say," she said.

That next time with Dwight was slow and interesting. He evidently knew what to expect because he showed no surprise to find me untied, naked from the waist down, and on my knees when he arrived.

We did the scene and I got through it: me pulling his pants down and sucking him to steel hardness and then undressing the rest of him before my wife again strapped me into the chair. After which, of course, he fucked her silly.

We did our after cuckolding thing as usual when he left, and that set the tone for the next couple of months. Things seemed to be progressing. I began to worry a little that I was becoming too docile, and that made me even more jealous than I had been; but neither Tiffany nor Dwight did anything in particular to make me feel insecure or to be concerned about. It was then that everything changed.

As they lay there cuddling and me even more jealous and humiliated than usual he laid it on me.

"Dex, Tiffany, and I have something we have to say to you. Okay?" he said. Tiffany looked startled.

"Dwight, now is not the time. I mean it," she said. I was still bound tightly and gagged. I was unable to react except to look at the two of them and wonder what was about to be said.

"Tif, he needs to know, and you need to let me tell him. It's time," he said.

"No!" she said.

"Yes," he said.

Tif came to me and undid my ball gag, and began top release me. He came to her and stopped her.

"Please," he said, holding her wrist. "Before you let him loose, let me have my say." Tiffany looked daggers at him. She yanked her hand away realizing that the cat, whatever it was, was out of the bag. Something bad for me was about to be said.

He sat on the bed across from me. "Dex—Tif—Tif and I are in love."

I could feel the color drain from my face. "We've just been waiting for a good time to tell you. There is no good time. Tif will be seeking a divorce from you this week. Please, we did not mean for this to happen. It just did. I'm sorry," he said.

I looked over at Tiffany; she was crying. "Tiffany, please untie me. I won't hurt him—or you. I just have to get out of here. I need to be alone. Please untie me." My tone was urgent. She came to me tentatively. For his part he was dressing very fast. By the time I was loose and rubbing my wrists, he was gone.

"Dexter, I'm so sorry," she said. "It just happened." I nodded. I went to the closet and got my bags. I started throwing stuff into them. I was packed in less than thirty minutes.

"Tell him not to come around me. It isn't safe for him. You either," I said. She started at my last words.

"I'll sign the divorce papers, I said "But, no alimony or hitting my retirement account. You can have everything else. I don't want anything that will remind me of you." I turned and left.

"Dexter, I'm sorry, really!" she half screamed at me as I backed out of the driveway. My heart was dead. The bitterness was building to a crescendo. I needed to get out of there. If I did not, I knew I might actually hurt the one I had loved most in the whole world and in my whole life.

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