"Either," I asked.
"Both," she said. "Well, I'm glad that's settled, love. I get hormones Monday. Now, we just need to discuss Steve."
Settled? Oh, fuck me, I missed both of them, and now they are both settled. But, did I protest? No. No. As always, no. I was taken down the primrose path.
"Wait, just slow down a second, Sara, hormones?"
"Well, you want breasts, don't you? I mean, I know I'd just love to," she moved her mouth to my chest, "take your natural breasts in my mouth," she cooed, tonguing my breast, "or even put nipple clamps or rope bondage on them. Plus, it would make your little cock, well, nothing for us to worry about, more like a clit," she said, rubbing me.
"I...I don't know, Sara."
"Steve wants to take me out," Sara said, never stopping playing with my breasts, subtly moving her leg near my groin.
"Oh," I said, noncommittally.
"I told him I had to ask you first, before I said yes," she said.
"You mean...he knows...I thought"
"He knows that I'm married, yes, and that my husband is...how shall I say, an unsatisfactory lover, yes."
"But...the other night...did he..."
"No, he didn't. He really thought you were a gay friend of mine. We talked yesterday, I told him the truth."
"What did he say," I asked, concern in my voice. Pretty ironic, I suppose, wondering what the man who fucked my wife thought of me.
"Honey, he fucked me, and wants to fuck me again, what does it matter what he thinks?"
"But...what about...what about Julie?"
"No, sweetie, he doesn't know about Julie...yet."
I sighed a sigh of relief, almost missing the 'yet', catching a lump in my throat.
"What are you going to tell him," I shuddered, still uncomfortable with the prospect of my wife going out on an "official" date, still worried about what he would think about Julie.
"Well, I'm not going to tell him anything, lover, but I suppose that at some point, especially when the hormones kick in, I'll tell him."
"Why..." I was going to ask her why then, why 'when the hormones kicked in.' I quickly realized that hormones, breasts...she would tell him before small breasts made it obvious. Truth be told, I was not always excited about this, the cuckolding. I wanted, it, yes, but it was such a push onto the edge of the envelope. Breasts. Would I have breasts?
"Are you going to go out with him," I asked.
"Yes, you silly sissy slut, of course I'm going out with him, are you crazy," she laughed, pushing her heel into my crotch, making me jump.
Her burning desire, so apparent in her voice, stung. "You don't have to be so excited about it."
"Excited. Shit, after years of this," her heel digging in me, "I'm fucking thrilled."
"So you told him yes," I asked, both anticipating and fearing her answer.
"No, I didn't say yes or no."
"But, how, if you...didn't say yes...I'm confused, Sara."
"Well let's say I had a wonderful idea. Who is the reason I can't get satisfaction at home?"
"Who? What do you mean, who?"
"Who," she asked, pushing my crotch again.
"Oh, me," I mumbled, still humiliated by each and every time she implied I was not so...so manly.
"And so, whose the one making me go out and fuck?"
"Me, please Sara, me."
"And, so my darling, shouldn't you, my loving husband, take care of me in the bedroom? I mean, if you can't do it yourself, shouldn't you take care of finding someone who can?"
"Sara, what in the hell are you talking about," I asked, turning towards her.
"Julie, what I'm talking about is my date with Steve. The date you are going to be in charge of."
"In charge of?"
"Yes, sweetie. You are going to take care of my sex life this weekend. Top to bottom."
"'Take care of'?" I asked, warily.
"Yes, Julie, take care of. You, my love, are the reason I have to date, correct? I mean, I know I'm pushing you some, but you can't deny your feminine thoughts, and you certainly can't deny yourlittle package, can you," she laughed.
I blushed, "nnnoo," I admitted.
"Well, I have to admit, I can't deny the desires I have for a man, a...a real man, my love, that's something I need. Something I satisfied with Steve. But, my love, as I told you before, all these steps we are taking, all these things we are exploring, must...must be mutual. These must be things we both want."
"I know," I mumbled.
"No, I don't think you do, love. Listen, you know I want to fuck men, don't you. I mean after going out and meeting Steve...um...fucking Steve, can you have any doubt that's what I want? Do you?"
Hell, how could I deny that? "No."
"Why?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why can't you deny it?"
"Because...because I saw you...and...you...you enjoyed it so much," I admitted.
"And?"
"I don't know what you mean, Sara."
"And? What I mean is that you saw me take that step. You saw me flirt with Steve, kiss him, lead him on. You can't possibly doubt I wanted to fuck him because you saw me do it. But everything must be mutual, love."
"What does that possibly have to do with me taking care of 'next weekend'?"
"Oh, it's so simple, I'm almost giggling, baby. I need to know that cuckolding is not just something you are fantasizing about, or something that you accepted when I did it. Remember, love...love...," she smiled at me, "I really do love you completely and totally and cannot imagine spending my life with anyone else."
I blushed, her smile warming my heart.
"So, I want you to do something to make an active choice in this. You fantasized about being cuckolded. You accepted it when it happened, too. But you need to do something to prove to me that you want it, that you need it as much as I need it. If you are only doing this by acceptance, without wanting and needing it, I'm afraid instead of bringing us closer together, it will drive us apart. I NEVER want that," she said forcefully.
"So...what do you want from me Sara?"
"See, this is where it's so simple, really, so simple for you to do something to demonstrate your need for this. You are to set up a date for me next weekend."
"Set up a date," I asked, "set up a date? What's that supposed to mean?"
She chuckled. "Prove to me you want to be cuckolded, Julie. God, I'm shuddering, this is so evil, but so perfect. Yes, set up a date. You are going to arrange for a night out for Steve and me. You are going to decide what we are going to do, where we are going to go, how we are going to get there, arrange for everything to be paid. You are going to get me something to wear on my date. You are going to call Steve and invite him to take me out. Yes, love, we are going on a fantasy date, next Saturday, completely and totally arranged by you. And...my love...don't say anything yet, the entire date is really a prelude to an incredible night of fucking."
I stared at her, eyes wide, mouth open, no words coming out.
"You see the beauty of it, Julie? Only a true cuckold could do something like that. Oh, sure, a man could accept the fact that his wife fucked around on him, but this? He could resign himself to being a cuckold, a reluctant acceptance. Hell, love, he might even enjoy it in his own twisted way, the way you do. The fantasy, yes, but then even the reality of it."
"But this? The active participation? Much more than surrendering, than simply riding along with his wife's activities? Oh, no, only a true cuckold could do this. Only a true cuckold could be such an active participant in his wife's debauchery. Only a true cuckold could want to do something so humiliating, so absolutely dirty, to his wife's chastity. Yes, love, you are going to set up an incredibly romantic night for me and the man I'm going to fuck! And the best part? You are going to learn to enjoy doing it, Julie. You are going to enjoy what you are!"
"But remember something, lover, I'm giving you what I think you want. You, dear, you have the power over this, just as you did at the club
with Steve. You can stop this at any time. Just say it. Tell me no. Tell me you can't take any more. Tell me you don't want this. Tell me you don't love it.
"But...Sara...how...how can you expect me to do that," I demanded, spinning on the bed to face her, horror in my eyes from what she was asking me to do.
"Julie, I expect you to do it because you want to do it," Sara smiled, understanding me far better than I understood myself. "I'm simply forcing you to face and confront your own nature, love. I'm not expecting you to do anything you don't desperately want for yourself."
We looked at each other. It was a contest of wills, in a way, eye to eye, probing into each other's souls. Her gaze was filled with triumph. Mine was of terror. I broke away first, looking back to the hair brush she had discarded. The object of my punishment. The family heirloom, used first on Sara's mother, then on me.
What scared me most was that I did not say no to her. I could not say no to her.
What scared me was the realization that she was right. I wanted this as much, if not more, than she did.
I was a cuckold.
Part 06
Several days later, after the spanking, after Sara's challenge for me to more fully participate by actually setting up something with Steve, I was in the bedroom on the bed, reading a book and drinking a glass of wine. The room was dark, except for a reading lamp on my night stand and a few candles lending to some mood. It felt comfortable to just relax like that sometimes after dinner, out of my suit, which now felt uncomfortable despite my having worn day after day for years. It felt nice to lie in bed in my lingerie, a silk or satin robe wrapped around me, a blanket covering me. It felt lazy, sure, but relaxing.
Sara walked in and smiled at me. We had not talked much since the spanking. There was an uncomfortable tension between us, in part because I was hesitant to fully submit to Sara, though I knew deep inside that submission was what I wanted, needed, and lusted for.
Sara was still dressed in her power skirt suit from work, and as she walked towards me on the bed her heels clicked on the floor. My eyes were drawn to her legs, of course. Whatever bizarre feelings I had as a sissy, I'd always had a thing for legs in general, Sara's legs particularly, and Sara's legs in nylons most definitely. I watched her legs as she crossed the floor towards the bed, towards me, listening to the swish of her nylons as she sat down next to me.
Without a word, Sara leaned over and kissed me, her mouth and lips finding mine, her tongue probed into my mouth. I felt pain at her kiss. I thought of Steve. When she kissed me, all I could picture was her and her lover, her fucking him. And jealousy rushed through my body. I wanted to push her away.
"Sara, please, don't," I said, trying to pull away. I wasn't in the mood right now. And despite my apology, the spanking, even my excitement that evening, I was not totally comfortable with it, not totally comfortable with my own intimacy with Sara.
She didn't answer, she just kissed me deeper, pushing herself onto me. I could feel the heat from her body on mine. Her rich, feminine scent drifted to my nose, the familiarity of it striking through my brain. I wanted to push away from her, part of me still angry at her for her infidelity. She twisted, sitting on the edge of the bed, her shoulder pushing me backward, pushing against my resistance, her mouth pushing my head back.
It was her scent that pushed my resistance back just enough to keep me from screaming, running, and fleeing. I felt myself surrendering to her smell. But still, a part of me, a part of my brain said no, was alarmed, scared, wanted to stop.
I actually listened to that part of my brain, the part that had the image of the club, of the top of Sara's dress untied, her breasts exposed, of Sara's dress pulled up, sitting on Steve's lap, sitting on his cock, moaning in pleasure.
"Sara," I said, moving back, more testing her reaction than seriously resisting her advances. Perhaps her scent was overcoming my images of Steve. Then, perhaps her scent was turning my images of her with Steve into eroticism. She'd have none of that, her dominance needed to be asserted, and she was growing in the role. The spanking was just the first step and she was going to spread her wings. She pushed me down into the bed, her shoulder pushing me down, her hands slid down to my hips, gripped me hard, forcefully. Her lips pushed harder on my mouth, less tender now, more as an expression of power.
I started to struggle in earnest now, but she was on top of me and had a better angle, and she pinned me to the bed.
"Hold still, I'm helping," Sara said, hovering over me.
"Help? Helping with what?" I asked. I suddenly started paying attention to what she was doing. I tried to pull my arms down, but she held them tight in her hands, over my head, and slipped something over my wrists. I'd been tied up before by her, with pantyhose, improvised, but this felt different, like...cuffs. She was slipping cuffs around my wrists.
Sara let go, and I quickly moved my hands, but only a couple of inches until the little bit of slack was run out. Once I was secured, Sara climbed off me, looked me in the eyes, actually laughed at me.
"Sara, this isn't funny, untie me! No!" I said.
Sara grinned at me, reached down, uncovered me, and untied my robe, throwing it open. I started to protest, but stopped short, quickly inhaling when she took her hand, ran her fingernails down my chest, over my bra, over the bare skin of my stomach, stopping at the top of my garter belt and panties. She leaned over and kissed my stomach, her hot breath, her warm tongue melting my skin, frustrating my resistance. Steve or Sara, my brain struggled with images.
She moved down lower, her hands leaving my hips. She took my panties in hand and lowered them below my cock. She leaned down, flicked her tongue over my cock, teasing it, flicking the tip lightly, blowing. I gasped. She laughed, enjoying her torment of me, knowing that her tongue, while shooting sexual energy through my body, was not even close to doing enough to actually get me off. Sara laughed, knowing perfectly well the effect she was having, taking me from a struggle to get free to confusion, to wanting her to get off but wanting to get off myself.
"Isnt that better?" she chuckled. "Since you can't fight me, you can't stop me. It's out of your control, lover, so you might as well surrender and try to enjoy it."
"Enjoy it, what...why?" Sara licked her way back up my chest, over my chest, and nuzzled my neck. While sucking, her saliva wetting my neck, her breath on it making me shiver, Sara shifted from sitting on the edge of the bed and turned towards me, climbing on my right leg, her nylons gliding on mine. When she finished straddling my leg, bending over me, I felt it.
"Sara...you...you're not going to...?" I asked her, my voice almost breaking.
"Yes, love, I am," she laughed, biting my neck, pressing her crotch into my thigh. Why the fear? Fear of what I felt pressing on my leg under her skirt. Fear of what she intended to do with me.
"But, Sara," I pleaded.
She chuckled, running her crotch over my stocking. "Afraid, love? Afraid of a hard cock? You've seen it before, it's even been in your mouth. Well, it's time to do more with it, lover, it's time for you to experience it."
Sara stood up, seductively unbuttoned and shed her suit coat, and danced while unbuttoning her silk blouse. "Want to see it," she asked, reaching behind her, unzipping her skirt, shimmying it down her hips, exposing her hard cock under her skirt. It was connected to a series of straps around her waist. I'd known that dildos could be connected like this, to a woman, I'd even seen it in a porno. Don't ever think that prepares you for seeing it in person.
Seeing it in a magazine or on a picture on the net, well, that's erotic, of course, if you like that kind of thing. But seeing a dildo strapped around your wife's waist, framed by her garters, standing before you, while you are bound to the bed frame, knowing she is going to fuck your virgin ass with her cock...it's beyond anything you can imagine.
Terror. Stark terror. I didn't ask for this, hell, I don't think I even wanted it. To be sure, I'd told her no, told her to stop, and she'd responded by binding me to the bed and doing everyt
hing but stop. I was on the verge of being raped by my wife, and I'm not sure if I wanted her to stop or continue. I'm not sure I had a choice.
"Like I said, lover, you can't fight me, you can't stop me, it's out of your control," she whispered, leaning back over me, humping my stocking covered leg with her cock.
Her hands massaged my breasts, then moved down my chest, to my stomach, stroking me, moving lower with frustrating slowness. A vision flashed through my mind, of Sara's body, her cock, hovering over mine, thrusting into me. Erotic lust flared inside me.
"These are in the way," Sara smiled, leaning up, reaching for my panties, pulling them down, over my hips, down to my knees, lower, finally taking them off and throwing them aside. "Roll over," Sara said, twisting me, helping me spin, my arms of course stretched over my head, bound to the bed. She leaned back over me, kneading my back, kissing, trying to seduce me before she took me.
I felt her shift, the hard cock, my wife's erection sliding up my stocking, up my thigh. Again, despite my fear the lust flared inside me. Sara shifted again and her erection slid up the top of thigh, over my stocking, to bare skin, where my thigh connects with my ass.
I spread my legs slightly, overcome with lust, and I felt her press the dildo, her cock against my ass. "Can you still feel the night at the club?" Sara asked me, leaning over, whispering into my ear. "Can you still picture me sitting on Steve's lap, taking his cock deep inside me?" she growled.
I shivered.
"Where do you feel it, love, where do you feel the image of Steve's cock in me, where do you feel yourself kneeling in front of me, tasting his cum," Sara asked in a deepening voice, burning with desire.
Sara's hands moved to my thighs, touching them where my stockings ended, stroking them, slowly spreading them, sliding over my ass, over my exposed hole, stopping there just long enough to make my heart flutter, as I sharply inhaled, my desire apparent.
"Did you feel it here," she growled, "did you wonder what it was like for a woman, filled, stretched, a hard cock pressed inside her?"
Her fingers traced down the back of my legs, finding nylon, tracing the chills running through my body. I closed my eyes, the images of that night flowing through my brain, burned into me, the image of Sara, head thrown back, face in ecstasy, of her lover's cock inside her, of me, kneeling, mouth pressed to her pussy, tasting, reveling in the mess. The humiliation I'd felt coursed through me, coupled with the terror, the excitement, the longing. I pictured Sara's fingers running through my hair, as she pulled my head to her pussy, the hunger in her eyes as she felt an orgasm wash over her body, her juices and scent, her lover's juices and scent, all over my face. I pictured the joy on her face in the club, Steve bringing her to orgasm, the stark terror I felt, the danger of the public sex. The excitement was still there, in my brain, in the images, rushing through every part of my body.
A Change in Our Marriage - The Sissy Cuckold Page 16
