I realized I haven't posted the last two chapters in my Diary, so here's #20. Actually, I probably posted this back when it happened last summer, but the OCD in me wants it in order
Comments welcome!
A CUCKOLD’S DIARY #20
A DOSE OF REALITY
August 2006
Standard disclaimer: This, like all the chapters in “A Cuckold’s Diary,” is about my wife’s date with her lover. It is factual, to the best of my ability to remember details after an incredibly erotic experience. If you think will be disturbed by the thought that my wife has a lover and I drive her to her dates, please feel free not to read further.
I welcome comments and critiques, but please do not write and say you’re offended by what I wrote, since I’m telling you in advance what to expect.
Sincerely,
(Cuckold) Paul Pines
INTRODUCTION
Thanks to the Fairfield Inn’s amazingly cheap definition of a “suite,” my wife Sally’s last date with her lover, Ted, turned into a mind-blowing experience for me. And thanks to Ted’s affection for her, Sally and I discovered a new and exciting dimension to her affair.
LUNCH
On their previous date, Sally was a little uncomfortable with Ted’s “public display of affection” during lunch in a restaurant before they went to bed. Always the Good Girl, she was worried that she would run into someone she knew who would see her being felt up by another man. The fact that we were 80 miles from home, in a town where we don’t know ANYONE, didn’t matter; Good Girls don’t do things like that! So before this date she asked him to save it for the bedroom, and he agreed.
Lunch, therefore, was as casual, friendly and G-rated as it would have been with her mother. The only exceptions were that her low-cut blouse kept drawing Ted’s eyes, and halfway through lunch she leaned close and whispered in his ear that she wasn’t wearing any panties under her skirt. I didn’t actually hear her say that, I knew she wasn’t and the smile that grew on his face made it clear that he had just found out.
Near the end of the meal, Sally excused herself to go to the rest room. Sitting there with Ted, it struck me that we were NOT just friends having lunch, but that after lunch he was going to go to bed with my wife. A wave of shame and excitement crashed over me.
“I just remembered that this is not an ordinary lunch,” I said as calmly as possible. “It feels a little strange.”
“I’m sure it does,” Ted answered with a smile. “It’s not an ordinary lunch at all, is it?”
We sat there quietly, finishing our meal. The lover and the cuckold, each thinking about what would happen next. One preparing to go to bed with another man’s wife, one preparing to be left alone while his wife went to bed with another man. I wanted to crawl under the table every time he looked at me.
THE “SUITE”
Our usual hotel was full, so we had reserved a suite at the local Fairfield Inn. Arriving at the room, we saw that “suite” did not mean two rooms with a door in between, but two parts of a room: a bedroom, a waist-high partition and a sitting area. Sally looked genuinely upset at the thought that I would be in the same room, until I pointed out that the sitting room was at an angle to the bedroom, and if I sat in the corner I could barely see the foot of the bed. That comforted her enough, and as Ted approached her she pointed to the chair in the corner and said to me, “Sit.”
I sat in “my” chair as Sally took Ted’s hand and led him into the bedroom. To my surprise (and delight), she sat in the bedroom chair which was directly in my line of sight, and pulled Ted toward her. He stood in front of her and she immediately opened his pants, pushing them down to his ankles.
All I could see was Ted’s back and legs as he faced her, until her hand snaked between his legs and caressed his underwear-covered ass. As she did this, he lifted up his shirt, and it was clear that her other hand was stroking his cock through the fabric. I sat there in silence, fully dressed, afraid to make a sound; if they moved to the bed I wouldn’t see anything. My wife slipped her fingers into both sides of the waistband of his Jockeys, and pulled his underwear down to his ankles. I was transfixed: my wife was undressing him right in front of my eyes.
I stared at Ted’s naked ass, feeling it mocking me as I sat by myself in the corner of the other room. Trying to deal with the knowledge that my wife wanted him and wanted him naked, I stared until I saw his whole body shudder and heard a sound which had never made it through the closed doors of their bedroom on their previous dates. It was an intake of breath, a reverse-gasp; the sound of sexual pleasure, the sound of Ted reacting as my wife took his penis into her mouth.
Still unwilling even to pull down my pants for fear they would see me and move to the bed, I sat there rubbing my hardon through my pants while Sally gave him an amazing blow-job. Ted took off his shirt to get it out of her way, and I saw the muscles in his back, ass and legs shaking and jerking as he moaned and groaned from her attention. I could not see her at all, it was clear what she was doing. It was also clear how he felt about it.
After getting VERY close to cumming, Ted leaned over, kissed her and pulled her shirt over her head and off her. Then he helped her to her feet and they held each other close, kissing deeply. He guided my wife toward their bed, and the last thing I saw was Sally’s naked back as she turned to place something on the chair. She disappeared toward the bed again, and I was left staring at her bra which she had laid over the chair’s arm.
I stared at that bra for the next three hours. Lace straps and two empty cups. I could draw the scene again in a second, because the image burned itself in my mind: empty bra cups because Ted had my wife’s breasts now. Empty bra cups because my wife took off her underwear so he could touch her as she had touched him. Empty bra cups because my wife was naked, in bed with her lover, just out of my sight. I sat in “my” chair and stared at her bra. So close, and yet so far: I could see her abandoned underwear, but nothing more.
At the sound of the covers being pulled back on the bed, I took off my own clothes and started to jerk off. The sounds continued for a while – the ordinary noises of lovers making themselves comfortable. Muted talking – friendly, caring, loving. I couldn’t hear the words, but I knew what they were saying. More covers moving, then another intake of breath from Ted, followed by louder moans. Ted has told me many times that Sally loves going down on him, and that she has a voracious appetite for his cock. I had always believed him, but now I knew first-hand. Or is it second-hand, when you can only hear but not see?
As I adjusted myself in “my” chair, I realized that if I moved just a few inches to the left, I could see the very bottom of the bed. I’m not proud: I moved instantly. What I saw was Ted’s feet, toes pointed upward; he was lying on his back while my wife sucked his cock. Each of his groans was accompanied by movement of his feet: shaking, jerking, toes curling and stretching. I watched his excitement build, and I felt not just like a voyeur, but like a cheap voyeur, getting off on nothing but naked feet.
He said something to Sally, and turned over. Her feet appeared next to his, her toes also pointed toward the ceiling. Her legs moved apart, and his – pointing downward – stretched out between them.
Again I heard that intake of breath, but this time it came from my wife. Her feet spread wider, then disappeared from view as he opened her legs and lifted them up. (I remembered Sally telling me after every date that he loves to hold her legs up while he fucks her.) Another reverse-gasp from her, then from him. Then, thanks to the Fairfield Inn, I heard an entire concert of sex sounds: moaning and groaning, gasping and whispering, and the unmistakably nasty sound of a cock going in and out of a very, very wet pussy. For just a moment I wondered where they had gotten lubricant, but then I remembered that my wife is always soaking wet for him; they have never used lubricant of any kind, other than their own, in all their years together. Still, I had never heard his cock sliding in and out of her as if an entire tube of K-Y had been poured into her. The sloppy sounds of sex and the sight of the soles of his feet overwhelmed me; I jerked off as much as I could, trying not to cum and trying not to cry.
Sally whispers words between gasps. I can’t make them out, but I know from the tone that she is encouraging him to cum in her. Everything increases in speed and tone, and I hear their bodies slapping together as he drives into her. His groans turn to whimpers, then no sound except the slap-slap-slap of their bodies. Then he cums. I sit in “my” chair and listen as Ted cries out loudly with pleasure, again and again. I wish there was a way to describe my feelings as I listen to my wife’s lover cum in her, but there is not. Sex – even just listening to sex – is exciting. But remembering that my wife is cuckolding me, that her lover is happily reaping the benefits of my wife’s unfaithfulness, tempers the excitement with a deep, hollow, empty feeling. Then he cries out again, and the pain is hidden behind the incredible sexuality of the whole thing. I masturbate furiously, not allowing myself to cum. Cumming would make it impossible for me to cope with my emotions, and besides, right now cumming is for her lover only. As my wife is for her lover only.
(continued)
Comments welcome!
A CUCKOLD’S DIARY #20
A DOSE OF REALITY
August 2006
Standard disclaimer: This, like all the chapters in “A Cuckold’s Diary,” is about my wife’s date with her lover. It is factual, to the best of my ability to remember details after an incredibly erotic experience. If you think will be disturbed by the thought that my wife has a lover and I drive her to her dates, please feel free not to read further.
I welcome comments and critiques, but please do not write and say you’re offended by what I wrote, since I’m telling you in advance what to expect.
Sincerely,
(Cuckold) Paul Pines
INTRODUCTION
Thanks to the Fairfield Inn’s amazingly cheap definition of a “suite,” my wife Sally’s last date with her lover, Ted, turned into a mind-blowing experience for me. And thanks to Ted’s affection for her, Sally and I discovered a new and exciting dimension to her affair.
LUNCH
On their previous date, Sally was a little uncomfortable with Ted’s “public display of affection” during lunch in a restaurant before they went to bed. Always the Good Girl, she was worried that she would run into someone she knew who would see her being felt up by another man. The fact that we were 80 miles from home, in a town where we don’t know ANYONE, didn’t matter; Good Girls don’t do things like that! So before this date she asked him to save it for the bedroom, and he agreed.
Lunch, therefore, was as casual, friendly and G-rated as it would have been with her mother. The only exceptions were that her low-cut blouse kept drawing Ted’s eyes, and halfway through lunch she leaned close and whispered in his ear that she wasn’t wearing any panties under her skirt. I didn’t actually hear her say that, I knew she wasn’t and the smile that grew on his face made it clear that he had just found out.
Near the end of the meal, Sally excused herself to go to the rest room. Sitting there with Ted, it struck me that we were NOT just friends having lunch, but that after lunch he was going to go to bed with my wife. A wave of shame and excitement crashed over me.
“I just remembered that this is not an ordinary lunch,” I said as calmly as possible. “It feels a little strange.”
“I’m sure it does,” Ted answered with a smile. “It’s not an ordinary lunch at all, is it?”
We sat there quietly, finishing our meal. The lover and the cuckold, each thinking about what would happen next. One preparing to go to bed with another man’s wife, one preparing to be left alone while his wife went to bed with another man. I wanted to crawl under the table every time he looked at me.
THE “SUITE”
Our usual hotel was full, so we had reserved a suite at the local Fairfield Inn. Arriving at the room, we saw that “suite” did not mean two rooms with a door in between, but two parts of a room: a bedroom, a waist-high partition and a sitting area. Sally looked genuinely upset at the thought that I would be in the same room, until I pointed out that the sitting room was at an angle to the bedroom, and if I sat in the corner I could barely see the foot of the bed. That comforted her enough, and as Ted approached her she pointed to the chair in the corner and said to me, “Sit.”
I sat in “my” chair as Sally took Ted’s hand and led him into the bedroom. To my surprise (and delight), she sat in the bedroom chair which was directly in my line of sight, and pulled Ted toward her. He stood in front of her and she immediately opened his pants, pushing them down to his ankles.
All I could see was Ted’s back and legs as he faced her, until her hand snaked between his legs and caressed his underwear-covered ass. As she did this, he lifted up his shirt, and it was clear that her other hand was stroking his cock through the fabric. I sat there in silence, fully dressed, afraid to make a sound; if they moved to the bed I wouldn’t see anything. My wife slipped her fingers into both sides of the waistband of his Jockeys, and pulled his underwear down to his ankles. I was transfixed: my wife was undressing him right in front of my eyes.
I stared at Ted’s naked ass, feeling it mocking me as I sat by myself in the corner of the other room. Trying to deal with the knowledge that my wife wanted him and wanted him naked, I stared until I saw his whole body shudder and heard a sound which had never made it through the closed doors of their bedroom on their previous dates. It was an intake of breath, a reverse-gasp; the sound of sexual pleasure, the sound of Ted reacting as my wife took his penis into her mouth.
Still unwilling even to pull down my pants for fear they would see me and move to the bed, I sat there rubbing my hardon through my pants while Sally gave him an amazing blow-job. Ted took off his shirt to get it out of her way, and I saw the muscles in his back, ass and legs shaking and jerking as he moaned and groaned from her attention. I could not see her at all, it was clear what she was doing. It was also clear how he felt about it.
After getting VERY close to cumming, Ted leaned over, kissed her and pulled her shirt over her head and off her. Then he helped her to her feet and they held each other close, kissing deeply. He guided my wife toward their bed, and the last thing I saw was Sally’s naked back as she turned to place something on the chair. She disappeared toward the bed again, and I was left staring at her bra which she had laid over the chair’s arm.
I stared at that bra for the next three hours. Lace straps and two empty cups. I could draw the scene again in a second, because the image burned itself in my mind: empty bra cups because Ted had my wife’s breasts now. Empty bra cups because my wife took off her underwear so he could touch her as she had touched him. Empty bra cups because my wife was naked, in bed with her lover, just out of my sight. I sat in “my” chair and stared at her bra. So close, and yet so far: I could see her abandoned underwear, but nothing more.
At the sound of the covers being pulled back on the bed, I took off my own clothes and started to jerk off. The sounds continued for a while – the ordinary noises of lovers making themselves comfortable. Muted talking – friendly, caring, loving. I couldn’t hear the words, but I knew what they were saying. More covers moving, then another intake of breath from Ted, followed by louder moans. Ted has told me many times that Sally loves going down on him, and that she has a voracious appetite for his cock. I had always believed him, but now I knew first-hand. Or is it second-hand, when you can only hear but not see?
As I adjusted myself in “my” chair, I realized that if I moved just a few inches to the left, I could see the very bottom of the bed. I’m not proud: I moved instantly. What I saw was Ted’s feet, toes pointed upward; he was lying on his back while my wife sucked his cock. Each of his groans was accompanied by movement of his feet: shaking, jerking, toes curling and stretching. I watched his excitement build, and I felt not just like a voyeur, but like a cheap voyeur, getting off on nothing but naked feet.
He said something to Sally, and turned over. Her feet appeared next to his, her toes also pointed toward the ceiling. Her legs moved apart, and his – pointing downward – stretched out between them.
Again I heard that intake of breath, but this time it came from my wife. Her feet spread wider, then disappeared from view as he opened her legs and lifted them up. (I remembered Sally telling me after every date that he loves to hold her legs up while he fucks her.) Another reverse-gasp from her, then from him. Then, thanks to the Fairfield Inn, I heard an entire concert of sex sounds: moaning and groaning, gasping and whispering, and the unmistakably nasty sound of a cock going in and out of a very, very wet pussy. For just a moment I wondered where they had gotten lubricant, but then I remembered that my wife is always soaking wet for him; they have never used lubricant of any kind, other than their own, in all their years together. Still, I had never heard his cock sliding in and out of her as if an entire tube of K-Y had been poured into her. The sloppy sounds of sex and the sight of the soles of his feet overwhelmed me; I jerked off as much as I could, trying not to cum and trying not to cry.
Sally whispers words between gasps. I can’t make them out, but I know from the tone that she is encouraging him to cum in her. Everything increases in speed and tone, and I hear their bodies slapping together as he drives into her. His groans turn to whimpers, then no sound except the slap-slap-slap of their bodies. Then he cums. I sit in “my” chair and listen as Ted cries out loudly with pleasure, again and again. I wish there was a way to describe my feelings as I listen to my wife’s lover cum in her, but there is not. Sex – even just listening to sex – is exciting. But remembering that my wife is cuckolding me, that her lover is happily reaping the benefits of my wife’s unfaithfulness, tempers the excitement with a deep, hollow, empty feeling. Then he cries out again, and the pain is hidden behind the incredible sexuality of the whole thing. I masturbate furiously, not allowing myself to cum. Cumming would make it impossible for me to cope with my emotions, and besides, right now cumming is for her lover only. As my wife is for her lover only.
(continued)