CUCKOLD: My wife brings home a stranger after work

CUCKOLD: My wife brings home a stranger after work, My wife brought him home after work one night.

She was a little drunk, otherwise I like to think she might not have had the guts. But, slightly tipsy, she’s always a horny flirt. Usually I get to benefit from that, but it appeared someone else would be lucky tonight.

He was young, early 20’s if that, muscular and happy to show it off in a wife-beater t-shirt. Stubble covered his jaw and I wondered briefly if he was capable of growing more. He had the good grace to appear uncomfortable after realizing her husband was home. I smiled as graciously as I could, took Lynn by the elbow and pulled her into the other room.


“Who’s this? I asked.

“My present,” she said.

“Present for what?”

“For me. For you.”

“How’s this a present for me?”

“‘Cause” She touched my crotch. “You know you want to watch.”

If instantaneous erection is possible, I had achieved it, as her fingers caressed my cock through my shorts.

“You’re serious?”

“Painfully.” She took my hand and moved it to her own crotch. Lynn’s not one to go commando, but a lift of her skirt revealed nothing underneath but soft hair and engorged pussy lips already slick with wetness.

For a moment I felt blinded by incoherent jealousy, and only just managed to whisper, “You fucked him?”

“Not yet.” She squeezed my cock, a little bit too hard. At the same time a pleading look crossed her face. “But soon?”

That she phrased it as a question, a request, made me feel guilty. That she wanted this so bad, that she’d thought about it, planned it, took the action toward it, made me want to see her get what she desired. I pulled her face to mine, wetly kissed her lips, tasting the alcohol on her tongue as it ran circles around my own, and then let her go. I gave her a brief nod, and her smile lit up the room. She kissed me again and pushed me toward the living room. “Go take a seat.”

I did, on the edge of my recliner, as if the most exciting thing was going to happen in front of me that I’d ever seen.

I was right.

I heard Lynn talking to the guy in the other room, rushed whispers. He probably balked at her suggestion, but then there was silence. My head filled with the image of her drawing his fingers to her swollen labia. I smelled my own fingers, so recently there, and knew it would be all the coaxing he needed.

Right again. She entered the room holding his hand, pulling him behind her like a lost little boy. She smiled at me, the actress on the stage. She shoved the coffee table aside and stood with him between the table and the couch. She moved the hand she held to her waist, and with her other hand caressed his stubbly cheek. He bet down to her—he was easily a foot and a half taller—and they kissed. It started soft, with lips caressing like butterflies, but when his hand moved to her ass, her mouth opened and tongues started flicking at each other. This was all about passion.

Along the length of his left pant leg, his tumescence grew. It didn’t take Lynn long to find it. Her hands were moving over every inch of his body, their lips never leaving each other. She lightly ran her palm along his dick. I heard her moan against his mouth.

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I sat back. This was really happening.

The guy’s hands were now under her skirt, rubbing her ass cheeks, pulling them apart and smooshing them together rhythmically. Lynn lifted his shirt and he paused rubbing long enough to get it off. She went directly for his nipples, biting them like she does mine. At the same time, she reached under her blouse and unclasped her bra, freeing breasts as perfect as a 19-year-old’s.

Things were moving fast now. Lynn unsnapped and unzipped his jeans and had his pants down around his thighs. His cock was pushing against dark boxer shorts. When she finally had the shorts down as well, I saw it was long, though not as thick as I’d expected. Still, thick enough to do the job, and growing with ever beat of his heart, especially as Lynn reached out almost daintily. When she gripped it, close to the base of the shaft, she held it hard, like it was slippery and might slide away at any moment.

“Jesus Christ,” the guy said, his head lolling back for a second.

I had my own hand down my pants now, my cock gripped almost as tight.

She went down on her knees in front of him, worshipfully, the little eye of his dick at the same level as her own twinkling eyes. She pulled it down just a bit. Mouth level. Her lips hung open like a hungry dog. I thought maybe she’d salivate.

Take it, I thought. I stroked my dick.

He didn’t take him in her mouth all at once, but instead stuck out her tongue tentatively, running it along the mushroom head, the tip across the slitted hole. He shuddered. Lynn moved her hand up and down the shaft once; he shuddered harder.

I glanced through the legs of the coffee table and saw Lynn’s other hand under her skirt.

She inhaled like she was going underwater for an extended period of time, and then his cock was in her mouth, sliding along her lips, her booze soaked tongue guiding it to the back of her throat. She took him in until her lips met her own fingers, still coiled on the base like a spring.

“Sweet Jesus,” the guy said, and his hands, both discretely at his sides to this point, wrapped around the back of her head, fingers in her hair. I thought she might protest, but she let him control the blow job. He pulled her head back and forth, back and forth, and after he did that a few times (her massaging his tightened ball sack), he stopped and moved his hips, stroking his cock in and out of her moist mouth. Never one for an overly sloppy blow job, Lynn grabbed any extra moisture that might dare drip and massaged it into the base of his member and on his balls.

I’d undone my pants and held my dick out for all to see. I felt like I might explode. I knew if I did, if I lost my desire after a huge orgasm, I might find myself emotionally spent and would kick the kid out before anything more could happen. I didn’t want that. Still, it took all the will-power I could summon to let go of my own penis and put my hand on the arm of my chair.

Lynn had, through all of this, managed to unbutton her blouse. It now hung off her shoulders, her tits still inside the lacy, cream-colored bra unclasped at the back. She stood, letting the guy’s cock-head pop out of her mouth with an audible plop—but she kept at one hand on it, stroking. Always stroking.

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She licked his nipple again, he kissed her with a wide open mouth, and ran his fingers over her shoulders, pushing her bras straps down into the sleeves. For the first time, she took her hands off his dick—he winced with displeasure at the sudden loss—and with a fluid motion that seemed well practiced, Lynn unzipped the side of her skirt and pushed down all the clothes—blouse, bra, skirt—along her legs until they rested in a circular pile around her feet.

The guy had to bend over almost in half due to his height, but he couldn’t circumvent his desire to suckle at her tits. His tongue—which I noted was extremely long, like, Gene fucking Simmons long—ran from nipple to nipple, back and forth, as if it couldn’t decide which was better. Lynn had never been one for much nipple play, her’s weren’t very sensitive. Instead she spread her legs—in fact, she lifted one leg in the air, putting a foot up on the coffee table. It gave me a perfect view of her ass and pussy.

Still, the guy didn’t seem to get it, so entranced was he by her chest. I knew how he felt, I’d been there many a time.

Lynn wanted more, and she wasn’t going to wait. She grabbed his hand, which rested on her hip. In fact, she grabbed it by two fingers, the index and middle. She brought them to her crotch.

He quickly got the point.

“Yes, put them in, finger me,” she said, holding his head, pushing his mouth against her nipple like it suddenly felt fantastic. I think sometimes there’s a direct nerve connection between her pussy and nipples. This did nothing to dissuade me.

He inserted first one finger, then another, to the first knuckle. Lynn’s back arched. I saw a drop of her own wetness travel down the inside of her thigh and realized I was again stroking myself. I didn’t even know I’d moved my hand.

“More,” she ordered.

To the second knuckle then. She gasped. He stopped sucking her tits and stood so he could get more leverage, and looked her in the face. She opened her eyes momentarily and smiled.

“More,” she cooed.

He obliged, and roughly. Both fingers slammed into her, buried deep as he could get them. He didn’t just let them stay still. He started to finger bang her like a piston in a hemi engine. His other hand was in her hair again, like when she’d gone down on him, but this time, he pulled her head back. He put his wide open mouth on her exposed throat, sucking on her like a sexual vampire while his other hand continued to dart in and out. She was so wet down there that each insertion made wet noises, like kids jumping in puddles.

And again she said, “More.”

He couldn’t go deeper, so he went wider, adding his ring finger to the mix. She held tight to the guy’s torso as his three fingers, curled together tight, slammed in and out of her. I had little doubt his thumb was playing against her clit at the same time, but I couldn’t see that from behind her.

I wanted to walk over and put my pinky…or maybe something else… into her puckered ass hole. But I stayed where I was, afraid that any movement might break the spell.

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“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted and somehow the guy increased the speed of his hand. By now his was close to hers, his tongue moving along her lips as she repeated, “Yes,” again and again, in rhythm with his movements.

Then she shook like she was coming apart. The scream of pleasure that came with the orgasm followed a moment later, like the thunderous noise following the white light of the atomic bomb. It was muffled, however, when the guy covered her mouth with his own. Still, he continued to pump into her, holding her head back, while she creamed on his hand.

When her body stopped convulsing, his movement slowed, and they both instinctively new it was time to change position, to move to the next stage. Unsure of where Lynn wanted him, he almost stood back, maybe afraid he’d be dismissed now that she was satiated before he got a chance to get off himself.

I knew she was not yet satisfied. One climax was never enough for Lynn.

She brought him close, kissed him quick, then she looked over at me. She gave me a Cheshire cat grin. She was getting everything she wanted and more.

“Sit,” she ordered, and the guy sat on the couch, his ass low so his cock pointed in the air like a silo. Lynn liked that, and ran a fingernail along the underside. His cock jumped as if electrified. No doubt the nails were a bit sharp, it might even have hurt. But now that Lynn was on a roll, pain and pleasure might mix. The demure wife was gone, replaced by a woman in need of a relentless fucking.

She bent at the waist, no doubt with me in mind, providing a perfect view between her legs of her mouth gobbling down his schlong. Her pussy lips were angry and red from the fingering she’d just received—it made them look oh-so-kissable. Her forbidden asshole also looked worth tonguing…

I felt myself ready to blow. Instead of taking my hand away, this time, I just grabbed my own dick and squeezed, like I shoving toothpaste back in the tube.

Our sex life is 99% in the bedroom, so having her take this kid in the living room was exciting enough. What she did next was right out of the porn star handbook. She climbed on the couch, planting her feet on either side of him, and squatted with her pussy right at his mouth. He didn’t need any direction. His tongue started probing ever inch between her legs. She moaned, grinding into his face, holding the back of the couch for leverage. His long tongue spent a lot of time at her little button, but then wound past it and between her labia, wetting them with saliva while at the same time lapping up her girl cum. Finally, the tip of it inched inside her.

“Yes, stick it in.” She arched, leaning back in space, giving him a better angle for penetration. The look on her face was one of concentration… concentrating on feeling every inch of his tongue inside.

They stayed like that for a while. There didn’t appear to be much movement, except his one hand lazily stroked his dick, keeping it hard and at the ready. The other hand gripped her right ass cheek, holding her up like a hand-shaped stool. His tongue must have been doing wonders in there, as she let out occasional whimpers.

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