New Adventures In Cuckoldry: Part One
An electric evening in Wadestown
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The hills around Wellington are home to some upmarket suburbs, and Wadestown is one of them. Nestled just above the city, it boasts winding, quiet streets. There are some grand houses hidden well back from the road, behind well manicured gardens and down secluded, private driveways.
The mood is old-money suburban, the height of proprietary. But facades can be deceptive. Wadestown, like many leafy suburbs throughout New Zealand, hides many dark and erotic secrets.
I’d met this couple the week before.
They were a well-off, attractive pair in their early fifties. Articulate. Travelled. They were comfortable in their own skin and presented an image of long-married maturity Predictable and conventional to the outside world, I was about to find out what few people would never know - just how unpredictable and unconventional some Wadestown residents were behind their grand front doors.
A week later, I knocked at a grand front door. I drew in a nervous breath and admired the garden, dappled in the fading evening light. It was large, even by this suburbs standards. Layers of soft, green trees, down a gentle curving drive, it was a sanctuary from the city. It looked like the type of garden you’d pay someone else to keep up.
The door opened.
Dressed in a plunging long, black evening dress that showed off her ample breasts, Sandra beamed. Clutching a near empty champagne glass in her hand, she kissed me and welcomed me in.
“Steven will be joining us - when I tell him he can”, she said. She was playful and in character.
I grinned and nodded. They had described their fantasy to me, in quite some detail, a week earlier and in a series of txts. They knew what they wanted, and I was happy to help them fulfil their wishes. I liked these two. They were smart, had great stories and they were meticulous planners. I was being careful to play my part, too, hopefully just as they wanted.
“I’d like a Scotch”, I said on cue. “Certainly”, she replied. “Steven! Get this man a drink”.
A few seconds later, Steven emerged from a cellar with a bottle in his hand. He was stark naked. He told me this was the best one he had, a Bowmore, and he poured me a glass. Tasted mighty fine to me. “Thanks Steven” I said.
“Don’t talk to him”, Sandra interjected.
“Oh, sorry, Sandra!”
That was part of the deal. I was not to to talk to Steven, only Sandra could talk to Steven There’s always a fine line in cuckoldry. You must treat both partners with utmost respect, however the fantasy can sometimes involve domination role playing. I’m polite by default, so I’d need to fight my instincts.
Looking at him, I saw Steven was already starting to get somewhat erect, probably at the thought of what was about to happen. I’m sure it wasn’t at the sight of me drinking his best Scotch, although you never can be certain.
“Bring your drink”. Sandra motioned me to follow her upstairs. It was a large, grand house. All polished wood, even more polished furniture, deep carpet and everything you’d expect where a - evidently successful - accountant and his wife would live.
I admired her fine bottom, her hips swaying as she climbed the stairs. She really was in fantastic shape. Tall. Curvy. Steve was indeed a lucky man to be married to her, even if tonight his role in events might suggest otherwise.
But it was, after all, his idea.
We went into the bedroom and Sandra threw her arms around me. We swayed in a dance as Steven watched on. We kissed. We’d kissed and fondled a little in the car, last week, but that was just a taste. This was the real deal.
I reached around and unzipped her dress as I kissed her longingly on the neck. I wanted her. She breathed deeply. Hummed. I slid her out of her dress and it fell to the floor. I ran my fingers across her nipples. I slid my hands back up her thighs and toyed with her pearl white silk panties. She giggled as she unbuttoned by shirt and slid my pants off. Steven was not the only one getting hard.
We eagerly stripped each other naked, jumped into the shower for even more kissing and bonding, then dived into bed. I couldn’t wait to devour her. She was beautiful. Big full, rounded breasts and pale skin against crisp white cotton sheets. Classical. Freckled cheeks.
I grabbed her hands by her wrists and pinned her. I kissed her deeply, my own erection now throbbing in anticipation. “Wait”, she interjected. “Steven, put my panties on. And get out. And...do not...touch yourself”. She stabbed out the words “do not” for added emphasis.
Steven did as he was told. When Sandra says something, he’d do it.
If I were him, I would, too.
Steven was fully erect, but he just managed to fit into her panties. Well, close enough. “Thankyou”, he said, and left the room, closing the door dutifully behind him.
“He gets to listen”, she offered. “Now, you - you fuck me hard!”.
Truth be told, I didn’t really need instructing.
I licked her epic body and thrust my tongue between her legs. She purred. Her wetness was incredible. I drove my tongue around and around, pleasuring her with my mouth and fingers. She came quickly and squirted hard. “Fuck me! Fuck my pussy” she demanded in a loud voice, for Steven’s benefit as much as mine.
I was so turned on. God knows what state Steven was in, hearing all what was happening but blind to it all.
I slammed my throbbing cock into between her legs. Jesus, I almost came there and then. I wanted her so much. “Yes, yes” she panted as I built up a rhythm, pounding her. Sucking on her gorgeous, erect nipples. I wanted all of her, and said so, with as many filthy phrases as I could dream up. She was thrilled at dirty talk, offering plenty of her own.
Something was released in her. Gone was the sensible wife, the proud Mum of two university students, the person who did the washing up, the dutiful member of the local committees. The dark goddess was rising.
We fucked all over the bed. Like animals. Up against the wall. Back on the bed, she rode me. With abandon. She fingered her dripping pussy and came again and again. On fire. Electric. We made a lot of noise.
Behind that closed bedroom door, Steven would hear all.
I twisted her off me and she assumed a position on all fours. “I’m going to fuck your ass” I panted. Loudly as I could, obviously. “Take my ass. Do it!” she demanded. I oiled up and thrust between those gorgeous cheeks. Fuck, it was tight. She seldom let Steven do this, apparently.
I had my hands on her hips. Our rhythms were matched. I thrusted inside her, ever deeper. Shouts. Moans. Screams. Fuck, I couldn’t take this any longer. I wanted to come all over her glorious, glistening bottom. “I’m…..going to cum, baby”, I pleaded.
“Wait! Steven, get in here”
I kept thrusting.
“Panties!” she demanded.
Steven tore off her panties that he’d been wearing, his face flushed and his erection undaunted.
She handed them back to me. “Cum! Cum on my panties!”
I gave a few final thrusts, doing everything I could to to hold back. My chest was bursting. I quickly pulled out my engorged cock. I erupted into her panties. My breath expelled. Jesus H Christ. Her pearl white silk panties were soaked.
Spent, I collapsed in a sweaty heap. She giggled and pulled me in close. Her embrace felt so warm.
She turned to Steven. “Put these on and go get my man here something to eat. Oh, grapes, too! You’ll need to go out to get some, we don’t have any”.
He put on those soaking panties. I was stunned. They hadn’t mentioned this bit. He got dressed and left, and minutes later I heard the car drive out of the driveway.
“That was quite something”, I said. “He loves it”, she responded. “So do I”, she added. I kissed her.
He eventually returned and she fed me the grapes, while he watched on, like some cheesy flashback to a Roman orgy. I fucked her again, this time with Steven watching and, after the final round, our fantasy night drew to a close. I wished them both goodnight.
As I closed the door behind me and stepped out in the summer night, I looked back up up at the now dark house. The bedroom light was off. I hoped it was all they wanted. I hope they both got everything they needed out of it. I certainly did. I stepped back into reality. Back into sensible suburbia, with it’s manicured gardens and secluded, private driveways.
A few days later I got separate txts from each of them. Apparently, their sex life had improved greatly. Steven had been getting off. A lot. Sandra said she felt new again. Oh, and by the way, they’d cooked up a second, more epic plan. Could I meet them for dinner next week?
Of course, but I’ll leave that story for next time.
*Names, occupation and location changed to preserve privacy.