Bored with their safe, predictable lives, Nick and Nicole
embark on a relationship with Collin, a wealthy, gorgeous executive. Collin and Nicole are perfect together. An overwhelming lust and passion soon defines
them. Nick finds himself accepting the role of Cuckold Husband, and he becomes
addicted to watching the sexy couple. When Collin and Nicole decide to spend
time alone, Nick struggles to deal with being excluded from their relationship.
As Collin assumes a dominant role, he starts making demands.
First among them, is to remove her wedding rings. Nick objects, leaving Nicole
in the middle, and the explosive argument that follows could endanger their
My body sank onto the bed, as my mind tried to make sense of everything. I’d gone from sitting alone in the hotel lobby, tortured by my
imagination, to listening to Collin calmly dissect the entire cuckold/hotwife
relationship dynamic. Now I found myself alone again, dismissed by the horny
couple, and once again being water-boarded by my vivid imagination.
To say we’d covered some serious ground tonight would a
severe understatement, and I struggled to bring it all into focus. I could
almost hear my heart beating, and adrenaline still coursed through my system.
My hand absently wiped the sweat from my brow. A logical person by nature, I tried to collect my thoughts.
I failed miserably.
A confused, conflicted, and excited cuckold husband, it
summarized my situation perfectly.
So much to this lifestyle appealed to me, so much that I enjoyed, but I still struggled with the loss of control. That was the problem.
I’d lost the ability to control the outcome, and truthfully, I didn’t have much
influence either. I’d even lost control over my own lust. I felt perpetually
excited around them, and that, most of all, worried me.
I didn’t want to admit to Collin and Nicole that I loved
watching them. I sure as hell didn’t want to admit that I found masturbating to visions and memories of them together more satisfying than having sex with
Nicole myself. The consequences of those admissions were incomprehensible. As I
mentioned before, I’m an analytical person, process oriented and all that
stuff, and as I lay on the bed sifting through my emotions, I realized my biggest emotion wasn’t lust or excitement.
It was fear.
Fear for my marriage.
Fear for my masculinity.
Fear of an unknown future.
I was afraid of the truths I’d have to face if we continued
down this path. Without a doubt, my biggest fear was that Nicole would remain
in our marriage, but view me as less of a man, less of a husband. I was afraid
my wife would stop loving me, stop seeing me as her husband and the father of her children. The possibility her eyes reflecting disdain rather than love
terrified me. I couldn’t live with that outcome, even if she could, and I knew
it would end our marriage. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually
it would wither away until it collapsed under the weight of Collin, his money
and movie star looks, and his unbelievable war-cock.
Exhaustion hit me, and I gave up trying to win this
particular battle. Tomorrow. I return to the battlefield tomorrow. My hands
mopped my sweaty face again, and I dragged myself back to a standing position.
A few deep breaths, and then I started for the restroom. Nicole met me at the door, and my jaw dropped open. Conscious, rational thought evaporated in an
instant, as I stared at the most beautiful woman on the planet. Wearing a white
baby-doll nightie, with matching panties, and clear plastic, stripper,
fuck-me-pumps, she qualified as a national treasure. She put her hand on my
chest, and slow-walked into the room, pushing me back as she walked. A playful
smile tugged at her mouth. She loved my reaction. The baby-doll was completely
sheer and swayed nicely as she swayed forward. Her panties were little more
than a small triangle of material, and thin strings that disappeared around her hips.
A satisfied and naughty expression passed over her face. She reveled in the effect she had on me, hell, the effect she had on all men. The back of my legs hit the bed, and with no idea what to do next I simply waited.
Our eyes held each other. Love and affection reflected back at me in her
beautiful brown eyes. Well, there may have been a little lust, but I sensed
that wasn’t for me, so I held onto the emotions I knew would last. Finally, she hugged me close for a long moment, and then kissed me. A nice kiss, but also
quick, with no promise behind it. I didn’t care. I loved the feel of her body
against mine, her breasts were nice and full, and I could feel her nipples,
hard against my chest.
“Nick, do you want me to stay with you tonight? I will, if that’s what you want.”
I took a deep breath and held it. I wanted to hold her, kiss
her, and fall asleep with her in my arms. I also considered throwing her on the
bed and having my way with her. She’d let me, I knew she would, and I could
reclaim her as mine. Maybe I’d even insist this relationship stop, and we’d
resume our normal suburban marriage.
Normal. Safe. Boring.
A black and white future, and after experiencing the vivid
colors of a cuckold relationship, I couldn’t accept that future. I’d take the emotional highs and lows, and the constant vacillating between fear and lust,
over a safe, boring future.
I believed Nicole when she said she would stay with me; however,
I knew she really wanted to spend the night with her boyfriend. She’d stay with
me because she felt obligated, not because she really wanted to be with me, and that felt wrong on multiple levels. I realized I couldn’t ask her to stay, I couldn’t deny her the pleasure she got from her new relationship. I signed up for this “boyfriend” situation and understood the risks. I might have underestimated
the effect it would have on me, but that wasn’t Nicole’s issue to deal with, it was mine. We’d only been in this relationship for a short time, but I knew what
I wanted, what I needed.
I made my choice.