Chapter XXIV

A Total Cuckold

Erin panted; her nasal grunts filled the room as I watched my naked wife on the television. The video wobbled, the sights of the two men savouring the cunt of my beautiful Erin.

She stroked my cock as we watched. Her hands flitted over my tenting lacy panties as the memories of the previous week flooded back. The recollections were powerful, the sex was intense.

Two hours of solid fucking from the four friends. I videoed Erin and Yvonne at the young student’s “going away” party. It was salacious at the start, and turned into an orgy before the final guest had arrived.

I had forgotten how sexy she looked when she got screwed and the Scottish missy was taken by most of the visiting men that night. She came repeatedly; her body covered by a slight sheen as five demanding women were outnumbered by around twenty-five demanding men.

Of course, as a cuckolded husband, I had my own duties: glasses to be refreshed, nibbles to be served, cocks to fluff and cunts to lick.

And be the camera operator; we took it in turns. Three hours of salacious footage shot by myself, Bryn and another cuckold, was turned into a present for our departing friend; she had found a place in rented accommodation with two of her regular co-stars and was planning to increase her webcam output. It was easier, more enjoyable and more convenient work than other student jobs.

Which led us to the film première: Leicester Square Odeon it was not, but Bryn’s lounge held a dozen adults and the ladies had dressed up glamorously for the event. Long, flowing ballgowns and the invited men had suits and clever attire.

Except the cuckolds — Bryn and I — we were in our panties and nothing else. We watched our ladies smooch with the stars of the video, and fawn over their razor sharp suits and impressive attire. They responded to the elegant women, and we watched as hands wandered.

There was some fucking; orgasms on the screen were replicated by orgasms in the lounge. And Bryn and I just did as we were told, watching the sluttish debauchery around us.

We fluffed a little but as the film drew towards it’s final conclusions, they teased us. Erin’s finger dancing lightly over my crotch. She enjoyed that I squirmed, and loved to emphasise my lack of size by using a solitary finger to stroke me.

She did it so often when we were with other men: subtle things. I might get placed in chastity or left in pink panties. She might use hands on her lover’s cock but one finger on mine. Or she’d fuck me with her strap-on after I begged for it.

And if her lovers wanted to screw me with their cocks then they could; my holes were at all times open for her and her bullish partners. In front of them, and during the sex I was grossly inferior to her in every way. A submissive, a slave and a pathetic husband who failed to satisfy his wife properly.

She brought me to the brink of my orgasm, edging and teasing me as the rampant orgy on screen drew to a close. Her fingers swirled against my cock, still encased in lace, and her lips touched mine briefly.

I was there. I was at my orgasm. My point of no return. And then she stopped, tipping my cock into ejaculation but denying me my orgasmic release.

One of her specialities: a ruined orgasm.

I felt spent but not sated. Frustrated and horny. It was a nasty torment and my wife giggled malevolently as white globules of my cum pooled on the lacy knickers.

“Naughty little boy! You’ve ruined your little panties.”

It was evil. And I wasn’t allowed to clean myself up. The visitors sniggered as they saw the pathetic state of a grown man wearing female underwear soaked in cum, and it wasn’t until I arrived at our house I was permitted to wash myself.

But I slept cuddled up to my wife as we drifted off to sleep. Content and happy; it had been a good night.

The weekend after the film première was my youngest’s birthday and our neighbours erected their giant marquee in their grounds for twenty four excited children to be treated to a variety of children’s entertainers.

Uncle Bryn and Auntie Christina had never been so famous; it was good to see our friends have a good relationship with our children and my wife and I chatted to the other mums and dads as two dozen kids became hyperactive on sweets, cakes and excitement.

We looked the respectable couple, and we acted like we were too. Nobody knew anything else.

We reached the six-month anniversary of our cuckolding the weekend afterwards and Christina suggested we visit a sex club in an adjacent town, ten miles away.

It was a little closer to where I grew up, but it was one of the few swingers’ venues where the participants and the management were tolerant of kink and male bisexuality. We’d heard some nightmare stories from Bryn and Christina from other venues, and they only played at a select number of clubs that they knew to be safe.

Heaven ‘n’ Hell was one such establishment, nestled in South Cheshire countryside outside Stoke, the clever building was once a hotel and now worked as both a swingers’ lounge, a sinful massage spa, a photographic studio and a dungeon for hire.

My wife had chosen our outfits; I had a clever black shirt and non-descript dark black clever jeans. I would have blended in with any weekend party, casual enough to be relaxed, clever enough to be admitted anywhere. It was a safe outfit.

Erin’s choice of clothing was anything but safe; her red dress came a few inches below her waist, tapered at the front and back and held up with two thin straps over her shoulders. And it was see-through: a scarlet sheer outfit that flaunted her bosom and revealed the tiniest thong that left nothing to the imagination.

My wife was covered with a coat for the journey, and Christina’s outfit wasn’t any less revealing, as her dress was four sizes too small and ended an inch below her belly button.

“What’s the point getting dressed anyway when I’ll be getting it off the moment I get in? I’m going to get fucked so much tonight. You’ll fluff for me, won’t you?” Erin squeezed my cheek with a giggle, enjoying belittling me.

I cannot say I was nervous; I’d been to sex clubs before when in London, but it was the first time with Erin. I was glad that I had to pay attention to the motorway in the drizzling rain. It meant I didn’t have to think about the swingers’ club and could tune out of the lustful banter in the car without appearing rude.

Erin produced a copy of a utility bill to sign us up as members, and Christina produced her membership card. Bryn paid for the entrance, although I offered to pay our distribute. The generous cuckold dismissed my offer with a wave of the hand. “You can give me a blowjob later,” he teased.

“Was going to do that anyway!”

The welcoming hall was full of risqué outfits as women openly flaunted their desirable charms and men tried to interest the sexy swingers. I returned from the cloakroom to see a dozen pairs of eyes follow our wives into the room.

There was no need to mentally undress them; they were already advertising their infectious charms to everyone. Erin’s nipples protruded through the soft, flimsy material as their carnal gazes enjoyed the salacious exhibition of sexuality.

Erin ran her tongue over her lip, and winked at me. She took her drink from Bryn. Her smile was controlled, the tension unbearable as I waited for someone to move towards her. A short pause before she elegantly supped from the glass, rolling her eyes around the room before moving gracefully away from my fellow cuckold.

Erin was in control. Every inch of my wife oozed bravura authority. I had never witnessed my partner discover another lover, and while I had been with them when she played with other men, the thrill of the chase was unfolding before my very eyes.

A man put his hand on the buttocks of my wife and squeezed it through the fabric. She turned to face him, invading his personal space as he took liberties with hers. Her fingers swept up his shirt, undoing the buttons as they flirted.

My wife coquettishly teased and prepositioned him, as I leant against the wall, watching discreetly from afar. Never taking my attention away from the leering gentleman, touching my wife through her delicate material.

Other women walked past me: some naked, some under-dressed and a few with fetish gear. All of them sexy, winking or smiling at me as they glided into my eyeline and then out through a door behind me. All of them wondering for a split second what I was upto.

But I would be with no woman tonight: I would fluff and I would play with men no doubt. I may get to eat some cunt or some female ass, pushing my face into damp crotches to excite powerful women but my cock wouldn’t touch a cunt. That I knew, because my wife had told me.

I was there to chaperone, to assist, to fluff and to be humiliated. I wasn’t present to have my cock stimulated or to orgasm. No-one wanted to see my cum, Erin reminded me. Nobody wanted to have me fuck them; I was there for Erin’s sadistic enjoyment only.

The way of a cuckold.

I watched my wife being edged through a door; Christina and Bryn had already departed the foyer and I stepped into the dark corridor and followed them to a giant playroom. The music, a slow humming beat, was quieter in the mattress-lined room and was just audible over the unmistakeable cries of sexual ecstasy.

The half-light illuminated two dozen shapes of excited people frantically slamming bodies into each other; the squeals and cries, the squelches and thrusts of women getting well fucked by horny men. It filled my cock with blood as I saw the lips of my wife press against those of the her new-found stranger.

Hands wandered; frantically clawing at his clothes as their mouths remained locked together. I watched, staring at the two in union along with a handful of other swingers. Each one ogling the sinful displays from the exhibitionists.

My wife was one of a dozen women at numerous stages of sex; some were giving head, some were receiving it, some had one partner fucking them and others had two. And some were passionately tearing off clothes, willing to have their cunts filled by a hard cock belonging to a person I’m not even sure they knew the name of.

Erin’s curves were admired; her ass grabbed by the aroused gentleman as he kneaded my wife’s bum through her sheer outfit. He pressed her downwards and she smiled, kneeling on the floor to take his cock in her mouth.

I felt a pang of regret; it was my job to fluff and yet she didn’t need me. He grunted as she fellated him, bringing long licks onto his cock and swirling her mouth over the head of his prick. His eyes filled with pleasure; a deep relief that I rarely experienced from my wife.

Giving blowjobs was submissive and Erin didn’t do that with me. She was a dominant and I was a sub, but she gleefully sank to her knees to prostrate herself before the cock of this stranger.

And she enjoyed it. I could see by the frantic motions of her head, bobbing on the cock, she was enjoying being taken by this man. He held the back of her head, thrusting into her mouth as she brought him edging towards the pleasure he sought.

But she wanted more; she wriggled her head free of his cock and leant back, landing on the mattress and beckoning the man onto her.

A club-branded condom rolled down his cock and slipped between her legs with effortless ease, filling her hole with his fat prick and drawing sighs and groans of pleasure from them both.

Long, hard thrusts pounded my wife’s cunt as I watched helpless and horny. Watching the delicate frame of my lover bouncing as he rammed his cock into her and feeling the urge to slide my hand into my trousers.

It was a delicate torture; an intimate experience that was as bittersweet. My hormones were in overdrive; my cock strained my lacy panties as I couldn’t take my eyes away from my wife, squealing and crying as he rhythmically impaled my Erin onto his meat.

It was over in a few minutes; he held my wife’s ankles above his shoulder and her slippery cunt forced a climax into his condom. I stood motionless as they disengaged and they kissed, before her flirting began again.

Three men enjoyed her; I fluffed one of them, sucking his bare cock as she stood over me. My cock strained my feminine underwear, desperate for some attention as my clothing, bar my humiliating knickers, were discarded.

Some men laughed; a few women did too. My wife smiled at every dry opinion I got and barb I received. It wasn’t nasty, but it did make my cheeks burn.

As the cock slid past my lips, my cock rose, pressed against the delicate lace that Erin loved seeing me wear. I felt submissive; humiliated by the woman I love and fellating the man she wanted to fuck. My lust soared, my hormones radiated.

And then they fucked; I was licking my wife to orgasm as his condom-covered cock penetrated her. His spear parted her lips effortlessly, slamming his balls against my face as his prick took pleasure from my beautiful wife.

She came; her cunt quivering as he fucked her and my tongue danced over her clit. She squealed into the room, crying as his rhythmic motions continued to pound her cunt.

We were the centre of attention; the orgasming woman, the naked adonis fucking the gorgeous woman and the pathetic cuckold dressed in panties. We were a talking point in the centre of the room as scores of swingers watched the exhibitionists fuck.

And they continued to fuck. He had stamina, my wife had orgasms. Continually squealing and climaxing as his cock smashed into her cunt and his balls slid over my face.

I pushed my tounge against her crack, pressing against the prick sliding into my wife and flicking them where they both met. The bisexual swinger went faster, enjoying the feeling of my warm mouth against his cock.

And then he came; he buried his cock deep into my wife as his balls emptied and he sat back on his haunches, feeling every last pang of aftershock flood into his loins.

I hugged my near-naked wife afterwards; she said nothing as I found my trousers and added my clothes to the cloakroom ticket. I bought us both a drink and we sat in the foyer watching the couples pair off and chatting.

We were a married couple and I loved her more than ever; her cheeky playfulness came out as she ran her hands over my lacy prick. “Are we all horny?”

“Yeah!” I muttered. “What do you expect?”

“How is being a cuckold. Seeing but not being touched. Heaven, or hell?”

“Both! I could find Bryn.”

“We are being a cuckold, aren’t we? Given up on pussy?”

“No, just that you told me I wouldn’t get any tonight.” Her eyes fluttered, her smile returned.

“And so you shan’t!” We stared for a few moments into each other’s eyes and smiled; the long, lustful understanding broken a few moments later with a startled squeal. “Peter.”

My blood ran cold instantly. I knew that voice. For 30 years I had known that distinctive tone of my blood-kin. When we used to play fight and actually fight, I knew the excited tone of my brother.

Split-seconds felt like hours, fear and reticence flooded my insides as my leaden head turned to face the topless man in just a clever pair of boxer shorts.

Joe Blackwell: the man who seduced my first girlfriend stared straight at me and my near naked wife. Erin did nothing. She didn’t shriek, cover up or offer a smile. She waited for me; Joe did.

“Joe,” I replied warmly, mostly because my brain couldn’t work out what else to way.

He glanced under the glass table at my lacy underwear. “Nice fashion. Do you have the matching bra too?” His teasing made me smile, Erin giggled.

“I haven’t got him in bras yet. Don’t think he’d rock that look.” Joe shrugged, as he glanced at the empty chair in front of us. He waited again, my married brother waited for me to offer it to him.

I did. “See Marie and I aren’t the only ones who take advantage of grandparents to have a good time. Not seen you before here.”

“It’s our first time … here.” We chatted as if talking to my brother while we both lay in underwear was ordinary. I felt embarrassed but Erin explained that we had a cuckold relationship and his face broke into a smile.

“But it makes sense. You let your first girlfriend screw everyone. But me.”

“I didn’t,” I snapped instantly and then apologised as he leant back from my vicious tone. “Sorry. I didn’t know she was screwing everyone. I didn’t know how to handle it then.”

“But now, you’re OK?” His eyes glanced at Erin as I nodded.

“Bit different.” His raised eyebrows demanded an explanation; I gave him one. The honesty in the relationship was important and the communication made it different. “The only boundary we have is complete honesty.”

“The only boundary?”

“The only boundary,” I repeated. A smile crept onto his face and he rose from his chair, extending his hand towards my wife. My heart skipped a beat.

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

“Because, you couldn’t handle it with Holly. You sure?”

“I don’t get a say as to whom my wife fucks.” The playroom they choose was private; my humiliation as a cuckold was not broadcast to the sex club, but I watched transfixed as they kissed.

My heart skipped and fluttered as I was tortured; my successful brother kissing and playing with my wife. His fingers found her breasts and I said nothing, forced to watch by the demands of my Erin.

I had to stay; the magnet to their sexual escapade was too intense to leave. I slumped against the wall, nervously watching as his cock was freed. It was bigger than mine; I had at all times known this. They kissed.

He reached for a condom, she stopped him. “If I can’t screw my brother-in-law without a condom, who can I fuck?”

The words punched me in my stomach and stroked my cock simultaneously. Joe smiled at me as my slutty wife lay on the bed and took his meaty prick in her mouth.

Sucking him. Sucking him like she had never sucked a prick before. No man had ever been treated to such a loving blowjob as the fellatio my wife gave to my brother on that evening. She adored it; she adored every last moment of his veiny prick filling her mouth as I stared.

Conflicted. So humiliated. So horny.

And then the bare prick slid into my wife’s cunt; she made eye contact with me, I smiled. I couldn’t not smile. My insides swirled with the greatest humiliation a man can face; his unfaithful wife taking pleasure from his own brother while he watches.

Forced to watch: by my wife, by my brother and my own kink. This was my kink and this depraved man adored seeing the bare prick slide into his wife as the swinging testicles of his brother sloshed with cum.

My wife would soon be filled with the cum of his balls why I watched with an erection tenting a pair of ladies underwear. His thrusts made her cry and groan, just like he made Holly squeal and cry all those years ago. His hands gripped her thighs like he made red marks on Holly’s thighs and his buttocks swung powerfully as his hips drove his prick deep into my wife.

And he was cumming; they both were. A few moments of frantic fucking and he came, grunting as he filled her cunt with his seed. They gulped and panted, looking at me with fulfilled expressions.

“I remember Holly saying that bareback sex should always be followed by her man eating her out,” Joe taunted.

Erin giggled.

It may have been my brother’s cum.

It may have been the most humiliating and exhilarating five minutes of my life.

But it was my partner, my wife and I am cuckold.

Without questioning it, I knelt down beside my wife and began to clean up.