Wednesdays had already turned into a fucking circus in my life, but me, Lucas, I kept playing the gentleman cuckold, holding this house together while Ana threw herself at Marcelo. After that night of loud moans and excuses about "action movies" and "theater rehearsals," I thought I’d seen it all. But fuck, I was wrong. What went down this Wednesday went beyond any limit I could’ve imagined.
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It was about 7:30 p.m. I’d made a lasagna for dinner—simple shit so the kids wouldn’t bitch about it. Marcelo showed up right on time, sweaty from the gym, wearing a ripped tank top and shorts that showed off his dick even when it wasn’t hard. The boys were in the living room, sitting on the rug, watching Paw Patrol on TV, with their toy cars scattered all over. I was in the kitchen, chopping some herbs to toss on the lasagna, when Ana called Marcelo over to the living room.
- "Come here, Marcelo, sit with me for a bit" — she said, with that flirty tone I knew too damn well.
I heard it but didn’t look up. Kept chopping the basil, figuring they’d head to the bedroom like usual. But then I heard the couch creak and some muffled giggles. I peeked out, just to make sure the kids were cool, and nearly dropped the knife with what I saw.
Ana was on the couch with Marcelo, both under a thin blanket we used for movie nights. He was sprawled out, legs spread wide, head thrown back, and she… fuck, she was under the blanket, her head bobbing up and down slow, in a rhythm that left no doubt. You could hear the wet sound, that "glup glup" of a blowjob, muffled by the blanket but loud enough for me to catch every bit. Marcelo was groaning low, a beer in his hand, and Ana was sucking him off right there in the living room, with my kids two meters away, glued to the TV.
The youngest, the 4-year-old, turned his head toward the couch and asked in his sleepy little voice:
- "Daddy, what’s Mommy doing under the blanket?"
I was at the kitchen door, knife still in hand, heart racing, and my dick starting to get hard in my pants. I forced a smile and made something up on the spot:
- "She… she’s praying with Uncle Marcelo, buddy. Asking for good stuff for tomorrow. Look at the TV, Chase is saving the kitten!"
He nodded, turned back to the screen, but the older one, the 7-year-old, wasn’t so easy to fool. He frowned, glanced at the couch, and said:
- "Praying? But she’s making sucking noises like a popsicle, Dad. And Uncle’s moaning!"
Ana picked that exact moment to go deeper, ‘cause Marcelo let out a muffled "Fuck, Ana, what a mouth!" under the blanket, and the blowjob sounds got louder, with her gagging a little. Sweat dripped down my neck, but I kept my cool as the model dad.
- "Yeah… it’s a special prayer, you know, son? Uncle Marcelo’s real happy with it, that’s why he’s moaning. It’s like a different kind of ‘amen.’ Come here, help me set the table for the lasagna."
I dragged the older one to the kitchen with me, trying to get him out of the living room, but the little one stayed there, staring at the couch with a confused look. While I grabbed the plates, I heard Marcelo groan louder:
- "Fuck, Ana, swallow it all, go!"
And she did. You could hear her sucking hard, her throat gagging, until he came—I knew ‘cause he let out a long grunt and the blanket stopped moving. The youngest turned to me again and asked:
- "Daddy, did Mommy finish praying? Uncle said ‘amen’ real loud!"
I laughed, nervous as fuck, and said:
- "She’s done, buddy. Now she’s gonna rest a bit. Come eat lasagna with me and your brother."
Ana popped out from under the blanket, hair a mess, face red, wiping her mouth with the corner of it. Marcelo chuckled, tucked his dick back in his boxers, and took another swig of beer. She looked at me, with that sly little smile, and said:
- "Thanks for keeping the boys busy, love. You’re the best."
I carried the plates to the table, sat the kids down, and served the lasagna while Marcelo stretched his legs out on the couch, still in his boxers, like he owned the damn place. Ana came over, sat next to me, and put her hand on my thigh, whispering:
- "You’re the best husband, Lucas. I’ll make it up to you later."
I ate the lasagna in silence, listening to the kids chatter about Paw Patrol, my dick hard and my head spinning. Marcelo burped, laughed, and said:
- "Great dinner, Lucas. I’ll be back next week, huh?"
After the boys went to bed, I washed the dishes, like always, while Ana took Marcelo to the bedroom to "finish the prayer." I came in my pants again, just remembering her sucking him off in front of my kids and me making up that it was a prayer. ‘Cause I’m the gentleman cuckold—I do everything in this house, even when she’s blowing another guy and I’ve got to explain it to my sons.
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