A few months after our first encounter with “the doctor,” I got a message from him on Telegram. “I’m in Romania next week. You guys still up for it?” My heart skipped a beat. The first time had been like lightning—humiliation, arousal, the way my wife glowed under his hands. “We’ve got to go further,” I told myself. “I want more. I want to feel like I’m losing control and love every second of it.”
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We started chatting about fantasies on Telegram, the doctor and me, like two conspirators. I wanted to push the cuckold boundaries further. One of my ideas was for my wife to wear her engagement ring while she was with him—a symbol of our commitment, defiled in the most delicious way. We agreed the doctor would convince her to do it without her knowing the plan. “She’ll agree,” he wrote. “She loves what I give her too much. She’ll do anything I ask.” Reading that, I felt a knot in my stomach. “Will my wife become his slave?” I wondered. “Is it too much? Or exactly what I want?”
Then I had the idea about the car. “What if I drive while they mess around in the back seat?” I suggested. The doctor was on board immediately, and my wife, after we talked, agreed, though hesitantly. “It’s noon,” she said. “What if someone sees us?” But her eyes sparkled with anticipation. “It’ll be fine,” I reassured her, though deep down I thought, “Let them see. Let everyone know what a cuckold I am. It’ll burn, and I’ll love it.”
We talked more with the doctor about other fantasies: her rimming him and then kissing me, him pissing on her after sex to “wash” his scent off, or even bringing a friend to take her together while I wait at home for pictures and videos. The last idea seemed to excite her, but the others? “Sounds hot in my head,” I thought, “but I’m not there yet. Maybe the doctor can convince her, like he says. Could I handle it?”
The day of the meeting came. My wife chatted with the doctor on Telegram, and he told her to wear a skirt with no panties. “I want it to be easy to touch you in the car,” he wrote. She objected at first—“If I’m too wet, I’ll drip everywhere!”—but she gave in. “She’s listening to him,” I thought, a mix of jealousy and excitement. “She’s already his, and it’s just starting.”
We got in the car and went to pick up the doctor. The plan was to drive them around the city for 30 minutes before heading home. When he got in, they kissed like lovers, as if I wasn’t even there. “There they go,” I thought. “Not even a minute in, and they’re already ignoring me. God, it feels so good.” I told the doctor I’d drive them around and he could do whatever he wanted with her. He smiled and got to work.
In the first 10 minutes, their kisses turned into caresses. Then I heard a zipper. I glanced in the rearview mirror: my wife was bent over him, sucking his cock, while he rubbed her pussy. She was on her knees on the seat, ass in the air, moaning softly. I reached back and touched her pussy—it was wet like a river. “She’s loving this so damn much,” I thought, my cock throbbing in my pants. “She’s sucking another guy’s dick, 10 meters from a traffic light. I’m a real cuckold.”
At a red light, she leaned forward and kissed me. Her lips were warm, full of saliva, with a foreign smell—definitely his. As she kissed me, she grabbed my cock, checking if I was hard. “God,” I thought, “I’m about to cum. Her lips smell like his dick, and she’s kissing me so passionate .” The doctor kept rubbing her pussy, and she moaned into my mouth. I could smell her on my nose, mixed with him. “This is heaven,” I thought, “or hell. I don’t know anymore.”
After 30 seconds, she went back to the back seat and they started fucking. She was on top, moving rhythmically. At every red light, I prayed they’d stop thrusting so the car wouldn’t shake. “The passenger seat’s empty,” I thought. “Everyone in traffic will know I’m a cuckold. They’ll laugh at me.” But they didn’t stop. The car rocked, and I was humiliated and turned on at the same time. “Good thing I didn’t cum in my pants,” I thought, chuckling to myself. “That would’ve been the cherry on top.”
After 15 minutes of fucking, we reached the apartment parking lot. Here, I decided to push the limits even further. “I want to stay in the car,” I told them. “You go up to the apartment, do whatever you want for 30 minutes, just the two of you. Send me pictures and videos.” My wife hesitated for a second, but her eyes gleamed with excitement. The doctor grinned widely. “I’m gonna fuck your wife however I want,” his look seemed to say. “And you’re gonna love it.”
I stayed in the car, my mind on fire. “What am I doing?” I wondered. “My wife’s getting fucked 50 meters away, and I’m sitting here like an idiot in the parking lot. Why am I so turned on?” The questions overwhelmed me, but my cock was harder than ever. After 15 minutes, the pictures and videos started coming. First video: my wife sucking his cock, her engagement ring glinting on her finger. A message from the doctor: “She listened. She put the ring on before sucking my dick, like a good girl.” I started jerking off in the car, glancing around to make sure no neighbors saw me. “I’m in ecstasy,” I thought. “My ring, on her hand, while she sucks another guy’s cock. I’m done for.”
Then came a clip of his bare cock rubbing her clit. “Bare?” I panicked. “We didn’t discuss that! Is he fucking her raw? Is he breaking the rule?” Part of me wanted him to fuck her without a condom, to cross that line. Another part was scared. “I won’t ask,” I decided. “I want it to stay a mystery.” The next clip showed penetration—he was wearing a condom. “But did he go in bare for a bit?” I wondered, my mind crazed with arousal.
Next was a picture of his hand on her throat. “She likes it rougher with him,” I thought. “With me, it’s vanilla; with him, it’s something else. God, it feels so good to be humiliated like this.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I sent a message: “I want to come up.” The reply came from my wife’s account, but it was clearly the doctor: “Wait another 10 minutes. I want to make her pussy nice and red.” He sent a picture: her pussy, red, stretched, rubbed. “She’s being fucked like a goddess,” I thought, “and I’m sitting here like a mad man.”
I asked permission to cum—I was at my limit. “No,” the doctor replied. “What the hell?” I thought. “He’s telling me when I can cum? And why am I listening?” I had no tissues, I was dressed, the parking lot was full of neighbors. “If I cum on myself, I’ll walk through the lot with cum stains on my pants,” I thought, laughing at the absurdity. Then came a message from my wife: “Come up quick! He’s fucking me senseless!” I thought I’d explode. “She’s writing this while he’s fucking her,” I thought. “I’m done.”
I climbed the stairs with my heart pounding like a hammer, each step amplifying the sounds of sex coming from the apartment. From the bedroom, I heard moans, rhythmic, wild, like a beat that both called to me and pushed me away. “What the hell am I doing?” I thought, my hand trembling on the doorknob. I opened the door, and the sight hit me like lightning: my wife, naked, riding the doctor, her hips moving like a dancer, her skin glistening with sweat. He held her hips, guiding her, and she moaned with an abandon I rarely saw. “She’s his now,” I thought, and my cock twitched in my pants.
Without thinking, I dropped my pants and started jerking off, standing in the doorway. It was like I was a spectator at a porn movie starring my wife. I pulled out my phone and filmed—his cock sliding in and out of her wet pussy, the wet sound driving me wild. “This is material for my bad days,” I thought, with a grin mixed with shame and arousal. The video was clear: her engagement ring glinted on her finger, a bittersweet irony, as she lost herself in pleasure.
After a few minutes, I jumped in. “I want in on this,” I thought, and approached the bed. My wife turned to me, her eyes hazy with pleasure, and motioned for me to come. We started a threesome like in those forbidden movies you hide from the world. I fucked her mouth while the doctor fucked her hard. Her mouth was warm, wet, and her moans vibrated on my cock. “God, this is amazing,” I thought. “I’m a cuckold, but I’m also in heaven.” After about five minutes, I exploded in her mouth, an orgasm that made me see stars. She swallowed, then turned and kissed the doctor, her lips still wet with my cum. I expected him to say something—maybe complain about my taste on her lips—but he didn’t. “Is he okay with it?” I wondered. “Or does he like it even more like this? God, what thoughts.”
Then we switched positions. I entered my wife, fucking her with desperate hunger, like I was trying to reclaim a piece of her. The doctor fucked her mouth, and then came the moment that floored me: he started slapping his cock on her cheeks, lightly, then rubbing it on her outstretched tongue. It was humiliating—my wife, her face smacked by another man’s cock, with a smile of pleasure. “How the fuck does this turn me on?” I thought, feeling my cock harden even more inside her. The humiliation was like a drug. I came again, this time in the condom, while she sucked the doctor’s cock with wild energy. “I’m done,” I thought, laughing to myself at the absurdity.
I stepped away to clean myself, my legs weak and my mind foggy. When I returned, the doctor was fucking my wife like an animal, the bed creaking under them. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching like a voyeur. My wife had an idea: “Get a chair,” she said, her voice breathless. “I want you to watch.” I raised an eyebrow but obeyed. I grabbed a chair and sat down, like a spectator at a private show. “This is who I am now,” I thought, “the cuckold watching another man fuck his wife. And I fucking love it.”
The doctor fucked her with an energy that seemed endless, and my wife moaned louder and louder. At one point, she reached for me. “Come,” she said, “hold my hand.” I laughed to myself—“What the hell, is this romantic now?” But then she said, “I want to hold your soft cock when I cum.” I was stunned. “Seriously?” I thought, but my cock, exhausted from two orgasms, twitched at the idea. I got closer, and while the doctor fucked her, I rubbed her clit with my thumb. She gripped my soft cock like a weird trophy and had an explosive orgasm. She squeezed my cock so hard I thought she’d rip it off. “Damn,” I thought, laughing, “that’s her orgasm, but I’m the one who’ll end up with bruises.”
After her orgasm, the doctor slowed down and looked at me. “Is it okay if I cum on her stomach?” he asked. I felt a knot in my stomach. It was a new barrier—no one but me had ever cum on her. “Yes,” I said, my voice trembling. “Do it.” He pulled off the condom and came on her stomach, a thick load that made her laugh and shiver. “She’s his now,” I thought, but instead of jealousy, I felt a strange arousal. “I’m sick,” I laughed to myself, “but it feels so good.”
The doctor got up, cleaned himself, and left after a few minutes with a satisfied smirk. I stayed with my wife, both of us collapsing on the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. “Was it too much?” she asked, her head on my chest. “No,” I said, “it was exactly what I wanted. But what do you feel?” She smiled, her eyes still sparkling. “I loved it,” she said. “But you know you’re mine.” I laughed, feeling a strange warmth in my chest. “I’m yours,” I said, “but what a good cuckold I am, huh?”
We talked for a while about what happened—how the humiliation turned me on, how she loved being desired by both of us, how it brought us closer but also scared us a little. “What do we push next time?” she asked with a mischievous grin. “I don’t know,” I said, “but I want it to be even more intense.” Deep down, we were both exhausted but happy. “We’ll figure something out,” I said, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms, the images of the night dancing in my head.
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