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After our first threesome , I couldn’t shake the feeling.
Watching my wife — my radiant, sensual wife — being used by another man… it cracked something open in me. Her moans were louder. Her body was freer. Her eyes, when she looked at me with his cock in her mouth, said everything.
I didn’t feel betrayed.
I felt… undone.
And I wanted more.
Something broke open inside me that night.
And instead of backing away from it, I leaned in.
“Would you go see him again?” I asked.
“Alone… for me?”
She didn’t say yes immediately. She asked why. What it would mean.
We talked for hours, across days.
I told her I wanted to explore. That I trusted her. That I wanted to feel even more.
We had already seen the chemistry. He was younger, with a big dick, and Dom experience— the kind of man who didn’t ask. He took.
She smiled, slowly.
“Only if you send me.”
I agree to that
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The day came.
Before work, I laid out the lingerie I wanted her to wear.
• Sheer black thong
• Matching bra that left her nipples visible
• A garter belt and stockings
• Her favorite heels
She put it on in front of me. No rush. No words.
Just slow, sensual movements — like she knew I was watching every breath.
Then came the short skirt. The blouse that we could see the lingerie though. Her perfume — the one I always breathe in at her neck.
Then i went to work. With one thousand things in my mind and a rock hard cock.
Then some time after i got a photo from her. She stood in the mirror, took a photo with.
“Ready for him. Just like you wanted.”
That one sentence left me trembling at my desk.
I couldn’t stop imagining what she would let him do — because I had told her to go.
I went to jerk off in the bathroom. Yeah my wife was getting fucked and i was cumming in a bad smelling toilet.
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Later at home i waited sometime. Then she arrived glowing.
Her energy was soft, but full — like someone who had been completely satisfied.
When I reached for her, casually, she brushed my chest and whispered:
“Not tonight. I’m still sore. He had me all afternoon.”
There was no cruelty in it — just truth.
And I felt it: the ache of being left out of something I had created.ñ6
But instead of shrinking, I leaned deeper. In this fantasy.
“Will you humiliate me tonight?” I asked.
Her eyes lit up — slow, wicked pleasure.
“You want that now?”
“To be reminded of your place?”
Her eyes narrowed, lips curled into a smirk.
“Take off your clothes. Kneel.”
I obeyed.
She spread her legs, leaned back, and said:
“Come smell what you gave away.”
Her pussy was still warm, the scent thick — unmistakably used.
She held my head in place, made me breathe her in.
“He opened the door with his cock already out. Told me to crawl to him.
I didn’t even say hi — I just obeyed.”
She ran a finger over her clit while I licked.
“He slapped my ass and said, ‘I bet your little husband is hard at work while you’re on your knees for me.’
Then he pushed my face into his cock. Held me there until I drooled.”
I moaned into her.
“He called me a slut. Told me I was yours, but better with him.
He asked how often you make me cum — I didn’t answer.
So he said, ‘Exactly. Now shut up and moan like the whore you are.’”
She pulled my hair.
“He bent me over his couch. No foreplay. Just spit on my pussy and shoved it in.
I screamed. He didn’t stop.
He said, ‘I’m going to fuck the husband out of you.’
And he did.”
She grinded gently into my mouth, breath hitching at the memory.
“He kept calling me your gift.
He said I was trained well. That you’d done a good job… handing me over.”
Then he made me say it — ‘I’m only here because my husband told me to be.’
And when I said it… he laughed.”
I was trembling.
She pulled me up, dragged my mouth to her chest.
“He came on me. All over my tits. Rubbed it in. Told me not to wipe it off.
I left it on the whole Uber ride home.”
I licked slowly, reverently, tasting her skin.
“Now i don't want to fuck you because i am not horny. It's because I would not feel anything anymore. He emptied me.”
Then, with a whisper:
“Your cock isn’t for fucking. It’s for staying hard while you watch me be filled.”
“You don’t give me orgasms. You give me permission.”
I nodded, chest tight, throat dry.
“Say it,” she said.
“Tell me what you are.”
“I’m your cuck,” I whispered.
“Your clean-up boy. Your little husband.”
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And I meant every word
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