After my wife confessed to cheating, we faced the aftermath together, slowly awakening to the uncharted territory of cuckolding. One evening, she arrived home utterly consumed by desire—more intense than I’d ever seen before. Barely through the door, she was shedding her clothes like a woman possessed.
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We made our way to the bedroom. I kissed and caressed her, teasing her with my tongue, savoring the wetness already pooling between her legs. Then she pulled me up abruptly, breathless: “I need a cock inside me now.” I nodded, sliding a condom on as usual and guiding my eager shaft into her soaked folds.
But before long, I was done—barely 45 seconds—and with a frustrated groan, she slapped the bed. “And you wonder why I fuck Zach,” she muttered darkly, ignoring my offer to help as she reached for her vibrator.
Minutes passed, and her irritation only grew. “Can I at least call him?” she asked, desperation coloring her voice. “If I can’t have him for real tonight, can I at least fuck him over the phone so I can come? I’m dying here.”
We set some rules. No FaceTime, and I was to listen. She warned me I might not like it, but that wasn’t the point.
Together, we lay in bed as she dialed, speakerphone on. Zach answered, surprised, and she explained my quick finish and absence, asking if he could help her out. His laughter sparked something in me as he joked, “Want to hear how fast he came? Still making him wear condoms?”
“Mhmm,” she purred, already sliding her vibrator back into place. “Only big cocks like yours get to fuck me raw, baby.” Zach chuckled, teasing my size mercilessly, which made her giggle and invite him, “Tell me how badly you want to fuck me again, daddy.”
Despite myself, my cock stirred anew, responsive in ways I hadn’t anticipated. I began to stroke slowly, listening as Zach recounted their escapades—sunlit afternoons on his boat, him reveling in the tightness that my smaller size could never achieve.
“That’s because it never gets stretched by tiny cock,” she moaned, voice thick with need. “Fuck, I’m about to cum already, daddy. Tell me how good it is.”
His voice dropped low with desire, promising filthy pleasures, how he wanted to bend her over and fuck her like the wild slut she was. That pushed her over the edge—she screamed loud, clutching the sheets, gasping through orgasm after orgasm.
As she caught her breath, she pleaded for more. Zach teased, longing for her to cum on his cock, asking if she’d ever let him go bareback. She laughed, denying the idea, saying I should be the only one punished with a condom because of my tiny dick.
She nodded at me then, silently saying “now.” I complied, sliding on a fresh condom, her moans rising as I moved my hand over my hardening length.
Their dirty talk continued—her craving for his bigger cock, the yearning for creampies only he could give, her begging and drooling over memories of his touch. I strained to keep control but soon lost it, spilling inside the condom quietly while her moans filled the room.
Overcome by a wave of clarity, I stepped out, leaving her to her release. Fifteen more minutes passed, her cries fading, until finally she returned, flushed and grateful. Four orgasms, Zach had guided her through on that call. And somehow, sharing that moment between them, I felt a complex blend of sting and exhilaration—ours, whatever it was, had changed forever.
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