Picking up right where things left off, after she unexpectedly coerced me into tasting her lover’s cum fresh from her body, then confessed she’d been cheating on me for weeks, I found myself utterly captivated. Despite the betrayal, my arousal only deepened. She confessed the intoxicating power she felt in this dynamic, and our long-held fantasy of cuckolding was no longer just a fantasy—it was unfolding right before us.
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The intensity of everything skyrocketed, especially in how she treated me. One morning, I stepped out of the shower completely naked, only to be met with her derisive scoff: “You could never satisfy a woman with something that small.” She was drunk on power—far beyond anything I had anticipated. Secretly, she’d been exchanging erotic texts with her coworker and lover, fantasizing about cuckolding me, teasing about what they’d do together.
Their messages played out like a forbidden script:
Her: “What would you do to me?”
Him: “I’d start by bending you over the bed, taking you from behind until your legs gave out, just like last time.”
Her: “So hot ? Where’s my boyfriend in all this?”
Him: “I’d make him go back and forth between sucking my cock and eating you out—getting us both dripping so I could fuck you using his own spit as lube. Then I’d have him lie beneath you while I fuck you raw, making sure my balls slap his forehead with every thrust.”
Her: “Wow, I’d lose every shred of respect I have left for him.”
I couldn’t help but notice the quality of the nudes she sent him—masterpieces far surpassing anything she’d ever shared with me, even during our obsessive honeymoon phase. My own photos always felt lazy in comparison.
They also reflected on the night I’d described earlier.
She said, “I fucked my boyfriend when I got home—I couldn’t even feel him. More than usual ?”
He asked, “Did he notice you’d been used?”
She replied, “I don’t think so, LOL. It was kind of sad—he tried so hard and couldn’t even finish.”
Then the day arrived. The doorbell rang. My woman answered, clad only in lingerie, inviting him inside while I remained fully dressed in the living room. She introduced me not by name, but as her “sad little cuck,” despite us having met before. They settled beside me on the couch, and almost immediately, she straddled him, kissing him passionately. After a few moments, she turned to me and commanded, “Stand in front of us.”
I obeyed, facing them both. “Strip,” she ordered. I removed my shirt first, prompting his mocking comment about my out-of-shape body, followed by her amused laughter. I slid off my pants; my underwear revealed no bulge as I remained completely flaccid—a consequence of my nerves under pressure, which would prove significant later. They exchanged laughs over my lack of arousal. When I finally removed my boxers, their laughter deepened. “Wow, I’m so sorry for you,” he jested, addressing us both. I stood there naked, shrunken and flaccid. Despite how turned on I was by the scene, my shyness overwhelmed me, adding another layer of humiliation—my impotence became part of the spectacle.
Now his turn. She turned to him and said, “Your turn.” He stood beside me—towering nearly six inches taller—which immediately made me feel inferior. I glanced at my girlfriend; her eyes sparkled with a look I’d never seen before—she was giddy, restless with excitement. While he may not have realized it, I knew this was her show, and she was firmly in control.
He shed his shirt, revealing his lean, chiseled muscles. Just as he began to remove his pants, she interrupted: “No, stop. You do it.” She looked at me, issuing a firm command: “Get on your knees and take his pants off, just like I’ve made you do so many times.” I hesitated briefly, then complied, dropping to my knees, naked in front of him, reaching for his waist.
I undid his belt and freed his pants and underwear in one swift motion. He was fully erect; his cock shot out, nearly striking me in the face. It was enormous—twice my length, thick, veiny, with a bulbous tip. I gasped in disbelief. My girlfriend chuckled softly, and he simply smiled down at me. “Wow,” was all I could utter.
“Yeah, babe,” she said, “that’s a cock.” They both laughed.
“Suck it,” she commanded. Surprisingly, I didn’t hesitate as much as I expected. I grasped his hefty member, heavy in my hand, and glanced back at my girlfriend, who was already fondling herself at the sight of me submitting to her lover. I took the tip into my mouth, filling it instantly. At that moment, my own small cock sprang to life. They laughed again, and she teased, “Does having a big cock in your mouth excite you?” Undeterred, I worked more of him inside, though he grew impatient, grabbing the back of my head and thrusting downward, forcing me to gag with tears streaming. They laughed at me heartily, and she encouraged, “Don’t stop—use that spit, baby.”
I tried again, this time guiding him with my hand, sucking as best I could between gagging fits. Within minutes, I was a drooling, tearful mess, utterly overwhelmed by his dominance.