Continuing the tale of my wife and the two well-endowed brothers who changed our lives, our bedroom dynamic shifted in ways I never expected. Initially, after my wife experienced the passionate encounters with my friends—the 26-year-old and his 18-year-old brother—she realized how much more intense pleasure could be. At home, our intimate moments became entirely dependent on her recounting every detail about the younger brother—his size, how it felt, comparisons with me. At first, I despised these conversations, but within a month, I found myself secretly aroused, getting off to the way she spoke about him.
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Another month passed, and I received a message from the older brother—casual yet commanding. He hinted that I was neglecting to keep my wife in line and informed me they’d gone out for coffee the day before. Then he stated flatly: I was to come to his place that weekend, and my wife would be there regardless.
Fear and anger welled up inside me. How did he hold more sway over her whereabouts than I did? When I confronted my wife, she claimed it was all about her “getting to know him,” and when I pressed about whether it was sexual, she replied coyly, “Probably. Now just be patient until the weekend.”
Saturday evening arrived, and I found myself stuck in traffic after a day of errands. I called my wife—she told me to hurry if I wanted to make it in time. But how could I? When I finally got there, I expected to hear moans or some sign of life inside the older brother’s house. There was nothing. I rang the doorbell—no answer. His car wasn’t in sight, and she didn’t pick up her phone. Fear and confusion overwhelmed me, so I left.
At dawn, a creak woke me. It was her returning home. I pretended to sleep as she slipped into bed beside me, exhaling the scents of sweat and sex. Her hair, her shirt, her black skirt—all bore crusted, dried traces of semen, intensely white and thick, unlike anything I’d seen. Fascinated despite myself, I indulged in the only relief I could: masturbation.
By midday, the older brother sent a message: “Hope you appreciated the privacy. We made quite the mess; I’ll have to clean my car thoroughly. Think we’ll borrow yours next time?” I didn’t reply. Soon after, my wife recounted their hours of passion—twelve climaxes in the backseat of his car near a secluded river. No protection used. He climaxed three times, always pulling out to release his copious seed over her. “He had so much to give,” she said breathlessly. “Each load was immense, though I swallowed most of it. He’s incredibly experienced, and this was the best sex I’ve ever had. His cock felt even thicker as we went on. Rock hard the entire time.”
Sunday evening, another cryptic text: “Feeling hungry. Bring her over.” Without hesitation, I drove her to his place. She was radiant with happiness. We talked briefly, and he confessed his long-held fantasy of being a bull. I admitted my own secret—that I masturbated to cuckold scenarios.
He guided us to his bedroom, gesturing for me to sit at the bed’s edge. The two of them stripped quickly; he bound her wrists to the headboard. The rhythm was fast, deep, and relentless. Watching, I stroked myself to climax before even pulling out my hand.
He slowed, and then: “He’s cumming inside… so much… yes, give me more…” Her moans filled the room as she orgasmed four times in five minutes. He declared he’d never pull out from a hotwife again. A heavy, creamy flow poured from her, as much as my entire usual load.
“Come closer,” he ordered me. “You don’t want her pregnant, right? Clean her up.” I was overwhelmed—angry, humiliated, yet burning with desire. I kissed and licked the thick globs of cum, my jealousy melting into arousal. Another thick glob emerged; then a steady stream of warm cream coated her folds.
Over the next two years, he visited almost weekly. My wife dismissed the need for me entirely—you’ve done your part, and when I’m aroused, she tells me to wait for the weekend to indulge in fantasies built around them.
Recently, we decided to start a family. She stopped birth control, but it’s never me who makes love to her. He enjoys being the sole source of her seed, having come three times inside her over the past week alone. This discovery inspired me to share our story, knowing there’s an endless well of experiences to recount—all thanks to him.
Indeed, big dicks rule.