Free cuckold community
Sign up now!
The bar was only three blocks from our house, a dim little dive with sticky tables and neon beer signs buzzing in the windows. We’d done this dance before, but tonight felt electric from the moment we walked in. My wife wore the short black dress I’d picked out for her—no panties, just the thin fabric clinging to her hips and the tops of her thighs. She kissed me once, slow and teasing, then whispered, “Go sit over there. Don’t interfere.”
I took a stool at the far end of the bar, nursing a whiskey I barely tasted. She slid onto a stool in the middle, legs crossed, dress riding high enough to make the bartender do a double-take. It didn’t take long. He was tall, built like a linebacker, skin dark and gleaming under the low lights. Gold chain, easy smile, the kind of confidence that parts a crowd without trying. BBC, exactly what she’d told me she was hungry for tonight.
I watched her laugh at something he said, head thrown back, throat exposed. His hand found her knee almost immediately, thumb stroking slow circles. She didn’t stop him. Within ten minutes his palm was under her dress, fingers disappearing between her thighs while she bit her lip and stared straight at me across the room. Her eyes said: Look what I’m already wet for him.
They got louder, bolder. His other hand cupped her breast through the fabric, pinching until she gasped. She ground against his touch right there on the stool, not caring who saw. When he leaned in and said something against her ear, she nodded fast, eager. They stood to leave, his arm possessive around her waist, her hand already rubbing the thick bulge in his jeans.
I caught the bartender’s eye and quietly paid for their tab, then opened my phone and ordered an Uber Black to our address. “Tell the driver it’s for Jasmine and her friend,” I said, sliding a fifty across the bar. He smirked but didn’t ask questions. They stumbled out into the night. I waited five minutes, finished my drink, then walked the three blocks home, pulse hammering the whole way. The front door was unlocked. On the mat just inside sat my pink chastity cage, the little brass lock snapped shut, key nowhere in sight. Next to it, the black leather cuck hood—eye holes only, mouth zippered closed. A note in her handwriting: Put these on and wait like a good boy.
I stripped in the hallway, cock straining uselessly against the cage as I clicked it back on. The hood next, buckling it tight until the world narrowed to two small circles and the smell of leather. I knelt there in the dark, listening.
Upstairs, the bedframe was already slamming against the wall. Her voice carried down, raw and desperate: “Fuck—yes—harder—God, you’re so much bigger—” Each word punctuated by the wet slap of skin on skin, his low growls underneath. I crawled up the stairs on all fours, cage swinging heavy between my legs, until I reached the bedroom door cracked open just enough.
He had her folded in half, ankles by her ears, driving into her with long, punishing strokes. Her nails raked down his back, leaving red trails. She saw me in the doorway and smiled, wicked and drunk on it. “Look who’s home,” she panted. “Come here, baby. Watch him ruin me.”
He didn’t stop, didn’t even look at me at first—just kept fucking her like he owned her. Then, without pulling out, he turned his head. “Get over here, cuck. On your knees.”
I crawled to the edge of the bed. Up close I could see everything—his thick black cock stretching her pink lips obscenely, slick with her juices, disappearing again and again. She was creaming down his shaft, thighs trembling.
“You gonna clean this pussy when I’m done?” he asked, voice calm, almost bored. She moaned yes for both of us.
He picked up speed, hips snapping, until she screamed, back arching off the mattress as she came hard around him. He buried himself deep and groaned, pumping rope after rope inside her. When he finally pulled out, a river of cum followed, thick and white against her swollen folds.
He grabbed my hood by the buckle and yanked my face between her legs. “Clean.”
I licked obediently, tasting him on her, salty and bitter and overwhelming. She stroked my hood like a pet while I worked, cooing, “Good boy… get every drop… he’s not even done with me yet.”
He was already hard again. They weren’t finished with me either.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.