Free cuckold community
Sign up now!
I got home early, at 4:25 in the afternoon, my case feeling heavier than usual in my hand, my shirt already pulled loose after a long day at the office. The house was strangely quiet. No sound of the television coming from the living room, no clatter of pots or plates from the kitchen. I kicked off my shoes by the front door and walked down the hallway to our bedroom, expecting to find Cindi in the shower or maybe out running an errand. Instead, she was there, lying asleep under the thin white sheet, her breathing slow and even. She was completely naked. The sheet molded itself to the shape of her body, outlining the soft curve of her hips, the gentle dip of her waist, and the full swell of her breasts. Her long auburn hair spread across the pillow in a messy halo, and a few strands clung to her forehead, damp with what looked like dried sweat.
The bed itself looked like a war zone. One corner of the fitted sheet had been pulled completely free from the mattress, exposing the striped fabric underneath as if someone had gripped it hard and yanked. Pillows lay scattered in every direction, one of them on the floor. The comforter was rolled into a ball and shoved down to the foot of the bed. And then there was the smell. It filled the room the moment I stepped closer. Thick and musky, the unmistakable scent of sex that had lingered in the sheets for hours, layered underneath with a faint trace of cologne that was definitely not mine. Something woody and expensive, masculine in a way that made my stomach tighten for just a second. I told myself it could be nothing. Maybe she had spilled something earlier. Maybe she had worked out too hard and fallen asleep. But the doubt was already there, sharp and insistent. It was unusual for her to be napping at this hour, especially completely naked. Still, looking at her like this, so peaceful and beautiful, made my cock stir inside my slacks. Maybe she had been thinking about me. Maybe she had gotten herself worked up waiting for me to come home and then drifted off.
We had been trying to have a baby for almost a year now. Doctor appointments, ovulation predictor kits, basal body temperature charts, the whole exhausting routine. Nothing yet. But today was day fourteen of her cycle. Peak ovulation. So, maybe that’s why she was waiting for me like this. The thought of sliding inside her, filling her completely, made my heart beat faster. I set my briefcase down quietly, sat on the edge of the mattress, and leaned over to kiss her. Softly at first, just brushing my lips against hers.
Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled, sleepy and warm. But the kiss tasted wrong. Salty and slightly bitter, with a faint creaminess that clung to my tongue. Like she had been sucking on something thick and male not long before I walked in. The doubt sharpened into something else, but arousal drowned it out. I was probably just being paranoid.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I said. “You’re home early too?”
“Mmm, yeah. I took a nap. You ready for another try, baby? I’m ovulating. Let’s make this count.”
God, yes. I stood up and stripped quickly. Shirt over my head, slacks and boxers shoved down together. My cock came free, already half-hard, average in length and thickness. Nothing remarkable, but not a bad looking cock in my opinion. I climbed onto the bed, covering her body with mine, the sheet the only thing between us at first. I kissed her deeper, our tongues sliding together, and that strange taste was stronger now, musky and thick. I pushed the thought away. I kissed her neck, tasting salt on her skin, then moved to her breasts. Her nipples were already hard and darker than usual, surrounded by faint red marks that looked suspiciously like teeth or suction. I sucked one into my mouth, rolling my tongue around it, then the other, spending time on each until she was squirming and pulling me closer.
I worked my way lower. I peeled the sheet away completely, exposing her. Her skin was flushed. Her thighs were slick with something that had dried in thin streaks. I kissed her stomach, her hips, then settled between her legs. When I spread her thighs gently, I got my first real look. Her pussy was swollen. The labia were puffy and dark pink, the inner folds glistening with a mix of her own arousal and thick white streaks that had dried along her skin. The smell was overwhelming here, that cologne mixed with raw sex. My mind screamed it. She has been fucked. Recently. And hard. But instead of anger, a dark, electric heat shot straight to my balls. My cock throbbed, fully hard now.
I leaned in and licked her outer labia. Salty. Raw. Like she tasted after we had already gone a couple of rounds. I sucked gently on her lips, parted them with my tongue, and the flavor exploded. Cum. Warm, thick, unmistakably male. Stronger than mine, slightly sweeter. I knew what my own tasted like. This was different. I froze for a heartbeat. Then I looked at the sheets. Damp patches. Crusty white stains in several places. Multiple leaks. And inside her, when I pushed my tongue deeper, more came flooding out, still body-warm.
“Oh god, Derek. Keep going. That feels amazing.”
Who did this? How many? Why today, when she’s ovulating? The questions spun in my head. But no jealousy came. Only excitement. I dove in, tongue thrusting deep, lapping up thick globs of semen that coated my mouth. Creamy, salty, mixed with her tangy juices. I swallowed. More kept coming. Judging by the cum stains on the sheets and what was left inside my wife, this was way too much for only one man to have delivered. I groaned into her pussy, fingers spreading her wider, thumb circling her clit as I sucked and licked every drop I could reach. She bucked against my face, moaning louder, her walls clenching around my tongue. She came hard, thighs shaking, a fresh gush mixing with the strangers’ cum. I drank it all.
I could not wait any longer. I wiped my mouth, crawled up her body, and mounted her. I slid into her in one smooth thrust. Her pussy was sloppy, loose from use, overflowing with leftover cum that squelched around my shaft. Every stroke pushed more out, coating my balls, dripping onto the sheets. She felt incredible. I varied my rhythm, slow deep grinds to feel every inch of her slick heat, then faster snaps of my hips that made her breasts bounce. I lasted barely four minutes. My balls tightened, my hips jerked, and I unloaded thick ropes of my own semen inside her, mixing with the mess already there. Maybe mine would be the one that took. Or maybe not. The thought made me harder even as I came down.
We did not talk about it. We showered separately, made dinner, drank wine, watched television, went to bed. I lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling and still smelling the faint scent of strange men in my bedroom. How did this happen? Who were they? What if she gets pregnant and it is not mine? The idea should have terrified me. Instead it sent a twisted thrill through my body.
For the next few weeks I drove by the house on my lunch breaks. Heart pounding every time, scanning for strange cars. Nothing. Until the next ovulation day.
I turned onto our street at noon and saw the black SUV parked out front. Three men inside. Mid-thirties. Athletic. One with a beard, one tall and smooth-skinned, one shorter but heavily muscled. Cindi opened the door in her short silk robe, smiling wide. They stepped out, followed her inside, hands already brushing against her waist.
This is it. I parked four houses down, slipped through the neighbor’s yard, eased open the back door. The sounds hit me immediately. Soft giggles. Low masculine murmurs. Then moans coming from the bedroom.
The door was cracked open about an inch. I pressed my eye to the gap. My cock hardened instantly.
Cindi was already naked. She moved with total confidence, undressing them one by one. First the bearded one. She kissed his broad chest as she pulled off his shirt, trailed her lips down his stomach, unbuckled his belt. His pants fell away. His cock was thick and veined, already hardening. Cindi sank to her knees, looked up at him with hungry eyes. She wrapped her hand around him, stroked slowly from base to tip. She leaned in, tongue flicking out to taste the bead of pre-cum at the slit. Then she took him into her mouth. Lips stretched wide. Cheeks hollowed. She bobbed slowly at first, tongue swirling around the head, then faster, taking more of him each time until her nose pressed against his pubic hair. Saliva dripped down her chin. Her free hand cupped his heavy balls, massaging them gently. She hummed around his length. The vibrations made him groan. He tangled his fingers in her hair and growled at her to suck harder. She did. Slurping noisily. Head twisting. Working him like she could not get enough.
Watching her like that, so eager, so devoted, I felt something twist inside me. Am I man enough for her? Does she need this kind of worship? My own cock felt small in comparison. Average. Nothing like the thick shaft disappearing into her mouth.
Then she turned to the tall one. She kissed his smooth chest, nipped at his nipples until he hissed. His cock was longer than the bearded man’s, curved upward, the head flushed dark. She stroked him reverently, fingers tracing the veins. On her knees again, she licked from his balls all the way to the tip. She sucked one ball into her mouth, then the other, before taking the full length. She gagged slightly when she deep-throated him, but she pushed through, eyes watering, throat relaxing. He guided her head gently. Praised her. Told her how much he had been thinking about breeding her tight pussy. She moaned around him, hand twisting at the base in time with her sucking.
Bigger than mine. Longer. Thicker at the base. I stared and wondered what it would feel like to have that in my mouth. Warm. Heavy. Pulsing against my tongue. The thought made my face burn. What kind of man thinks that? Am I less of a man for even imagining it?
Last was the shorter muscular one. She bit his shoulder as she stripped him. His cock was the girthiest, heavy and thick. She nuzzled against it first, licked the underside slowly, teased the sensitive spot under the head with the flat of her tongue. Then she sucked him in. Jaw stretched wide. Slow, deep pulls. Tongue pressed flat against the shaft. Hands pumping what she could not fit. He growled at her to suck it like she meant it. She did. Hollow cheeks. Noisy slurps. Alternating between deep sucks and lighter licks along the full length.
She’s theirs. Completely. Dominant men who take what they want. And me? I’m standing here watching, cock leaking in my pants, feeling weak and questioning everything.
They rotated. The bearded one laid her on her back. Kissed her deeply. Ate her out until she writhed. Then he mounted her. Slid in slow, then harder. Pinned her wrists above her head. “Beg for it, slut.” She did. “Cum inside me. Make a baby with me.” He pounded into her. “I’m breeding this pussy. Going to fill you up with my cum, baby.” He roared when he came, holding deep, pumping thick ropes inside her.
He’s claiming her. Real man. Dominant. I would never pin her wrists like that. Never growl commands. What if I had been the one on my knees for him instead?
The tall one took her doggy style. Spanked her ass. Yanked her hair back. “Beg louder, whore.” “Please, Cum inside me, deep inside me, Breed me.!”
“My breeding bitch.” He slammed in hard. Curved cock hitting deep. He unloaded with a groan, flooding deep inside her to places I could never reach.
His length reaches places mine never could. What would it be like to suck that curve? To feel it throb in my throat? To feel it inside me. My masculinity feels thinner every second I watch.
The muscular one had her ride him first, then flipped to missionary, legs over his shoulders, hand lightly around her throat. “Beg like a slut.”
“I want your cum so bad, Daddy! Fill my belly with your cum and make a baby inside me,” She cried.
He pounded relentlessly. Came with a shout and then continued to fuck her for a few more minutes and then came a second time, pumping load after load. Girth stretching her wide. A real alpha. Watching them own her makes me feel small and weak.
Over an hour of sweat, moans, and whispered dominance. They dressed, left, laughing about next time. I snuck out so they would not see me. Then I went around front and walked in like normal.
Cindi was still in bed, no time to clean up, if she was even planning to do that. Legs spread. Pussy ruined and gaping. Thick globs of cum oozing out. More than last time. The room smelled like them. Sweat. Cologne. Semen.
I stripped. Before she could say anything, I climbed between her thighs. I licked the outer folds first. Salty cream. Then I plunged my tongue inside. Cindi moaned with pleasure, not even considering the mess I was finding.
Globs filled my mouth instantly. I swallowed. The flavors were overwhelming. Pungent from the bearded one, I imagined. Sweeter from the tall one. Bitter and thick from the muscular one., I thought. There was so much more cum than before. Three full loads, and a half. Real men would never like the taste of another man’s cum like this. But I do. I wish I could have more. Their testosterone-infused seed sliding down my throat. Ingesting it. Taking small bits of my masculinity away with every swallow. The thought excites me. Makes me feel submissive. Less. Smaller. And that only makes my cock harder.
I sucked greedily. Lips sealed around her. Tongue deep. Drawing out wave after wave. Fingers stirring more. Lapping at her clit until she shuddered and came, pushing even more creamy mix onto my tongue. Their essence in me now. Through my mouth. Absorbing their dominance indirectly. Submitting. My masculinity eroding, and the thrill of it makes me ache.
I mounted her. Slid into the sloppy heat. Their cum coated my shaft. Their chemicals seeping through my skin with every thrust. Reinforcing that I’m not the dominant one. Just the one who comes after. I fucked her slow, then hard. Came explosively, adding my load to theirs.
Three weeks later, over breakfast, Cindi was giddy as she smiled at me across the table. “Derek, I’m pregnant. Finally.”
Whose is it? Mine? The bearded one’s? The tall one’s? The muscular one’s? Some impossible mix? The uncertainty floods me. I picture her belly growing. The child inside a mystery. A product of their dominance and my silent acceptance. It does not matter. The baby is ours. In every way that counts. But the doubt will always be there. A secret thrill. A reminder of how much smaller I felt watching them take her. How my masculinity shifted, bent, maybe even broke a little. And yet I love it. The unknown. The shared secret. The way it binds us forever. I pulled her into my arms. Kissed her forehead. “That’s incredible, baby. We’re going to be parents.”
Our son is almost one now. No cars have shown up in front of my house since then. Nothing like that has happened again…….until that one night……
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.