“I’m sorry,” she replied as she walked up to him. “Things kind of dragged on.”
Tim was sat on the edge of the settee and she stood inches from him. Looking up, he saw that she looked tired and her long blonde hair was slightly dishevelled. “Have you been a good girl,” he asked her as he placed his hands on the outside of her knees inches below the hem of the black cocktail dress she was wearing.
Her legs were clad in black silk stockings and his eyes fell from gazing at her face to where his hands rested. “I didn’t get any complaints,” she told him. He glanced up again.
“He did have a moan at me though!” Tim’s mouth fell open.
“Mind you, he was cumming at the time,” his gasp was clearly audible.
“Cumming,” he asked as his hands began to twitch.
“Yes, he came inside me,” she said softly.
His hands were shaking as they moved up her thighs lifting the hem of her dress with it and so Claire reached down and touched them reassuringly before taking over the lifting of her hem. Tim sat open mouthed and motionless as it rose over the tops of her stockings. Midway between her stocking tops and her panties she paused for a few moments and then began the movement upwards again.
“Oh my God,” Tim gasped as he began to shake again.
It wasn’t the sight of her in her black see-through panties that made him gasp and shake; she was his wife and he seen her like this many times during their six year marriage. No, it was the state of them that stunned him. They were wet; not just wet, they were wet and sticky from cum. Her scent-their scent; the scents from their fucking filled his nostrils. Claire had been fucked; fucked by another man. Claire had allowed another man to fuck her! Claire had given herself to another man. Tim had been cuckolded.
“I’m sorry that I am in such mess,” she told him. “He did have rather a lot of cum.”
“Y……y……you let him fuck you then?” he said, stating the obvious.
“Yes, I’m afraid that I just could not stop myself,” she said quietly. “He had such a big one that I just had to…” she trailed off.
One hand moved up to the crotch of her panties and he used his finger to feel the wetness for himself. “How many times?” he asked.
“Twice,” she replied still holding up the hem of her dress.
His fingers slid inside the side elastic of her panties. “Did you cum?”
“Yes, quite a few times actually,” she told him.
Though his stomach churned, he felt his erection bulging inside his pants. He also felt the cum on his fingers; not his cum but another man’s cum.
“I need to get cleaned up,” she told him.
Tim looked up and gazed into her eyes. His erection was uncomfortable now; very uncomfortable in fact, and he also felt afraid. He knew what was expected of him now; he knew what he had to do. It was in her eyes; Claire didn’t need to speak; she didn’t need to communicate it in the form of words.
His hands rose to the waistband of her panties. For the second time that night they were being tugged down over her thighs. Male hands-rough, male hands; rough, male, eager hands pulled them down over the tops of her stockings and down her long shapely legs. For the second time that night they rested around her ankles and for the second that night she would step out of them as strong, firm, male hands gripped her thighs and pulled her against an expectant mouth and eager tongue.
For the second time that night she clasped the male head against her, ran her fingers through thick, dark hair as she moaned softly. The only difference was of course that the first male had been a stranger to her; a casual pick up- a casual fuck, who would tongue her into submission before he pulled her to the ground, adjusting her so that she was on her elbows and knees and then enter her violently from behind.
The male tonguing her just then was her husband and he was cleaning up what the first male had left behind; cleaning up the copious amounts of cum from two earth shattering climaxes thrust inside his wife. Afterward, there was no similar reward for him; there was no entry into her body; no planting of his seed deep within her, his was a cuckold’s reward.
She knelt on the floor between his legs as he sat back on the settee and she took out his leaking, throbbing cock and slowly masturbated him. She told him what had happened that evening. She looked at his face; his wet, sticky, cum stained, face and described in detail what had been done to her. She saw the pain and the torment intermingled with the pleasure, as she inflicted the humiliation upon him. She told him how she had felt as she was being fucked; told him how much bigger the other man was; told him the things he had said to her; told him the things she had said to her lover.
Long before she got to the end of her humiliation, she heard that final cry of the coming together of painful jealousy and sexual excitement, as his cum spilled over her hand. When the last drop had been drained from him she reached up and kissed him and thanked him for being such a good husband. His cuckold’s reward satisfyingly given.