Putting John Through It (fm:cuckold, 1496 words)
|Author: Lutheran Maid|
|Added: Apr 10 2019||Views / Reads: 877 / 587 [67%]||Story vote: 8.12 (8 votes)|
|Do you wank John, when I'm out with Manfred? I was curious. Alarming as it seemed, I hoped that he did. I hoped that he felt jealous, impotent and powerless.|
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Don't forget to vote for this story, in the yellow voting box below the story!Do you wank John, when I'm out with Manfred?
I was curious. Alarming as it seemed, I hoped that he did. I hoped that he felt jealous, impotent and powerless. I had been seeing Manfred for several months now. He wasn't keen on sneaking around so he insisted that I tell my husband. He wanted to have the freedom to date me at will and none of that was easy if you were playing well behaved wife. There came the days then when Manfred arrived on his big BMW touring bike and I went out in my leathers and got onto the pillion seat. I knew that John watched me leave. I knew that he didn't have the guts to go and object about anything with Manfred. There was the little matter that my man was a biker and well, bikers were sometimes members of gangs...weren't they? It must have irked John. I mean, Manfred was German, teutonic, hefty Saxon or something of that kind and John was a warm beer and cricket on an English village playing field sort of man.
I watched my husband react. First there was the shock that raced across his face. It was a surprisingly direct and an embarrassing question. Then there was another emotion, the realisation that I was cruel enough to be curious about something quite that intimate, quite that private. This wasn't after all what a young wife should ask when she was having an affair. It wasn't what a demure daughter of a village vicar should ask. I was both and it seemed, from my question, that I was in open rebellion. I waited for him to answer. He was a lacquering my toe nails for me, a rich and luxuriant burgundy red. Manfred had a picture of those feet, up over his shoulders whilst he drove his thick cock into me. Andreas had taken that picture, amongst many.
John's face was colouring up red. The blood raced up through his neck leaving that puce and then filled his cheeks. I thought I knew the answer already.
'Yes' he admitted. He said it short, clipped in that 'let's leave it there' kind of way. He wouldn't keep eye contact with me when he said it. I was already hurting him.
I nodded and ran my fingers down between the folds of my satin shortie wrap and onto my sex. I eased the pink edge of the wrap to one side so that John could see my pussy. His face was but feet from it, as he worked on my toenails. He could see the curls of my blonde pubic hair, the pouting labia that peeped out from amidst it all. There John, do you see? Do you remember fucking that? Not now of course. Not now! It had been a long time since I allowed your cock anywhere near here.
'Is it because I won't fuck you anymore?' I asked airily. You'll appreciate that this was a muse. It was one of those idle, delicious conversations that seemed so sensuous since I started seeing Manfred.
'Yes' he admitted and dropped his head again. He would really rather that we didn't chase this topic.
I ran my finger tips between my lips, up and down a little so that they glistened. I presented them to John, he sniffed and licked gratefully.
'What do you think about honey' I asked, 'when you're beating your cock that way?'
He looked up at me then. He couldn't avoid it now. Something deep inside of him needed to see a woman who could be this cruel. He wanted to watch my elfin face as I interrogated him. I ran my fingers through pussy crease again and held them up. They were so moist. Perhaps he would get another lick...if he confessed.
'You know what I think about' he protested lamely. He shook his head. This was humiliating.
I smiled. That wasn't enough was it? Naughty boy...my fingers were going nowhere. I realised then, incrementally, in moments, each resting like an eider down on the other. I wanted to hurt John. I wanted to humiliate him and push him down.
'Tell Jill...that's a good boy' I whispered.
He shook himself. He was still poised with the lacquer brush, but he couldn't concentrate on my nails right then. I realised that he couldPlain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version for easy saving or printing
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Written well, but the story Has no substance. No build up, no explanation on why this idiot is like this. Just one day my husband watched me ride off on a motorcycle and I asked him did he jack off? Get real, no man would tolerate, answer or be around when she got back.
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