I’ll offer this true story of how my wife and I experienced wife sharing (I don’t like the term ‘cuckold’ as to me it denotes a weakness or inferiority aspect on the husband. I am not insecure and my cock is well above average).
My wife — we’ll call her Heather — is a well-preserved 54 years old, fairly short 4’9” tall, ever-so-slightly thick 120lbs, with decent-sized breasts and truly spectacular large, puffy conical nipples that create tents even in a sports bra. She is conservative, especially concerning sex — something she dutifully performs once a week exclusively in the missionary position as doggy style has become painful for her. The last time we tried several years ago, I was not able to penetrate her. The same applies to her being on top.
Heather has belonged to a local massage company for a number of years. She goes in every 2 weeks to her favorite guy — let’s call him Rick for a deep tissue sports message. This place is very professional and adheres to strict protocols. Every room has a security camera, and message techs are very careful to cover client’s private areas with a sheet, as well as carefully shield them when they turn over. Nothing funny has ever occurred during any massage she’s received there.
In 2020 Covid hit, and within a couple months, the business temporarily closed. During her last visit, Rick whispered to my wife that he was going work out of his home until the company reopened. He slipped her a card with his phone number and address, which fortunately was only a few miles away. For the record, Rick is somewhere in his early — mid twenties, single, around 6’ tall, stocky, and originally from Syria. Oh yeah, according to Heather, he is also drop-dead handsome. I’ve accused her of getting the massages because she’s turned on by this stud kneading her naked body, and she totally agrees — sarcastically.
Heather didn’t contact Rick until July, and he set an appointment for the following Saturday. Afterward, I asked her what his place was like and how the massage went. She said he lived in a modest, but clean, sparsely furnished home. His massage table was set up in the small living room where incense burned and relaxing meditation music played from the stereo. The only light was from several candles in the otherwise darkened room. The only bad aspect was the fact that the place was not air conditioned, but only had evaporative cooling, so it was warm and muggy.
As for the massage, she said it was ‘definitely different,’ raising her eyebrows and slightly grimacing. “Different how?” I asked. She proceeded to recount that it started out as usual — her being face down on the table while he worked on neck, shoulders, and back while her lower half was covered with the sheet. The ‘different’ part occurred when he shifted the sheet to her upper half. Instead of the sheet extending to mid-thigh, she felt it just slightly below her butt so she reached down and pulled it down a few inches. He started kneading her thighs, several times going so high on her inner thigh as to brush her pubic hair. “Did you say something?” I asked. “No, I assumed it was accidental.”
After working her calves and messaging her feet, It was time to turn over. He held up the sheet to shield her, then laid it on her as usual, covering her from the breasts down. He worked her shoulders, then upper chest muscles, but again went under the sheet several times, the last time running his oiled hands over her stiffening nipples making her flinch and prompting him to apologize. She told him ‘no problem’ believing it was accidental. He finished by working on her lower half. She felt a draft close to her crotch as if the sheet was not covering her completely, but she kept her eyes closed, thinking it may be her imagination. Again Rick’s fingers grazed her pubic hair as he went up her inner thighs. She didn’t react.
In bed that evening on our date night, Heather was unusually passionate, sucking my cock for the first time in years. I reciprocated as she moaned and bucked. “You’re thinking of Rick, right?” I asked. “Don’t be silly, of course not.” She moaned as her vagina noticeably spasmed. “Imagine his big cock sliding into you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I asked. “Oh god, Oh god yesssss. Ohhhhhhhhh…. Heather surrendered to her toe-curling orgasm. My wife thrashed wildly, clamping her legs shut until finally she went limp, her abdomen and thighs still twitching as she attempted to catch her breath. Our sex life had just received a kick-start.
The next Saturday we didn’t talk about her message scheduled for later that afternoon. After lunch, we were sitting on the couch watching a football game, and I noticed Heather was constantly checking her watch. “You looking forward to another ‘different’ message?” She looked at me seriously and asked, “What do I say if he does that shit again?” “I suggest you just close your eyes and enjoy the cheap thrill. Then come home and jump my bones, you horny little thing.” She said, “I’m old enough to be his mother, for God’s sake. Trust me, he’s got better things to do than me.” She left to take a shower as I sat there fantasizing about my naked wife getting fucked on a message table by her hunky young friend. I was amazed at how turned on I was at the thought — obviously the by-product of reading too many of my dad’s Penthouses growing up.
I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and noticed in the mirror my wife in the steamy shower turned toward the wall, apparently shaving her playground — a treat usually reserved for anniversaries and Valentine’s Day. My dick twitched as I pondered the possible significance of Heather’s pruning. She finished showering, and dried herself off as I pretended not to notice. She put on her robe and stood at her sink, getting ready.
I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her. “Don’t want Rick touching your pubes again?” She playfully slapped my hand. “Stop it. You’re overthinking this. I’m sure everything will be most professional.” I whispered in her ear, “But if it’s not, it’s okay with me. Better than okay.” I reached into her robe and slipped my finger into her moist folds. gently rubbing her stiffening clit as she leaned back against me, breathing heavily. She stood up and pulled my hand aside. “Stop, you’re going to make me late.” I lightly smacked her butt. “Oh God, I wouldn’t want to make you late for your groping.” “You suck,” she said as I retreated back to the living room.
Hours later I anxiously waited for my wife to get back home. Common sense told me that I was getting worked up over something that will never happen — and probably well it shouldn’t as I know that a fantasy like this is better kept a fantasy. I’ve known of marriages that came unglued because of poor decisions that sounded exciting at the time, but ultimately caused irreparable damage. Just as I was about to call Heather, I heard the garage door opening. One look at Heather’s face as she walked in told me something had happened. She collapsed on the couch next to me, accompanied by the faint unmistakable smell of cum and overheated pussy. I went numb.
Heather turned and looked me in the eye and said, “I did it. I let him fuck me.” I was so stunned I couldn’t find words, but my penis immediately came to life. “And?” I asked. “And we fucked. I know this was a bad idea — all I could think of was you on the way home. But this was partly your fault, you know,” she said defensively. I said, “I know it was. I can’t help that the thought of it makes me incredibly horny, but it does. Can we talk later after we fuck?” “ You don’t hate me?” she asked, her bottom lip signaling the likelihood of oncoming tears. “Does this look like I’m mad?” I asked glancing down at my straining cargo shorts.
Heather stood up, leaned over, and pulled off my shorts and underwear, freeing my desperate manhood before it quickly disappeared between her beautiful lips and halfway down her throat. As my shy, conservative wife ravenously sucked my cock, I pulled her back beside me on the couch and stuck my hand under her skirt. She obligingly spread her knees as I worked my hand past the elastic of her panties and into her smooth, creamy folds, plunging three fingers deep into the hottest, slickest cunt I’ve ever felt. Heather let out a loud muffled moan and quickly released my cock as she straddled me, guiding me into her with her free hand.
Heather got up on the balls of her feet and accompanied by the most obscene squishing, slurping, queefing soundtrack, proceeded to fuck me like a whore possessed until we both convulsed into massive, rolling orgasms that seemed to go on forever. Finally, we collapsed exhausted in an oozing, sticky puddle of my cum mixed with her new boyfriend’s as Heather’s legs continued to twitch as usual.
Over the next couple months, my prudish wife was insatiably horny. During our frequent fuck marathons (she no longer called it ‘making love’) Heather related the sordid details of her ‘different’ massage. It started similar to the last, except Rick restrained himself from touching her inappropriately while she was face-down, but after turning over, Heather again felt exposed — she could feel that the sheet was at least partially exposing her. The knowledge that this guy was inches away from her naked pussy instantly made her so horny she felt like she was literally dripping. After deeply kneading the inside of her thighs a few times, Rick’s ‘accidental’ graze returned, his oiled fingers sliding over my wife’s now bare lips. Heather reacted this time by slightly spreading her thighs as she struggled to catch her breath. The results were predictable — Ricks next move up her thigh slipped two fingers into my wife’s welcoming depths. She pulled him close and desperately tugged down his shorts releasing his heavy ‘bull cock’ (her words).
It turns out Heather had never actually seen a uncircumcised penis on a man, but as a little girl had seen her farmer grandfather’s bull’s many times. That was all she could think of as she watched Rick’s cock reach full erection, exposing the glistening, bulbous, dark purple head. He guided Heather off the table and leaned her over it. He placed his ‘thick as a Coke can’ (again, her description) cock head into her hungry folds and proceeded to slowly and methodically work inch after inch into her hungry cunt.
Heather said she started climaxing the minute Rick entered her. Finally, balls deep, he fucked her in long, slow strokes before tensing, then quickly pumped wave after wave of cum into her that she said felt like ‘hot lava’ filling her — a feeling she has never experienced before or since. She said she had forgotten how much sperm a young man produces, saying it reminded her of our sessions when we were young. It took her over 20 minutes to find the strength to get up, get dressed, and leave.
The aftermath of this weird tale is Rick became immature and possessive, telling Heather he loved her and begging her to leave me. She finally broke off all contact with him although this last New Years we got stinking drunk and while fantasizing and fucking, stopped for Heather to put on her shoes and a coat (nothing else) so she could drive over to Rick’s house to fuck him silly. Thankfully, he was not home. Heather still gets massages at the same company, but Rick no longer works there. The fallout is that she gets horny as hell during these sessions with her new guy Richie — a strapping black ex-college football player, no less — but I’m the only lucky recipient
My wife — we’ll call her Heather — is a well-preserved 54 years old, fairly short 4’9” tall, ever-so-slightly thick 120lbs, with decent-sized breasts and truly spectacular large, puffy conical nipples that create tents even in a sports bra. She is conservative, especially concerning sex — something she dutifully performs once a week exclusively in the missionary position as doggy style has become painful for her. The last time we tried several years ago, I was not able to penetrate her. The same applies to her being on top.
Heather has belonged to a local massage company for a number of years. She goes in every 2 weeks to her favorite guy — let’s call him Rick for a deep tissue sports message. This place is very professional and adheres to strict protocols. Every room has a security camera, and message techs are very careful to cover client’s private areas with a sheet, as well as carefully shield them when they turn over. Nothing funny has ever occurred during any massage she’s received there.
In 2020 Covid hit, and within a couple months, the business temporarily closed. During her last visit, Rick whispered to my wife that he was going work out of his home until the company reopened. He slipped her a card with his phone number and address, which fortunately was only a few miles away. For the record, Rick is somewhere in his early — mid twenties, single, around 6’ tall, stocky, and originally from Syria. Oh yeah, according to Heather, he is also drop-dead handsome. I’ve accused her of getting the massages because she’s turned on by this stud kneading her naked body, and she totally agrees — sarcastically.
Heather didn’t contact Rick until July, and he set an appointment for the following Saturday. Afterward, I asked her what his place was like and how the massage went. She said he lived in a modest, but clean, sparsely furnished home. His massage table was set up in the small living room where incense burned and relaxing meditation music played from the stereo. The only light was from several candles in the otherwise darkened room. The only bad aspect was the fact that the place was not air conditioned, but only had evaporative cooling, so it was warm and muggy.
As for the massage, she said it was ‘definitely different,’ raising her eyebrows and slightly grimacing. “Different how?” I asked. She proceeded to recount that it started out as usual — her being face down on the table while he worked on neck, shoulders, and back while her lower half was covered with the sheet. The ‘different’ part occurred when he shifted the sheet to her upper half. Instead of the sheet extending to mid-thigh, she felt it just slightly below her butt so she reached down and pulled it down a few inches. He started kneading her thighs, several times going so high on her inner thigh as to brush her pubic hair. “Did you say something?” I asked. “No, I assumed it was accidental.”
After working her calves and messaging her feet, It was time to turn over. He held up the sheet to shield her, then laid it on her as usual, covering her from the breasts down. He worked her shoulders, then upper chest muscles, but again went under the sheet several times, the last time running his oiled hands over her stiffening nipples making her flinch and prompting him to apologize. She told him ‘no problem’ believing it was accidental. He finished by working on her lower half. She felt a draft close to her crotch as if the sheet was not covering her completely, but she kept her eyes closed, thinking it may be her imagination. Again Rick’s fingers grazed her pubic hair as he went up her inner thighs. She didn’t react.
In bed that evening on our date night, Heather was unusually passionate, sucking my cock for the first time in years. I reciprocated as she moaned and bucked. “You’re thinking of Rick, right?” I asked. “Don’t be silly, of course not.” She moaned as her vagina noticeably spasmed. “Imagine his big cock sliding into you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I asked. “Oh god, Oh god yesssss. Ohhhhhhhhh…. Heather surrendered to her toe-curling orgasm. My wife thrashed wildly, clamping her legs shut until finally she went limp, her abdomen and thighs still twitching as she attempted to catch her breath. Our sex life had just received a kick-start.
The next Saturday we didn’t talk about her message scheduled for later that afternoon. After lunch, we were sitting on the couch watching a football game, and I noticed Heather was constantly checking her watch. “You looking forward to another ‘different’ message?” She looked at me seriously and asked, “What do I say if he does that shit again?” “I suggest you just close your eyes and enjoy the cheap thrill. Then come home and jump my bones, you horny little thing.” She said, “I’m old enough to be his mother, for God’s sake. Trust me, he’s got better things to do than me.” She left to take a shower as I sat there fantasizing about my naked wife getting fucked on a message table by her hunky young friend. I was amazed at how turned on I was at the thought — obviously the by-product of reading too many of my dad’s Penthouses growing up.
I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and noticed in the mirror my wife in the steamy shower turned toward the wall, apparently shaving her playground — a treat usually reserved for anniversaries and Valentine’s Day. My dick twitched as I pondered the possible significance of Heather’s pruning. She finished showering, and dried herself off as I pretended not to notice. She put on her robe and stood at her sink, getting ready.
I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her. “Don’t want Rick touching your pubes again?” She playfully slapped my hand. “Stop it. You’re overthinking this. I’m sure everything will be most professional.” I whispered in her ear, “But if it’s not, it’s okay with me. Better than okay.” I reached into her robe and slipped my finger into her moist folds. gently rubbing her stiffening clit as she leaned back against me, breathing heavily. She stood up and pulled my hand aside. “Stop, you’re going to make me late.” I lightly smacked her butt. “Oh God, I wouldn’t want to make you late for your groping.” “You suck,” she said as I retreated back to the living room.
Hours later I anxiously waited for my wife to get back home. Common sense told me that I was getting worked up over something that will never happen — and probably well it shouldn’t as I know that a fantasy like this is better kept a fantasy. I’ve known of marriages that came unglued because of poor decisions that sounded exciting at the time, but ultimately caused irreparable damage. Just as I was about to call Heather, I heard the garage door opening. One look at Heather’s face as she walked in told me something had happened. She collapsed on the couch next to me, accompanied by the faint unmistakable smell of cum and overheated pussy. I went numb.
Heather turned and looked me in the eye and said, “I did it. I let him fuck me.” I was so stunned I couldn’t find words, but my penis immediately came to life. “And?” I asked. “And we fucked. I know this was a bad idea — all I could think of was you on the way home. But this was partly your fault, you know,” she said defensively. I said, “I know it was. I can’t help that the thought of it makes me incredibly horny, but it does. Can we talk later after we fuck?” “ You don’t hate me?” she asked, her bottom lip signaling the likelihood of oncoming tears. “Does this look like I’m mad?” I asked glancing down at my straining cargo shorts.
Heather stood up, leaned over, and pulled off my shorts and underwear, freeing my desperate manhood before it quickly disappeared between her beautiful lips and halfway down her throat. As my shy, conservative wife ravenously sucked my cock, I pulled her back beside me on the couch and stuck my hand under her skirt. She obligingly spread her knees as I worked my hand past the elastic of her panties and into her smooth, creamy folds, plunging three fingers deep into the hottest, slickest cunt I’ve ever felt. Heather let out a loud muffled moan and quickly released my cock as she straddled me, guiding me into her with her free hand.
Heather got up on the balls of her feet and accompanied by the most obscene squishing, slurping, queefing soundtrack, proceeded to fuck me like a whore possessed until we both convulsed into massive, rolling orgasms that seemed to go on forever. Finally, we collapsed exhausted in an oozing, sticky puddle of my cum mixed with her new boyfriend’s as Heather’s legs continued to twitch as usual.
Over the next couple months, my prudish wife was insatiably horny. During our frequent fuck marathons (she no longer called it ‘making love’) Heather related the sordid details of her ‘different’ massage. It started similar to the last, except Rick restrained himself from touching her inappropriately while she was face-down, but after turning over, Heather again felt exposed — she could feel that the sheet was at least partially exposing her. The knowledge that this guy was inches away from her naked pussy instantly made her so horny she felt like she was literally dripping. After deeply kneading the inside of her thighs a few times, Rick’s ‘accidental’ graze returned, his oiled fingers sliding over my wife’s now bare lips. Heather reacted this time by slightly spreading her thighs as she struggled to catch her breath. The results were predictable — Ricks next move up her thigh slipped two fingers into my wife’s welcoming depths. She pulled him close and desperately tugged down his shorts releasing his heavy ‘bull cock’ (her words).
It turns out Heather had never actually seen a uncircumcised penis on a man, but as a little girl had seen her farmer grandfather’s bull’s many times. That was all she could think of as she watched Rick’s cock reach full erection, exposing the glistening, bulbous, dark purple head. He guided Heather off the table and leaned her over it. He placed his ‘thick as a Coke can’ (again, her description) cock head into her hungry folds and proceeded to slowly and methodically work inch after inch into her hungry cunt.
Heather said she started climaxing the minute Rick entered her. Finally, balls deep, he fucked her in long, slow strokes before tensing, then quickly pumped wave after wave of cum into her that she said felt like ‘hot lava’ filling her — a feeling she has never experienced before or since. She said she had forgotten how much sperm a young man produces, saying it reminded her of our sessions when we were young. It took her over 20 minutes to find the strength to get up, get dressed, and leave.
The aftermath of this weird tale is Rick became immature and possessive, telling Heather he loved her and begging her to leave me. She finally broke off all contact with him although this last New Years we got stinking drunk and while fantasizing and fucking, stopped for Heather to put on her shoes and a coat (nothing else) so she could drive over to Rick’s house to fuck him silly. Thankfully, he was not home. Heather still gets massages at the same company, but Rick no longer works there. The fallout is that she gets horny as hell during these sessions with her new guy Richie — a strapping black ex-college football player, no less — but I’m the only lucky recipient
