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The Cuckold Assists his Mistress:

The cuckolding begins before we even leave the house. It begins when I'm spraying on perfume, applying make-up, pulling on the fine hosiery, stepping into those lacy panties. Because you know I'm not wearing any of that for your pleasure, but for someone else's. Or you might say "for ANYONE else's" because it doesn't really matter who the other man is as long as he meets certain requirements. He must be younger than you, more handsome than you, fitter than you and he must be able to fuck me better than you can. That last one is certainly not difficult, is it?

It's not that your cock isn't adequate. Well, it just about qualifies as adequate, but I need more than that. I need something bigger, harder, something that can fuck me for hours without coming. I need a cock I can worship and adore and I'm afraid yours just doesn't meet my requirements. That's why I'm always on the lookout for someone new. Some "fresh meat" if you want to be crude about it. That's why, when you take me out somewhere, I'm always on the alert for possibilities. Isn't that all part of the cuckold experience? Seeing me dress in a way I'd never dress for your appreciation. Knowing that I'm only dressing that way to attract another man. Seeing me parade myself in front of them, enjoying the attention, the power of my sexual attraction. You're so conflicted, aren't you? You hate seeing me flaunt myself like that, hate seeing the lust in the eyes of other men and yet it's arousing to you at the same time. Because I'm married to you and that fills you with pride, but you're not able to satisfy me and that fills you with shame. Especially since I make it quite obvious to anyone who sees us together, just what the situation is. I also make it obvious that I'll fuck anyone who meets those requirements of mine.

I spend the evening flirting with other men, watching you as you wonder which one of them will be coming home with us. Watching the expressions on your face as you see me evaluating them. This one's young and good looking, but what about his cock? You watch me stroke him through his pants. Watching his reaction and mine. Will this be the one? Obviously the young man's turned on. Even from where you're standing you can see the growing bulge in his pants. Yes, this may well be the one. You see me whisper in his ear and we both turn and look at you. I laugh, softly and the young man gives you a disdainful smile. Now that we all know what the situation is, I suppose we may as well go home. Now that I've made my
decision you can do nothing else but follow along.

In the car, the torment continues. Surely cuckolding is the ultimate in tease and denial? Because all I'm doing is teasing you almost more than you can bear and giving someone else what I deny you. Not only do I give it to someone else, but I make sure you know just how much I'm enjoying it. You drive while I sit in the back seat with my latest conquest. You listen to every sound, trying to keep your eyes on the road while you look in the rear view mirror at every opportunity. Certainly there's not much conversation going on in the back seat. Sounds, yes, but not much conversation. You can hear the rustle of clothing, the whispers, murmurs, soft moans and always the sound of kissing and heavy breathing. Even though this is such torture, hearing the two of us begin the dance of mutual seduction, your cock is hard in your pants. The anticipation of what is to come is, at the same time, tormenting and arousing you. You can clearly hear the breathing of the young man growing more hoarse, becoming faster. He pants and groans loudly - cries out - and you know that I've already brought him to orgasm. You know that it also means another mess for you to clean up. Because I know that it's just one more little prickle, one more little pinch to your ego when you have to go and clean that stain the next morning. Just one more little reminder of what happened the previous night. As if you could forget!

Now you can hear another sound coming from the back. The sound of flesh on wet flesh. You hear me now panting and moaning. You've heard that sound so many times before but you've never been the instigator, have you? You know it's the sound of my approaching orgasm. In the rear-view mirror you see my face. My head back, eyes closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed. What would you give to see that look on my face for you? You can tell that the young man has his hand inside my panties, is stroking my clitoris,fingering my pussy, and has me on the verge of orgasm. Suddenly I'm over the edge and crying out - almost sobbing with pleasure - but then my eyes fly open and I look into the mirror. I look directly into your eyes and what you see there is satisfaction -triumph almost. Not only sexual satisfaction, but the satisfaction that stems from the torment I've put you through. And still, your cock hardens and throbs in your pants. Will you be granted any satisfaction tonight? Well, that depends on what kind of mood I'm in. It may be that you'll be denied release, that you'll be sent to bed still throbbing and yearning for for what you can't have. For what you will never have. Because even on those occasions when you're allowed release, it's a poor substitute for what those other men get, isn't it?


 

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