“So… what would you like for your birthday?” my wife Alana asked from her position on the couch.
I froze in my tracks, gob smacked, flustered and completely taken aback. I stood before her wearing a pink and red apron over my clothes, in one hand, I held a bucket of hot soapy water, in the other a wet rag. I had been completing my nightly chores and at this point in the evening, it meant wiping down bench tops and cupboards with hot soapy water. After that, I’d vacuum and mop. But this completely winded me as I stood before her in shock and awe. I cleared my throat and asked, “urm… excuse me?”
She put her phone aside and grinned at me before saying, “Choose carefully, you can have anything you want.”
This had to be some kind of joke. I examined her face in order to try and read her. Anxiously, I placed my bucket of water aside, quickly falling to my knees in submission. This garnered a chuckle from her as she shook her head at me, enjoying this perhaps a little too much. She knew I’d do just about anything to be close to her, to make her happy and now… I was being given the opportunity to ask for something, anything. I wasn’t going to squander this.
“Urm…” I began, nervously, clearing my throat, “goddess… I suppose…” I grimaced as she locked eyes with me, a semi sadistic grin washed over her. “What I’d really like is umm….” I struggled to get the words out, “I’d really like to have sex with you.” I finally managed to muster.
She snickered at my request.
“Like…” I fidgeted from my spot on the floor, writhing in anxiety, almost afraid to make eye contact with her, “what I’d like is… vanilla sex. Like normal, urmm…. marital sex, like we used to have….” My voice trailed off as I hung my head in shame.
I heard her chuckle out loud before her manicured index finger prodded my chin, gently forcing me to look up at her. She was grinning from ear to ear, amused by my request, “Does it still work?” she asked, clearly on the verge of laughter, waving her pinky finger at me.
“Urm… yes. I think so.” I added, morbidly ashamed as I turned three shades of red.
“How very bold of you to ask,” she began, leaning back, letting me stew for a moment, “For something like that, something that ‘big’, you’d probably have to ask Brad for permission,” she said with an almost triumphant smirk.
My heart sank as I soon realized that I’d be forced to beg Alana’s boyfriend for permission, to fuck my own wife. I shuddered in embarrassment as I gazed up at her, terrified as she proceeded to call him, placing him on speakerphone. “Hey babe,” I heard him say over the phone. I kept my head down, embarrassed and ashamed.
“Hey baby, so… I’m here with Jamie and he has something he’d like to ask you.” With that, she shoved the phone in my face.
“Urr…. Hello sir,” I said, meekly, softly.
“Oh hey honeybunch. What’s up?” he asked.
“Urr…. It’s umm… it’s my birthday tomorrow and umm… I was urr…” by this point my cheeks were burning. I was so very embarrassed and on edge, I was actually shaking. My wife Alana could hardly contain herself, letting her amusement known. She was fighting hard to keep from laughing. “I was just hoping to urm….” I struggled to get the words out, this was so very difficult for me and I never thought I’d ever find myself in this predicament, “I urmm… was hoping to urhhh….”
Alana let out a guttural laugh, beyond amused by my pathetic display.
“What are you trying to ask me Jamie?” Brad pushed, becoming slightly irritated by my lack of backbone.
I sighed sharply, deciding to just go for it, “I’d like to have sex with my wife…..” there was dead silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a long awkward pause, “if that’s okay with you sir.” I added before inhaling deeply, “please!” I pleaded in almost a whimper.
What followed was a deep laugh, a laugh from within.
I lowered my head in shame as the two of them continued to laugh and laugh at my expense, it seemed to go on forever. Just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he surprised me by saying, “sure thing little buddy,” in an almost condescending, mocking tone, “if it’s okay with Alana, it’s okay with me,” he added, beyond amused.
Overjoyed, I let out a sigh of relief and all too suddenly, a new type of anxiety set in. “There are rules though honeybunch.” He added with a stern tone.
“Oh yes, of course sir. Absolutely, I understand.” I responded, feeling very much flustered.
“First and foremost, you are not to see Alana naked. At all. Do you understand?” he asked.
“Yes sir. Of course sir. She can stay dressed and urm… I won’t look down at her umm… you know…. Her umm…” my voice trailed off as Alana let out another snicker, all at my expense.
“Secondly. I want you wearing protection,” he declared before adding, “plenty of protection.”
In that moment, I was so confused, I had no idea what he was getting at. My silence was a clear indication of this, so he felt it necessary to spell it out for me, “there are ten condoms in a box, you hear!” bursa escort he said, sternly.
“Urm, yes sir?” I responded, meekly.
“So, I want you to wear all ten.” Nearby, a pin dropped.
Ten condoms!!! Not only would I not feel anything, I’m sure wearing ten condoms would be particularly uncomfortable. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. I had been given permission to finally fuck my wife after so long, so rather than argue, or protest, I found myself saying, “yes sir. Of course sir. Thank you so much sir, I really appreciate it.”
This was followed by another fit of laughter, “just wait till you get ‘my present’ little buddy” he added before saying, “now get back to your chores!”
Submissively, I rose to my feet and resumed my duties. In the background I heard, “take me off speakerphone babe.”
For the next hour, I had to endure my wife and her lover whispering and chuckling to themselves, almost like teenagers as I washed, scrubbed and mopped. It wasn’t always like this.
I used to be the ‘man of the house’. But that was another lifetime.
My wife Alana is a social media influencer and what began as her simply taking bikini pics for instagram, blew up into something big and before too long, it soon became a business of sorts. Her income very quickly dwarfing my own.
Alana is younger than me, having just celebrated her 31st birthday and she keeps herself toned and fit through rigorous daily routines of Pilates. She is tall, overwhelmingly so, towering over me. She has long strawberry blonde hair and piercing deep blue eyes. In other words, she is a goddess and I knew I was always punching above my weight. I on the other hand, am in my late-forties, have a pot belly and am ever so slightly balding.
Once she started getting noticed online, she became more outgoing and began to collaborate with other social media influencers.
That’s how Brad came into our lives.
Brad is half Jamaican, half Scottish and is an impressive oak of a man. With his mocha skin, his wide frame and his imposing build, it’s easy to see why he has such a strong online presence. Of course, when he started collaborating with Alana, his popularity grew tenfold.
Online, they parade around as a couple, often barley dressed, often in a tropical setting. And, they do look great together. When friends and family found Alana’s instagram, messages of support came flooding in. I had to tell them, ‘it was all fake’ and that Alana and I are still very much married and very much in love.
But as Brad and Alana, they became a powerhouse and soon merged accounts for the sole purpose of further establishing a shared brand. This essentially meant more time together, more time away, more overseas trips and unfortunately for me, more time apart from my goddess wife.
Everything seemed to be okay for a while. As she blew up, as did our bank account. We upgraded our home, we bought new cars and began to truly live it up. Alas, it all came crashing down on one fateful Saturday when she sat me down and confessed to me that her and Brad were indeed having an affair. They had become close and life began to imitate art. “He’s just so manly and macho,” she began, “So in command and in control,” she placed her hand on my knee in an attempt to comfort me, “and as a man…. He’s amazing. He is just such an amazing specimen!” she mused out loud. This became too much for me as I began to involuntarily shake, but she continued, “He’s made me feel things I’ve never felt before. He’s so impressive! So big and amazing! I’ve never had it that good before. So athletic and primal, I can’t even begin to explain what he does to me.” Needless to say, listening to her discuss their sex life, left me feeling battered and beaten. It completely winded me and, I’m ashamed to say as she continued, I became overwhelmed and began to cry. I’m sure this un-masculine reaction from me took her completely by surprise. Any other man surely would’ve gotten angry, would’ve shouted, would’ve gotten territorial…. But not me, no. Instead, I sobbed like a school child. She leaned in and hugged me, repeatedly saying, “there, there, it’s okay sweetie… shushhh” almost as if she were a mother consoling an upset child.
What happened next completely took me by surprise.
For some reason, I had sprouted a modest little boner and this did not go unnoticed by her, “oh honeybunch!” she said softy with sympathy, “you poor little thing!” she said, looking down sadly at the embarrassing little hard lump between my legs. Acting quickly, she fished my erection out of my pants and proceeded to massage my little organ, almost tenderly as I let out whimpers in between muffled cries. “It’s okay sweetie. This will work. It’ll be okay honeybunch,” she said as she intensified her efforts. Within a matter of seconds, I had climaxed all over myself, letting out a whimper and wail as I came and came in buckets, all the while gasping for air like a dying fish. When it was all over, I simply couldn’t believe what had just happened.
She looked down at me with a bursa eskort sad, yet sympathetic grin and added, “I still love you. You’re my little cutie pie. I just needed more. You do know that, right?” Wiping away tears, I simply nodded at her, almost in agreement, sealing my fate. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I’d essentially agreed to let her take Brad on as her boyfriend. Our marriage had just been opened, but, just on her side.
At first, I struggled with the change in our dynamic but as time went on, I got used to it.
Brad began spending more and more time at the house and, I must admit, seeing them openly parading around as a couple, left me feeling lost and deflated. It was strange and I soon became a frantic mess. They didn’t even try to hide it from friends and family. I was a cuckold and it was mind-numbingly embarrassing.
Our sex life also began to change. At first, we would make love twice a week. This then evolved to once every few weeks, to once a month, to once every three months. Then, one night, on my ‘evening with her’, she stopped me and told me that henceforth, the only type of intimacy that could exist between the two of us, would essentially just be cuddles on the couch and hand holding. In short, Brad had intervened and told her that he no longer wanted me having sex with her. “I’m so sorry honeybunch but… it makes him uncomfortable. We don’t need to do that! It’s not part of our love. You understand, don’t you?” she said with a straight face. “You and I have a special bond. I don’t need to see your genitals anymore,” It was hard to hear and I’m sure most men would’ve left…. But what friends and family failed to understand was just how much Alana meant to me and just how much I loved her. She still loved me to. I could live with no sex. It was okay, just as long as we could still be together. Reluctantly, I agreed and thus began a whole new type of relationship between the two of us.
Early on, I really struggled with this new addition to our marriage. I recall on one occasion, I tried to reclaim her, only to have it completely blow up in my face, resulting in them coming even closer. I had planned to surprise her with a trip to a secluded resort on the east coast. I went completely above and beyond and spent a small fortune, sparing no cost. I wanted nothing more than to impress her and hopefully, push Brad out, reminding her that everything would not be possible without the two of us. So on that fateful day when I revealed to her what I’d planned, she got excited, overwhelmingly so. Unfortunately, she insisted that Brad join us and no amount of pleading and begging was going to change her mind. “Please honey, I want it just to be us. Husband and wife! He’s a nothing! A nobody! Please! We don’t need him!” my pleas fell on deaf ears.
The next day, we drove over to Brad’s condo in order to pick him up. On the way there, Alana leant into me and kissed my neck affectionately, “don’t worry sweetie. You know I’ll always love you, you’ll always be my number one,” this was slightly reassuring alas, all hope eroded when we showed up at Brad’s place. She was quick to jump out of the car, eagerly leaping into his arms. I sat in my car and looked on, green with envy as they shared a passionate embrace as if I wasn’t even there. It stung. Eventually, they both got into the car, forcing me to sit in the back seat as Brad took control behind the wheel, Alana taking her seat beside him. I felt numb as I sat in the back seat, looking up at the two of them. It was mind numbingly devastating, being forced to listen to them whisper and giggle, occasionally making out while he drove my 80 thousand dollar sports car, following the directions coming out of my phone.
When we stopped to get fuel, Alana popped out to get something to drink, leaving Brad and I waiting alone in the car. To break the awkward and tense silence, I cleared my throat, “urm, so uhhh, perfect weather for this…” slowly he unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face me, silencing me in the process. To say I was feeling intimidated in that moment, would be an extreme understatement. I was simply too afraid to say anything more. He simply stared at me, a cold crystal stare and I could tell that he was slightly irritated with me, for some apparent reason.
Without warning, he lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of my manhood. He squeezed and twisted, hard. This completely winded me and in sheer desperation, I clasped his wrist in an attempt to get him to release me. All it seemed to do was make him more eager to crush my delicate little bits. I let out a whimper and a wail, I actually screamed as tears streamed down my face, “ungh!!!! please!!!! Ss..ss…ssiiiirrr!!!” the pain was so very intense, I was actually on the verge of vomiting.
“you try to get rid of me? Is that it? You want me gone?” he applied more pressure, letting me know that he was and always will be the master, “get it through your little head, I’M HERE TO STAY! That piece of ass out there, is mine! You got that? YOU GOT THAT?!!” he shouted at me with his booming voice, causing the whole car to vibrate.
“Ungh! Please! Yes! YES!!!” I whimpered in my seat, shivering, shaking, balling my eyes out in pain, fear and humiliation, “I’m ss..sss…sorry,” I managed to muster.
“You think you’re a man?” he teased as he maintained that vice like grip on my testicles, “if I squeeze a little harder, you’ll be a nutless, dickless little nothing! You know that right?!! You tried to ‘get her back’? you’re fucking useless.” He paused for effect, “I’m gonna make you look so pathetic this weekend, she’ll never EVER look at you the same way!”
“pppp…ppplease!!! I’m sss…sss..ssooorryy!!!” I cried.
“Suck your thumb!” he ordered, “SUCK IT!!!”
Reluctantly, I brought my thumb to my mouth and eagerly sucked it, like a toddler. He roared with laughter, slightly easing his grip. “You will keep that thumb in your mouth until we get to the resort! You got it?!”
I whimpered, mostly out of angst, “ugh!” I pulled my thumb out of my mouth and with tears, I pleaded with him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it! I’m sorry! Sir! You are the man here, I’m so sorry… but…. Please, don’t make me do that. Please. I can’t let her see me doing that. Please??…..”
“You better keep sucking, or I’ll start squeezing again and I promise, when I’m done, your little testies will be mush, no more nasty little boners for you,” he said.
Reluctantly, I placed my thumb back in my mouth and sucked. With that, he released me and sat back in his seat, chuckling to himself. He didn’t say another word to me, he didn’t have to. All that could be heard were my muffled whimpers and sobs, coupled with the slurping sound of me sucking my thumb like a two year old.
Eventually, Alana made it back to the car holding two cans of red bull. She handed one to her lover, the other was clearly for her. It dawned on me she didn’t get me anything. As she took her seat, she glanced over at me, meeting my gaze. She was taken aback by my demeanor: my red eyes, my whimpering, my thumb in my mouth.
Slowly she gazed up at Brad who simply grinned at her, “what did you do?” she asked him with a mildly amused expression on her face.
“Nothing! It wasn’t me” he joked.
Alana looked at him in adoration, coupled with lust. I knew my fate was sealed. I knew my image in her mind had permanently changed forever. Little did I know, it would get much worse that weekend. Much worse.
When we arrived at the resort, I of course had to carry the bags to reception as they made out behind me. The lady behind the counter was a pretty young blonde, almost reminiscent of Jennifer Lawrence. This was the type of girl I’d spent many hours fantasizing about, the type of girl I’d like to woo and impress. I was met with a smile and a sly grin.
I knew I wasn’t a bad looking guy, I just didn’t have any confidence left.
As I checked in, I could’ve sworn she was almost flirting with me… or maybe it was just in my head. I’d always overreacted whenever a girl gave me a certain look. Her look said, ‘you’re handsome, if you weren’t married, I’d be all over you’ Of course, this was all in my head.
Her look changed as soon as Alana and Brad emerged behind me, hand in hand with giddy grins on their faces, they’d been making out like teenagers. Everyone could tell. “Come-on honeybunch!” Brad called out condescendingly, “You got the room yet?” he teased.
The lady behind the counter was confused by the whole situation. I stood there awkwardly, paying for the room as my wife and her lover made out beside me.
When we eventually made it to the room, neither of them acknowledged the views or the mammoth size of the room. I didn’t even get a mere thank you. This was the presidential suite and cost an arm and a leg. But they didn’t care. They were just too into each other.
I stood silently as they groped and kissed in front of me like I wasn’t even there.
Eventually, Alana announced, “maybe Honeybunch should go and get us some food while we…. Christen the room,” she said with a sparkle in her eye and a naughty mischievous grin.
Brad squeezed her ass and smirked, “oh yeah?” he said playing along.
She was putty in his hands. Everything he said, everything he did made her pant in excitement. He was a muscle-bound testosterone fuelled macho man. Everything I wasn’t.
I sighed in despair, but I was also oddly relieved. I really didn’t want to see them fuck. Or hear it. I was overjoyed that I could leave the room and get some air.
Brad turned to me, “leave honeybunch,” he ordered.
I grabbed my keys and quickly turned to retreat. All of a sudden he announced “wait!”
I stopped dead in my tracks. He aptly opened his bag, sifting through it. My wife and I looked on curiously. I had no idea what evil he had in store for me.
He pulled out a permanent marker. With that, he approached me, clasping my face with his left hand and squeezed hard. “Hold the fuck still,” he ordered as he proceeded to write something on my forehead. All I could see was his wide grin. In the distance, I could see Alana covering her mouth, trying to suppress a laugh. Once he was done, he let me go. “Don’t come back for an hour. Get us some food for tonight, you will cook for us when you get back,” he ordered.