John sat on the edge of the bed watching as Kate put the final touches to her lip makeup. Her favourite lipstick shade was dusky pink and he looked on as she puckered up her lips one final time. He knew that she never allowed him to kiss her just after putting her lipstick on, but he still got up to hold her in his arms. She turned her cheek to allow him to kiss at least one part of her face.
Her perfume was intoxicating and as always, she was immaculately and seductively dressed. He dropped his hands to her sides and held her momentarily. He could feel the straps of her suspenders. “You . . . you don’t mind me going round to Frank’s, do you?” she asked him. “He really needs a hand to sort out Elle’s belongings. She’s been dead almost a year now and he’s hardly touched any of her things. He needs to sort it all out and get rid of it. He can never move on with all that stuff lying around.”
John shook his head.
She hugged him. “It’s very good of you letting me help him out,” she told him. “Very few husbands would be as understanding as you. I really do love you.”
He ran his hands up and down her thighs momentarily. Kate reached for his groin. “I’ll have something very special for you when I return,” she told him.
John groaned under her gentle squeezing.
“Anything particularly that you would like me bring home for you?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
He knew that twinkle. He also knew how suggestive she sounded.
“You only have to ask,” she told him. “I would never deny you anything you desired.”
John shook his head. She was already leaving him with a hard on and suggestions of better things to come. “How . . . how long will you be?” he asked her.
She fondled him gently once more. “I think I should stay until Frank’s . . . well . . . finished with me,” she replied. “Helping him out of course.”
“S . . . stay as long as it takes.”
A hug with a smile, followed by a gentle squeeze of his hardness and she was gone. John watched as Kate got into her car and drive away. He shook his head as the thought that he was being cuckolded entered his mind. It was almost as if he was trying to shake the thought away as the battle raged within.
One part of him told him that he was imagining it all. Kate was just teasing him. She was a good wife. She would never do anything to hurt him. She was a faithful wife and anyway what did Frank have to offer her? He had a better job than Frank; more money and more prospects, why would she bother with him. He was also ten years younger. Frank was over forty so what would a woman of thirty be doing with a man of that age. If Frank were younger, he could understand the sexual attraction, but he wasn’t. Frank was past it now.
The battle raged within. Frank though was probably more sexually experienced than him. Perhaps he had a bigger one than him as well. Perhaps he was able to give Kate more than he could. Perhaps he satisfied her in bed. And anyway, why was she going to help him out dressed like she was. He could understand her helping a friend clear another woman’s belongings out but why would she be doing dressed in sexy lingerie; a see-through bra and panty set with stockings and suspenders? Kate was dressed for sex not clearing out wardrobes.
Once again, he shook his head; shaking out those thoughts of being cuckolded.
He looked at his watch; she would probably be there now. She would probably be ringing his front doorbell that very moment. Was it to clean or was it to fuck? He shook his head again. This time last week he had been helping her buy some new underwear. Today she was wearing some of it. His head shook again as he went into the lounge and switched on the television sports channel. It was a choice between golf and rugby. He chose the latter. The pain of the former and last week’s tournament was still fresh in his mind.
A couple of hours later he heard Kate’s car in the driveway, and he leapt out of his seat to open the door and greet her. She was opening the boot of her car and she called out to him. “Frank gave me a pile of Elle’s books,” she told him. “Looks like she enjoyed a raunchy read or two.”
John picked up the box of paperbacks and carried them in for her. Though he liked reading erotic fiction himself he was more interested in Kate as he put the box on the hallway table and turned to kiss her. Her lipstick looked fresh, and those thoughts told him that she had probably recently been sat at Frank’s dressing table and reapplying her make-up after being in his bed.
“D . . . did you get sorted?” he asked her.
“Just about,” she told him. “We bagged up piles of clothes for the Charity shops and put some other things at the bottom of the garden for burning. There is some jewellery too. He offered me some, but I couldn’t take it. I told him to take it all to a local jeweller and sell it.”
John looked at her. Kate sounded so plausible; so honest.
“So, what have you been up to then?” she asked him as she kissed him and touched his groin.
“Nothing really exciting,” he replied as something in the box caught his eye. He reached inside and pulled out one of the books. “How To Be The Perfect Cuckold” he said slowly.
Kate reached for it. “Sounds interesting,” she said.
“Why would Elle be reading that?”
Kate smiled. “It must be Frank’s. Elle cuckolded him,” she told him.
“Elle cuckolded Frank?”
Kate nodded. “Oh yes,” she said. “Frank was cuckolded for years.”
“Bloody hell,” John shouted. “I . . . I had no idea. How did you find out?”
“She told me ages ago,” she confessed. “She had a string of lovers over the years. Mostly Black guys though. She loved black cock”
John gasped.
“Sorry,” she told him with a giggle. “I thought Frank might have told you.”
John shook his head. “Never even a hint of it,” he replied. “Mind you, what bloke goes round telling his mates that his wife is fucking other guys, and Black guys at that?”
Kate smiled and reached for his groin again. “Blokes that get lots of enjoyment out of it and want to convert others.” she told him. “Anyway, what’s wrong with Black guys? All that testosterone running rampant through their veins; not to mention their big, thick cocks. Just the thought of it can wet a girl’s knickers.”
John stood opened mouthed as she gazed into his eyes. “And here was me . . .” he started to say. “Here was me thinking that Frank . . .”
“Thinking that Frank was what?”
John shook his head.
“Cuckolding you?” she asked.
John nodded.
Kate laughed as she shook her head. “Frank . . . Frank couldn’t cuckold to save his life,” Kate said. “He hasn’t got the equipment for starters and he’s a prem-jacker.”
“Prem-jacker?”
“Premature ejaculator,” Kate informed him. “He can cum at the sight of a stocking top.”
“How . . . how do you know all this?”
“Elle told me.”
For a moment they stood in their embrace looking into each other’s eyes.
“You thought that Frank has been cuckolding you, didn’t you?” Kate said breaking the silence.
John nodded.
“Silly boy,” she told him. “Frank isn’t cuckolding you?”
There was silence between them for a few a few moments; an expectant silence.
“Am . . . am I being cuckolded?” John asked finally.
Kate looked at him for a moment. “What would you do if you were being cuckolded?” she asked him.
John opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words to say. What would he do? Would he leave her? Would he break down in tears? Would he plead with her to stop?
Kate kissed him and wrapped her whole hand around his bulge. “Let’s go upstairs and discuss this,” she suggested.
John was like a lamb to the slaughter once more; following her up the stairs to their bedroom with his eyes fixed on the movements of her bottom. He reached out with his hand near the top of the stairs and slipped it right under her skirt and between her thighs. His fingers found her crotch momentarily. The material of her panties was wet; not just wet but also sticky. Kate had been fucked that afternoon.
