captainstrangecollector

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"I knew you'd understand," she smiled, clearly relieved.  "As long as we all get what we need, there's no reason to get hung up on labels."

She reached for me and gave me a long, slow kiss.

"I'm not dating Ryan, I'm just his date to the wedding.  I'll only be gone for the weekend and then things will back to normal—or however we want them to be."

As I got closer, she slowed down.  "Now, why don't I try on a few things and you can help me decide what I'll bring on the trip."

"Perfect," I said.

…the way she’s clutching that skirt…how she has her hand hidden inside her sweater…providing an excuse for something that has yet to transpire…it might not be today, but it will be…soon…<3 emmie @ le cocu quotidien.

Part of being a cuck is knowing this is a possibility. My wife loves our setup and wouldn’t leave, but she likes me knowing he could take her from me as his own

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"Would you like to masturbate?" your beautiful wife asks.

You know what that means. You nod and she directs you to get naked. You do so as quickly as possible and crawl into bed with her.

You kiss your wife's neck and caress her taut stomach. You play with her perky breasts as she moans for you. Her fingers move between her legs and her moan deepens as she arches her back.

"Are you thinking about him?" you whisper.

"Of course," she replies with a smile. "I can't help but think about him when I get turned on. I can't help but crave him."

You smile and stroke your cock. "Do you wish he was here with you? Do you wish he was in our bed right now?"

"I wish he was in my pussy right now. I wish his big cock was deep inside me right now. I wish he was fucking my tight little cunt."

You kiss her neck and your lips move over her soft skin and towards her breasts. You encircle one of her nipples and flick your tongue back and forth over it. She moans and you feel utter delight at being able to pleasure her in that way.

"I wish he was here too," you say. "I wish I was watching him fuck you. I wish I was on my knees at the foot of the bed and watching another man fill your pussy while your moans filled the air."

She smiles at you. "That's where a cuck belongs, isn't it? On his knees while another man fucks his wife. Watching as someone else satisfies her. Watching as a better man fucks his wife to a fantastic orgasm."

You're already close to cumming. It's always that way when she talks like that to you. Even better, it turns her on too.

"Are you going to cum?"

"Yes," you admit.

"Me too," your wife replies with a smile. "I'm going to cum while thinking about him. About the superior man that fucks me to so many incredible orgasms."

You cum together. You fall a little deeper in love with your wife as you orgasm. You experience pure, perfect bliss and the look on her face makes it seem like she does too.

"I love you," you say in the aftermath of your orgasm.

She turns her head and kisses you. "I love you too."

Isn't it wonderful to be a cuckold?

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A hall pass

I can’t remember now when I admitted to my then-girlfriend that I was interested in her cuckolding me.  The desire preceded the relationship, and it has stayed with me in the years since that relationship ended.

She knew, though, before she left for a college reunion the last fall we were together.  As I remember it now, I feel like she must have noticed a spark when she mentioned looking forward to seeing all of her old friends.  The college was a plane trip away from where we lived, and this reunion was her five-year, so most of her friends were still unattached and living interesting lives in the big city she had left.  She missed them; she would find a way to go up for the weekend and see everyone she could, staying in her friend’s empty apartment.

One of those friends, Luke (for our story, but his real name will never leave my mind), had not attended the school, but came to know that my girlfriend would be traveling to the city for the weekend.  I’m sure I had heard about Luke beforehand, but always in the context of some other guy friends of hers.  Maybe they were buddies from her post-college job or the bar they all went to.

One night, a couple of weeks before the trip, my girlfriend called over from the other room and told me to “make an angry face” while she pointed her phone in my direction.  The picture was for Luke, she said, who had teasingly suggested she bring along some lingerie for the reunion weekend.  As I recall, I didn’t have the faintest idea that their text conversation might have taken that turn, and I’m sure the blood ran from my face and just as sure where it went.

My girlfriend thought it was funny, and I convinced myself that it was just an improbable joke, almost certainly not having to do with my fantasy.  But I didn’t want to let the opportunity pass to explore it either.

That night I asked her in bed whether she might break away from the college group and get to see Luke and her buddies.  She touched me while she asked if that was something I wanted.  I touched her as I asked her to describe Luke to me.  He is extremely well-built, funny, just never single at the right time, one of the ones who got away.

Before I came, I was desperate to outline the breadth of my fantasy again, reminding her that she had every right to see whomever—and do whatever—she liked, at home or while on a trip, far away from everyone we knew.

—

She left for the reunion.  Luke had been called away on business for the weekend she was going, so our bedroom talk had softened.  The realization, though, that she would consider an affair, engaging me in the fantasy with a particular name—a particular person—had electrified our relationship and dominated my thoughts.

She went to the cocktail parties and the football game, sending back social media pictures of her group of friends in their team’s colors at each of the different events.  Sunday morning, she went out with her girlfriends to brunch.  Between pitchers of mimosas, she called me and put me on the phone with her old friends, who interviewed me.  Even after a couple of years of dating, I had never met them, so I got questions about my intentions with my girlfriend and plans for when we might fly to see this friend or that friend.

Eventually my girlfriend took the phone back and walked away from their table.  She asked me almost immediately, “Were you serious about the hall pass?  Luke is coming back a day early.”

I was stunned.  I managed to say yes and offer her encouragement without, I think, making myself sound desperate that she go through with it.  I also don’t remember ever using the phrase “hall pass.”  She had spent time with the thought, rationalizing it.

She called later that afternoon to say that she had made plans to see Luke and her other buddies, and that she had made Luke aware of the fact that she was staying at her friend’s empty apartment, all alone.

The next time I heard from her was the following morning.  She texted to let me know she made it to the airport, that she had had fun the night before and that she had a story for me when she got home.

—

I still don’t know if Luke was aware of my fantasy or not.  My girlfriend always found ways of skirting the point, keeping private some element of her interactions with him.

I do know that by the time he arrived at the apartment, after he had been out with her and their buddies to the bar, meeting her at the door where she greeted him in a sweatshirt and sheer panties, he had explained that he had a girlfriend.  As they kissed and she began to remove his clothes, pulling him to the couch, he explained that he would have to draw a line—somewhere—short of sex.

When my girlfriend told me my story, that Monday night, I am convinced that she told it in episodes.  Each one slightly more damning than the previous, in case I lost my permissive resolve.  I held up, so the details continued to grow more vivid.

She always denied having sex with him, but what began as making out on the couch eventually moved to the bedroom.  First with clothes, and then without them.  She touched me as she asked, “Are you happy that I touched him like this?  He was very happy.”  My girlfriend described Luke’s toned body, naked beside her, and the sweetness of his kisses.

They played with each other all night, not falling asleep until five in the morning.  Before he went to work, they shared a lingering kiss at the door.  He left his wallet and had to come back a half hour later.  She told me, “the last kiss was my favorite part of the whole trip.”

—

She seemed to feel different to my touch that night, although I’m sure in my mind I wanted her to.  I am guilty of looking at her email once to search for Luke’s name, finding a conversation they had about a “shower party” (her quotes) a few days after she came home.  She did love to make love in the shower.

My girlfriend would ask me occasionally what I wanted to do about the experience.  I imagined with her, for her, a weekend where my apartment would be empty so that Luke might come to our town, perhaps on business.  I could be gone whenever she liked, I said.

She wondered if I might want to participate, suspecting that I would want to enjoy Luke alongside her.  She never articulated that specifically, but I could tell she always wondered what else could possibly motivate such a fantasy.

Really, though, her night with Luke helped me to see it more clearly than ever.  I wanted only for her to feel in control, untethered from me and not especially concerned either.  I wanted her to have sex or not have it, with a man or with a woman, to tell her friends or Luke or not to tell them.  It didn’t matter to me what came of her decisions, only that she was making them.

I was happy to wait at home to find out my fate; to learn from the person in control just what had happened to her and to us and to me.  I begged to know.

It was cold in the bedroom as she slipped out of her scrubs.  The show was about an hour’s drive into the city and she only had a little while to get ready.

A final decision: the black, cheeky panties her husband adored.  They were sensible, while the rest of her outfit—a plunging neckline, new stockings, the first night out in a long-coveted pair of shoes—might give one idea, she would know that she had chosen against the most daring options in her drawer.  Her husband grew quiet as he saw her dress, but this should have reassured him.

She was thrilled that Clay had asked her to join him at opening night.  Her husband enjoyed this sort of thing, but could hardly be expected to make the herculean effort to find such exclusive tickets, so she had resigned herself to catching it later, maybe on a family vacation for an off-Broadway run.  Then Clay called, remembering something she had mentioned at the Christmas party, and she jumped at the chance.

Her husband took the news in stride—happy that she was happy—even offering to take her shopping for something special for the occasion.  When she settled on the shoes, she kissed him on the cheek and slipped the blue credit card from his wallet.

—

Clay arrived, and, as she finished getting ready, her husband made him a bourbon and soda.  It was the first time the two men had met outside of her office’s functions, and her husband had thoughtfully asked her what Clay liked to drink so that he could offer a small token.  They stood as she entered the room, clearly taken with her.  

Clay offered his arm to her as they said goodnight to her husband.  Clay watched as she blew her husband a kiss.

—

She always got nervous at black tie events, and sure enough she nearly fell on the first stair.  She caught Clay’s hand just in time to avoid embarrassment; if she had been wearing her rings, she would have cut his palm.  He smiled and, to set her at ease, kept her hand the rest of the way up the stairs to the box and leading her to their seats.

The view was breathtaking, and she took a moment to simply appreciate the person who was showing her such kindness.  He wore his finely tailored suit the way another man might a t-shirt and jeans; it was clear that he was, somehow, most comfortable in settings like these.  She thought how lucky a girl would be to be shown the town by someone like him.  He could have asked anyone to be where she was.

As the first song began, she slipped her hands around his arm and beamed a smile of gratitude toward him.  For some reason, it felt more natural to leave her arm hooked in his for the duration, squeezing more tightly as the music swelled and released.

When he returned with drinks after the intermission, he whispered to her about their neighbors in the row ahead, holding her knee as he leaned over.  She laughed and buried her grin into his shoulder as the neighbors glanced back in their direction.  

“Excuse my friend, here,” Clay laughed, “she’s just had her first taste of bourbon.”  She giggled and gave him a playful shove before laying her head back against his shoulder as the lights drew down.

—

“The show was amazing, but now I have a splitting headache,” she texted her husband as Clay walked her to the car.  Her husband responded quickly, asking if she needed him to come pick her up.

“Don’t worry about it.  I don’t think I have the drive back in me tonight.  Clay is going to drop me off at a hotel around the corner, and I can take the train in the morning.  See you tomorrow, love.”

While Clay drove, she mapped out her next morning.  She had an extra set of scrubs and underwear at the office, along with a cosmetic bag.  She could text Michelle to bring another pair of shoes.

She slipped out of her dress as she entered the bedroom.  She walked to the bed, and, bending at the waist, she realized how cold it was in Clay’s apartment.

…just give her time…<3 emmie @ le cocu quotidien.

In ‘Giving Her Permission to Date,’ your girlfriend comes home from work, puts on something sexy, and gives you a lap dance as she announces that someone at worked asked her out. Oh, and she also lets you know that she accepted his invitation and will be going on a date with another man.

You resist at first, of course. What man would be okay with his girlfriend dating someone else. She seduces you, though. She teases you. She turns you on. She fills your head with surprisingly arousing thoughts of another man kissing her, touching her, fingering her pussy, and more.

She convinces you that it’s actually insanely hot to imagine her going on a date with another guy, and you give her permission. You tell her it’s okay to date someone else. You tell it’s okay to get naughty with him on that date, too, and you end up finding the whole thing thrilling. Lucky boy.

Read ‘Giving Her Permission to Date’ on my Patreon page along with nearly 1,000 other cuckold stories, all of which are guaranteed to thrill you.

In ‘Giving Her Permission to Date,’ your girlfriend comes home from work, puts on something sexy, and gives you a lap dance as she announces that someone at worked asked her out. Oh, and she also lets you know that she accepted his invitation and will be going on a date with another man.

You resist at first, of course. What man would be okay with his girlfriend dating someone else. She seduces you, though. She teases you. She turns you on. She fills your head with surprisingly arousing thoughts of another man kissing her, touching her, fingering her pussy, and more.

She convinces you that it’s actually insanely hot to imagine her going on a date with another guy, and you give her permission. You tell her it’s okay to date someone else. You tell it’s okay to get naughty with him on that date, too, and you end up finding the whole thing thrilling. Lucky boy.

Read ‘Giving Her Permission to Date’ on my Patreon page along with nearly 1,000 other cuckold stories, all of which are guaranteed to thrill you.

Your beautiful girlfriend is away for a bachelorette weekend with her friends. You know she’s going to do a little flirting, but you never expected to get a video of her cheating on you.

It’s not just that, though. It’s a video of her sucking someone’s cock in an alley outside a night club. It’s a video of her being a wild, naughty little slut because she’s just so desperate to feel a big dick in her mouth.

You should be mad, but you’re not. You watch the video once, and then you watch it again, and again, and again while you masturbate. Then your girlfriend calls…and that’s when the real fun begins.

Read ‘A Weekend with the Girls’ on my Patreon page. Enjoy this naughty second person story and play with your cock as you do. Then, enjoy more than 900 other cuckold stories that are guaranteed to thrill you.

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She knows. She can tell. She knows that you love the idea that she might have cheated on you. She’s known for years. Now, though, she might have done it. She might have fucked someone else. She might have let him cum in her pussy. You want to find out, don’t you?

You crawl into the bed. She spread her legs. You crawl closer. You run your fingers over the delicate lace of her panties. They’re wet and warm. It could just be her juices, though. She could just be soaked with desire.

“Pull them aside,” she says. “See if I let another man cum in my married pussy.”

You pull aside her panties. Her pussy is a mess. It’s a sticky, wet mess. It’s not thick and creamy like cum, though. You’re not sure if she cheated, if she fucked someone else. You look up and see a smile on her face.

“Taste it,” she says. “Use your tongue to see if I fucked someone else, if I cuckolded you.”

You move just a little closer. The smell of sex fills your nose. She fucked someone else. She must have. There’s only one way to know for sure, though. You have to taste her.

“Go ahead,” she says. “See if I made your fantasy come true.”

Related Cuckold Story: From Cheating Wife to Cuckoldress

You extend your tongue. You run it over her pussy lips. You take the fluid onto your tongue. It’s salty. It’s bitter. It’s gross. It’s cum. It’s another man’s cum. It’s absolutely another man’s cum.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she asks.

You look up at her and nod.

“I’ve tasted it before too,” she says. “In fact, I swallowed his cum just a few days ago. I went to his house while you were at work. I got on my knees for him. I sucked his cock. I swallowed his thick load. I did it all while you were working hard to pay our bills.”

You’re hard as a rock.

“Can I fuck you?” you ask.

She smiles and runs her fingers through your hair. “Of course you can. You work so hard for me, you deserve to fuck me. I need you to clean my pussy first, though. Clean up every drop.”

You can’t imagine anything hotter. You push your tongue deep into her pussy. Your cock throbs as you close your eyes and let the pleasure of being a cuckold wash over you.

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The bedroom door opens and she pads out.

Okay, she says. You can open them now.

She's modeling her new gym set for me. It's shiny and skintight, showcasing the months of hard work she's been putting in.

Ostensibly this is all for my benefit but I've started having suspicions about her motivation.

Wow, you look amazing, I say. I tell myself to keep quiet, to let whatever's going on find its own way out, in its own time, but the words are spoken before I can stop them.

Why the new outfit? I hear myself say.

I hate how my voice sounds but there's no getting around the fact that I'm jealous.

She looks at me quizzically, opening her mouth to speak, then closing it again without doing so. I brace. Too late now. She tilts her head and gazes up at the ceiling for a moment, before turning back to me, nodding. She takes a deep breath, exhales.

The instructor in the class is very handsome and tall and knowing that he's watching me makes working out enjoyable, she says.

I wait for more but realize quickly that that was the totality of her response.

My heart is fluttering. I'm at my own inflection point.

I love her.

I want her to be happy.

I don't want to be this person.

I want to be the person for whom this is, somehow, a good thing.

I adopt his face, summon his words from within and speak in his voice.

Thank you for telling me, I say. He's very lucky to have you in his class.

She smiles.

There's further to go, more to say.

Go.

Say it.

Be that person.

I think you should ask him if he offers private lessons, I say. Her eyes widen.

Further.

And I think, if he does, that I should pay for them.

Her eyebrows shoot up and a broad grin breaks out across her face.

Deal, she says.

Her boss is tall and handsome and older than her.

She thinks of him when she sees it, when she tries it on in the dressing room, when she buys it for herself and secrets it into her closet at home.

How could she know you would find it?

How could she know what you'd think?

After hours in the office, unavoidable in her glistening rubber sheath, he appears in her office doorway and asks if she's free to grab a drink.

He's met you before.

He's aware that you exist.

He just doesn't care.

How could you know how it would sound, the gentle drops of his pleasure, falling from her lips and landing on taunt rubber stretched across bended knees, how distant she's be when finally she returned home to you?

She never would have imagined it.

But the mind is a mystery, capable of many impossible things.

A Finger On The Scales

The Wedding Date - A Hotwife Story

It was supposed to be a favor for a friend. Sarah agreed to be Evan’s date to his sister’s wedding so his family wouldn’t harass him about finding a girl, settling down, etc.

Evan wasn’t entirely honest, though. He’d been nursing a crush on Sarah for years, from back when they worked together. He told her he was asking as a favor, but he was hoping Sarah would be interested in more than putting on a show for his parents.

As you might have guessed, Sarah can’t quite help herself, and over the five parts of The Wedding Date, she and Evan indulge in what turns out to be a mutual desire.

Sarah resists her desire for Evan at first. She doesn’t want to cheat on her husband Jason, after all. In fact, she’s more than a little annoyed with Evan. It’s when she texts with Jason that her resistance starts to crumble, though. It turns out her husband might be into the idea of his wife having some harmless fun with another man.

This five-part hotwife story takes place over one wedding weekend and intermixes scenes of Sarah indulging in her growing desire for Evan with frequent naughty text exchanges with her husband who seems more than willing to be made into a cuckold.

If you want to read all five parts of The Wedding Date, become a Patreon supporter today (at the Cuckold Stories level). If you’re already a supporter, click the links below to read the story right now.

Warning: If you don’t want any of the plot points spoiled, skip reading the chapter summaries below and click the links to start reading.

Part 1 – Sarah narrates the first-person story, starting with getting Jason’s approval to accompany her friend to his sister’s wedding. He’s okay with it, and we head to the airport, where Sarah discovers that Evan has purchased first class tickets for them. There’s more than a little flirtation happening, but it isn’t until they land that she realizes that Evan has told his family that Sarah is actually his long-term girlfriend, not just his date. Luckily for him, she’s willing to play along, which leads to just a little bit of sensual play.

Part 2 – At the rehearsal dinner, Sarah meets some of Evan’s family members and discovers that her friend has been nursing a crush on her for quite some time. They dance and she can’t help but find herself caught up in deep kind of desire. Back at the hotel, Sarah lets the desire get the best of her and she and Evan consummate their fake relationship and have beautiful sex. Afterwards, Sarah texts with her husband, offering him naughty little details of what she did, details that he seems to find thrilling.

Part 3 – The next morning, Sarah decides to lean into playing the part of Evan’s girlfriend. Jason has given her his blessing to have fun for the weekend and she decides to take advantage. She and Evan fool around in the pool, have more great sex, and then she sends Jason more naughty texts to give him what he seems to crave.

They attend the wedding that evening and Sarah gets caught up playing the part of Evan’s girlfriend. She talks with his family, teases him about not asking her to marry him yet, and happily indulges in soft, tender kisses whenever she can. Then, she lures him to a bathroom because she absolutely has to have him.

Part 4 – After her bathroom interlude with Evan, Sarah sends her husband a series of sensual, sexy texts, bringing him to orgasm and offering her the satisfaction of helping two men climax in the span of just a few minutes.

Lots more sex with Evan unfolds before they fly back home. They sneak out onto the golf course at the country club where the wedding was held and make love on a green. They go at it the next morning. She even offers Evan her mouth before he drops her off at home so Sarah can go back to her real life.

Part 5 – Jason is all over his wife the moment she walks in the door and she’s equally eager to fool around with him. He’s spent the weekend enjoying her texts and a few naughty pictures and he wants to enjoy his wife’s body. Sarah gives him everything he desires.

As it turns out, Sarah couldn’t keep her lusty play with Evan contained to a single weekend. In the epilogue, we read about her and Evan’s first date back home, a date that Jason is on board with his wife going on. We get just a little taste of a whole new kind of sex life unfolding for the couple.

That sweater, that smile, it’s all for him, her tall, powerful boyfriend. She doesn’t pay any attention to me anymore. And why should she? I’m just her wimpy failure of a husband. But I do my best to make her happy. I make sure the house is spotless, her laundry is done, and she never has to lift a finger. This way she gets to enjoy more time with him. So why do I do it? Well, just look at her. I can’t resist her or deny her anything. It’s what I am.