Accidental Cuckold Ch. 01

Story Info
A serious breakdown in communication.
5.1k words
3.51
185.9k
33

Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 10/29/2022
Created 03/23/2010
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
Turned
Turned
224 Followers

Because the following story is so long, it will be submitted in multiple chapters. This story is a cuckold story. If you do not like those stories or all of the "faggy" things they entail, do yourself the favor and stop reading now. You have a fair warning.

Any negative comments about the subject matter will be ignored and deleted. You were already told what the story is. I don't care if you like cuckold stories or not. I just want to know if the people who DO like them, like this one. Any other comments / feedback are welcome and appreciated.

Part 1 -- What's going on?

While she lay sleeping beside me that morning, I stroked my meat for all it was worth.

When I masturbated, I didn't fantasize about other women like many guys do, I fantasized about my hot little wife...about the way she used to be. I recalled the naughty nurse costume and the sexy cop outfit with the fuzzy handcuffs, the strip teases on the living room couch and the box of toys that now collected dust under our bed.

After about 5 minutes of beating my meat I just gave up. I wasn't going to cum. I was too depressed.

I sat up in our bed and watched her sleep for a moment, feeling disgusted at the sight of her flannel pajamas. I remembered when she'd come to bed in stockings and garters, see through negligee's, or nothing at all. But this is what it had come to.

What made it worse was knowing what a hot little body she still had under there. A body I seldom saw, and even more seldom got to touch. She hadn't let herself go like many wives do, not one little bit.

Sure she had an extra 10, maybe 15 pounds on her, but that had always been there. She carried it well, with no loose skin, flab, or love handles to speak of. Somehow those little fist-sized tits were still incredibly perky, her tiny apple bottom nice and tight. Her long, blonde hair was always meticulously curled, her finger and toenails never missed a weekly mani/pedicure, and she even kept her bush shaved down to a landing strip.

"Ana, baby, I'm horny," I whispered in my wife's ear, rubbing on her tits through her flannel pajamas.

It was Christmas morning and I had woken up with a hard-on as I did every morning.

My 32 year-old wife of almost three years just rolled over and turned her back on me. I was very disappointed to say the least.

Usually Anastasia was game for sex on special occasions like Holidays, so I'd had high hopes in spite of how plain and dull she'd become. Our sex life had gone to shit after the second year of marriage.

I was seriously questioning if I had made a huge mistake in marrying her. I probably deserved this; Karma is a bitch as they say.

I 'd been married once before. My first wife was a great woman. She wasn't nearly as hot as Anastasia, and she was painfully boring. But she was loving, affectionate, faithful, trustworthy, and she even put out for me whenever I asked. Although the sex was very vanilla and monotonous...it was more than I was getting now. I'd thrown that all away because I craved excitement.

The first time I'd laid eyes on Anastasia, her shirt was pulled up to her neck and she was flashing her tiny boobs and hardened little pink nipples in a crowded bar. That night I watched her get shit hammered to the point where she could barely walk, and she was about to end up in some serious trouble with a group of seedy looking guys who were intent on taking advantage of her condition.

I intervened and told them she was my wife, acting very upset that she was so drunk and ranting about how she'd just disappeared on me. She looked shocked but was so drunk she just stood there looking confused. The guys totally bought the story and apologized and left her alone. My wife was away visiting her sick mother in Chicago, so I took Anastasia home with me with no objections from her.

To be fair, she had drunk herself way past the point of resisting anything. I would never have had the nerve to approach a woman that hot otherwise. I screwed her brains out all night long. I knew it was shallow. I'd done exactly what that group of guys had intended to do, but I figured she was better off with me than them. At least she was safe.

I half expected for her to wake up the next morning with a huge hangover, look at the strange man next to her, and run out of the room screaming. Quite the opposite, it was I who woke up with Anastasia's lips around my cock, a hangover and the realization that I was cheating on my wife in our own bed.

None-the-less, we fucked all day long, in ways that I could never before have imagined. I would learn that situations like this were nothing new to her, but there was something special about the chemistry we had when we were both finally sober. To say we hit it off would be an understatement.

We fucked almost everyday for the next three months. Thousands of dollars spent on hotel rooms and spoiling my new lover rotten, and a never-ending supply of excuses for the wife.

Anastasia wasn't the brightest or most ambitious girl I'd ever met. She was 29 going on 30 at the time, two years older than me, but she had nothing. She was a high school drop out who still lived with her widowed mother in a trailer, unemployed, no goals except for her pipe dream of being an actress, a bad drinking habit, and no future.

She wanted to be taken care of, and I saw her as a damsel in distress who needed a white knight to come and save her from her miserable life. Everything she lacked, she made up for with her beautiful white smile, sparkling blue eyes, bubbly personality and what I craved most - pure excitement.

So I rented a temporary apartment, packed my clothes one day while my wife was at work, changed my cell phone number, and vanished from my wife's life with nothing but a note that read, "Sorry, it's over. I'll always care about you."

I never saw or spoke to her again.

The divorce was easy. I never even showed up to any of the meetings, I let my lawyer handle it. My ex-wife didn't have to fight me for anything, I told the lawyer to give her everything. I knew what I douche bag I was for leaving like that, and what a coward I was for not facing her with the truth. I wanted to make it as easy as I could for her.

I put in for relocation at my job, took Anastasia to Los Angeles, married her, bought a new home, and started a new life. It was a 24-7 fantasy for the first two years, never a dull moment. My shallow lust blossomed into pure adoration for this woman who made me feel like a king and fulfilled my every desire. But now here I was, back to square one. Actually it was more like square zero, because I had even less than I had before.

The beautiful smile and sparkling blue eyes were still present, but the bubbly personality wasn't so endearing any more. It just made me recall every dumb-blonde joke I'd ever heard. And the excitement, the sex, was gone.

But as shallow as our beginnings were, I did love her. I felt I'd done a good thing by getting her sober and saving her from her dead-end life, and I truly felt she appreciated and adored me for it, which made me feel wonderful. Only now she expressed it with affectionate hugs and gentle kisses, not the steamy passion and kinky sex from before. I feared she had become too domesticated for my liking.

But I was determined to stick it out for the long haul. There would be no third wife. Not after what I'd done to the first wife. It was still hard for me to live down what I'd done to my ex. There were times I'd break down and cry about it because I felt so bad. I knew I could never do that to Anastasia under any circumstances.

I vowed, that no matter what happened, I was sticking with Anastasia to the end.

Whenever I got frustrated with Anastasia, as I was that Christmas morning, I reminded myself of what that same frustration had made me do to my first wife.

I pictured Anastasia's pretty blue eyes reddened with sadness, her tears pouring onto a dear-Jane letter in her trembling hands while she stared into my empty closet.

I reminded myself, that I loved this woman.

I pulled forcefully on her shoulder and forced her onto her back, then climbed on top of her. I wasn't taking no for an answer.

I desperately needed to fuck my pretty little wife. I was at the point where I didn't even care how kinky it was, or if she just lay there, or if she even bothered to wake up for it! I needed to feel SOMETHING! It had been a month since the last time, Thanksgiving, and almost three months before that. Prior to that, I couldn't even remember!

"Merry Christmas, sexy," I whispered, as I kissed her on the lips.

"Hi," she mumbled, eyes still closed. "Sooooo tired."

"What time did you get in last night? Must have been late, I went to bed at eleven."

"It wasn't long after that. We were Christmas shopping really late, and then Lita just wouldn't stop talking. I was standing in the doorway with my coat on for like an hour trying to leave and she just kept yapping," Anastasia finished her sentence with a yawn.

I thought about what she said as I undid a few buttons on her pajama top. She'd come home at one thirty in the morning; I'd heard her come in and had looked at the clock. Only Anastasia would be ditzy enough to think I'd believe she could Christmas shop at one in the morning.

I was suspicious about her obvious lie. My first concern would have been she went out drinking, something that was off limits to her. But if she had, she would never have come home, she'd be waking up in a strangers bed. That was exactly why liquor was off limits.

But knowing Anastasia as I did, I figured I better not read too much into it. Her lack of education sometimes became a communication barrier with us. She'd say things that she didn't mean because she got confused. She'd get her times and dates mixed up, she'd mix up her words, confusing one word for meaning something that it didn't mean, forget names, forget places, the list went on.

Aside from being an eleventh grade drop out, I suspected she had other learning disabilities, and maybe some lingering effects from her former problems with alcoholism. Many an argument had started from this problem of hers and I'd have to apologize profusely later on when I figured it all out.

Besides, my cock ruled my world at that moment. I needed pussy and that trumped everything else.

"What are you doing?" she groaned, swatting at my hands with her eyes still shut tight.

"I'm horny, Ana. I want to fuck," I said plainly.

"No. Let me sleep!" she pleaded, pulling a pillow over her chest, impeding my progress to her breasts.

Undeterred, I slid down her body, reached under her and grabbed the waist band of her pajama pants and tried to slide them off. "You don't understand. I need to fuck! Ana, it's Christmas for fuck sake! Don't do this to me!"

"I mean it, honey! Go away!" she raised up her knees and pushed me off of her with her legs.

"That is so wrong to do to me, Ana. I wonder if you even still love me any more," I laid the guilt on thick as I jumped up and marched out of the bedroom.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry! Wait!" she hollered after me, but I slammed the door and went into the computer room to continue my own pity party.

I pulled up the internet and logged on to a website I'd found called literotica.

I'd been discussing my lack of sex problem with a coworker who was going through the same thing, and he'd suggested that she was probably cuckolding me. Not wanting to sound naïve, I didn't ask what that meant. Instead I did what everyone does when they need to know something, I Google'd it.

A slew of pornographic websites popped up in the search. The graphic video's were eye catching and gave me an idea of what it meant but I was still a little confused. So when I found literotica I started asking questions on the forum and had it explained to me. The opinions about what a "true cuckold" was varied quite a bit, but one thing was clear in all cases, it involved a wife cheating on her husband.

One person who replied to the thread sent a link to a story about it. It involved a man being bullied by his wife, dominated by her black lover and forced to watch her have sex with him and his friends while he was humiliated and treated like some sub-human piece of shit.

At first I found the story hilarious, rather than erotic. Who would actually do that? As I searched, I found hundreds if not thousands of stories about the topic and I read a lot of them. I soon realized it was not meant to be comical and this was not as unheard of as I had originally thought.

But I chalked it up to a deranged male fantasy that no real person would ever partake in. To me, a cuckold as they were described in these stories, was about as real a thing as Santa Claus. Sure, women cheated on their husbands everyday, but these stories were way beyond that, they were completely preposterous! Who cheats right in front of their husband? I told my co-worker he was an idiot for suggesting such a thing.

I did find some useful advice on their forums, however. I was checking my latest forum topic asking for advice on how to tell if a woman is cheating on you, when Anastasia walked in. I quickly clicked off the browser as she pushed back my chair and sat in my lap.

"Of course I love you, dummy! You're my husband, I have to love you!" she exclaimed, then looked confused about how that had come out of her mouth.

Again, I realized that she'd meant for it to sound better than it came out. I always had to read in between the lines with her. "Ana, I love you too. But I have to know, what's going on with you? You used to fuck me like a porn star, now it's flannel pajama's and excuses to avoid sex!"

"Well, it's cold," she replied, ignoring everything I said except for the part about her choice of sleepwear.

I sighed, "Forget the pajama's, Ana. What happened to the sex?"

She looked nervous and buried her face in my chest. "I love you no matter what. After everything you did for me, I'm never going to leave you. I can't."

Now I was nervous. "You say that like you've thought about leaving me before." My voice was shaky. It felt like something bad was coming.

"Well..." she started then paused for what felt like forever. "I worry about you leaving me. I remember you were married when I met you. I remember you left her. I remember why."

"Ana, you are seriously confusing me. I'm talking about sex here, nothing else," I said.

"I know. But, do you want to leave me if we don't have sex? You left your other wife because..."

"Because she didn't make me feel anything. I was bored out of my mind. We had plenty of sex, I told you that. It was just...you know..." I couldn't erase the twinge of sadness from my voice.

"But will you leave ME if we don't have sex?"

"N...no. But why would we not have sex!" I sounded whiney.

She looked at me like I was supposed to understand exactly where she was coming from.

"Ana, speak to me! Tell me what you're thinking! Please!" I was at my wits end.

She gripped my T-shirt tightly and began grinding her pelvis against my crotch. "I need sex, Tommy. I miss being fucked hard. I miss being spanked and being naked, and...oh god," she flung her head back like she was in ecstasy.

"Me too! So what the hell!" I chirped, excitedly, reaching around and gripping her ass.

"Oh, honey, I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I really want to live out our fantasy, I really do! But it's so scary when you think about it! I can't let you ever leave me. I would be so sad. Honey, I would kill myself!"

Whoa, talk about a buzz kill, I thought. "Don't talk like that. I'm not going to leave you. Don't you understand? That's what I want too! Our fantasies! I'm trying to find out why we're not living them out like we used to!"

Her eyes got wide, "But honey, you have to admit, that's a big step! It's scary for me."

I cocked my head like a confused dog. "Ana, did you hit your head or something? What are you talking about, a big step? Baby, you used to be so freaky and horny all the time. Our sex life was off the charts! Why'd it stop?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I don't wanna talk about it, it's...it's embarrassing." He face turned beet red.

"What? There is nothing to be embarrassed about! It's sex!"

"Yeah, but..." she paused again. "I mean, you should be the nervous one, and here you are all brave about it, and I'm acting scared. I guess I'm just being stupid."

"Ana, I'm so lost right now. I know you have a hard time expressing yourself sometimes, but just slow down and tell me what you need from me to get our sex life back on track, ok?"

"Nothing baby. You are the best man in the world. You've given me everything I ever wanted and more. And now..." her eyes started to get teary, and she began to sniffle.

I was getting tired of trying to make sense of this conversation. It almost felt like we were talking about two different things. What was clear to me was that my wife still loved me very much and that was a huge relief. But I still had the burning question on my mind. "So are we going to have sex?" I said as I wiped the tears from her eyes.

She inhaled deeply and then let out a sigh. "Ok, honey. We're going to do it. We're going to do it!" she started to giggle. "I've been thinking about it so much lately and I know it's time to stop thinking and start doing. You want this. I need this. Let's do it! I'm so excited!"

Indeed she was and I could tell by how violently she was trembling. I was still confused and hadn't gotten all the answers I was looking for, but I knew two things, my wife still loved me and we were going to fuck. For the moment, I was content with that.

I pressed my lips into hers and kissed her hungrily. She put her hands on my shoulders and pushed back into me even harder, like she'd been starving for my kiss. She pushed so hard that the office chair tumbled over backwards and we landed on the floor with a loud thud.

Hitting the floor knocked the wind out of me and I struggled to breathe as Anastasia pressed her mouth tightly too mine, her tongue doing acrobatics in my mouth. The crash didn't make her miss a beat, it was as if she didn't even know we'd just fallen on the floor. She kissed me with the kind of lustful passion that I'd long missed.

I slid my hands under her pajama shirt and up her flanks, searching for that perky set of little tits I hadn't seen in ages.

"Mmm, no, not yet," she breathed heavily.

"Why!" I started whining incredulously.

"Well, I was thinking about how we would get started with...you know...I mean, sex has almost become like a foreign car to me, you know?" She said, seriously.

"A foreign car? You mean a foreign language? As in, oh, never mind, you were saying?"

"Yeah so anyway, like, I was talking to Lita about it because she knows about stuff like this and I came up with some idea's, you know like a way to lubricate into it," Anastasia kissed me as she finished her sentence.

"Lubricate into it? Maybe you mean ease into it?"

"Yeah!"

"Since when do you of all people need sex advice from anyone? Ana, lets just do all the stuff we used to do! It's not that hard!" I pleaded. "I wanna rip those fucking pajama's off of you and fuck you hard right here on this floor!"

"No, that's taking the easy way out. Like she was saying, I can't just do the not hard stuff, I gotta do the hard stuff too. We have to fix this," she said, adamantly.

"We can fix everything by FUCKING," I rolled my eyes.

Anastasia stood up. "There's a big black bag in the trunk of the Mercedes, can you go get it? Then we can start to have some fun!" Anastasia pranced off into the bathroom, merrily humming a song I didn't know.

I begrudgingly drug my ass off the floor and went to fetch this all-important black bag with my cock sticking through the opening in my boxer shorts, bobbing up and down in front of me.

Turned
Turned
224 Followers
12