Cuckquean - Ellen, the Honest

Her hand stopped me, holding me away, while he grunted over her, telling her he loved her, as he pumped her full of his cum. She looked at me, and I saw tears in her eyes. Why? Why tears? She had him. She'd done it.

I heard the noise, never realizing the anguished cry came from my own throat. I was crying and coming, squirming, miserable. I couldn't catch my breath for the life of me.

I'd lost him. To her. I knew it. I knew all along, and I had to play with fire. None of the sluts mattered. Just her. I was an idiot.

"Shh," I heard, looking up into his face. He was holding me, kissing me. "Don't cry, Ellen. Don't. I can't stand it."

I felt her behind me, holding me, kissing my neck. Kisses. It might as well have been a knife. "He's yours, foolish woman. I could never take him from you."

"He loves you," I sobbed.

"He does, and I'm so happy I could jump for joy. But he's IN love with you, and that will never change."

"I saw it. I saw the way he was."

She giggled, squeezing my tit. "And I saw you. I never saw anyone come like that. That was unbelievable. You talked about the end game. I think we saw it tonight. This was what you wanted, wasn't it? Beyond fucking another woman, you needed to see him love another woman. A woman like me."

"It hurts," I whispered. "I didn't think it would hurt this bad."

She laughed. "Time to get over that. You need to take care of us, you little slut, because he's going to make love to me again, before he loves you."

"Steven?" I pleaded.

He smiled, and kissed me. Then his cock was in front of my face, slimy and dirty. I opened my mouth and took care of him. It's what he needed right now. There was nothing I could do. It was my decision. My penance. He would always be clean, before he fucked his sluts. It was my duty to do the cleaning.

He was hard before he eased me off of his mighty pole. I only had a moment to catch my breath before he was gently placing me on my back, and Karen straddled my face. "Every drop, sweetie. Leave me spotless. Don't make me punish you."

I cried while I licked her. Licked and sucked, and left her spic and span. She sighed. "Get used to it, sweetie. There's going to be a lot more of this going on."

The second time I had to watch from my chair. He fucked her that time. Fucked her into oblivion. I watched carefully, waiting for him to change, to slow down, to caress her, to love her. I'd seen it. He would stop fucking and start loving her, tearing my heart out. It was in him to do it.

I came when she came, empathizing, imagining myself in her place. If I was younger, sexier, worthy of him, it could have been me. I had my day, twenty years in fact, it was a good run, but now I had to give him up. For his sake, it was what he deserved. When he finished with her, I did my duty. It was my new place in life. I was the bedroom janitor. Clean up on slut one. Change the sheets, scrub the stains off the rug, air out the room.

I was empty. I did what he needed, because it was what he wanted. It was all I was good for now. For me, my feelings were burned out. The pain too raw. The changes too sudden. I watched dispassionately, laying on the bed, unable to move to my chair, uncaring. She sucked him, doing what I should have been doing, until he was hard.

She did it. Replacing even that duty. Would they leave me anything?

Steven put me on my back, and entered me. My humiliation was complete. Now I was one of the sluts, and she was the one he loved. She was me, and I was her.

Her hand was on my chin, turning me to face her. "Thank you," she whispered.

She damn well should thank me. I'd served him up on a silver platter.

"Stop it, Ellen. Get out of your head. Be with us."

What did she know? I had nothing now. She'd taken all that mattered. No children to take care of and nurture, no husband to love. I'd never had a job. In the last couple of years I'd grown apart from my friends. What was left for me? I was a maid, for my husband and his mistress, my replacement.

She stared into my eyes, then slapped me. She slapped me! Steven growled, and I saw him grab her wrist before she could do it again. "Don't," he said. The tone of his voice was frightening.

She didn't know any better. How close she was to setting him off. I'd seen it only a few times in my life, and hoped never to see it again. Like an idiot, she yanked her hand away from him and got in my face again.

"Is that it? Are you a coward? Are you going to give up," she sneered. She moved closer, her lips brushing mine as she spoke. "Or are you going to fight for him. Isn't he worth fighting for? You gonna give up and find something better?"

"There is no one better," I snapped.

She smiled. "Is he mine now? You surrender that easily? Coward. You don't deserve him."

Coward? Surrender? "Not in this lifetime, bitch. He's mine. MINE. Who's he fucking now, huh? He may love you, but he's in love with me. Twenty-five years, slut. A lifetime. Two children. How many children of his have you borne?"

She kissed me. The fucking slut kissed me! Like that would change anything. Steven pulled my legs back and started hammering me. I looked up at him, and pulled my legs back further. "YOU'RE MINE!" I screamed.

He laughed. The fucker laughed, leaning down and kissing me. Why did they keep kissing me?

"Of course I am. Everyone knows that but you, silly woman."

"But - you love her. I saw you."

"You said we could keep her," he said.

A shiver ran through me. I'd said that. What kind of idiot was I?

Her face was over mine, gazing into my eyes. "You love me," she said.

It was a lie. I couldn't. She was my enemy. My nemesis.

"You stood up to him for me," she whispered. "Nobody ever did anything like that for me. Never." I saw the tears in her eyes, the overwhelming sadness. It wasn't right. She deserved better.

I reached out to her, caressing her face, while my husband made love to me, slow and easy. "You'd have done it for me," I said.

She nodded. "I would, because I love you. I love you, Ellen." The dam broke and her tears dripped on my face.

I hugged her, kissing her tears away. The poor girl. Thirty-six years old, and she'd never had what we had. Just this poor imitation. I looked up at my husband who had stopped moving.

"Not me, you idiot," I said, pushing him away.

He grinned. I held our girl while he moved behind her, lifting her leg, entering her. She only cried harder. "No," she moaned. "He's yours. It's not right."

"Hush. Of course he's mine. But now you're ours."

I could feel each of his thrusts, holding her, sharing her with him. I never let go of her, while he moved her around to suit his needs. Once he'd filled her I did my duty.

I was exhausted, mentally and physically. Still I took my time, making sure they were both clean. We changed the sheets and climbed into bed, my husband between us. He held us both, a typical man, completely confused by what was happening, just going along with what we wanted. Karen and I, we understood. At least I think she did. I knew for my part, the war was on. I'd let him have her, but I was keeping his heart for my own. No matter how unworthy I am.

- ( . Y . ) -

That was the weekend that changed everything. Three weeks later she moved in. Steven's outside trysts stopped. Maybe not completely, but they were very rare, and only when instigated by me. I was cruel, but it was necessary to keep control. He was mine damn it! And if that meant sending him off for some new younger, prettier conquest to keep my nemesis at bay, then that's what I did.

The jealousy, the sight of him with her, it still drives me crazy. I come in tons, exhausted. And when it becomes too much, they back off, loving me, reassuring me. Alright, I'll admit I've faked it a couple of times. What woman out there hasn't? I love the pampering I get for a few days. When he's all mine, if only for a couple of dozen hours. I need those times.

I'll admit I'm scared. Not the crazy jealous fear that I get sometimes in bed, blending the excitement with the potential of losing him when they become too loving, too intimate. Nothing like that. This one's real.

She's pregnant. She's carrying his child. She's snappish, and demanding, and he rolls with it just as he did with me. I can see the love in his eyes, when he holds her, caressing her belly.

And I was the one who let it happen. She wanted it so badly, she needed it to be complete, to have what I had. One more connection to him, this one permanent, devastating.

We were supposed to be done with this, but now it's out of my control. I feared from the beginning once I set foot down this path, I'd lose it. I hadn't lost him yet, but it was scary. I was counting on those weeks after she gave birth when he would be all mine again. She'd no longer be tighter at least. The Kegels I was practicing ensured that. That made me smile, deep down, in my secret place, where the battle raged. No, the odds would be a little more even, and I still had a big head-start, which I was going to work my ass off to maintain.

I figured in twenty more years, the table would be so even as to not make a difference. Time would deal with her. Time, that cruel avenger, would balance things. Her tits would sag, her ass would droop, her stretch marks would never fade completely. Until she was like me. I could keep my lead that long. After all, he might love her, but he was in love with me, and I'd yet to see any indication that had changed.

And if she got too clingy, too controlling, if she overstepped her boundaries, there were always younger, prettier, sexier sweet things out there which I could bring to our bed for him, and put my nemesis in her place.

THE END 8=====D ~~~~