Selfless Cunt

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Wife gives everything up because she doesn't deserve it.
12.4k words
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Warning: This story contains self-hatred and self-destructive behaviour, watersports, anal, cuckqueaning, lesbianism, submissiveness and monetary slavery. If you find any of these not to your taste, please turn back. Otherwise enjoy.

*****

I loved my husband so much. I would have done anything for him, forgiven him anything, except infidelity, or so I thought. That was until the school reunion and he met Liz. Liz had been my biggest bully in the school. One of those perfect, popular, beautiful girls who saw your imperfections and called you out on them, drove them home to make you feel so utterly inferior to her. She must have loved the sense of superiority over everyone, especially with the cadre of yes-girls who'd follow her around and boost her ego by cheering on her degradation of their classmates.

I still was overweight. My husband was sweet enough to say he loved my curves, but I still felt inadequate when I looked at other women. Seeing Liz brought back those crushing feelings of worthlessness and self loathing that she'd inspired in me all those years ago. Watching from across the crowded room her flirting with my husband and him flirting back, unable to take his eyes from her cleavage, my jealousy jumped in to overdrive. Despite my weight I still had tiny, almost non-existent boobs, something I'd been mocked mercilessly for at school. My husband drooling over Liz's cut me so deep in my abdomen I felt like I'd die from shame. I took some deep breaths and held back the tears that I hadn't cried for years. Despite all this time, all the building up of confidence from becoming a professional, an adult, all those years of body image repair my husband had performed when he'd praised every tiny imperfection of me, I felt exactly like I was back in school, invisible and worthless, and a thought hit me; I didn't deserve my husband.

He was handsome and clever and kind and sweet and so, so selfless when it came to me and my pleasure. He would spend hours between my thighs, eating me, fucking me, eating me again. He had amazing stamina and would make me cum so hard, so many times. I never understood what he saw in me. I always felt inadequate with him, and I'd cling to him afterwards and beg him never to leave me. He, in turn, would reassure me and kiss me and love me. My insecurities were silly and I knew it. Everyone and their dog could see how devoted he was to me. But these insecurities came again in full force seeing them together.

I didn't deserve my husband at all. I was fat and ugly and had no boobs. I was an emotional wreck, constantly in need of reassurance and attention. Seeing such a confident and beautiful woman together with my husband... They just seemed so right together. My heart broke and bled all over my insides, which in turn cramped up and made me feel sick. I walked out of the old school building and to the car where I sat until my husband finally found me.

"What's wrong, darling love? Are you ok?"

His concerned face came close and the scent of him filled my nostrils. I'd been stewing with horrid emotions, imagining them in a heated embrace, finding a dark corner and fucking each other's brains out. Maybe he wouldn't come back to the car, maybe he'd go back to her place. Maybe he'd never come back at all. That's what I deserved.

"Honey? Love?"

I reassured him, telling him I had cramp, I was feeling unwell and had needed fresh air. He could see not everything was right, and as he drove us home, he kept begging me to tell him what was wrong. I kept up my charade.

I obsessed about it all night, barely sleeping at all, imagining that judgemental bitch having my husband at her beck and call, him being as sweet and giving to her as he had ever been with me and more so. I imagined him doting on her, bringing her drinks, massaging her feet and caressing her back. I imagined him pleasuring her with his amazing tongue and gorgeous cock and I punished myself with these thoughts. They felt weirdly good, and I masturbated to them, cumming again and again to thoughts of my husband belonging to another woman.

By morning I had barely slept at all and I called in sick to work. I felt and looked a wreck and my husband suggested I go see a doctor as he caressed my neck and pudgy, ugly tummy in gentle soothing motions. I promised I would and he left with many kisses and professions of love.

I felt guilty. Not for lying to him, but because I felt like I was stealing something much better from him. I loved my husband more than anything and he deserved so much better than me. My mind went back to Liz and him the previous night, chatting and flirting in the easiest manner possible. I hated her deeply for how she made me feel, but she had been right all those years ago, I was fat and worthless, especially compared to her. She was what my husband deserved. At least to try. He could have her sometimes and then I'd feel less guilty about having him. She certainly had seemed interested enough.

I started searching for information about her, where she lived, where she worked and finally found a contact number. It took a couple of hours to work up the courage to actually ring it and get my head around what I would say to her. When I managed to actually press the green call button my heart was in my throat and my bladder felt ready to burst. It rang and rang and I felt a moment of relief at the thought that she wouldn't pick up and I'd tell myself that I'd call again later but of course I never would because the whole thing was insane and I'd probably be over it and thinking about how stupid I was to even consider sharing...

The ringing stopped and her voice came over the line.

"Hello?"

There was something massive in my throat, my brain froze, I couldn't breathe, what the fuck was I doing?

"Jerry, if that's you heavy breathing at me, I swear to god..."

"Uh, um, uh..." I stuttered, "Hi, um, it's..." I took a deep breath and tried again. "Hi, Liz, it's Melissa from school?" I hated how unsure and pathetic I sounded, but I pushed on. "I saw you last night at the reunion, but didn't get a chance to chat?" My voice lifted, turning the statement into a stuttering question.

There was a moment's silence as Liz tried to recall who I was and then I heard it click and the inevitable confusion. "Oh, right, Melissa, right, how are you doing?"

"Not bad, not bad, just thought it might be nice to get together for a cup of coffee and catch up some time." I tried to sound normal, but my voice felt strained.

"What's up Melissa?" Liz sounded deadly serious now and cold shivers ran up and down my spine.

"It's nothing, there's just something I thought you might like I wanted to give you. I mean, there's something I want you to have and, ugh, I can't do this over the phone. Do you mind coming over? It's really important to me and I think you'll appreciate it."

"Ok, ok, I can hear it's important, though why me..."

"It just has to be, I promise it will make sense."

I gave her my address and she agreed to come that afternoon. Then followed hours of panicked cleaning and tidying. We hadn't had much time over the weekend to do the house because of the reunion and all the associated shopping for dresses and accessories. It felt weird, like I was cleaning the house for Liz, not for myself. It made me work harder, imagining that she would scrutinise everything. After cleaning the house for Liz, I cleaned myself for her, though there wasn't much I could really do. I would never look beautiful.

I settled on a loose fitting summer dress. It wasn't too hot outside but it was passable for indoor wear. I showered and did my hair as nicely as I could with my hands shaking the way they were. Make-up was out of the question thanks to my nervousness. When the bell went I was a complete wreck and my legs almost went to jelly under me. I rushed to the front door and tried to compose myself. The bell went again, impatiently. I turned the knob and pulled.

Outlined by the afternoon sun was a radiant vision of beauty and elegance that put my meagre preparations to so much shame that they wanted to crawl away into the dark sewers where they clearly belonged. I lowered my eyes, unable to look at Liz, her lovely clothes that fit her perfectly, her flowing blond hair, her gorgeous make-up and bone structure. I was a monster, an ugly beast.

"Come in," I mumbled, and she strode purposefully past and into the living room.

I closed the door behind her and gestured to the sofa.

"Coffee?" I suggested weakly.

She nodded and I scurried off to make her some. I almost genuflected when I returned with it and handed it to her, trying desperately not to spill any.

"Aren't you having any?" she asked, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"Um, no, I don't think I can right now." Liz's face frowned in confusion.

"I thought it was only alcohol you weren't meant to have when pregnant."

My face probably went the deepest shade of red imaginable. My hands went to my fat tummy and echoes of her teenage words rang in my ears. 'Fatty', 'jelly-belly', 'lard-arse', 'whale', 'ugly', 'worthless'.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Liz's eyebrows rose in surprise, "It was because you said you couldn't drink coffee, not because..." She trailed off, gesturing at me as a whole with a flick of her wrist.

I stood before her, feeling utterly naked and worthless. Her casual gesture at my overweight form made me feel that her perception of me had not changed, I was still a fatty, that was just what I was to her. I felt simultaneously massively huge and utterly tiny compared to her. Every movement I could make would seem elephantine and clumsy compared to anything she would ever do. So I stood frozen to the spot, eyes down at the floor and worked up the courage to say what I wanted to say.

"I want you to sleep with my husband."

There was a moment's silence.

"I'm sorry, Melissa, but I don't..."

"I want you to fuck my husband," I said, bitterness tingeing my voice. "He deserves to fuck someone like you."

There was a click and I looked up to see Liz putting her mug down on the coffee table and standing up, a sour twist to her mouth.

"Melissa, I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not..." She started for the door. I had to stop her.

"Please," I cried, dropping to my knees and clasped my hands. She stopped. "Please," I whispered, begging desperately, "I need you to sleep with my husband, I need him to enjoy someone who's worthy of him."

Liz turned back, sat on the sofa and studied me. I averted my gaze, unable to take her piercing green eyes any longer.

"You should probably see a psychiatrist about this. I know someone who does CBT, and they can..." She started fishing around in her bag, but I stopped her.

"No, no, it's not about me, it's about my husband. He's so caring and giving and loving. I don't deserve it all. Someone else should feel his love too."

"Melissa, I have just come out of a nasty divorce. I don't know if I can deal with..."

"Perfect," I interrupted, "you can have all the no-strings attached sex you want. He's generous and kind and will make you feel cared for and his tongue, oh his tongue!" I knelt before my high-school bully and described how good in bed my husband was. I showed her pictures of him on my phone and she cooed over how attractive he was. Then she asked the question I'd been really dreading.

"So Derek is ok with this?"

My husband, Derek, he was so kind and loving, it was going to be hard to explain to him why I needed this, why, despite all his love and care and devotion, I was uncomfortable in our marriage. It would be so hard for him. He'd probably blame himself and beat himself up for not making me feel loved enough when the truth was the opposite. I was too loved. Maybe if I'd ended up in a violent marriage where I was beaten and abused and cheated on I'd have felt vindicated in my self loathing. Instead I was put on a pedestal and worshipped and I felt like it was all a big mistake and one day he'd realise and leave me. Was I sabotaging our relationship? Possibly, but it was because I loved Derek so much, because he deserved better than me.

"Derek doesn't know yet," I said, shamefaced.

"Then why all this? Why didn't you talk to him?"

"Because I know what he'd say. He would never want to hurt me, and he would think sleeping with you would."

"It wouldn't?"

I swallowed. "Well, yes, but in a good way. It would be good because I'd feel less guilty about having him. If I shared him, I mean. I feel like his jailer and he doesn't even know he's in jail. Do you know what I mean? I want to set him free."

Those last words broke the dam that was holding back the flood waters. Tears flowed like they had not since I was a little girl.

"I just want him to be as happy as he can be, as happy as he makes me," I blubbered.

I felt fingers caress my neck soothingly.

"Shh, there there," cooed Liz, "let it all out."

After a few minutes the sobs subsided. I wiped my eyes, rubbing away the wetness and looked bleary-eyed up at Liz.

"Please help me?" I pleaded.

---

Liz seemed to understand. We talked for a while longer and she suggested that the three of us have dinner at some point. She wanted it to be later in the week, but I insisted on that night. My sense of guilt was too strong, it needed to be dealt with as soon as possible. Liz popped home to change and do her make-up to even greater perfection while I cleaned up my face and busied myself making dinner. There were some scallops and strawberries, both sensual foods that I had intended for that Friday when the lack of work the next day usually meant our sex went on into the night. I decided that tonight would be the perfect time to use them. I wanted to create a romantic mood, I wanted my husband to feel relaxed and open, I wanted him to be willing and pliable. I wanted him to cheat on me.

He came home to find candles lit, gentle jazz playing, sensuously flavoured food, and a gorgeous beauty sitting at the dining table. And me. After his initial surprise at our guest, he and Liz got on like a house on fire. Their easy going, instantly familiar chatter left me feeling like an outsider. I embraced it, serving them both before myself, keeping their wine topped up as they chattered about work and friends and stupid stories of holidays. I bustled and nibbled and kept out of the way. Bless him, Derek tried not to look at her cleavage, but it was impossible. Even I admired it, the plunging neck line going all the way down to her perfectly flat tummy and her cute belly button on display, the fabric barely holding back her twin orbs of perfect flesh. She flicked her hair, touched her neck, caressed his arm and licked her lips in a beautiful ballet of seduction. She was gorgeous and enchanting and he, despite his own beauty, was helpless before her.

When the meal was finished I told them to head in to the living room while I tidied up. Derek protested, but I reminded him that I'd had the day off feeling ill, so was much more rested than him. Somewhat reluctantly he followed Liz into the living room.

It was torture, doing the washing up while the two of them flirted and laughed in the other room. When it went quiet my heart almost stopped. I could imagine all sort of things that might be happening. Maybe he was feeling her up, his gentle, skilled fingers already starting to give her the pleasure she deserved and I didn't. Maybe they were already fucking, him bending her over the back of the sofa as he rammed her hard with his long thick member that filled me up so perfectly. I imagined their sweaty naked bodies writhing on the floor as they pleasured each other orally.

I purposefully took my time, making sure every little piece of cutlery was shining, every surface was wiped down, everything dry and in it's proper place. Only then did I creep down the hall and peak in. There they were, his hand cupping and squeezing her exposed tit as their mouths locked together in their tiny war of desire, tongues advancing and retreating under each other's assault.

The moisture that had been building up in my underwear as I imagined the salacious possibilities overflowed at the reality of the situation. My husband was enjoying another woman and from her gentle moans, she was enjoying it too. My abdomen cramped up with the pain of betrayal while my pussy gushed with arousal. This was right, this is what should be happening in my life. My husband should fuck other women, beautiful women, he deserved that. My legs gave out and I sank down the door frame, eyes glued to the sight before me. My hand found it's way up my skirt and into my panties and I shuddered as I touched myself to the sight of ultimate betrayal. This is what I deserved for keeping my perfect husband to myself. He should be free.

Liz's hand went to my husband's crotch, but this seemed to wake him from his aroused state and he pushed her away.

"No, I can't, Melissa..."

He turned and saw me on my knees in the door way and his face went white.

"Honey? Love? I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me, I'm so sorry, I can't believe I did that!" He came to me, knelt before me, held me close and I could feel him shaking. Behind him I saw Liz replacing her tit within the confines of her dress.

"I'm so, so sorry," he babbled over and over again.

I kissed his face, his hair, whatever I could and I babbled back.

"No, fuck her, please, I need you to fuck her, I want you to have her, I need you to have her so badly, please make love to her."

Eventually my words got through and he stopped his flow of words.

"What?"

"I need you to fuck her, please, I really want it."

I held up my hand between us, sticky with my own secretions, as explanation. He licked it, looking into my eyes.

"But I don't want her, I want you."

"No, you do want her, and you can have her as well as me."

"Should I...?" Liz hovered near by, looking uncomfortable, jacket in hand. I waved her back to the sofa and stood on my wobbling legs.

"Can we sit down for a minute, all together?" I said, taking my husband's arm as he stood. I guided him back to the sofa, positioning him between Liz and I.

"Honey," I said, "I want to share you. You are so kind to me, I just want other people to experience that."

I took Liz's hand and positioned it on Derek's bulge.

"Let her make you happy in a way I never could, please?"

"But..." I silenced him with a deep kiss and I saw Liz start to massage him through his trousers. He moaned into my mouth, but I pushed him away, turning him to face Liz. She leaned forward tentatively and I nodded, smiling. This is what I wanted. I gave permission to someone else to kiss my husband and a claw clenched my heart, but I ignored it. This is what he deserved.

They got back in to each other, kissing and caressing. I slipped off the sofa and knelt on the floor, out of the way. I wondered if I should watch, or just let them get on with it, but I felt like I should make sure that he didn't back out again. I needed him to have this.

It was torture. As I knelt in my own sitting room, I watched my husband undress a woman far my superior in looks and personality. Her body, lithe and supple, with silky smooth skin, was gradually revealed to his voracious eyes and I could see how excited this made him. He drooled over every square inch of her. He seemed to spend hours nuzzling, caressing and worshipping her breasts. I couldn't blame him, he had not had any decent boobs to play with since he had got together with me. I reached up and squeezed my pathetic excuse for tits, pinching my nipples, as stabs of jealousy ripped through me.

She in turn removed his shirt revealing his deliciously hairy chest that I had spent so many nights crying my insecurities out on. She, instead, explored it with her fingers, causing his hair to rise at her touch. Had my touch ever done that for him? I doubted it.