The Regretful Cuckold

"Hon..." he went to confess, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"That must be him..." whispered Sarah, standing up and nervously straightening her dress.

Mike was conflicted as he watched his wife walk over to the door, place an eye to the spy hole, and mouth to him that it was indeed their guest. He wanted to tell her that he was having second thoughts, but part of him was also still eager to see what happened, and so he remained silent as she opened the door and welcomed their guest in to the room with a small kiss on the cheek.

"Wow. You're even more stunning than your picture..." admired the dark muscular stranger, staring Sarah up and down. "... sorry... I don't mean to be rude," he continued, noticing Mike forcing himself to his feet, "I'm Sam. Nice to meet you both."

As Sam moved towards him with his hand held out politely, any remaining appetite to go ahead with their plan instantly left Mike. Aside from the fact that he was already having second thoughts, Sam was even bigger and darker than he expected. Mike knew that this last part shouldn't matter, and felt wrong for even thinking it, but the thought of his wife having sex with someone so strong and so dark now made him feel ill.

Mike swallowed hard, and, rather limply, finally managed to shake Sam's hand.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, hoping to delay proceedings long enough to think of a way to call it off.

"No thanks," replied Sam politely, "I had a bottle of water on the way here."

The room went silent for a few seconds.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" asked Mike, turning to his wife and hoping for all the world that she would say no.

"Uh huh," she responded after momentarily taking another look at Sam. "How about you?"

"Errr... well... actually, I'm not sure..."

"Huh?" replied Sarah, confused.

"I'm not sure we should do this..."

"But I thought we were both agreed?"

Mike turned to Sam. "I'm sorry, but I think we've made a mistake. It might be best that you leave. Here... take this," he said pulling some money from his wallet, "it should cover your costs and more."

Sam was a bit taken aback, but allowed Mike to shove the money in to his hand.

"Wait! Don't you think we should talk about this before you chuck Sam out? You were so certain before..."

"If you could just leave now please," continued Mike, ushering Sam impatiently towards the door.

"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Sarah, exasperated that her husband wasn't listening to her.

"Please just go," he continued, opening the door and guiding Sam in to the corridor.

As the door closed infront of him, Sam was lost for words. On the one hand he was furious that he'd just travelled a couple of hours for nothing, but on the other hand he now appeared to be holding at least a couple of hundred (maybe more) in his right hand for, again, doing nothing. For a few seconds he just stared at the money, swaying between whether he should be angry or pleased, before finally settling on the latter and calming down.

"Well that was the easiest money I've ever earned," he thought as he began walking down the corridor, "although I would have loved to have fucked that white bitch..."

For the next forty five minutes, Sarah and Mike argued angrily, first about his refusal to listen to her before chucking Sam out, and then about his admission that he couldn't guarantee that he'd put his issues behind him.

"But you don't want to watch me fuck someone else anymore, right???"

"I don't know! I just know that I didn't want you fucking that guy."

"Why? Because he's good looking??? Because he's got a nice body??? Or because he's black???"

"No... well, yes... all of that!"

Sarah laughed with disbelief.

"So let me get this straight, you expect me to go back to how we were, living with a husband who constantly suspects that I'm fucking around as soon as I go on a night out, a husband that watches porn just to try and keep his insecurities under control... which, by the way, doesn't fucking work... and not only that, but if you at some point in the future expect me to again agree to this sordid little arrangement, you want me to fuck a fat, ugly white guy, because that's what suits you???"

"Look, I just didn't want you fucking that guy. OK?"

"No! It's not OK! I can't go back to how we were! I can't go back to that relationship!... I think I need time to think. I'm going out."

Sarah grabbed her bag and left the room, slamming the door on the way out.

"FUCKKKKK!" yelled Mike, throwing a pillow at the wall and picking up the near full bottle of brandy.

Fuming, Sarah spent the next few minutes aimlessly marching around the hotel corridors, before eventually seeing a sign for the hotel bar and deciding to try and calm herself down with another drink.

"A brandy and coke please," she asked politely, despite her agitated state.

"Certainly," replied the bar tender, "single of double?"

"Single please... no... actually, make that a double."

"No problem."

After taking a large gulp of her drink, Sarah thanked the barman and walked to a small table tucked away in the corner. Although there was barely anyone else in the bar - one young couple and middle aged business man - she really wanted to be left by herself so she could think about the events of the last hour.

"Fine..." she thought. If Mike had changed his mind because he was confident he could put his insecurities behind him, she'd have been delighted. She'd have been able to go back to the married life she'd cherished, living a happy life with the husband that she loved. But no. Mike "wasn't sure" it was behind him, he was just "sure" that he didn't want her fucking "a guy like Sam." What the fuck?!? Sure, Sam was a good looking guy, but if she was going to let someone else besides her husband have sex with her, surely she should be attracted to the person who was doing it? Right?

For the next forty minutes, Sarah continued to reason with herself as to why she was so upset, repeating the same arguments over and over in her head, trying to convince herself that they were the only reasons for her anger. But as she neared the end of her second drink, Sarah eventually realised that there was another reason she was so angry... she'd actually wanted to have sex with Sam.

Although she hadn't lied to Mike when she'd told him she'd not once thought about cheating on him, since he'd began coaxing her into the idea of sleeping with another man, he'd slowly managed to open her mind up to the idea. Every time he'd whispered something in her ear just as she was about to climax, it made her think about what it would be like. And every time he'd made her watch footage of women being fucked, almost dominated, in front of their husbands, it made her curious as to what it would feel like if she were the one being used for both men's pleasure.

Sarah stared at her empty glass and was about to get up and make her way back to the room for round two of the argument, when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"Looks like you could do with another," said a deep voice as another brandy and coke slid across the table.

Sarah jumped in surprise, and looked up to find Sam's handsome face staring back at her.

"Sorry... didn't mean to make you jump. I just noticed you sat over here and saw that your glass was empty. Ok if I join you?"

"Err, yeah... sure," stuttered Sarah, trying to regain her composure. "Sorry... I didn't expect you to still be here."

"Ah, well, because of the distance I'd already booked a room for after we... and my return ticket isn't valid until tomorrow morning, so I figured I'd throw on some different clothes, grab a couple of drinks in the bar, and then see what the night life around here is like. What about you? I assumed you'd have both left and gone home."

"We... errr... we had a bit of an argument after you left and I needed some time alone to think."

"Oh... do you want me to leave?"

"No, no," replied Sarah, strangely pleased to be in Sam's company again, "it's fine. I've done a lot of my thinking now."

Sarah smiled at Sam and began asking a few questions about what he did for a living, and what he liked to do in his spare time etc., but it wasn't long before the subject turned back to the reason they were both sat there in the first place.

"If you don't mind me asking, what made you change your minds?"

"He... err... he just decided he didn't want to go through with it."

"To be honest, I was surprised he'd even think about letting a woman as stunning as you anywhere near another man. What made you suggest it to him in the first place?"

Sarah blushed and remained silent for a few seconds, unsure how she should answer Sam's question. But after another sip of her drink, she ended up telling him everything, even explaining that Mike hadn't even ruled out the possibility of arranging another meeting.

"So, he hasn't changed his mind completely, just about today... about me?"

"Yeah... it seems like it... I don't know. I don't know what he's thinking," responded Sarah, the retelling of the story getting her annoyed again.

"And what about you?" asked Sam, "Would you have gone through with it if he hadn't changed his mind?"

Sarah blushed, slightly uncomfortable at the question.

"I... I think I would have..."

Sam smiled politely, and lifted his glass in the air.

"Well, here's to close encounters."

Sarah and Sam clinked glasses, and both finished off what was left.

"I... I should probably go. Try and understand what Mike's thinking. Thanks for the drink."

"No problem," replied Sam, admiring Sarah's figure as she walked away.

Despite Sarah's uncertainty, Sam knew exactly why Mike had changed his mind. He'd taken one look at Sam and realised that what he thought was his fantasy was actually his worst nightmare. There was no way he wanted a large muscular black guy fucking his beautiful, untarnished wife. Most white guys, whether they liked to admit it or not, saw black guys as a threat. Most white guys were inherently racist.

It wasn't lost on Sam that the main reason white guys asked him to fuck their wives in the first place was because he was a well hung black guy, and, for some, at least, this made it more demeaning (and therefore more enjoyable) for either them or their wife. But, truthfully, for him, that was part of the appeal as to why he did it in the first place. What better way to avenge the societal racism he and his friends grew up with (even passive racism like this), than by fucking a racists wife like a whore whilst they watch? It certainly wasn't about the sex. It's not like most of the women he was asked to fuck were stunning like Sarah, and, besides, he could probably pick up some random chick most nights if he wanted. No. The appeal to him was to see whether he could make the husband regret his decision, make him feel inferior to the black man standing in front of him. Inferior like so many white men made him feel while he was growing up.

It didn't happen often. Most were too stupid to get the irony, and would instead sit there with their hard ons in their hand, jacking off while their wife orgasmed around his dick. But sometimes, sometimes he would see the look in their eyes change as they watched their wife's pussy stretch around his large dark cock, and it was these occasions that he took most pleasure from. In fact, of all the encounters he'd been involved in, his favourite happened about a year earlier when one older guy looked like he was going to be sick as he watched Sam shoot his thick black seed all over his wife's white ageing face. As he left the room that night, Sam remembered hoping that that image of her cum stained face stayed in that racist fucks head every time he went to kiss her goodbye in the morning.

Tonight though, it looked like he'd missed out. Disappointingly as well given how fucking hot this white chick was. Yeah. He'd have had real fun fucking that bitch.

Sam took his glass to the bar and ordered another. One more before he found a bar in town and brought some desperate white slut back to his hotel room for a good fuck.

Sarah paused momentarily and took a deep breath before swiping her key card and opening the door to her and Mike's room. She hoped (and half expected) to have Mike rush over to her, begging her to forgive him for everything that had happened, promising that he'd never put her in a situation like this again. But to her surprise there was no movement, no noise, just silence. Had he gone out?

After tentatively walking through the hallway, glancing in to the bathroom as she passed it, she reached the main room and saw Mike seemingly passed out on the bed, the bottle of brandy he'd bought her earlier that day empty on the side. Sarah was in disbelief. How dare he put her through all of this and then get blind drunk so that he didn't have to deal with the consequences!

Sarah stormed over to her bag and grabbed her phone, deciding that she was going to call a cab and leave Mike to sort himself out once he'd slept off his hangover. She didn't know how much it would cost from so far away, but she didn't care. She'd make Mike pay for it anyway.

Unlocking her home-screen and glaring momentarily at her unconscious husband, she noticed that she had 7missed calls from Mike, and 4 voicemail messages. Still glaring in his direction, she placed her phone to her ear and began to listen...

Voicemail 1:

"I'm really sorry honey. Please come back to the room so we can talk about it. I know you're angry... I know you've put up with so much, but I just couldn't go through with it. Not with him anyway. Give me another chance. We can find someone else. Please come back."

Voicemail 2:

"Where are you honey?? You need to come back so we can talk about what happened. I don't understand why you're so angry anyway. I know you haven't been completely comfortable with what we're doing, so postponing it gives you more time to wrap your head around things... unless you're actually upset because you didn't get to fuck Sam... No... No. I didn't mean that. I know you're doing this for me... I just... I... look, just come back so we can talk about it."

Voicemail 3:

"Sarah, you need to call me back. I need to know where you are and what you're doing. You're doing this on purpose..."

Voicemail 4:

"Sarah, where the fuck are you? You need to stop acting like such a bitch and come back right now! You agreed to this, so clearly I was right to worry about you wanting to fuck other men... You're just upset that I stopped you from fucking that big fucking ape!! Fuck it... you're ruining this marriage Sarah!! Ruining it..."

Sarah stared at her comatose husband, tears of anger, pain, and frustration filling her eyes as his words ripped through her heart. He was never going to get over it was he? They were never going to go back to how things had been. She'd been nothing but faithful to Mike since the moment they first agreed to go on a date, and here he was again accusing her of sleeping around with other men, and even blaming her for the possible breakdown of their marriage!

A loud voice in Sarah's head was screaming for her to get a cab home as she'd planned, pack Mike's stuff up into bin bags, and leave them on the front porch for him to pick up when he finally got home. But there were two other voices calling for her to do something else, something that amounted to the same thing, but for two completely different reasons.

The first voice wanted her to make one last desperate attempt at saving her marriage, telling her to do something that was so against her own reasoned logic, but that seemed for all the world to be what her husband was subconsciously crying out for. The second voice was telling her to spite her husband, give him a real reason to be angry with her, a real reason to question her loyalty.

Sam was sat on the barstool, just about to finish his drink before heading out and finding somewhere in town, when he felt someone grab his hand and start pulling him out of his seat.

"What the..." he exclaimed, looking up and seeing an angry looking Sarah now pulling him in the direction of the door. "What are you doing?" he asked.

But he received no response, and simply followed Sarah in to the elevator, much to the curiosity of the two young women on reception.

As the doors closed, Sam again looked for answers.

"Where are you taking me?"

"I need you to fuck me..." responded Sarah, staring at the floor numbers changing.

"But what about your husband?"

"Don't worry about him," she replied, "it's not his choice any more. He has no say any more. He needs to watch you fuck me."

The elevator doors opened back up, and Sarah once again began dragging Sam by the hand, leading him in the direction of her room. As they reached the door, without missing a beat, Sarah swiped her keycard in the lock and led Sam down the small hallway leading to the bed, letting the door shut by itself. As the bed came in to sight, Sarah was prepared to start giving Mike a piece of her mind, but was stunned in to silence by the sight of an empty bed with only slightly crumpled sheets.

"Huh?" she asked herself, bemused, "there's no way Mike would be up and about after finishing of the bottle of brandy..."

But as she tried to make sense of what was happening, she heard the toilet flush and the sound of someone washing their hands. Sarah quickly pushed Sam towards the head of the bed where he was out of sight, and told him to stay quiet. The handle on the bathroom door gave a small squeak as it was lowered, and a moment later Mike appeared in the doorway.

"Honey!" he blurted with surprise, before quickly walking forward and taking her by the hand. "I'm so sorry honey. I didn't mean what I said... any of it. I'd had a bit to drink, and... it just made me paranoid. I know you haven't been fucking anyone else... it was the alcohol talking. I realise now... it makes everything worse... every time, it makes things worse... and so that's it... I'm not drinking anymore. I even emptied what was left of that bottle down the sink."

Sarah was taken aback, and suddenly panicked that perhaps she was making a mistake.

"So what about you wanting me to fuck someone else while you watch?" she asked, hoping that his answer would confirm either way. "Are you over that now? Is it done?"

"I... err... well... let's talk about it at home tomorrow."

"Is it done???" she reiterated.

"I still think it might help... it might help put it to bed... we'll just make sure we find someone more appropriate. Someone white."

Sarah closed her eyes, took a deep breath, placed her soft hands on the sides of Mike's face, and kissed him gently on the lips.

"Close your eyes honey and take a seat in the chair."

"What are you doing???" asked Mike as Sarah moved behind him, covered his eyes with her hands and directed him towards the cheap looking plastic chair by the sideboard.

"Shhhh,"whispered Sarah in to his ear, "I have a surprise for you."

"What kind of surprise honey?" replied Mike, confused at how his wife was acting.

"You'll see," she continued to whisper. "Now keep your eyes closed otherwise you'll ruin it. Ok?"

"Ok..." replied Mike, still unsure of what was happening.

Sarah removed her hands from around Mike's eyes and pulled both of his hands around the back of the chair.

"Keep your eyes closed, honey" she repeated as she began tying his hands to the chair with the telephone cable.

After a few loops around the back legs of the chair, Sarah was satisfied that Mike was securely fastened to his seat, and moved back around in front of him where she leant in, again kissed him on the lips, and gently began rubbing his crotch through his trousers.