. My Old Rival

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Throne, Sep 29, 2016.

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  1. Throne

    Throne Member Author!

    MY OLD RIVAL

    by Throne

    Adele and I had been married for just over a year when I noticed a change in her behavior. We were still having our weekly interlude of sex, my small dick was still shooting too soon, and she continued to be too nice to say anything about it. As ever, she was classy and reserved. So why the alteration in her behavior? When I asked her she confessed to me that my old rival from our dating days, Blake, had run into her, insisted on taking her to lunch, and then openly propositioned her. I felt sick as soon as she told me. He was taller and stronger than I am, and her girlfriends had told her, as my buddies had told me, that he was a master cocksman. Worse, she admitted that she couldn't stop thinking about him. I said that she would just have to put him out of her mind but she had come up with another solution. He was invited to our home and would be there in less than an hour. She felt sure that if the three of us sat down and talked about this awkward situation it would enable her to stop dwelling on him.

    I wasn't at all happy about it, not that there was time to put a halt to what was about to happen. So I told myself that we were all a few years older now and would behave like adults. Blake had been a bully, pushing meek guys like me around, stealing their girlfriends from them, and proving over and over that some females can't resist an alpha male like him. I couldn't believe that Adele would ever weaken and fall under his macho spell. Would she?

    Blake arrived, as overconfident as ever, dressed in a sports shirt and slacks, his dark hair short and a hint of beard shadow on his square jaw. He held out his hand and when I took it, squeezed so hard that I couldn't keep from wincing, which my wife noticed. Then, without letting go, he turned me partway around and slapped me on the back... hard.

    "Looks like you lucked out, little guy," he said and chortled. "Who'd have ever thought that you'd wind up with a looker like Adele. She's one of the few girls from our group that I didn't bed. But not for lack of trying. I almost had her more than once. I'm sure neither of you has forgotten that. And remember our pal Lucky? He wasn't so lucky when I got his fiancé to give me a blowjob in the front seat of my car. And it was pretty funny when Lucky came looking for her and found my cock in her mouth. But hey, she didn't stop. No, she was too into it by then. And that poor jerk Lucky still married her. You know, I stop around their place about once a month, when I want to bend her over the dining room table and slip her the old sausage. She can't say no."

    I glanced at my bride to see, to my horror, that she was mesmerized by his crude account of ravishing and ruining another man's wife. Blake snapped at me to fetch a couple of beers, which I did without thinking. When I got back he was sitting on the couch alongside my wife, closer to her than I liked. She was making no attempt to move away from him. He snatched one beer from me, handed it to her, and grabbed the other for himself. She started to explain that she wasn't a beer drinker but he twisted the cap off her bottle and moved the mouth to her lips.

    "Go on, babe. One bottle won't hurt. It'll relax you." To me he said, "Didn't bring one for yourself, huh? Probably for the best. You never could hold your booze."

    As my wife took a sip, I started to say something but he was opening his own drink and taking a long swallow. My silence must have looked like surrender to Adele. She leaned against him slightly and stared at me, as if making a challenge. Would I intervene? I remembered how adept Blake was with his fists, as well as wrestling holds. When I hesitated she pointedly took a full mouthful of beer, even keeping her lips around the neck of the bottle to pucker and relax them suggestively. I honestly wanted to speak up, to ask him to leave, but then I got an unwelcome surprise.

    She said, "Willy, why don't you go into the kitchen and make some snacks? Blake and I started talking while you were getting our beers. He was telling me some funny things about you. I want to hear the rest but, well, it might be awkward if you were in the room."

    "Yeah, Willy," Blake seconded. "Head for the kitchen. Take your time."

    I looked to her, hoping she would come to her senses, but all she did was giving me a warning frown. With both of them against me I went silently to put together a snack tray. It took me about ten minutes to arrange crackers, slice some cheese, and add some olives and other tidbits. I could hear them speaking low and occasionally chuckling. When I returned they were leaning toward each other and he had his hand on her thigh. She was drinking her beer, almost done it.

    Overcome with outrage, I said, "All right, Blake. You should take your hand off my wife's leg right now." To her I said, "Adele?"

    He stood up and glowered at me. "She wasn't complaining. It was just a casual thing. And you shouldn't be telling her what she can and can't enjoy."

    "I wasn't telling her," I said weakly. "I mean..."

    The tall man took a few steps, told me to put the tray down on the side table I was next to, and after I did it, as I turned back toward him, he caught me with a surprise punch to my ribs. It hurt terribly and I staggered back. He told me to apologize to Adele. That didn't make any sense. He should be apologizing to her. And to me. She should be saying something to him, but she just sat there giving me a disapproving look, as if I was being a spoilsport. As I stood there in pain, trying to organize my thoughts, he grabbed me by the back of the neck and marched me to a spot right in front of her.

    "Go on, Willy boy. Tell her you're sorry."

    "I didn't... I mean..." When he squeezed my neck with punishing force I squeaked out, "I'm sorry, darling. I shouldn't try to tell you what to do."

    He sat back down next to her and left me standing there unsteadily, now sore in two places. To my spouse he said, "There. Now you can do anything you please." He took her upper arm, not applying much pressure, and pulled her slightly toward him, at the same time moving his face closer to hers. "You know what you want to do."

    From where I stood it looked like Blake kissed my wife, not the other way around. But she didn't pull away either, though he held the kiss long enough to give her the opportunity. Then he straightened up and gave her a cocky smile.

    In a strained voice I said, "Blake. Adele."

    He got up again, grabbed the front of my shirt and slapped me hard across the face several times. Before I could recover he yelled at me to open my pants and drop them. When he made a fist at me I obeyed, my hands shaking. Adele watched avidly as I let my trousers slip to my knees. Then Blake snarled at me to lower my shorts, too. I blinked to try to hold back tears. My face smarted awfully. Adele's eyes were bright with interest as I pushed my boxers down to the middles of my thighs.

    Blake laughed wickedly. "A hot woman like Adele can't be satisfied with a puny baby-dick like that. She needs something like what I've got." He turned at an angle so he was facing her but not blocking my view. He told her, "Go ahead, undo my belt, take down my fly, and open my pants. Get a look at what you could have had. Go on. You're just going to take a quick look. That's all."

    As if in a trance, with me gazing at the scene in horror, she did as she was told. Her fingers opened the front of his shorts and she boldly took out his cock. Even flaccid it was bigger than mine was hard. And she was touching it. She smiled and, still holding it in one hand, used her other to stroke the head. At once his organ began to grow. And grow. And grow until it was a nine inch monster with a swollen dark knob. He put one hand lightly on the back of her head to coax her face forward, until her lips made contact with the tip of his member. Adele opened her mouth and took it in up to the corona. She sucked contentedly and made a soft moaning sound. He glanced at me and sneered. Feeling helpless I could only goggle at the picture they made as he moved his hips, working the end of his tool forward and back, on each advance feeding an additional inch into her willing mouth... and throat. Soon he was fucking her face and still she didn't resist or retreat.

    He said, "That's what you want, isn't it, bitch? You want me to pump my cock in and out of your slutty mouth. To use you like your loser husband would never dare to do. Right?" Around the choking mass of his shaft she managed to make a strangled sound of assent. "That's a good little cocksucker. Use your tongue, damn it. Look at me while I'm screwing your face. Now tell me. Do you want me to empty my balls into you like this? Or would you rather we go into the bedroom and I give you the fucking of your life? What's it going to be? You're going to be my cum dump, but I'll let you decide where you want me to shoot. Do you want it down your throat? Or up your pussy?"

    She made some unintelligible sounds and then pointed toward her crotch. No, no, no. She was accepting his offer to have intercourse. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. But, after another two minutes of having his rod pistoning in and out of her throat he withdrew. She gasped and clung to his thighs. He took her under the arms, hoisted her roughly upright, and stood there mauling her breasts through the thin blouse she wore. Adele purred happily and pulled back her shoulders, openly offering them to him. He yanked apart the halves of her top, spraying buttons onto the floor, pulled up her bra, and began tugging on her nipples. The sound she made was a mixture of pain and pleasure.

    He snarled at me, "Go and turn down the covers. And fluff up our pillows. I want the lights down low. Then go and get us two more beers."

    In a daze I did as I was told, tugging up my pants as I went, eager to at least hide the shame of my undersized penis and balls. When I came back from the bedroom they were undressing each other. I reappeared from the kitchen with fresh beers and they were already in the bedroom. Blake shoved her toward the bed.

    He told her in a no-nonsense tone, "Lay on your back and spread your legs. Wide! And play with your tits. Look like a total tramp for me." She did it all and then he said, "Lick your lips. Now beg me to fuck you."

    She did that too, finishing with a seductive invitation for him to do whatever else he pleased with her. As a dominant male, he had gained complete control. As a submissive wimp I could only stand by and gawk as he mounted her and slammed himself into her already glisteningly moist pussy, and began humping her like an animal in heat. She squirmed under him, whimpered and cried out, finally pleading with him not to stop.

    He assured her, "Don't worry, you cheap jizz jar. I won't stop for almost an hour. And your coward of a husband is going to watch the whole thing." At me he snapped, "Open our beers and put them on the night table. Then go and back up against that closet door, drop your pants again... and play with your little dingus."

    Humiliated beyond belief, I followed his every order. He took one of the bottles, said something about sex being 'thirsty work', and treated himself to a long swallow. He even made Adele hold her mouth open so he could dribble beer from between his lips onto her waiting tongue. She should have been mortified but instead just laughed like she was half crazy, which I guess really was her mental state as he resumed jamming his commanding cock into her with bed-shaking force. He drove her to an animated orgasm and then, fifteen minutes later, to another. Her eyes were half lidded and she was making incoherent sounds that might have been attempts at words. He didn't relent, sending her into another quaking climax that left her rolling her head side-to-side, groaning at him to keep going, which he had no difficulty doing. Against my will, my penis had gotten erect.

    At last, after what I guessed was the near-hour he had promised, Blake allowed himself to explode inside her. He kept jerking his hips until she had one last finish, wrapping her legs around his waist, and telling him she would be his whenever he wanted and do whatever he asked, if he would just let her feel again what she had just experienced. It was like an instant addiction. He told her with a smirk that she was going to be his newest slut-sex-slave, and that he would take her only when he felt like it. Then he rolled off, dipped his finger into her well-used slit, and scooped out a dollop of his cream, which he then fed her, as if to seal the deal. She sucked on the digit greedily, showing that she was now the slut he wanted her to be.

    About a half hour later he got up on his knees, made her suck his slimed cock clean, got hard, and pumped a second load into her mouth. Blake summoned me to the side of the bed with a gesture. He told Adele not to swallow and made her show me the creamy mess on her tongue. Then he told us to kiss. She grabbed my dick, short but still hard, and yanked me closer. I bent down and, sickened though I was, pressed my lips to hers. We kissed deeply, with her giving me plenty of her coated tongue, so that I couldn't help swallowing some of my old rival's sperm. I wished my stiffness would fade. The last thing I wanted was for my bride to imagine that I was aroused my the unthinkable scene I had witnessed, the way she still was.

    An hour later, after cuddling with Adele and making her swear repeatedly that she belonged to him, and that she wouldn't allow me access to her body, he was ready to leave. He said that, even though I was no longer allowed to have sex with her, she could use me to lap her pussy whenever she pleased. But for everything else, touching and penetration, she was Blake's property. Adele agreed to it all without a second's hesitation. I was devastated.

    When Blake finally departed she was still lying there, legs lewdly spread, an expression of dreamy contentment on her pretty face. She eyed me with contempt and said, "You heard the man, Willy. I can make you lick my puss-puss whenever I want it. And I want it now. It's all sore from getting banged so hard and so long. Like you could never do for me. So get naked and get busy with that tongue. Clean me up and see if you can make me cum again. This is going to be your sex life from now on." As I stripped and got into position, hating every second of it, she grabbed me by the ears, dug her fingernails into them, and dragged my face against her messy pubes. "Do it!"

    I whined but complied. Because I had never performed orally before, finding it a disgusting act, she had to instruct me, but soon I was satisfying her like a seasoned practitioner. About twenty minutes into it she let go, pressed her thighs against the sides of my head, and had a violent climax.

    "Holy crap," she said, "I'm going to want that after every time Blake dumps a load in me. You're going to be my regular clean-up boy, Willy." She laughed cruelly. "And I'm going to love it every time."

    I had been utterly defeated by my old rival, who now owned my wife. I stayed where I was, mouthing her gently through a long afterglow, the taste of Blake's spunk strong in my mouth. At last she drifted off to sleep. I gave her mound several light kisses. And I still had that shameful erection. What was wrong with me? And how was I going to endure this bizarre disgraceful new life that I would be living from then on?

    *********
     
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