CUCKOLDED BY AN OLD, DOMINANT MALE by Fourandahalf
Our first real sex experience happened soon after we moved to Australia. My wife, Joan, was thirty two at the time. She is 5? 7? tall, slim, very attractive with the sort of nice, genuine personality that attracts people. I was thirty eight, medium build, average looks. We had only been married a couple of years, second marriage for me, although we were very happy together and had a lot of freedom because we didn't have any children (I'd discovered I was infertile, the reason my first marriage ended). We were your typical suburban couple, I had read a few porno mags in my time but had never shown them to Joan (or my previous wife) for fear of offending her. We didn't have any blue movies, vibrators, anything like that. I was Mr. Thought About A Few Things and she was Mrs. Innocent. Sex, although fun, wasn't high on our list of priorities. Joan enjoyed being sucked and I would do that to her once or twice a week. She was never much interested in intercourse and at that stage it was a once or twice a month thing. I used to think we did it because we felt we should. I had no idea what constituted average performance for a guy but I was certain I didn't measure up to it. I'd never lasted more than a couple of minutes at best. Being honest, I was so poor at intercourse that I wasn't sure I enjoyed it that much. We seemed well suited. Joan had had a number of long term boyfriends and a few one night stands before we met but we'd never really talked about them. We were very happy together and the fact that we never discussed sex was because we never felt we had any reason to.
Like every male, I'd had a few fantasies but I had kept them to myself. One I had always been fascinated by was the idea of an older, sexually dominant male seducing and fucking a wife while the husband watched, helpless to prevent it. I had read letters about it in porno mags and always got excited at the thought although I could never explain why. When I say I had always been fascinated by it, I mean always. I was late teens and hadn't even had a girlfriend when I read the first one. I remember it was about a teenager who introduced his girlfriend to a guy he worked with. The guy was in his sixties and a real horny lecher and he seduced and fucked the girlfriend while the boyfriend sat helpless to prevent it. In my fantasies I was always the boyfriend, watching my girlfriend give herself to an old man. I mentioned this to my first wife but she gave me a very strange look and I never mentioned it again either to her or to Joan. By the time I was thirty eight I had pretty well forgotten about it.
About a year after getting to Australia we were going on a touring holiday north of Sydney. A few weeks before we left I was reading a booklet on what was available in the different areas when I noticed it described a remote nudist beach near the first place we would be staying. You had to have a four wheel drive or be prepared to hike for half an hour to get to it. The idea of being able to stare at mature naked women was very appealing so I mentioned the beach to Joan and said it might be fun to go and give it a try. She wasn't keen but I kept bringing the subject up and she eventually relented, saying she would go to keep me happy, but only once.
Eventually the day arrived and we drove to a nearby spot and parked our car then hiked along one almost deserted beach, over a rocky headland before coming to the nudist beach which must have been half a mile long, ******* to the ocean and with a deep stretch of high sand dunes backing it. There were probably about twenty people at the end we came out at, all nude with ages ranging from their twenties to their sixties. At the opposite end of the beach I could see more people and four wheel drives. Because we were both a bit shy we agreed to walk a few hundred yards up the beach and go a few yards into the sand dunes. We found what I thought was a good spot, in a dip between some high dunes but still high enough so we could look down on the beach but not be seen from it. Laughing and very red faced we stripped and lay down on an old sheet I had brought for the purpose. Not much happened, a few people walked along the beach so I had the pleasure of gawking at some women with plenty of nice wobbly bits but that was about it. I tried to get Joan to look at the people but she said she wasn't interested.
After about half an hour I was sitting looking down on the beach with Joan lying on her back beside me. She was facing away from the beach and had her hat over her face to protect it from the sun. I was lightly stroking her breasts and wondering if I could manage to persuade her to touch me and maybe even masturbate me when I turned and realised there was a man standing on top of a high dune about thirty yards to the side of us. He was looking down at the beach and out at the ocean but every fifteen or twenty seconds he would turn and look down on us. He must have been about sixty five years old, was almost bald, and he had spent a lot of time on the beach because his skin was a dark reddish brown and looked tough and dry. He was about six foot tall and and he had a towel tied around his waist but you could see his stomach wasn't that much smaller than his barrel chest. The rest of him looked the same, thick neck, solid arms and legs that made mine look puny. A real tree trunk of a guy.
I must have paused in my stroking because Joan lifted the hat, looked at me, and asked what was wrong. I managed to croak about an old man standing on top of a nearby dune watching us. She gave me a strange look then shut her eyes and put the hat over her face again. When I asked why she had shut her eyes she said that if she couldn't see him, he wasn't there. There was a long pause then her hand came up and touched my chest. She told me that my heart was racing. I didn't know what to say so I kept silent. I couldn't explain it, but I liked the guy being there. Eventually she took her hand away from my chest. I thought she was going to tell me to ignore him but she surprised me by saying that if I wanted, I could tell her what he was doing. She would listen but she wouldn't look.
The idea that she might want it to continue gave me a strange, hollow feeling. It was totally different to anything I had experienced before. It was so intense that I felt light headed and I didn't know whether I was going to faint or be sick. I went back to stroking her breasts but I gradually began to make more of a show of it. Her breasts are a little bit floppy and I moved them around a bit, squeezing them and teasing her nipples. It must have been obvious to Joan what I was doing but she didn't say anything and the fact that her nipples were rock hard encouraged me to continue. I now ignored the beach, alternately looking down at Joan's breasts and up at the man on the sand dune. There was no pretence of him looking out at the ocean now, he had turned to face us and was staring across and down at us. I wasn't sure what I should do or even what I wanted. The truth is I was way out of my depth and I knew it. Joan and the guy were probably more relaxed than I was. Not knowing what to do, I kept stroking her breasts and extended some of the strokes down on to her stomach and legs.
He must have been enjoying the show because after a few minutes he untied the towel from his waist and draped it over his shoulders. After a while of watching us and occasionally touching his penis he turned side on so I could see him outlined against the sky. His penis hadn't seemed that big until then (I had never really seen another penis except in a magazine) but side on it looked huge as it hung down under his belly, twitching as it started to come erect. The man stared at me as he used his hand to play with it and make it bigger. I got the feeling this was some sort of challenge thing, that maybe I should be showing off my own cock, but if it was I failed. All I could do was continue stroking Joan's breasts as I stared at his erection and related what I was seeing to Joan. I will never forget it, it was the most unbelievable experience I'd had. Some instinct told me that if this kept going that it was going to have a permanent effect on our marriage. A lasting effect on me. I could feel this deep desire within me, one I didn't understand but which consumed me with its ache. Whatever it was, I knew I was desperate for it to surface. It sounds melodramatic, but it wasn't. I remember Joan, with her hat still over her face, putting her hand on my chest again as I described his twitching cock. She told me that my heart was racing and I should calm down if I didn't want a heart attack. It might seem strange but the excitement was so intense that instead of gaining an erection I had shrunk. I was down to about three quarters of an inch and it looked more like an oversized clitoris than a cock.
As Joan hadn't objected to me telling her about him taking off his towel and describing his cock to her, I assumed she wanted things to continue so I moved my stroking beyond her breasts. This gave the man confidence and he slowly moved closer until after about ten minutes he was sitting about six feet away from Joan's feet and staring between her open legs as I slid a finger in and out of her wet pussy. His cock, which he was slowly stroking, was a deep red colour and was covered in big prominent veins. It was pointed at the head and widened to a very thick base with a pair of large testicles hanging below it and must have been between close to eight inches long. To me, it looked almost evil.
As I said, I had never seen a real hard cock before. I had seen pictures in mags and I had read what average size was but I had never seen one in real life. I never realised just how much of a difference there was. I should make it clear that at full stretch my own is four and a half inches long, quite thin and my testicles are almost non existent. I had always believed the saying that size didn't matter but looking at his cock I realised it was a lie. Maybe if you've got a nice thick six and a half inches and can maintain an erection, it might be true but all you've got is a thin four and a half inches, size does count. It counts a lot.
I got a real shock when I looked at this guy's cock and balls and realised they were probably normal size and that this was what Joan would have been used to before she met me. That this was the sort of cock my first wife would have got after we seperated. For the first time I understood that I had been deluding myself all my life. My cock was tiny, my balls nothing more than a bit of wrinkled skin and I had absolutely no control. I usually came as soon as I put it in. Only a ?weenie? can understand the humiliation I felt. The first time you understand that you can be great at everything else but that you will never be able to satisfy a woman and there isn't a single thing you can do about it.
Part two and three to follow.
Our first real sex experience happened soon after we moved to Australia. My wife, Joan, was thirty two at the time. She is 5? 7? tall, slim, very attractive with the sort of nice, genuine personality that attracts people. I was thirty eight, medium build, average looks. We had only been married a couple of years, second marriage for me, although we were very happy together and had a lot of freedom because we didn't have any children (I'd discovered I was infertile, the reason my first marriage ended). We were your typical suburban couple, I had read a few porno mags in my time but had never shown them to Joan (or my previous wife) for fear of offending her. We didn't have any blue movies, vibrators, anything like that. I was Mr. Thought About A Few Things and she was Mrs. Innocent. Sex, although fun, wasn't high on our list of priorities. Joan enjoyed being sucked and I would do that to her once or twice a week. She was never much interested in intercourse and at that stage it was a once or twice a month thing. I used to think we did it because we felt we should. I had no idea what constituted average performance for a guy but I was certain I didn't measure up to it. I'd never lasted more than a couple of minutes at best. Being honest, I was so poor at intercourse that I wasn't sure I enjoyed it that much. We seemed well suited. Joan had had a number of long term boyfriends and a few one night stands before we met but we'd never really talked about them. We were very happy together and the fact that we never discussed sex was because we never felt we had any reason to.
Like every male, I'd had a few fantasies but I had kept them to myself. One I had always been fascinated by was the idea of an older, sexually dominant male seducing and fucking a wife while the husband watched, helpless to prevent it. I had read letters about it in porno mags and always got excited at the thought although I could never explain why. When I say I had always been fascinated by it, I mean always. I was late teens and hadn't even had a girlfriend when I read the first one. I remember it was about a teenager who introduced his girlfriend to a guy he worked with. The guy was in his sixties and a real horny lecher and he seduced and fucked the girlfriend while the boyfriend sat helpless to prevent it. In my fantasies I was always the boyfriend, watching my girlfriend give herself to an old man. I mentioned this to my first wife but she gave me a very strange look and I never mentioned it again either to her or to Joan. By the time I was thirty eight I had pretty well forgotten about it.
About a year after getting to Australia we were going on a touring holiday north of Sydney. A few weeks before we left I was reading a booklet on what was available in the different areas when I noticed it described a remote nudist beach near the first place we would be staying. You had to have a four wheel drive or be prepared to hike for half an hour to get to it. The idea of being able to stare at mature naked women was very appealing so I mentioned the beach to Joan and said it might be fun to go and give it a try. She wasn't keen but I kept bringing the subject up and she eventually relented, saying she would go to keep me happy, but only once.
Eventually the day arrived and we drove to a nearby spot and parked our car then hiked along one almost deserted beach, over a rocky headland before coming to the nudist beach which must have been half a mile long, ******* to the ocean and with a deep stretch of high sand dunes backing it. There were probably about twenty people at the end we came out at, all nude with ages ranging from their twenties to their sixties. At the opposite end of the beach I could see more people and four wheel drives. Because we were both a bit shy we agreed to walk a few hundred yards up the beach and go a few yards into the sand dunes. We found what I thought was a good spot, in a dip between some high dunes but still high enough so we could look down on the beach but not be seen from it. Laughing and very red faced we stripped and lay down on an old sheet I had brought for the purpose. Not much happened, a few people walked along the beach so I had the pleasure of gawking at some women with plenty of nice wobbly bits but that was about it. I tried to get Joan to look at the people but she said she wasn't interested.
After about half an hour I was sitting looking down on the beach with Joan lying on her back beside me. She was facing away from the beach and had her hat over her face to protect it from the sun. I was lightly stroking her breasts and wondering if I could manage to persuade her to touch me and maybe even masturbate me when I turned and realised there was a man standing on top of a high dune about thirty yards to the side of us. He was looking down at the beach and out at the ocean but every fifteen or twenty seconds he would turn and look down on us. He must have been about sixty five years old, was almost bald, and he had spent a lot of time on the beach because his skin was a dark reddish brown and looked tough and dry. He was about six foot tall and and he had a towel tied around his waist but you could see his stomach wasn't that much smaller than his barrel chest. The rest of him looked the same, thick neck, solid arms and legs that made mine look puny. A real tree trunk of a guy.
I must have paused in my stroking because Joan lifted the hat, looked at me, and asked what was wrong. I managed to croak about an old man standing on top of a nearby dune watching us. She gave me a strange look then shut her eyes and put the hat over her face again. When I asked why she had shut her eyes she said that if she couldn't see him, he wasn't there. There was a long pause then her hand came up and touched my chest. She told me that my heart was racing. I didn't know what to say so I kept silent. I couldn't explain it, but I liked the guy being there. Eventually she took her hand away from my chest. I thought she was going to tell me to ignore him but she surprised me by saying that if I wanted, I could tell her what he was doing. She would listen but she wouldn't look.
The idea that she might want it to continue gave me a strange, hollow feeling. It was totally different to anything I had experienced before. It was so intense that I felt light headed and I didn't know whether I was going to faint or be sick. I went back to stroking her breasts but I gradually began to make more of a show of it. Her breasts are a little bit floppy and I moved them around a bit, squeezing them and teasing her nipples. It must have been obvious to Joan what I was doing but she didn't say anything and the fact that her nipples were rock hard encouraged me to continue. I now ignored the beach, alternately looking down at Joan's breasts and up at the man on the sand dune. There was no pretence of him looking out at the ocean now, he had turned to face us and was staring across and down at us. I wasn't sure what I should do or even what I wanted. The truth is I was way out of my depth and I knew it. Joan and the guy were probably more relaxed than I was. Not knowing what to do, I kept stroking her breasts and extended some of the strokes down on to her stomach and legs.
He must have been enjoying the show because after a few minutes he untied the towel from his waist and draped it over his shoulders. After a while of watching us and occasionally touching his penis he turned side on so I could see him outlined against the sky. His penis hadn't seemed that big until then (I had never really seen another penis except in a magazine) but side on it looked huge as it hung down under his belly, twitching as it started to come erect. The man stared at me as he used his hand to play with it and make it bigger. I got the feeling this was some sort of challenge thing, that maybe I should be showing off my own cock, but if it was I failed. All I could do was continue stroking Joan's breasts as I stared at his erection and related what I was seeing to Joan. I will never forget it, it was the most unbelievable experience I'd had. Some instinct told me that if this kept going that it was going to have a permanent effect on our marriage. A lasting effect on me. I could feel this deep desire within me, one I didn't understand but which consumed me with its ache. Whatever it was, I knew I was desperate for it to surface. It sounds melodramatic, but it wasn't. I remember Joan, with her hat still over her face, putting her hand on my chest again as I described his twitching cock. She told me that my heart was racing and I should calm down if I didn't want a heart attack. It might seem strange but the excitement was so intense that instead of gaining an erection I had shrunk. I was down to about three quarters of an inch and it looked more like an oversized clitoris than a cock.
As Joan hadn't objected to me telling her about him taking off his towel and describing his cock to her, I assumed she wanted things to continue so I moved my stroking beyond her breasts. This gave the man confidence and he slowly moved closer until after about ten minutes he was sitting about six feet away from Joan's feet and staring between her open legs as I slid a finger in and out of her wet pussy. His cock, which he was slowly stroking, was a deep red colour and was covered in big prominent veins. It was pointed at the head and widened to a very thick base with a pair of large testicles hanging below it and must have been between close to eight inches long. To me, it looked almost evil.
As I said, I had never seen a real hard cock before. I had seen pictures in mags and I had read what average size was but I had never seen one in real life. I never realised just how much of a difference there was. I should make it clear that at full stretch my own is four and a half inches long, quite thin and my testicles are almost non existent. I had always believed the saying that size didn't matter but looking at his cock I realised it was a lie. Maybe if you've got a nice thick six and a half inches and can maintain an erection, it might be true but all you've got is a thin four and a half inches, size does count. It counts a lot.
I got a real shock when I looked at this guy's cock and balls and realised they were probably normal size and that this was what Joan would have been used to before she met me. That this was the sort of cock my first wife would have got after we seperated. For the first time I understood that I had been deluding myself all my life. My cock was tiny, my balls nothing more than a bit of wrinkled skin and I had absolutely no control. I usually came as soon as I put it in. Only a ?weenie? can understand the humiliation I felt. The first time you understand that you can be great at everything else but that you will never be able to satisfy a woman and there isn't a single thing you can do about it.
Part two and three to follow.
