The Guy Next Door is Banging Your Husband: Part 4 (Patreon)

Here's the next bit of my story. I don't know if I mentioned at the beginning but this is more of a 'cheating turns into cuckolding' type story, rather than simply a story of cuckolding from the start. Which will be obvious from this section! Don't worry though, we'll get to the real cuckold action eventually. In the meantime here's a (slightly sad?) section about our (as of now involuntary) cuckold who hasn't yet realised what's going on.

Conrad and Freddie got a decent amount done that day, but on the Sunday it unexpectedly bucketed down with rain and their building plans had to be put on hold. It was a shame because come Monday the sun was back out, and stayed out the whole week while the two of us had to work.

On the Wednesday I got home about quarter past five to find the house empty. In hindsight this is when it should have been obvious that something was up, but I hadn’t quite pieced it together at that point. On Wednesdays Conrad works from home and I usually do a group fitness class at the gym after work. But this particular Wednesday I’d just not been feeling it — bit of a headache and feeling like I might be on the verge of coming down with something — so I’d bailed on the gym and left work about half an hour early.

“Conrad!” I called out. “Conrad?” I looked around the house, but saw no sign of him other than his laptop still open but asleep on the desk in our home office. I wandered outside to the back yard, and still no sign of him.

I could hear Freddie fucking again though. Not as loud as it had been that night when we’d heard it from out in the hot tub, because the birdsong and traffic noise in the distance dulled it a bit. But definitely noticeable. This time I could only hear the sound of male grunts, so I figured that whatever woman he was with this time was obviously less of a screamer than the last one he’d had over.

It made me a bit envious, to be honest: I figured that with a body like his — and a cute smile to go with it — he must be able to get basically whoever he wants. And he obviously did a good job pleasing them; even though he wasn’t making this one scream — yet — the primal sounds coming from his bedroom window, and the dull thud of his bed, made it obvious that he was capable of giving his partners the kind of time I was never quite capable of myself.

It also made me envious, and a little horny, to know that he was getting some afternoon action. It made me impatient for Conrad to get home so I could get him to give it to me before one of us had to start cooking dinner.

I lingered out there in the back yard for longer than I should have, vicariously enjoying the soundtrack of Freddie getting laid. Eventually though, I went back inside.

It was maybe half an hour when Conrad came home. He surprised me by coming in through the patio towards the back of the house instead of the front door. I obviously surprised him too, because when I looked up from my book and said, “Hey,” he almost jumped.

“Shit,” he said, clutching his hands to his chest. “You gave me such a fright. I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“I decided to flag class,” I told him. “Where were you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I thought you’d be here.”

“I went for a walk,” he said. When I think back to it now, I feel like there was a bit of defensiveness in his voice when he said it. “Just wanted to get out of the house, and it’s such a good day.”

I nodded, accepting his explanation even though it was a bit out of the ordinary. As far as I knew, anyway — maybe he always went for walks on his working-from-home days, and I’d just never been around to see it.

“I heard Freddie fucking again,” I told him with a grin.

“Oh?”

I stood up, put my book down, and got up out of my armchair. “To be honest, hearing it got me kind of horny.” I took a few steps so I was right in front of Conrad, laid a hand on his hip to make it obvious what I was saying.

Conrad frowned in a way that made him look equal parts alarmed and harassed. He brushed my hand away. “Maybe later tonight?” he said. “I’m so sweaty. From my run. I think I should go have a shower.” Without waiting for me to respond he pushed past me and headed for the stairs.

I stood there dejectedly for a few moments, processing what had just happened. I tried to tell myself that it was perfectly normal that my husband wouldn’t necessarily be up for sex every time I suggested it; I mean, I brushed him off occasionally too. But something about it didn’t seem that normal.