Cucked, Caged and Conquered: Part Four (Patreon)

Hey guys, here's the latest part of the story. Here's where we get to the action - not that our guy gets to see any of it! This part's a bit angsty, I'm hoping to catch the tug-of-war between feeling hurt and horny, while trying to keep the story from being a downer. Hopefully I've managed that - keen to hear your feedback though!

I just sat there, kind of stunned. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but I’d been expecting… more. I’d thought there would be some kind of proper introduction, where I’d stand there and shake the hand of the guy who was about to fuck my husband. I thought maybe there would be a conversation, maybe they’d have a beer together and have som awkward first-date conversation.

Having this man come into our home and our relationship was a big moment for me. But to have them disappear so unceremoniously, with barely any acknowledgement of me at all, left me feeling almost kind of robbed of its gravity somehow.

But the way they’d both barely acknowledged me, the way they’d treated me with so little regard, it aroused me so much. I felt that familiar tingle in my dick and an unfamiliar rush in my chest. I laid a hand on my dick through the fabric of my trousers and it throbbed against the pressure of my touch.

I heard the low beat of music coming from the bedroom. It reminded me of when I used to share an apartment full of people, long before Travis and I had married, and my roommates would bring home guys. It’s funny: they’d do it as a way of disguising the noise of sex, but it ended up meaning that whenever I heard the music I immediately knew what was going on, and in my mind I’d formed an association between the muffled beat of music and the thought of sex going on unseen just moments away from me.

Right now, just like back then, I pictured what was going on inside that room.

I wondered if they’d take it slow. Whether, now that Travis finally had a man to give him the kind of sex he really wanted, he’d take his time and luxuriate in every sensation. Or whether he’d waited so long now, desperate for a real fuck, that he wouldn’t be able to keep from hurling himself into the experience of being fucked.

I’d only seen Travis’ trade for a few seconds, so I intentionally closed my eyes and conjured up his image before I could forget the details. I thought about the weighty bulge in his sweatpants, and pictured what it would look like as it sprung out of his clothes and started to harden. I thought about the muscular chest I’d seen just the edges of, and I pictured Travis rubbing his hands over it, appreciating the guy’s body in a way that he seemed to have long ago stopped appreciating mine.

My dick was hard by now, harder than it ever got when I was trying to fuck with it. I put my hand on it, through the fabric of my trousers. Pressed against it, felt it pulse against my hand.

I crept into the hallway and up to the bedroom door. I stood there, listening for any sound that might be audible above the sound of the music. It was a long time before I heard anything: just a barely audible voice, briefly, followed by another different one. I wondered what they were saying, what they were doing. Whether there was a connection between them beyond just a random fuck.

Another minute went by. A moan, this time clearly audible over the music. I don’t know if I was reading things into it that weren’t there, but to me it communicated not only pleasure but shock, as though one of them had had something done to them that they weren’t expecting, or weren’t expecting to feel that good. I wished I knew who’d made the sound and what had prompted it.

For a long time there was no sound other than the thump of the stereo, until finally the quiet was broken by the sound of the bed creaking, and a gasp of a moan. I knew what it meant immediately, and when the bed creaked a second time my cock — and my whole body — tensed up and released in unison with the creaking joints of the bed.

He was inside him. This guy, this stranger, was inside my husband.

My dick throbbed uncontrollably. I reached into my underwear and held the tip of it with my fingers, massaging it as I pictured Travis’ ass muscles clenched around this stranger’s thick cock. The bed creaked again, and Travis cried out a second time.

I shouldn’t have touched myself. I knew I wouldn’t last long if I did. But I hadn’t expected this: by the third moan, the third creak of the bed-frame, and I was already ejaculating. It felt incredible, a climax at an intensity I hadn’t felt in years. I felt the cum course out of my cock as the little guy convulsed and choked up its load.

My head was swimming so bad I had to steady myself on the wall. By the time the feeling passed, I could hear that Travis and his hook-up had settled into a steady rhythm.

I took my hand out of my underwear. It was covered in my ejaculate, more of which was sitting in my underwear seeping into the fabric.

I ran on tiptoes to the bathroom and washed the cum off my hand. I pulled my trousers and underwear down to clean-up, but the mess was already beyond sorting out. My underwear was wet and cold with semen. I decided I should change into another pair, before realising a second later that my underwear drawer was currently inaccessible, in the bedroom where my husband was being fucked.

That brought the realisation crashing down on me: right now my husband was in my bedroom, in our shared bed, being fucked by another man.

How the hell had I let this happen? How had I let my dick do the thinking like this, let it shut off the rational part of my brain that must have been screaming at me to stop this from the moment Travis suggested it. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. I felt panic hit me so hard I had to steady myself a second time, this time leaning on the bathroom counter.

I shouldn’t have agreed to this.

My thoughts started racing, trying to work out a way out of this situation. I had to get them to stop; I had to get my husband back.

I resolved to go straight into the bedroom and tell them to stop. To tell that stranger to get the hell out of my bedroom and my house. It was the only rational course of action. I walked back into the hall, up to the door, and raised my hand. I’m not sure whether I was going to bang on it, or just to open the door and barge right in there. But either way, I paused for an instant, and realised I couldn’t go through with it.

This was my fault: for not fucking my husband like he needed, for agreeing to this scenario, by getting turned on by it when we talked about it. I’d agreed to it, I’d wanted it. It wasn’t fair for me to change my mind now. I’d made my bed, and now someone else was fucking my husband in it.

I let my hand fall back to my side. I stood there for a second, but I couldn’t stay there. I could hear them fucking. I could hear Travis enjoying it. I couldn’t bear just standing there and listening to the sound of my marriage disintegrating.

I went back to the living room and sat down on the sofa. For ages — who knows how long — I just sat there in silence, staring into nothing, waiting for it to be over, the stupidity of what I’d done rolling around in my brain.

Eventually though, even that got boring, and there was no sign of them emerging from the bedroom. So I turned on the TV and tried to let myself be distracted.

I was almost at the end of a fifty-minute episode when Travis emerged from the hallway. I looked up at him. He was naked, his hair all messed up.

“Hey,” he said, as he walked over to the kitchen.

“Hey,” I said back to him.

“You all good?” he asked.

I paused, not sure what to say. I wanted to tell him that I was falling apart inside, that this had been a terrible mistake. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to have to have that conversation yet, not with that guy still in my bed. So instead I just nodded. “You guys all done?” I asked, hopefully.

Travis laughed, “No way,” he said, as he pulled two glasses from the cupboard. “Just needed some water.”

This was humiliating. They’d already gone for well over an hour longer than I’d ever lasted, and they still weren’t done.

Travis filled up the glasses and headed back into the hallway. “See you in a bit,” he said.

‘A bit’ turned into a hell of a long time. I watched two more episodes of my TV show waiting for them to be done. It was past my bed time; I wanted this guy out of my house. But there was nothing I could do about it.

Eventually the two of them emerged, Travis in just a pair of underwear, his guest fully-dressed. He didn’t even acknowledge me as they walked past and out into the hallway towards the front door.

I heard the door open, and I heard Travis say, “Thanks. You wouldn’t believe how much I needed that.”

“No problem,” the guy replied. “Let me know if you want to do it again some time.”

“I will, definitely.”

There was silence; I wondered whether they were kissing, and my cock stirred. Then the door closed, and seconds later Travis came back into the room.

“How was it?” I asked.

“God, it was incredible,” he said. “I haven’t been fucked like that in years.”

I was offended that he’d say that to me. But at the same time it turned me on. I was angry that I let it have that reaction; I was supposed to be upset.

“He fucked me twice,” Travis told me. “That boy’s got stamina.”

“Did it feel good?” I asked, mentally kicking myself for asking.

“Of course. My ass feels fucking destroyed now though.”

I thought about his ass. My cock jumped. “Did he…” I couldn’t bring myself to ask what it was I wanted to know.

“Did he cum in me?” Travis completed the question for me. “Is that what you want to know?”

I nodded, embarrassed.

“Twice.”

“Fuck.” I don’t know why it excited me so much to hear him say it.

“You want to feel it?” he asked.

“Yes. Please.”

He pulled his underwear down and kicked them off, and he walked over to me. He put a knee down on either side of me on the sofa, and lowered himself down so his ass was hovering just above my crotch. “Go on,” he whispered. “Touch it.”

I ran my fingers across his ass. It had a thin, greasy film of lube and sweat on it. When my fingers got close to his hole it wasn’t just slick, it was sloppy and wet. I paused, let my fingers sit there for a few seconds. Then I ran them slowly those extra couple of centimetres till they found his hole.

It was gaping open wider than I’d ever felt it. I pushed a finger, then another, then another, into it. I felt the squelch of cum and lube in it. I felt my whole body shudder and my cock pulse, and I let out a little gasp.

“You like it?” he asked.

I nodded vigorously, and with that I pushed my fingers deeper into his sloppy hole, reaching into my underwear with my other hand and grabbing my hardening dick.

“It turns you on knowing there’s another man’s load in there, huh.”

I nodded, jerking my dick as Travis leaned back onto my hand and let the fingers push deeper in.

“A real man’s load,” he whispered into my ear.

That sent me over the edge. With a pained grunt I came again, this load much smaller than the last, full of whatever didn’t make it out the first time around.

Travis smiled, I’m not sure if it was because he was happy for me getting off, or because he found it funny.

“Thank you,” I said. I withdrew my fingers from Travis’ ass, and he climbed off me and stood up.

“So, you liked that experience, then?” he asked.

I didn’t know where to start. Ten minutes earlier I’d been rehearsing in my head how I was going to tell him that I couldn’t handle this, that it was wrong, that I couldn’t let him keep doing it. But that was all jumbled up in my mind now, mixed together with the shock of how good it felt to feel his ass stretched and seeded by someone else.

Eventually the honest answer came out. “It was really hard,” I said. “But I think I liked it.”

“Fuck, that’s a relief,” Travis replied. “Because now that I’ve been reminded what it’s like to get fucked properly, I don’t think I could ever go back to getting fucked by you.”

Hearing that should have hurt. I guess it did. But it also felt like a promise of something even hotter than sex.

“Sorry babe,” he said, obviously interpreting my silence as hurt.

“It makes sense,” I told him. “It sounds reasonable.”

“I still love you though. I’m not going anywhere.”

I nodded, grateful to hear that.

“Anyway, I’m going to bed. You should come too while it still smells of sex.”

He disappeared into the hallway. For a minute or so I just sat there, looking at my fingers, covered in the cum of the guy who’d displaced me from my marital bed. Then, I got up and followed my husband to bed.