09-05-2019, 02:07 PM
[i]A CUCKOLD'S TALE
[/i]
"Oh god, SUMITA! What have you done you filthy little whore?" I grunted, my dick in my hand,
as my eyes jumped back and forth between the words on the computer screen and the naughty
picture of my Bengali wife that rested beside it.
I focused on the photo for a moment as I stroked. I never got tired of looking at it. My
wife, absent of clothes kneeling forward on the bed with that dirty look on her face, biting
down on her bottom lip. Her full, golden breasts were dangling beneath her and the crack of
her tight Bengali ass was visible just above her head. It was the only dirty picture SUMITA
had ever allowed me to take of her, thank god for Tequila!
I remembered how I used to hate that she drank so much. She was such an angry, demanding
bitch when she was drunk. After the night that picture was taken, I'd wished she drank more
often.
My eyes returned to the screen and I read on. "Oh SUMITA. Oh fuck. You dirty bitch! You
can't even control yourself, can you? You need that cock! Fucking slut! Nasty slut! Dirty
slut!" I rambled on incoherently as I took in the fictional account about some poor bastards
cheating wife, soon bringing my cock to an eruption that landed all over my chest.
In that way, as I always did, I imagined that my wife was the slutty central character in
the story I was reading. Finding that dirty Exbii site had taken my rituals of fantasizing
in an entirely new direction.
My mind always became clear in the moments after I expelled my nut. Most of the time it was
clouded by fantasy. I often had a hard time focusing on real life matters because of my
obsession with the fantasy world that existed in my head. This was my release, and I
welcomed the short-term clarity I got when I wasn't consumed by thoughts of sex.
But that clarity also came with feelings of shame and guilt. What kind of man was I to think
of my wife as a cock hungry slut? In fact I felt down right pathetic afterwards, not only
for my outrageous fantasies, but also for the way I vicariously lived them out via the
Internet, an erotic picture of my wife, and a bottle of Jergens lotion.
As much as I obsessed over the idea of SUMITA fucking other men, in those moments of clarity
I knew that I'd never have the courage to broach the subject with her, nor the courage to
risk losing her to another man. In my heart of hearts, I knew that was a good thing. The
fantasy would have to remain exactly that, for my own good, and the good of my marriage. .
"Hey sona," SUMITA said plainly as she walked through the door at 9pm that night.
"Hey sexy," I smiled at her, feeling my cock twitch.
SUMITA got off work at five. When she came home late, it usually meant she'd stopped at the
bar on her way home and had a few with her co-workers. But I knew right away she hadn't that
night because if she'd been drinking she wouldn't have called me by that affectionate
nickname.
"Sexy? Not even," My wife modestly blew off my compliment.
"Yeah, Sona, you're always sexy," I said, getting up from my seat to give her a welcome home
kiss.
"Oh no, don't you even start that with me!" SUMITA wiggled away from me, giggling, "I know
what you want!"
"Awww, come on! You know I'm always horny for you when you get home!" I followed her,
grabbing her butt before she could escape.
"No! Stop!" She slapped my hand away with a smile on her face.
I relented for a moment, letting her take off of her shoes and put away her laptop. I knew
eventually I'd get what I wanted. SUMITA tended to make initiating sex with her a chore. I
never saw it as her not wanting to, I just thought she liked to make me pursue her.
"You're home late," I noted, waiting for an answer.
"Oh, you know, we went to Bennigans after work."
"Yeah?" I said, puzzled, "You don't seem like you've been drinking."
"I only had one. I've got kind of a headache today," SUMITA shrugged.
"I hope you're not going to use the headache excuse again," I said, wrapping my arms around
her waist from behind, grinding the erection in my pants against her butt.
SUMITA gripped my hands and pried them off of her. "Stop it now, seriously. All you wanna do
is screw, screw, screw when I get home. Go watch sports or something," SUMITA said in a more
serious tone as she walked into the kitchen.
"Most women complain that their men pay too much attention to sports and not enough of it to
them," I noted.
"Well I certainly don't have that problem, do I," SUMITA said coldly as she poured herself a
glass of water.
I frowned. SUMITA was being more of a cold fish than usual. I decided to change my tactics.
"Pleeeeease?" I sank to my knees and pulled her into me by her hips.
SUMITA rolled her eyes, "Will you stop?"
"I can't help it Sona," I said, unbuttoning the front of her suit jacket, "I just want to
make love to my beautiful, hot, sexy wife." I pulled up the blouse under her jacket and
began kissing her stomach. "Pleeeeeease?" I begged a little more.
Finally she cracked a smile. "Awwww, you're so cute when you beg. You should do it more
often."
I grabbed the waist of her suit pants and attempted to undo the button, but she pushed my
hands away and turned her back on me.
"Come on, SUMITA! What gives!" I whined.
"I just don't want to, ok? What do you think anyway, I'm going to let you do it to me right
here in the kitchen?"
Now it was me rolling my eyes. I wanted to fuck her all over the house, but SUMITA always
insisted on going to the bedroom.
I peeled my shirt off and dropped it on the floor, then undid my pants and dropped them to
the floor along with my boxers. "Yes, I want to fuck you right here in the kitchen," I spun
her around and pushed her back against the counter. Her eyes got big as she saw that I was
naked. "I want to fuck my wife, and I want to fuck her now!"
"But..."
"Munni!" I stated her Bengali nick name firmly.
"Ok. Ok. But in the bedroom," SUMITA bowed her head and slid out of my grasp, heading for
our bedroom.
I smiled, seeing my wife's submissive nature kick in. When all else failed, I knew all it
took was demanding sex, rather than asking for it. I usually tried to avoid that tactic for
two reasons, the first being that I wasn't the domineering type to begin with. I much
preferred to feel like she wanted it as much as I did. And secondly, her enthusiasm for sex
when I had to force it was minimal. But I'd settle for what I could get.
SUMITA stepped into the bedroom and methodically removed her clothes while I sat on the old,
squeaky, queen-sized bed. She was mechanical in doing so, not trying to be sexy at all.
Whether she tried to be or not, I always thought she was sexy. At twenty-nine years old with
2 kids from her first marriage, her body was a little thicker than when we'd first met, but
still nice and firm.
She stripped down to her panties and bra and slid under the sheets before removing her
panties.
I scooted closer to her and began kissing her sweet smelling neck as I slid my hand down to
her hairy pussy. As my lips threatened to invade her cleavage she pulled me back up to her
neck.
"They're sensitive today," she said plainly. That was always the excuse when she didn't want
me to touch her boobs, which was often.
"I guess I'll have to find something else to do with my lips then," I said, giving her a
soft kiss on her lips before sinking below the sheets on my way to her muff.
Again she stopped me, grabbing my shoulder and giving me a tug. "You can just put it in me.
I don't need that today."
"But you're dry," I pouted, disappointed with all the rules she was throwing in my way.
"It's ok," she said, putting her hand on top of mine and pushing my fingers inside of her.
"Oh, wow," I said, surprised. She was as wet as I'd ever felt her once my fingers were
inside.
I climbed on top of her and worked my hard dick inside of her. She laid there silently as I
began to slowly pump her. "You like this don't you? Damn you're so wet tonight Sona," I
sported a cocky smile on my face.
SUMITA stayed quiet, turning her head to the side.
I was used to her lack of interaction during sex, so as always, I found a way to make it
more fun for myself. I became somebody else.
Some of my friends who were bored with their prude wives liked to close their eyes and
picture another woman under them as they hammered away. But I liked to pretend that it was
me, not her, that was another person.
I was another man who was thrusting inside of my wife's pussy. Where's your husband, slut? I
bet he doesn't fuck you like this! You like having another man's cock in your pussy? I bet
you do! I kept all of these thoughts to myself, only vocalizing them in my mind.
I was ready to cum quickly, as the idea of her lying there under another man excited me so
much that I could hardly contain myself. But she put her hands on my chest and stopped my
thrusting before I could.
"Do you want to try doing that thing again?" she said, shyly.
"What thing?" I searched my brain.
"Don't make me say it," she quickly turned her head away from me, too embarrassed to look me
in the face. "The other night...after I came home from Bennigans."
"Ohhh!" I got excited. "Really?"
She shrugged. "I mean, if you want to. I don't care, I guess."
"Um...yeah, if it's ok?"
She pushed up against my chest. "Let me turn."
I eased off of her and let her flip around onto her stomach. She buried her face in the
pillow.
I'd had to get very drunk one night while out with my friends to find the balls to touch the
topic of talking dirty during sex with her. I bitched about how she barely moaned and never
said anything when we made love. I'd been forceful that night, I pushed for it and she let
me get away with a few mild comments; "You're bad girl" and "Who's your dady", I didn't go
too far with it. She'd insisted on lying on her stomach and having me screw her in the lazy
dog position so she didn't have to look at me when I said those things.
The next day she'd gotten mad and outright refused to let me ever do it again. In fact, she
cut me off from her pussy for a week. But a few weeks later she'd come home half in the bag
after work and nonchalantly asked for it again. She still insisted on lying face down, so I
knew she was still embarrassed, but I got my wish. That time I got a little more vocal with
it, and I lasted all of 60 seconds because I'd got so turned on. She didn't hold a grudge
the morning after, but she could hardly look at me either, so I didn't push the issue again.
I couldn't wipe the smile off my face as I slid into her sloppy wet cunt from behind, hoping
that this was going to become a regular thing with her. As I began to thrust, I wasted no
time in getting vocal with her.
"You like that you naughty girl? You like being fucked from behind?" I gasped, measuring my
strokes, being careful not to cum too soon like the last time.
SUMITA said nothing, but let out a very soft moan, so I continued.
"You're a bad girl, aren't you? Do you need to be spanked?"
"No," She said pointedly, into her pillow.
Bummer, I thought. Another one of my fantasies vetoed.
Her reluctance had an ill effect on my sexual mood and I felt myself getting a little softer
so I thrusted harder. I decided to push it a little further. "You're my little Bengali slut,
aren't you?" I cringed as soon as I said it, half expecting to get slapped.
SUMITA said nothing, but moaned again.
Oh yes! It's on! I thought. "Naughty little Bengali slut! You like this cock, slut? I know
you do!" I was fighting with all my might to keep from cumming, but I couldn't get my self
to slow down.
"Fuck me," she moaned into the pillow.
I almost came right there. SUMITA never said stuff like that when she was sober!
"Yeah I'm going to fuck you, you dirty Bengali whore! You want this, huh? You want it? You
like this strange dick? I bet your husband doesn't fuck you like this!"
"What?" My wife turned her head from the pillow and looked at me from the corner of her eye.
Fuck! I cursed myself in my head, realizing I'd just let my internal fantasy come out into
words. How was I going to explain that? "I uh..."
"I want you to stop now please," she said, making a sour face.
"Um...ok. If you want me to," I couldn't hide my disappointment. I started to fuck her in
silence as usual, but she pulled her self up and made me slip out of her pussy.
"No, I mean just stop. Give me my panties," she sounded very uncomfortable.
"Sona, I don't know where that came from. What a weird thing to say, huh? Just caught up in
the moment I guess."
"Can you just hand me my underwear?" SUMITA now sounded irritated.
"O...ok, Sona," I said, crawling onto the floor to retrieve them.
She snatched them from my hand and put them on under the sheets, then got up, grabbed her
bathrobe and locked herself in the bathroom without another word.
I slapped myself upside the head. "Fucking stupid!" I knew she wouldn't be speaking to me
for the rest of the night.
I didn't know exactly what it was about what I'd said that had set her off. It must have
sounded odd but it was hardly an admission of my true fantasies. But as touchy as she was
about anything outside of missionary sex, her reaction wasn't surprising.
What was more pressing to me at the moment, was my raging hard on. I was back in that
fantasy world and I knew I wouldn't be good for anything until I had an orgasm. Nothing
mattered more at that moment -- it was my perpetual Achilles heel.
(To Be Continued)
[/i]
"Oh god, SUMITA! What have you done you filthy little whore?" I grunted, my dick in my hand,
as my eyes jumped back and forth between the words on the computer screen and the naughty
picture of my Bengali wife that rested beside it.
I focused on the photo for a moment as I stroked. I never got tired of looking at it. My
wife, absent of clothes kneeling forward on the bed with that dirty look on her face, biting
down on her bottom lip. Her full, golden breasts were dangling beneath her and the crack of
her tight Bengali ass was visible just above her head. It was the only dirty picture SUMITA
had ever allowed me to take of her, thank god for Tequila!
I remembered how I used to hate that she drank so much. She was such an angry, demanding
bitch when she was drunk. After the night that picture was taken, I'd wished she drank more
often.
My eyes returned to the screen and I read on. "Oh SUMITA. Oh fuck. You dirty bitch! You
can't even control yourself, can you? You need that cock! Fucking slut! Nasty slut! Dirty
slut!" I rambled on incoherently as I took in the fictional account about some poor bastards
cheating wife, soon bringing my cock to an eruption that landed all over my chest.
In that way, as I always did, I imagined that my wife was the slutty central character in
the story I was reading. Finding that dirty Exbii site had taken my rituals of fantasizing
in an entirely new direction.
My mind always became clear in the moments after I expelled my nut. Most of the time it was
clouded by fantasy. I often had a hard time focusing on real life matters because of my
obsession with the fantasy world that existed in my head. This was my release, and I
welcomed the short-term clarity I got when I wasn't consumed by thoughts of sex.
But that clarity also came with feelings of shame and guilt. What kind of man was I to think
of my wife as a cock hungry slut? In fact I felt down right pathetic afterwards, not only
for my outrageous fantasies, but also for the way I vicariously lived them out via the
Internet, an erotic picture of my wife, and a bottle of Jergens lotion.
As much as I obsessed over the idea of SUMITA fucking other men, in those moments of clarity
I knew that I'd never have the courage to broach the subject with her, nor the courage to
risk losing her to another man. In my heart of hearts, I knew that was a good thing. The
fantasy would have to remain exactly that, for my own good, and the good of my marriage. .
"Hey sona," SUMITA said plainly as she walked through the door at 9pm that night.
"Hey sexy," I smiled at her, feeling my cock twitch.
SUMITA got off work at five. When she came home late, it usually meant she'd stopped at the
bar on her way home and had a few with her co-workers. But I knew right away she hadn't that
night because if she'd been drinking she wouldn't have called me by that affectionate
nickname.
"Sexy? Not even," My wife modestly blew off my compliment.
"Yeah, Sona, you're always sexy," I said, getting up from my seat to give her a welcome home
kiss.
"Oh no, don't you even start that with me!" SUMITA wiggled away from me, giggling, "I know
what you want!"
"Awww, come on! You know I'm always horny for you when you get home!" I followed her,
grabbing her butt before she could escape.
"No! Stop!" She slapped my hand away with a smile on her face.
I relented for a moment, letting her take off of her shoes and put away her laptop. I knew
eventually I'd get what I wanted. SUMITA tended to make initiating sex with her a chore. I
never saw it as her not wanting to, I just thought she liked to make me pursue her.
"You're home late," I noted, waiting for an answer.
"Oh, you know, we went to Bennigans after work."
"Yeah?" I said, puzzled, "You don't seem like you've been drinking."
"I only had one. I've got kind of a headache today," SUMITA shrugged.
"I hope you're not going to use the headache excuse again," I said, wrapping my arms around
her waist from behind, grinding the erection in my pants against her butt.
SUMITA gripped my hands and pried them off of her. "Stop it now, seriously. All you wanna do
is screw, screw, screw when I get home. Go watch sports or something," SUMITA said in a more
serious tone as she walked into the kitchen.
"Most women complain that their men pay too much attention to sports and not enough of it to
them," I noted.
"Well I certainly don't have that problem, do I," SUMITA said coldly as she poured herself a
glass of water.
I frowned. SUMITA was being more of a cold fish than usual. I decided to change my tactics.
"Pleeeeease?" I sank to my knees and pulled her into me by her hips.
SUMITA rolled her eyes, "Will you stop?"
"I can't help it Sona," I said, unbuttoning the front of her suit jacket, "I just want to
make love to my beautiful, hot, sexy wife." I pulled up the blouse under her jacket and
began kissing her stomach. "Pleeeeeease?" I begged a little more.
Finally she cracked a smile. "Awwww, you're so cute when you beg. You should do it more
often."
I grabbed the waist of her suit pants and attempted to undo the button, but she pushed my
hands away and turned her back on me.
"Come on, SUMITA! What gives!" I whined.
"I just don't want to, ok? What do you think anyway, I'm going to let you do it to me right
here in the kitchen?"
Now it was me rolling my eyes. I wanted to fuck her all over the house, but SUMITA always
insisted on going to the bedroom.
I peeled my shirt off and dropped it on the floor, then undid my pants and dropped them to
the floor along with my boxers. "Yes, I want to fuck you right here in the kitchen," I spun
her around and pushed her back against the counter. Her eyes got big as she saw that I was
naked. "I want to fuck my wife, and I want to fuck her now!"
"But..."
"Munni!" I stated her Bengali nick name firmly.
"Ok. Ok. But in the bedroom," SUMITA bowed her head and slid out of my grasp, heading for
our bedroom.
I smiled, seeing my wife's submissive nature kick in. When all else failed, I knew all it
took was demanding sex, rather than asking for it. I usually tried to avoid that tactic for
two reasons, the first being that I wasn't the domineering type to begin with. I much
preferred to feel like she wanted it as much as I did. And secondly, her enthusiasm for sex
when I had to force it was minimal. But I'd settle for what I could get.
SUMITA stepped into the bedroom and methodically removed her clothes while I sat on the old,
squeaky, queen-sized bed. She was mechanical in doing so, not trying to be sexy at all.
Whether she tried to be or not, I always thought she was sexy. At twenty-nine years old with
2 kids from her first marriage, her body was a little thicker than when we'd first met, but
still nice and firm.
She stripped down to her panties and bra and slid under the sheets before removing her
panties.
I scooted closer to her and began kissing her sweet smelling neck as I slid my hand down to
her hairy pussy. As my lips threatened to invade her cleavage she pulled me back up to her
neck.
"They're sensitive today," she said plainly. That was always the excuse when she didn't want
me to touch her boobs, which was often.
"I guess I'll have to find something else to do with my lips then," I said, giving her a
soft kiss on her lips before sinking below the sheets on my way to her muff.
Again she stopped me, grabbing my shoulder and giving me a tug. "You can just put it in me.
I don't need that today."
"But you're dry," I pouted, disappointed with all the rules she was throwing in my way.
"It's ok," she said, putting her hand on top of mine and pushing my fingers inside of her.
"Oh, wow," I said, surprised. She was as wet as I'd ever felt her once my fingers were
inside.
I climbed on top of her and worked my hard dick inside of her. She laid there silently as I
began to slowly pump her. "You like this don't you? Damn you're so wet tonight Sona," I
sported a cocky smile on my face.
SUMITA stayed quiet, turning her head to the side.
I was used to her lack of interaction during sex, so as always, I found a way to make it
more fun for myself. I became somebody else.
Some of my friends who were bored with their prude wives liked to close their eyes and
picture another woman under them as they hammered away. But I liked to pretend that it was
me, not her, that was another person.
I was another man who was thrusting inside of my wife's pussy. Where's your husband, slut? I
bet he doesn't fuck you like this! You like having another man's cock in your pussy? I bet
you do! I kept all of these thoughts to myself, only vocalizing them in my mind.
I was ready to cum quickly, as the idea of her lying there under another man excited me so
much that I could hardly contain myself. But she put her hands on my chest and stopped my
thrusting before I could.
"Do you want to try doing that thing again?" she said, shyly.
"What thing?" I searched my brain.
"Don't make me say it," she quickly turned her head away from me, too embarrassed to look me
in the face. "The other night...after I came home from Bennigans."
"Ohhh!" I got excited. "Really?"
She shrugged. "I mean, if you want to. I don't care, I guess."
"Um...yeah, if it's ok?"
She pushed up against my chest. "Let me turn."
I eased off of her and let her flip around onto her stomach. She buried her face in the
pillow.
I'd had to get very drunk one night while out with my friends to find the balls to touch the
topic of talking dirty during sex with her. I bitched about how she barely moaned and never
said anything when we made love. I'd been forceful that night, I pushed for it and she let
me get away with a few mild comments; "You're bad girl" and "Who's your dady", I didn't go
too far with it. She'd insisted on lying on her stomach and having me screw her in the lazy
dog position so she didn't have to look at me when I said those things.
The next day she'd gotten mad and outright refused to let me ever do it again. In fact, she
cut me off from her pussy for a week. But a few weeks later she'd come home half in the bag
after work and nonchalantly asked for it again. She still insisted on lying face down, so I
knew she was still embarrassed, but I got my wish. That time I got a little more vocal with
it, and I lasted all of 60 seconds because I'd got so turned on. She didn't hold a grudge
the morning after, but she could hardly look at me either, so I didn't push the issue again.
I couldn't wipe the smile off my face as I slid into her sloppy wet cunt from behind, hoping
that this was going to become a regular thing with her. As I began to thrust, I wasted no
time in getting vocal with her.
"You like that you naughty girl? You like being fucked from behind?" I gasped, measuring my
strokes, being careful not to cum too soon like the last time.
SUMITA said nothing, but let out a very soft moan, so I continued.
"You're a bad girl, aren't you? Do you need to be spanked?"
"No," She said pointedly, into her pillow.
Bummer, I thought. Another one of my fantasies vetoed.
Her reluctance had an ill effect on my sexual mood and I felt myself getting a little softer
so I thrusted harder. I decided to push it a little further. "You're my little Bengali slut,
aren't you?" I cringed as soon as I said it, half expecting to get slapped.
SUMITA said nothing, but moaned again.
Oh yes! It's on! I thought. "Naughty little Bengali slut! You like this cock, slut? I know
you do!" I was fighting with all my might to keep from cumming, but I couldn't get my self
to slow down.
"Fuck me," she moaned into the pillow.
I almost came right there. SUMITA never said stuff like that when she was sober!
"Yeah I'm going to fuck you, you dirty Bengali whore! You want this, huh? You want it? You
like this strange dick? I bet your husband doesn't fuck you like this!"
"What?" My wife turned her head from the pillow and looked at me from the corner of her eye.
Fuck! I cursed myself in my head, realizing I'd just let my internal fantasy come out into
words. How was I going to explain that? "I uh..."
"I want you to stop now please," she said, making a sour face.
"Um...ok. If you want me to," I couldn't hide my disappointment. I started to fuck her in
silence as usual, but she pulled her self up and made me slip out of her pussy.
"No, I mean just stop. Give me my panties," she sounded very uncomfortable.
"Sona, I don't know where that came from. What a weird thing to say, huh? Just caught up in
the moment I guess."
"Can you just hand me my underwear?" SUMITA now sounded irritated.
"O...ok, Sona," I said, crawling onto the floor to retrieve them.
She snatched them from my hand and put them on under the sheets, then got up, grabbed her
bathrobe and locked herself in the bathroom without another word.
I slapped myself upside the head. "Fucking stupid!" I knew she wouldn't be speaking to me
for the rest of the night.
I didn't know exactly what it was about what I'd said that had set her off. It must have
sounded odd but it was hardly an admission of my true fantasies. But as touchy as she was
about anything outside of missionary sex, her reaction wasn't surprising.
What was more pressing to me at the moment, was my raging hard on. I was back in that
fantasy world and I knew I wouldn't be good for anything until I had an orgasm. Nothing
mattered more at that moment -- it was my perpetual Achilles heel.
(To Be Continued)
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