Tags:
Erótica,
Romance,
Rom,
submission,
domination,
alpha male,
Older man younger woman,
sharing,
voyeurism,
cuckolding,
hot wife,
hotwife,
masochism,
cuckold short stories,
submissive husbands,
cuckold marriage,
cuckold humiliation,
submissive wife,
watching,
young wife,
old bull
Chapter One
A lot of people would say this is a dangerous game for a married couple in their early twenties like us to play. Some would think it’s particularly risky with a wife as attractive as Lisa, especially if they knew that I’ve never really satisfied her sexually.
Not that Lisa’s ever complained about our sex life. She was a late developer at High School where we met and I’m the only guy she’s ever been with. Even as the curvy head-turner she is now, she’s never known any different from my 5 inches or my staying power of a couple of minutes. In any case, we have a happy marriage in other ways, apart from some of the usual money problems.
These last few minutes though before she gets back home from her evening bar job always seem to drag. I get so excited waiting for her. Over the last year, since her 24 th birthday, I’ve done a lot of coaxing in the bedroom and she’s opened up about the kind of other men she’s most likely to fantasise about.
They’re very different to me. They’re always someone a lot older than us and they’re the type of rough, domineering “user” who she admits in real life, apart from the sex, she would probably dislike. This was a shock when I first heard it. To look at my beautiful wife with her big brown eyes, naturally fair hair and ready smile you’d never guess she dreamt of being used and treated badly by men more than twice her age.
Since she told me, I’ve sometimes tried to role-play being dominant and forceful myself with her in bed, but it never feels right and we both end up frustrated. Deep down I’m kind of submissive too and I’ve always treated her like my little Princess. The problem is, now I can’t stop imagining her in the arms of another, “stronger” male – especially since she started this extra job.
The thing is, the kind of fantasy guy who “does it” so much for Lisa in her imagination is someone who she admits, is very similar to Mick, the ex-boxer she’s started working for two nights a week. Nothing’s happened yet between them at the “Feathers”, the little bar of his downtown, but that doesn’t stop me from doing a lot of fantasising of my own and from suggesting she should encourage Mick a little when she’s with him. Of course I do think about the potential danger and risk. Every time I do though, I’m ruled by another part of myself – and it isn’t the logic in my head.
Lisa confessed three weeks back that Mick had suggested she should wear shorter skirts and lower cut tops for work. He told her she should be proud of having such a “fabulous shape” and should “show herself off more”. He even said that her dressing sexier would help him attract more drinkers into his bar.
When I hear a suggestion like that it does two very different things to a man like me.
Like most husbands, there’s anger that some arrogant bastard could say such a thing to a respectable young married woman like my wife. A woman who’s nothing like the kind of girls he’s probably had working for him in his tacky little bar before. It’s the kind of bar my wife would go nowhere near if we didn’t need the money.
Another part of me though, finds Mick’s suggestion indescribably erotic. Some much older guy, who from what Lisa tells me, is a real “user” of women, asking my gorgeous and loyal young wife to show off more of her body for the entertainment of his customers. To display herself so that he can make more money.
That’s why I encouraged her to do what Mick wanted and Lisa eventually let me buy her some sexier clothes which she now wears for work.
Chapter Two
F inally Lisa’s car lights have just swung into view on the driveway outside. She’s home.
I head to the door to greet her. “How did it go?” I ask as our lips kiss and my hands rest lightly on the fullness of her hips. I smell the mixture of her now stale perfume, alcohol and a faint trace other people’s cigarette smoke in her shoulder-length blonde