Never Judge

Where we live in the country, there are coffee stands on nearly every corner. In some counties, there are even coffee stands that offer a little something extra with your coffee. Im not sure why they’re called bikini baristas. Ive never seen a girl in a bikini. In fact, I’ve only ever seen them wear lingerie, electrical tape with a thong, or stripper outfits to be honest.

Keeping this in mind, I suggested to my husband during a particularly fun conversation that perhaps he should go down there, order a coffee, flirt a bit, and see how things go. Maybe after regular visits, he’d find a girl he hit it off with.

It was playful conversation one night during foreplay. Afterwards, I wanted to take a bit of the pressure off of him. After all, this was my fantasy, not his… I told him it wouldn’t matter if it actually happened. Making up a story to tell me about picking up one of the baristas and bringing her home to our bed to fuck her, would do just as well.

…

A few days passed and then I got a text, “Can’t wait to tell you all about the barista tonight while I fuck you.” My knees weakened a bit as I reread the message over and over. Unconsciously, I bit my lip and reached down to touch the wetness that was forming between my legs.

I kinda hoped that he would wait awhile before making up the barista story, cause I wanted it to feel believable. Regardless, this was the first step in our cuckquean adventure and I was just excited he was playing along.

When he appeared at the front door that night, he was already wearing a sly smile. He opened the door and found me standing in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes. Brushing the hair off my shoulders, he leaned in and kissed my neck. “When you finish up here, meet me in the room.”

…

“Come here, I want to show you something,” he demanded. I crawled across the bed to where he was seated. He motioned for me to sit in front of him and lay back against the heat of his chest. Whatever it was we were about to look at, he wanted me front row, but with access to my body.

I leaned back against him as he scrolled through an Instagram page full of what I could now tell was bikini baristas. “Ooooh, which one did you pick to tell me about?” I asked.

The squares on the screen each featured a different girl in sexy clothes. Most were playing to the camera with their puckered lips and perky tits. “Which one would you want me to fuck?” he growled in my ear.

“Mmmm,” his breath against my neck made me weak. I scrolled through and looked at all of our options. Each one was pretty in her own rite. They were all around 10-15 years younger than me, and none looked like they’d had children. Everything about them was perfect and perky.

I found a petite brunette with a round ass and big natural tits. She also was dressed in the prettiest black lace lingerie, with a garter belt and thigh highs to match. I knew he’d like her. “I want you to bring her home, baby,” I said as I clicked the square, enlarging the original picture.

She was prettier than me, not by much, but by enough that I felt a pang of insecurity as he grazed his thumb over the picture. “I was hoping you’d like that one,” he whispered against my neck. “I took your advice, baby girl. I stopped by that coffee stand on my way to work yesterday.” His fingers skimmed along my thighs. I uncrossed my legs to allow him more access.

“I ordered a drink, but they were out of what I wanted, so I asked the barista to recommend a drink for me.” He went on to tell me about their flirtacious banter. “When I signed the receipt, I wrote my number on the bottom.” His fingers now lightly grazed my parted lips through the fabric. I was already a dripping mess. I leaned into him as he swirled his finger around my clit, barely touching me.

“She texted me yesterday. Nothing risque… at first, but we got to talking and I told her about your dirty little fantasy. I casually mentioned I was having a hard time meeting girls in the area who would be down with the situation and she didn’t believe me. She said I shouldn’t have any trouble at all finding girls to fuck.”

I whimpered as he pulled my thong to the side, exposing me. “We’ll look at that,” he cooed, “I haven’t even gotten to the good part and you’re already a mess.” His fingers circled over my clit while, with his other hand, he reached up under my shirt for a handful of my tits.

Teasing me with his fingers, he tells me how casual conversation turned into flirting last night. He says she sent him pictures and exits the instagram app. He opens his messages and suddenly I’m confused.

Wait, did this actually happen or is this fantasy?

He scrolls quickly through conversation so I can’t read it. My brain tries playing catch up. So, wait, this actually happened? He went down there to pick up a girl? My stomach is in knots. I feel light-headed and try to come to terms with what is happening. I wanted this… Right? He opens one of the pictures she sent, its a sexy shot of her in lingerie. Fuck, I think. She’s gorgeous… I’m feeling wildly insecure. Maybe I can’t do this.

He flips through a few more photos of her in lingerie before he stops and pulls his fingers away from my clit. His fingers are slick. My pussy is wet with envy. “There’s no denying it now, baby… I knew this turned you on, but I’ve never seen you soak through the bedsheet like that, ” he says pointing to the puddle in our bed.

I’m embarrassed. So many thoughts are going through my head, everything is chaos, the room starts to spin. He swipes to show me the last picture.

I audibly gasp when it comes into focus. “Look at that,” he says, zooming in on the center of the photo. She’s seated on a bed with her legs splayed open. Her right hand is holding the phone while her left hand spreads her pussy open. It’s fucking beautiful and pink and perfect. “That’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he whispers into my ear. I whimper again and he slides his fingers inside me.

I lean back into him and close my eyes.

“I could hardly keep up at work last night. Between texting her all night and two trips I had to make to the bathroom, I was behind the whole time. I got so hard looking at her pictures and talking about her being apart of your fucked up little fantasy, I had to jerk off. But the conversation kept going beyond that and before I knew it, I had to jerk off again. That’s never happened to me before. I don’t know that I’ve ever been that turned on.” His words sting, but the ache between my legs intensifies. My hips buck upward, my body betraying me and begging him to continue as the pressure builds.

“You like that, huh, baby?”

I nod my head.

“No, I want to hear you say it.”

My voice cracks. I’m so close now. “You should go back tomorrow. I want you to fuck her. You deserve to fuck her, baby.” I’m right on the edge.

“Remember when I picked up coffee for us this morning?” he asks, “…I fucked her first.”

An intense orgasm washes through my body. His fingers slow to a steady pace as we ride through my clenching muscle spasms. My breath slows to a normal pace before either of us speaks.

“That was everything I hoped it would be, babe,” I said as I rested against him, “Thank you.”

Holding my chin, he turns my face up towards his, “Show me your thankful,” he says, “get on your knees.” I do as I’m told and slide off the bed and get down. He turns to grab something from the bed. I wait patiently at his feet.

It’s his phone. He opens a video and starts to watch. There’s a lot of heavy breathing and smacking sounds. Then I hear his voice coming from the video, “Oh my God. Your pussy is so tight. Fuck.”

I totally get that having a cuckquean may be the dream of a lot of men, but it is a LOT of work.

It isn’t easy.

It takes a lot of patience and communication for the man. Just when you think you can’t talk or reassure one more time, you are called to talk or reassure.

A cq will love this lifestyle, hate it a few minutes later, need it after that, and then maybe cry before orgasming. She’ll hate that she has so little say or brag about all the power she wields.

Your wife/girlfriend/spouse/partner can’t ever take a back seat, but the other women have needs that will need to be met.

From my talks with so many other lovely cqs on tumblr, a few themes are very common: there always seems to be drama with someone. Jealous. A fight. An Other unsure if she can continue- and yet she comes crawling back (this one happens so much to every gal I talk to).

Is this the case for everyone involved in cuckqueaning? Absolutely not. Is it the norm? From my own personal experience and the experience of the women that reach out to me, it is.

It’s not ALL sexy porn star stuff. Not all women on their knees eager to blow you without you having to do a bit of work. This can be very very tough for the man too, just in different ways.

On how much of a non-sexual cuckquean I am:

The sex is great. I mean it. It’s a roller-coaster, one that totally scared the shit out of me the first times, and still makes my stomach clench in dread and anticipation now. But it’s never the sex in itself that does it for me. I say, who cares for the sex.

Let them be together. Let them have a nice and romantic date. I want to have them both dressed up and lose their sense of time as they bask in public intimacy. Let him lay a hand on the small of her back as they slowly walk in the beautiful Venice. Let him keep the door open for her at the restaurant. Let him look at her in quiet satisfaction for how beautiful she is that night. Let him make her walk on the inner side of the sidewalk, so she isn’t the one near the cars. Let them get to know each other, find those magnetic details to keep each other interested. Let them have the constant buzz of attraction tingle their skin every time they not-so-accidentally touch. Let them forget the rest of the world. Let them ride the New Relationship Energy. Let them make obvious to anyone that they are together.

God, let him feel possessive of her.

Let me see how he flirts, gets interested, gets possessive, gets dominant, jealous, happy, horny, absent-minded. Let it be not for me. Let me see what he once was with me but with someone else, from the point of view of an outsider, so that I can finally enjoy the show without being hindered by actively participating in it. Because he’s in my veins just as I am in his, but I’m not NEW anymore.

The sex is awesome, but have you ever seen your husband cuddle her while watching a movie? Taking a blanket so she won’t get cold and letting her lean on him? Caressing her as the movie goes on?

His cock tasting of her is incredible, but my heart doesn’t stop until I see his lips red and swollen from kissing.

Hearing of how tight she is makes me feel all funny alright, but let them text each other till the sun rises because they can’t muster the strength to say “goodnight”.