"I just lay there on the living room couch like I’d been doing for the past three weekends, listening to the sounds of the bed squeak; to the sounds of my bottom husband Brian moaning, and begging to be fucked harder; and to the sounds of his bull Mark struggling to verbalize himself into a fourth load.
'Oh my God! I'm... I'm almost... I'm gonna... God damnit, squeeze your fuckin' hole, bitch!'
I used to dream about catching Brian being with someone else. I'd fantasize about all the ways I might find out - coming home early and catching them in bed, or asking him how two separate business meetings in the same week could keep him out past one in the morning, or maybe innocently seeing some other guy's provocative texts on his cell phone.
The reality was nothing that dramatic, or satisfying. Brian simply drove us over to Mark's house that first weekend, with no preludes or permissions, and we all wound up naked in the master bedroom. Less than ten minutes later, I was escorted out, put on the couch, and literally ignored until we went home two days later - not one word.
I laid on that same couch each weekend, for the next three weekends, hoping that one of these visits would demonstrate my commitment as a cuck to everything I was wiling to be for my husband and Mark to be happy. But I just wasn't so sure anymore.
By the third weekend, I was sick and tired of listening to those tools fuck while I denied myself orgasm like the good boy they wanted me to be. I became disgusted by every kiss, slap, and slurp I overheard, but not enough to stop me from eventually pulling out my own cock, beating off furiously, and finally blowing one of my largest loads up into my beard and hairy chest. It was a personal best!
It felt so good that I decided to work up another load, right into Mark's favorite coffee cup. He wasn't amused at his first sips the that morning and tried to convince my husband to cage up my cock right then and there. That idea turned sour very quickly when I told him that his ass would feel my belt long before my cock ever felt any cage. Brian seemed just as turned off by my response and I couldn't have cared less.
Later that night, I realized this wasn't true cuck life - at least not the cuck life I wanted or one that had ever read about. I realized that if I wanted something different, I'd have to stand up for myself and take it.
I fished out my belt from the pile of my clothes beside the couch, grabbed Mark’s house phone from the kitchen counter, and and calmly walked myself down the dimly lit hallway toward the bedroom. The sounds of their muted moans and slurping grew louder with every step. I twisted the door handle and was surprised that they’d actually locked me out. That only solidified my mission.
'Go away, cuck! There's nothing for you in here anymore. He’s mine now.'
The bare heel of my right foot landed three inches off-center of the locked handle, breaking the hardware, sending wood and metal fragments flailing to the floor and imbedding the swinging door an inch deep into the wall behind it. I re-gripped the belt tightly in my right hand, hit redial on the phone in my left, and walked in to create my new reality.
'We’re done here, Brian! We’re leaving!’ I glared. 'You’ve got three minutes to pull on some pants and get your ass in the car or I'm using the safe-word and leaving without you.'
‘Jesus! What the fuck is your problem, cuck?’ Mark stammered, trying hard to wiggle his spit coated ass out from under my husband’s slime-covered face. ‘You’re going to regret this after I take him from you permanently!’
‘That’s not how any of this was ever going to go, Mark.’
‘Things change, cuck! You’re not the darling husband you thought you were anymore.’
‘And you’re not the darling father your daughter thinks you are, either. Here, there’s someone on the phone for you…’
'Dad?! Are you all right?! What’s going on? What the hell is a cuck? Where’s Mom?'
'You're an asshole!' Mark whispered.
'Cucks are a lot of things, Mark. But behind the scenes, they’re always in charge. Just ask Brian.’"
